Happy Holidays, everyone! Consider this update as a simple gift for you!
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Every night had that same dream.
She would rise in the middle of a crowded bridge, crushed into place by the quivering masses as the maddened multitude hurtled for an unknown destination. Upon reaching the end of the bridge, the crowd would disperse, freeing her at last from the suffocating grip of bodies pressed together. Looking upwards, she would see the hypnotic swirl of shimmering stars in the darkening skies. So close to the earth would the lights hang that one could easily mistake them for diamonds.
Entertaining the thought seemed to change the very ground she treaded. Her bare soles would scream in pain at the jagged diamonds that flecked the golden path. Trees of pure living gold sprouted out of the earth, claiming prey after prey as wayward souls would climb their branches in futile attempts to wrest their bejeweled prizes away from their boughs- only to meet their swift end by plummeting back to the ground, dashing their joyous faces into mush upon the gilded floor.
Gentle breezes that caused the grass to shimmer like the waters of an ocean under a noon sun. As the wind passed over the blades of grass and through the branches and leaves of the trees, it took on a voice that beckoned all to take as much as they wanted and more. The mountains that rose up on the horizon reflected a glorious warm light, letting all who saw them know that they too were formed from gold.
Pathways through the fields paved with cobblestones not of granite or shale, but of ruby and emerald. At the edges of the paths, loose gemstones and gold nuggets sat, waiting for anyone to pick them up and slip them in a pouch. There was always room for one more glittering stone, one more pebble of gold. Wandering souls ensnared by this domain would do well to recall the legends that say that if those who lined their pockets with these treasures were able to take their eyes off the objects of their desire, they would note that not all they saw there was shining.
Dull bits of bone and other remains are plentiful here as well. These are all that is left of those who filled their pockets, pouches, sleeves, and boots with so much gold that they collapsed under the weight of it. Unwilling or unable to let the riches go, they died where they fell, smiles on their faces despite their impending ends.
Then a red hand would reach out from beyond the veil, firm yet gentle, and pluck Aggregia free from the fevered dream. She fell through an open gate, where the mysterious stranger held her aloft as they both glided through the stars. Down and down they went, further into the blackness of the void. Aggregia, upon glancing up to behold her companion, would see nothing but the shrouded silhouette of the stranger. A single shining eye looked upon her in turn, and his voice so gentle would chide her softly.
"Be careful where you tread, little one."
Aggregia woke up, sweating and breathing heavily as though she had run a marathon. Her throat felt dry and her sides felt as though something had squeezed against her in the night. This was the first time her dreams took a physical toll on her, and it worried her to no end. The girl stared out of the open window and realized that dawn had not yet come. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the early morning, Aggregia noticed the faint glow of handprints on her arms and shoulders.
It wasn't just a dream.
Sitting at the breakfast table, however, Aggregia hesitated in revealing the events of that turbulent night. Her mother and father seemed to have a lot on their plate that day, their attention then occupied as they discussed openly what was happening in the world around them.
"Are you sure it's him?"
"Yes, my lady." Arther replied with a nod.
Horus leaned back against his chair and scratched his chin thoughtfully, "It's not like there's a lot of winged men in this world, my dear."
"Winged men that could kill two whole armies in a single night?" Celestine pointed out, showing her disbelief at the news. "Our son is barely into his teens-
"And yet we trained him to do exactly that." Horus replied, showing his wonder at Sanguinius' feat. "I don't believe you'd disapprove of his realization of his innate talents, but I understand you'd want to know why exactly would he meddle in the affairs of kings."
"That's right." Celestine declared as she stood up, "And I've half a mind to drag that vainglorious little imp back down to earth and show him the error of his ways. This has gone on long enough."
Horus didn't bother getting up after her. His decision was firm and he wouldn't change it now that the day was upon them, "Sit down, my love." He ignored the searing glare his wife threw his way, "We agreed to do it my way, and I will follow through with it. I shall find out exactly what happened in time, and if fortune favors, I will have convinced Sanguinius to return home. Spare the rod for the moment, we know it's getting us nowhere."
Celestine said nothing and quickly left the table.
"My lord, excuse us." The Custodes said with a polite bow and left the room to father and daughter.
"Father, why is mother always so angry?"
"Have you given her any reason not to be?" Horus replied.
"I...don't know. But...couldn't she be a little bit nicer when she's upset?"
Horus smiled and took his daughter's hand, "Little one, have I ever told you how your mother was raised?" When she shook her head he continued, "She grew up without a mother and a father, raised in the cloisters of the Sisters of Our Martyred Lady. There, they were taught to worship the Emperor and dedicate their whole lives in his service. Her only parents were the rod and the lash, harsh teachers, yet taught her well they did. She never understood love, though in her heart she longed for it..."
"And then she met you?"
Horus closed his eyes for a second and laughed at the memory, "I showed her what love could be, true enough. But she only ever understood what love is when she gave birth to you and Sanguinius. Don't mistake your mother's intentions. She does not seek to hurt her children, she only wishes to help you by teaching you the order of things. Her punishing hand serves to remind you that actions have consequences, and to show you humility and grace under authority. Granted, she may go too far with some punishments, but never condemn her for doing her duty as a parent...learn the lesson she wishes to teach and rise as a better person for it."
Little Aggregia embraced Horus, "I will, father."
"Good, now off you go." The Primarch told his daughter, reminding her of their planned trip through the wilderness with her wayward twin.
The carrion birds circled about the battlefield, intent on feasting upon the thousand corpses that lay there after the battle.
In the middle of the battlefield sat a small town, or rather, the remains of it. Two regents, both laying claim to the throne of the ruling kingdom at the time, hastily chose this place as their theater for their struggle to ascend to the height of political power. Two regents, two houses, two armies to march upon one another. A civil war, brother against brother, a conflict that would soon engulf the land in fire and blood.
