The majestic Macan Kumbang, jewel of the Panther's mighty fleet, left the warp at the very edge of the Abilene sector. Enthralled by the splendid sight in the oculus screen, the Panther stood on the observation platform of the bridge towering over his motley court of brawls and revelry.

Uncounted corsairs and rogue traders feasted at his tables along with his own veteran warriors, gorgeous women of aristocratic spires and trade cartels trounced one another to warm his bed on each night. Power and opulence he couldn't have imagined in the years of the Great Crusade where he was a single cog in the False Emperor's ambitious plans.

He was closer to ascension than ever, lucid dreams showing the course of his yet obscure quest with growing precision. The ancient spirit enclosed in his armour still whispered to him for all the years since he had put it on on the day of his sire's betrayal. They had taken even the memories from him when they reforged him into another petty soldier of the False Emperor's hosts.

The Panther had recovered them long before he could declare it openly. His mother's heritage was ready to claim and rule it in his new, superior form. No one will be able to challenge him, not even the chosen Champion of the four let alone wimpy toy armies of the senile Imperium.

'Aphedron the Magnificent wishes to talk to Your Grace, my King.' One of his sworn sorcerers was climbing the ladder to his platform.

'What a loser. A goddamn lucky loser.' The pirate grinned under the snarling panther head of his helmet. 'Let him speak.'

The sorcerer raised both hands, and Aphedron's psychic projection appeared on the platform. Aphedron's wounds were healing but his posture was still weak.

'You've screwed me, bastard.' He showed his shark teeth in a mean grin. 'The fortress was empty.'

'Just because only the strongest are worthy enough to get the treasure. My guardian spirits have shown me your ridiculous stunts.'

'You didn't dare to try that yourself.'

'My ascension is waiting in another place.'

'I've heard the Despoiler has appointed a new Lord Ravager just days before.'

'Don't make it worse, you bloody whoremonger. I've bargained it through Zaraphiston but that Tizcan bookworm insisted on waiting till the start of the assault. And then the three shitheads come back from the damn center of the Eye.'

'You know what kind of showoff and bootlicker Korda is.'

'He had been Sedirae's shadow till the man died, and then he adopted his master's pretensions. He's kissing the Despoiler's ass along with Guilliman's wayward kid, the Darned Nose and that slippery swindler Ygethmor. But there's honey in the poison. The great fleets are getting out of the Eye.'

'Another Crusade then.'

'The last one. The one that will draw the line under this boring comedy of a hundred centuries. Will swipe away that house of cards still bearing the proud name of the Imperium of Man.'

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