In the following weeks, Ahmakeph learned what was going on.
The first thing he learned, to his intense irritation, was that he was nowhere near where he'd been captured in the first place. Instead, he was on the ass end of the galaxy, in the burnt out fringes called the halo stars. And the Uhnashret Dynasty was about what he'd thought, a spec of star dirt inhabiting territory so poor, no one else would even want it. Although they had remained independent and made a decent living for themselves, before ruin had come upon them, so Ahmakeph supposed he shouldn't sneer too hard at it.
How had he even gotten here though? Ahmakeph cursed the drukhari a thousand times as he realized he must have been taken through Commorrogh, like a piece of baggage, when his torturer was sent to this remote outpost. None of the other dark eldar had a use for him so it made sense that if the creature moved, he would have been taken along. How was he going to get home though?
At least the accommodations were excellent. They had transported him back to the crownworld and repaired him there, before giving him space worthy of a much greater Overlord. Necrons had little use for such things, aside from showing off status, but status was very important indeed. It was also pleasant to find out that the only person who could be considered to outrank him in this rural Dynasty was the Phaeron. There was an idiot named Kototep, closely related to the Phaeron, but she had made it clear to them both that Ahmakeph's standing in a superior dynasty far outweighed that.
There was also the Immortal Itolyx and the human nemesor, Manric Duleth. They did not outrank him, but Ahmakeph knew he would be smart not to presume he could order them around. It wasn't his Dynasty, after all. Not to mention that they seemed to be friends. It was almost beyond his comprehension, that even a lowly Immortal would interact with a human with such familiarity, but it was true. Ahmakeph knew that if he became presumptuous, they would present a united front against him.
Then, to his surprise, the human approached him with a bizarre offer.
"You want to take me on a tour?" Ahmakeph could not believe what he was hearing. Was the human serious? Manric bowed deeply to him, which was pleasing.
"I do not mean to presume. Your culture is, of course, more advanced than our humble colony." He felt like he was being deliberately flattered. On the other hand, that was one of the perks of rank. "But alas, most of the actors and others who conducted such things as plays are no longer with us. So I had hoped you might find pleasure in our humble forms of entertainment?" Well… maybe. He was loathe to admit it, but Ahmakeph was starting to get a bit bored. There really wasn't a lot to do, when he wasn't trusted enough to actually be part of the command structure.
"How long are human plays?" Ahmakeph asked suspiciously. Zahndrekh had once dragged him and the other Overlords to a performance of the War in Heaven, and then to add insult to injury, had been called away midway through and left half of them to "enjoy the show"!
"Three hours at the most." Oh, that was nothing. "And there's a short break in the middle, called an intermission, so people can stretch their legs and get snacks." Hmph, organic foolishness. "Itolyx told me necron plays can run as long as ten years… is that really true?"
"Oh yes," Ahmakeph said grimly. He would never forgive Zahndrekh for that.
"Incredible. Forgive me, but that sounds like a form of torture." Oh, he completely agreed. "It's going to be the yearly celebration soon though, the Festival of the Flowers. It commemorates the arrival of our colony ship on Hope, and the history of Terra and colonization in general." That didn't sound particularly exciting. "There are dances and music, even some choreographed duels, although they are laughable to actual warriors." Well, that was how plays always worked. Even necrons, who had less fear of injuries, didn't follow actual combat protocols in the War of Heaven. To his mild horror, Ahmakeph realized that he'd already made up his mind.
"If you are willing to escort me, I am willing to attend," Ahmakeph said and Manric seemed pleased. They arranged a time and place to meet before the human left, and Ahmakeph considered it thoughtfully.
He had no idea what it would be like to walk in a friendly human settlement, but he was interested to find out.
Manric wasn't sure how he should broach the subject, or even if he should. But he was concerned about the Overlord they had rescued from the drukhari.
Ahmakeph reminded him of many warriors had seen. Hard and proud, very strong but also pigheadedly stubborn. They were exactly the kind of warriors who would try to get back on the battlefield too soon, before the wounds had healed, and refuse counselling for their ills. Manric had a bit of a tendency that way himself, so it was easy to understand.