This battle, however, proved costly to both as Sanguinius laid waste to all who contested there.
One might mistake the angelic being for his deeds that turned the battle into a slaughter. One might say he did so out of anger, or some might say he did so for glory, perhaps for the battle's own sake as most would. The truth lay in all three, for Sanguinius relished in the opportunity to spread his wings. Saving the little town from the petty squabble of the regents' armies was a bonus, for Sanguinius found glory in the act itself. He was, after all, a god to these people. What god would he be if he had not intervened on their behalf?
He sat atop a small hill soaked with the blood of the slain, looking on in disgust as he realized his wings were caked in gore after wading deep into the fray hours prior. His own blood surged through his veins, power all too eager to be spent. He found himself craving for more, and he despaired at the thought that this battle was over.
Sanguinius addressed the townsfolk he had saved and advised them to leave their homes for a journey east, towards his family home. As much as he hated to admit it, their security would be improved through the efforts of his family and their guardians.
The young demigod, upon thinking of his family, realized that this was the day he agreed to accompany his father and sister on a quest to rid the countryside of a monster preying on travelers.
"My lord." A group of older women with painted eyes and donning thin satin robes of bright green and red approached the lad. Though they too held the angel in awe as their peers, they jumped at the chance to be of service and gain...insights no other man or woman would ever have. "Allow us to cleanse you of the filth of battle. It is the least we can do."
Sanguinius, of course, in his naivety did not know exactly what kind of women they were...nor the kind of services they offered. He liked the idea of someone helping him clean up, especially with such fine company to go with it. It was only after he had entered the bathhouse they guided him in did he realize what was about to happen. Of course, curiosity and mischief won out, and young Sanguinius tasted of the pleasures of the flesh for the first time.
Still, never forgetting his agreement with his father, Sanguinius reluctantly parted. He took to the skies, cleansed of the filth of battle yet soiled in mind.
Watching from the safety of their tent, weary from the struggle and seething with hatred over the abrupt end to their efforts, the young and brash regent and his generals gathered to discuss alternatives to rectify the enormous setback brought on by the angelic figure. House Lykkarius, an old and well respected clan in the land, was led by the eldest living male who inherited his status after his father, the elected protector of the realm, died from a plague that once ravaged the kingdom. When the king died without an heir, Regent Maltheus seized the opportunity to lay claim to the empty throne, putting forth his legitimacy as a member of the royal bloodline.
Unfortunately, House Ember, a rival clan and whose own regent possessed a closer relation to the royal bloodline than Maltheus, contested House Lykkarius' claim and declared war. The battle that had been fought on that valley, if either side won, would've utterly decimated the other and given the victor ample opportunity to swell in strength and numbers until they would've possessed the odds to overwhelm their rivals and claim the throne for themselves. Alas, as it so happened, neither side achieved a decisive victory due in no small part to the timely intervention of the demigod.
Regent Maltheus stared silently into the crackling flames of the lit brazier before him, hearing but never listening to the heated arguments of his generals around him. His hands closed down around the hilt of his sword as it dug deep into the earth, pushed through the dirt by the weight of his arms as he fought through the exhaustion and overwhelming rage welling up within him.
His eyes fell upon the lonely town sitting in the middle of the valley, regarding the ring of corpses strewn around it in a neat circle of blood and gore. A winged man flew past the clouds and into the dawning sky, the same winged man who was the architect of his decimation. His anger demanded that he devote a considerable amount of resource to track down the interloper and bring him to justice, while his calmer side instructed him to gather his lost strength and focus only on fighting House Ember. Today, he treaded upon unwelcome territory and earned him the wrath of the demigod, prudence dictated that he carry his battles elsewhere.
"Quiet, my good sirs." Regent Matheus sighed wearily as he leaned back into his chair, possessing a cooler head and a calmer disposition. Once his generals ceased in their talks to listen, he continued. "The battle may have been lost for us, but so too have House Ember."
"That damned creature should be hunted down for his arrogance!" One of his advisers exploded, his outburst shared by most of the men in the room.
"In time, perhaps." Maltheus replied. "But we are already too exhausted from the fight to expend on that venture. Instead, we will march the army back north and lick our wounds. If we recover before winter is upon us, we shall march upon House Ember once again. I would prefer if the next battle would be far away from this damned valley as possible."
"You would have us run with our tails between our legs, boy!?"
Maltheus growled, "You forget yourself, sir." Many had questioned his claim before, from within and without the clan's inner circle. Seldom did he show his frustration for their doubts of his capabilities, and this counted as one of them.
"Ahem." Lord Festor, Maltheus' uncle and teacher, attempted to calm the heated exchange. "What the passionate general meant to say is that this recent defeat may be salvaged. As proven by the reports, House Ember took the brunt of the creature's assault. There is still a chance to put the enemy to rout and claim a Pyrrhic victory."
"The enemy already is at rout, uncle. And I would rather not that I lose more men than necessary today." Maltheus stood up and addressed his advisers firmly, "Forget not that our campaign for the crown will be long and arduous. Steady and prepared is the pace I shall take, as will all of you." He glared at the general who spoke out of turn, who then bowed apologetically and left the room upon dismissal.
"Well then, that settles the matter about the army." Lord Festor said once he and his nephew were alone. "What of that creature?"
"One problem at a time, uncle." Maltheus said as he pulled the plug out of the jug of wine and started to pour himself a cup. He paused, tossed the plug, and chugged down the whole jug. Once he was finished, the regent wiped his lips with the back of his hand and started for his personal tent to retire for the day. "That creature will still be here when we return for House Ember. Perhaps once we've gained the throne, I shall pay him a visit."
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