Manric found Obyron to the best sparring partner he'd ever had in his life.

The silent Necron had incredible, tremendous skill but also the wisdom to not always use it. Without even saying a word, he was able to teach, and Manric was able to learn. It felt like new skill was flowing through him, as he was pushed to limits beyond anything he'd known as a human. It still wasn't enough though, it couldn't be enough, so Manric dove into the practice with a fervor born at least partly of desperation. And Zahndrekh had the wisdom to notice.

"Why are you so intent my friend? You are acting like you are going into a death duel tomorrow!" Zahndrekh said as they paused for a break. Manric wanted to laugh the question away, but caught the undercurrent of real concern.

"Can I tell you something?" Manric asked. He wanted to share his doubts, his fears, and he couldn't put this on Rahkaak or her Crypteks. Even Yantek was out of the question, while he would understand Manric couldn't distress him that way. More than ever, he missed Itolyx and also Ahmakeph. They both would have understood. "If you promise not to share it?" They didn't need this spreading early, it was going to be hard enough already. Zahndrekh tilted his head quizzically as Obyron just listened.

"Well, if it is not a direct threat to Sautekh, then I promise not to share it." Manric decided that would do. It wasn't like he was going to be a real threat to Imotekh, not at this rate.

"I am preparing for a duel with Imotekh the Stormlord," Manric stated it plainly and they both stared at him like he was insane.

"You are going to challenge Imotekh? Why would you do such a thing?" Zahndrekh sounded utterly appalled. Manric made the buzzing sound that served him for a sigh.

"I would never challenge the Stormlord and there is nothing I want less than to engage in a death duel with him. Alas, this is not my choice, it will be Imotekh offering the challenge." Manric leaned on his practice spear as he carefully chose his phrasing. "Rahkaak's Dynasty has become rather strange. We are going to sue for entry into Sautekh as a Vassal Dynasty, but Imotekh will not want to accept us. If we are unlucky, he will ban us from Mandragora and that will be that. If we are lucky, he will give us hard trials to prove our worth. As the commander, I will face Imotekh myself. There can be no other outcome." And just the thought of it was giving him anxiety. Not because he would lose – Manric accepted that as a foregone conclusion – but at the thought that he might fail to impress. "I know I can't win, but I have to prove my worth to the Stormlord." That was his goal. Imotekh still might decide against them but Manric himself was determined to not be the weak link. There was a silence as the other two necrons mulled it over.

"A strange dynasty… I did notice that your name is very strange. Necrontyr are all rather odd these days," Zahndrekh mused and Manric glanced at Obyron, wondering what he thought of all this. His loyalty to Zahndrekh seemed completely unwavering, but he surely saw what was really there. Had he guessed at Manric's nature? "But you want to swear your loyalty to Sautekh?"

"Yes, that is our desire," Manric affirmed. Zahndrekh's good cheer instantly returned.

"Well, if that is the case I believe we should help you! You would be a wonderful addition to my own forces, I will definitely ask Imotekh for you." That would actually be a huge relief. The cheerfully addled nemesor would treat the humans-turned-necrons just like any other unit under his command. "But that means we should go further. Practice weapons are good, but they can only go so far. If you consent, we can move to the true warriors arts."

"That might not be a good idea. My chosen weapon is a spear that can defeat recall functions. And while Obyron is certainly my superior in skill, it only takes one mistake." That was the grave danger of the aeldari spear, everyone could make a mistake, no matter how good they were. But to his surprise, Zahndrekh brushed away the concern.

"Ah, it will be fine! I am confident in Obyron. Also, I think you underestimate yourself, I think you would never take the life of a friend," Zahndrekh said and Manric wanted to point out that he could make mistakes too… but he also wondered if Zahndrekh had a point. The spear answered partly to his will, not just his hand. Would that prevent any training accidents, if he sincerely did not want to kill?

"I would not object," Obyron said, to Manric's near-shock. It was almost the first words he'd heard from him.

"Well, if you don't mind, I cannot object," Manric said, still wondering if this was a good idea. But if anything could give him an edge against Imotekh, it would definitely be the aeldari spear. "Let me go fetch it." It was in the weapon's rack in their quarters at the ziggurat. Manric commandeered a quick barge to get him there, and came back as swiftly as he could, although he knew the Necrons wouldn't mind the delay. Time really did move quite differently for them.

When he got back, though, Zahndrekh had a very odd reaction.

"Oh. That spear. I've seen that spear before…" Zahndrekh's tone was oddly flat and mechanical, even for a necron and Manric felt a strange turmoil from him. Varguard Obyron also reacted to that tone, hovering beside Zahndrekh with what struck Manric as deep concern. Zahndrekh was silent for a long moment before seeming to rouse. "What was I saying? No, I have never seen that spear before, what was I thinking?" A brief moment of lucidity lost, but Manric was glad of it. Somehow, he was sure the spear had aroused some very dark memories.

"Well, for me, this spear was spoils of war, claimed from the corpse of an enemy. It's not a weapon of my people, but it fits well in my hand," Manric said, making light of it. The spear was glowing already and he noticed a bit of the fire had trickled down to his hand. It's never done that before. Perhaps it was Zahndrekh's presence, but the spear definitely felt more active than usual. "You're going to behave, aren't you?" Manric asked the spear jokingly, but with some actual concern. Was this a good idea?