But Manric had never encountered a survivor of dark eldar torture before and suspected there was more damage hidden than Ahmakeph would ever let on. He had confirmed with Itolyx that such trauma was possible for the necrons, although uncommon. Itolyx also thought they shouldn't do anything, though.
He is not a member of our Dynasty, and would take any suggestion ill. Manric was going to keep that advice firmly in mind. He had no desire to get into some kind of physical fight with a Necron Overlord, without his spear no less.
So instead of bring up uncomfortable topics, Manric had decided to try to get to know Ahmakeph better and possibly win his trust. That would be an uphill battle, Ahmakeph was not a trusting sort. Also, Manric could tell he looked down on almost everyone, and humans in particular. Manric was more curious than offended. Ahmakeph knew their language and could even speak it, so what experience did he have with humans? What dealings had the Sautekh Dynasty had with them? What was happening in the galaxy as a whole?
That thought moved his mind to other matters and Manric considered the social and military situation on Hope. With Rahkaak's blessing, two of the Regiments were being gradually disbanded and returned to the civilian population. With a small but strong fleet for defense, and the necrons building stronger fixed protections on the moon, there was really no need for a million strong army. The Knight armor and their pilots could take the place of a large number of soldiers, freeing them to rejoin civilian industries. And with Hope as unpopulated as it was, Manric thought they could expect a great boom in population and industry.
As wonderful as all that was, Manric was deeply concerned that the entire population of Hope seemed to be dismissing the drukhari as a threat. Yes, the dark eldar had suffered a tremendous blow, but there were more of them. Eighteen more ships and over seven thousand warriors, to be precise. If that entire force attacked Hope, could they hold?
It probably won't come to that. The drukhari would find what they had left for them, a destroyed base and little presents of booby traps and necron runes, telling them to go fuck themselves. (or some equivalent, Manric didn't really understand the insults involved) They wouldn't know how many necrons were alive, or where they had come from, so they would likely just cut Hope off from their regular raiding circuit. Everyone agreed that was the most likely scenario… but they did have to prepare for the unlikely. I wonder if they might try a fast raid. A very quick, flashing strike, tossing a nuke into the planet just to make a point before running out of the system?
All of this thinking was giving him a headache so after talking with Ahmakeph, Manric hunted down Itolyx. He found the Immortal pouring over a training module. Hm.
"May I interrupt?" Manric asked politely and Itolyx raised his head in a way that made him think the Immortal hadn't realized he was there. "I was wondering if you might want to spar?" Manric was aching for some physical exercise and he'd brought all his equipment. He was relatively confident they wouldn't hurt each other too badly.
"Not if you wish to use that spear," Itolyx said firmly, to Manric's surprise. "That is an aeldari weapon and it gleams with the sorcery of the warp. It is the kind of weapon that can defeat our recall functions." Oh.
"Well, that's interesting to know, but actually I brought my practice spear. I definitely don't use that weapon against my fellow humans, the way it slices through armor, and I didn't think you'd appreciate it either, recall or not." Manric said wryly. "Everything is waiting in the gladiatorial arena." That was a beautiful facility meant for the entertainment of the necrons. It was a bit odd by human standards, having no seating, but the rising daises on the edges served the same function as bleachers. Itolyx tilted his head to one side.
"May I ask why you want to do this now, when we never have before?"
"I always wanted to do this, but I couldn't risk getting laid up with injuries before," Manric answered instantly. "Now if I take a broken bone, it will just be annoying, not a catastrophe."
"I see, sensible. Very well, I would also like to test your skill." Excellent!
They took a barge to the gladiatorial arena. The underground world of the necrons was large, and it was faster and more convenient than walking. When they arrived, the practice spears and armor were waiting where Manric had placed them. He'd also secured a practice spear for Itolyx, which was meant to replicate the weight and heft of the Staff of Light a Necron Overlord might use. Itolyx hefted it experimentally.
"I recognize what this is meant to represent, but it is far above my station," he said and Manric paused in putting on his armor. He didn't…? Well, he absolutely shouldn't spoil the surprise then.
