Warhammer 40K
Soloman the Blood God
By typicalteenager.
Disclaimer: I do not, and never will, own 40K, the characters etc.
Important: 1) This is only my second ever fanfic, so it may not be that good.
2) Thoughts are in Italic.
3) Book entries, letters etc. are in Bold Italic.
Well, here we go!
Chapter 29: Skull throne strategising
That evening - time-wise, as opposed to any change in light - the Keep was equal parts noise and silence, chaos and order.
The noise and chaos were emanating from the dining room, currently acting as a make-shift surgical theatre for Mortraz's head reattachment surgery. The effeminate daemon had been very difficult about the whole affair, especially since Mortraz, despite having a degree in doctoring, couldn't perform the surgery on himself, meaning the operation would have to be performed by the only other being who was even close to a surgeon, which was Blud an' Gutz. Zeena and Slaanesh had tried to convince him that it was fitting and 'poetic', since it would be Blud an' Gutz making up for getting his breakfast splattered all Mortraz's body, but the daemon wasn't buying it. It was only after Slaanesh had threatened to take photos of him in his current state and send them out for all to see that he begrudgingly accepted. But he was soon making a lot of fuss again as Blud an' Gutz made several attempts to get the daemon's head attached right.
The silence was present in the throne room, where, upon his throne of skulls, Soloman sat, his mind providing the order, as he pondered on an important subject.
The subject being how to deal with Tzeentch.
On the face of it, things seemed to be in their favour. They knew about Tzeentch's plan: contaminate the water of the city islands with some sort of potion, which would drive any daemonic citizen who drank it into a rabid frenzy, and reducing any 'higher' daemons into what was effectively the daemonic equivalent of a drunkard. Why: most likely to weaken the other God's forces, as they would either be suffering the effects of the potion, or having to deal with the sufferers, while his own servants, having either avoided the potion-laced water or perhaps immunised somehow, would be able to overcome and conquer the other cities with little effort, placing Tzeentch as ruler over all of Chaos. A rather simple, but ultimately effective plan.
But Mortraz had worked out how to create a counter-potion to deal with this threat. All they had to do was make it, either in a large enough quantity and put it in the water, or in mass production and distribute it to everyone. Problem solved.
However, there was one important issue that nagged at Soloman, one which had the potential to change everything. His teachers and instructors at his local imperial guard academy may have only given the tiniest scraps of info on Chaos, as dictated by the Inquisition, but one important point regarding Tzeentch had been made.
That point was that Tzeentch was the closest Chaos had to a God of Intelligence.
As a God of Intelligence, Tzeentch should be a genius. And the thing about geniuses was that you never knew just how smart they were. Was what Soloman and his friends had discovered all there was to Tzeentch's plans? Or was that just the tip of the iceberg?
The more the Blood God thought about it, the more he compared his situation to a chess game, where he was a novice, while Tzeentch was a top-tier champion. The problem was, 'top-tier champion' could simply mean that he would have a countermove to each of Soloman's moves, or could mean Tzeentch would win the game before Soloman had even sat down to play. He simply had no idea, and that uncertainty could be their undoing.
Because if Tzeentch was the highest kind of genius, then he may already have set up a dozen countermeasures to stop them using the counter-potion in case they found out about it. Or maybe he had spies who had already informed him of Mortraz saying he could make a counter-potion. God-Emperor, for all they knew their so-called counter-potion might make things worse.
The only way they could guarantee any sort of success, as far as Soloman could tell, was to try and find out how intelligent Tzeentch truly was, and adjust any plan they made accordingly. The question was how to do it. And another question was if Tzeentch was already expecting this, and would modify his behaviour to throw them off. Or indeed if he acted normally, knowing that they would suspect his behaviour and search in vain for the real him when it was right in front of them.
Soloman pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger as he sighed. Forget a chess game: this situation was more like a childish argument between two kids as to who was smarter.
I knew you'd do that, so I prepared this. Well I knew that you knew I'd do that and thus you'd do that, so I brought this. Well I knew that you knew that I knew you'd do that in response to my doing this which was in response to you doing that, so I arranged for this. Well I knew that you knew… etcetera, etcetera.
Soloman sighed again. From the dining room, he could hear Mortraz's voice echoing through the Keep, complaining about 'Dok' Blud an' Gutz's latest attempt at head reattachment surgery ("How, in the name of Beef-cake, did you end up mistaking that for my neck! And I'm facing the wrong way round too!").
The Blood God knew he had to do something: he just didn't know what. Usually, to take any action, even the wrong one, meant that there was at least some minute chance of success, whereas inaction guaranteed failure. But here, with Tzeentch quite likely to be a tactical mastermind, a wrong action was just as bad as no action.
And sitting here and thinking was apparently not going to help him either.
"Daddy?"
Arita was standing on the steps before him, looking up at him with a mixture of bewilderment and concern.
Soloman lifted his days-old daughter up onto his lap. "What is it sweetheart?"
"Is something wrong Daddy? You look weary."
The Blood God ruffled his daughter's pink hair. "It's alright sweetheart. I'm just trying to outthink possibly the greatest mind in all the realms of Chaos."
"But you can do it, can't you Daddy?"
Soloman sighed yet again, a slight smile on his face. "I wish I had your confidence Arita, but we're talking about a being who knows everything. Golden Throne, he may even know what I'm planning before I myself have thought of it. That's the level of intellect and cunning we… may…"
Soloman suddenly went silent. His face had taken an amazed expression.
"Daddy?"
"…be planning."
Slowly, but surely, Soloman' face progressed from a look of amazement to a smile, and then from a smile to a smirk, and finally from a smirk to an almost predatory grin.
"Who knows everything…"
He at last had the beginnings of a plan.
The dining room was in quite a state when Soloman came in carrying Arita. There was a far bit of liquid splattered over the walls, which was congealing like porridge, not to mention a pile of assorted limbs, a hacksaw, and what appeared to be a blow torch modified to connect to a massive gas tank.
Mortraz was sitting on the table, his arms folded and his head sewn at a peculiar angle onto his neck, glaring at Blud an' Gutz, who in turn looked back at Mortraz with confusion, one hand scratching his head, the other hand scratching his builder's crack. Zeena and Slaanesh were both sitting in a corner, looking tired and bored. They both perked up when they saw the Blood God and his daughter.
"There you two are!"
"Honey! We were just thinking about you."
Soloman, still smiling, placed Arita in Slaanesh's arms. Giving her a little kiss on the forehead, he said "You stay here and be good for your mother now, okay?", and made to walk out of the room again.
The two daemonettes looked puzzled. "Where are you going?" they asked in unison.
Soloman glanced back at them. "It's alright ladies. I'm just going to pay a house call to Tzeentch" he answered, as he continued out of the room.
…
…
The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Zeena and Slaanesh stared at the door through which Soloman had just exited, as did Mortraz and Blud an' Gutz, Soloman's statement having gotten their attention.
The jaws of three of them dropped open: Blud an' Gutz merely raised a thick eyebrow (or rather the portion of his face above his eye where an eyebrow would be if he wasn't an Ork), while Arita was giggling at her Mother's and Godmother's shock.
"WHHHHHAAAAATTTTTT!"
Typicalteenager:
Well, I promised I would upload another chapter before the end of the month, and this time I've kept my promise (if only just!). Please enjoy.
And since it's being uploaded on the evening of the 31st of December, and thus many of you will be reading this tomorrow, have a Happy New Year! Here's hoping your 2013 is as good as (or preferably better than) your 2012.