"Dream big, that's what my old commander used to say. Before he got eaten, that is," Manric said before going back to doing up the buckles. There was a silence. "That was a joke. Not a very funny one though, I admit. Are we ready?" He stomped his metal boot coverings into shape, feeling all the attachments settling in like an old friend.
"I am." What followed was, for Manric, a truly exhilarating practice match. Itolyx was very fast and his speed and power were terrifying, along with the weight of his weapon. Manric knew the solution to that though… just don't get hit. And he was a true expert at that, after all the years avoiding all the nasty tricks the drukhari liked to pull. "You fight like an aeldari."
"Do… I…?" Manric couldn't really talk when he was fighting like this, and the effort nearly cost him a hit. He just barely dodged, moving with practiced, floating footwork.
"Yes. What you just did right there, was typical of them. However, I have fought aeldari before." That was all the warning Manric had before Itolyx stepped up his attacks. He was forced onto the defense and driven around the arena before finally being knocked off his feet with a smooth sweep. Then Itolyx's spear was pressed snugly against his neck. "Do you yield?" Manric gasped for a moment, catching his breath, before responding.
"I do." He was most certainly beaten. Itolyx removed the spear and offered him a hand, which Manric accepted. "I clearly have more to learn than I thought," he said, a bit stunned by the reversal. He'd thought he was quite good, and he was, but that had been incredible. Itolyx hummed a laugh.
"You are extremely good for an organic, but there is always room to improve. Hm?" Itolyx made a small, interrogative sound and Manric was sure he'd just gotten a message. Then the AI beeped.
Manric, please accompany Itolyx to the throne room. Manric bowed slightly to the AI and set the practice spear to the side, retrieving his true weapon, the flowing Aeldari spear. Itolyx also set his spear aside, before they went back to the barge. Itolyx asked no questions and Manric wondered if he guessed.
When they arrived in the throne room, Rahkaak was there, Overlord Kototep by her side. Manric gave him a curious glance. He knew the other necron hardly at all, and he had the distinct impression that Phaeron Rahkaak wanted it that way. He certainly cut an impressive figure, barrel chested and carrying a powerful looking weapon, a staff set with a cloudy blue sphere. His necrodermis was touched with gold, denoting his close relation to Rahkaak, and his body was set with precious gems. Manric didn't want to stare, but did the gems pick out necron runes? Was that poetry?
Then his first words ruined the impression completely.
"You do not deserve the honor you are being given, commoner," he said in a tone that Manric incredulously thought was querulous despite the mechanical tone. It was rather shocking, from something that visually impressive.
"Kototep!" Phaeron Rahkaak said sharply and he reluctantly settled back, but continued to glower at Itolyx. "Immortal Itolyx, you have served the Dynasty well, far beyond expectations. Today, we recognize that you are worthy of more. You are now Lord Itolyx." Manric could sense Itolyx' shock. It was in the slight way his shoulders stiffened at the news. Then he bowed, low and deep.
"I am unworthy of this honor, Phaeron, but I shall bear it in honor of you and the Dynasty," he said humbly. Kototep hmphed.
"See that you do." He said shortly and Manric caught the slight hint of irritation in Rahkaak's posture, the way her green lights flickered. But she ignored the interjection.
"Please report to Simokh for elevation." That meant the process of remodeling Itolyx's body to accord with his new status. Partly just appearances, but it would also include real augmentations, giving him an additional sensor suite and making him faster and stronger. Given how strong Itolyx was now, it really brought home to Manric how terrifying the necrons could be. Itolyx bowed again, and they departed. When they were outside the throne room, the Immortal turned to him.
"You knew." Itolyx stared at him and Manric nodded.
"I overheard Simokh talking with one of the other Crypteks about your remodel, and Rahkaak asked me to be here today. Sorry, I would have told you but I couldn't steal the moment from the Phaeron." That would have been exceedingly rude. Itolyx hesitated a moment before accepting it.
"I want to be angry at you, but you are right. I look forward to sparring with you with my new enhancements." Ooof! Manric laughed.
"You'll wipe the floor with me, I'm sure. But I'll gladly help you get used to the changes," Manric said and Itolyx nodded before going to report to Simokh. Manric left the tomb world then, heading back to the surface. As he did, he smiled to himself.
This had been an excellent day.