"It is fine," Obyron rumbled and that actually seemed to quiet the spear. Perhaps it particularly did not like Zahndrekh? Whatever the case might be, Manric put it aside. He would need all his attention for the spar.

Using his spear, and Obyron using his scythe, really did take things to the next level. Manric felt the impacts all through his arms as he followed his usual strategy… just don't get hit. But his Necron body could take more abuse, and recover much faster, so it was less imperative to avoid damage. As the spear caught on the scythe with a scream of tortured metal, Manric tried to kick the feet out from his opponent and knew he'd failed. Obyron pressed in harder and as the spear flared, Manric felt something incredibly strange. Like a phantom hand that he could grab with. Latching onto something, he gave a hard tug and Obyron suddenly stumbled. Manric's spear flashed out and in a real battle he would have won in that moment, separating head from shoulders, but the flat of the blade lashed his new friend instead.

"Stop." Manric obediently stepped back, feeling just as baffled as Obyron sounded. "I tripped?" Obyron looked down and around, confusion mounting as he saw nothing to account for it. Manric hesitated.

"I felt something strange… let me try something." Manric paused, just staring at his spear. As he did, he tried to recreate that strange feeling in his head. It required him to almost fall into a meditative trance, but after a few moments he found it.

A phantom hand. Grip. Pull.

There was a yelp and Manric pulled himself out of the trance to glance around, just in time to see something dissipate? It had been tugging Zahndrekh's cloak?

"Am I doing that?" Manric asked, awed to find a power of the spear he'd never known before. "I didn't see it, what was that?" What had it looked like? Obyron supplied an answer.

"It was a small loop of light gold light, exactly like the light of your spear." Obyron tilted his head, gazing at the spear thoughtfully. "That could win you many battles, if you learn to control it." Ah, that was an issue, he clearly had very little control of it at the moment. Manric was still baffled and awed though. I don't understand. My soul should be gone, how is this possible? The soul was a highly mutable thing and difficult to quantify, but all of his soldiers had shown signs of the "ghost in the shell" effect. They were still loving to those close to them but any hobbies involving creativity died on the vine, and the ancient records indicated their ability to feel love and many other emotions would gradually fade as the memories of life grew old. Manric thought he could see signs of it already, in a few of the men who were already inclined that way. Even if the spear didn't reject me, I never thought my connection to it could deepen. Was his soul still lingering, somehow? But how?

Then a hand waved in front of his face and Manric realized he'd been staring at the spear.

"You were lost in a dream… do you want to continue?" Zahndrekh asked and Manric hesitated.

"If you don't mind?" Perhaps more sparring would let him get a better handle on that power. Obyron shook his head.

"I do not mind. But do not think that will work a second time," Obyron said and Manric flashed an amusement glyph.

"I am sure it won't, so it's good that we're not likely to ever be enemies." If they ever were, Manric would have completely lost a huge advantage. Thankfully, he could not imagine that nightmare scenario ever coming to pass. Even if Imotekh didn't accept Rahkaak's offer, he'd likely just boot them out of Mandragora and ban them from returning, not declare war on them. And if in some horrible future he did… well, they were all dead anyway so there was no point in even worrying about it. "But defend yourself!" Manric readied his spear and Zahndrekh stepped back to watch. He enjoyed watching them spar and claimed it was martial and inspiring. Manric quickly got lost in the sparring again.

Ahmakeph was in a foul mood.

While he was glad to be back among the Sautekh and had retaken his position as an Overlord beneath that idiot Zahndrekh, being captured by the drukhari definitely did not cover him in glory. The ribbing he'd taken from some of his fellow Overlords was fine and well meant, but the way others had relegated him to a lower status had not been welcome. And Ahmakeph could do nothing about it, not yet. He would have to just concentrate on regaining his lost status and making a few of them pay, before the next convocation a thousand years from now.

Unfortunately, that left him a bit at loose ends. The usual events that he would have participated in, the courtly meetings and dances, would leave him in an annoyingly low rank. As for the plays, Ahmakeph would not have gone to them under direct threat of Obyron's scythe. One time watching the War in Heaven had been enough for the rest of his life. There were going to be gladiatorial events later – oh yes there would be, even if no one else knew yet – but that was still a week or so off. So what was he to do with himself? He could go back to the ship and just enter stasis but that was always a bad look for a noble. It would cost him a bit more standing and he wasn't ready for that yet.

So instead of that, Ahmakeph decided to figure out where Manric had gotten to. He wasn't with Phaeron Rahkaak, he knew that, and no one had mentioned an odd Overlord so where was he hiding? No one had seen Zahndrekh either and Ahmakeph almost groaned as he realized. Surely not?

It was so. Ahmakeph found the sparring area and quietly slipped in, standing by the sidelines and watching. Zahndrekh didn't seem to have noticed him, which was likely deceptive, the bastard noticed everything. Varguard Obyron definitely HAD noticed him, Ahmakeph knew, but he was busy with his sparring match and wasn't going to spare a moment for a new watcher.

Ahmakeph was impressed with what he was seeing. Manric's fighting style was evolving, incorporating some necron elements but still largely aeldari. It was very strange to see a Necron Overlord dancing like one of the cursed eldar, but he somehow made it work and it was undeniably effective. He wasn't too much faster than he'd been as a human but he was somehow keener, and the pure strength behind his blows was vastly enhanced. Also, Ahmakeph noticed that Manric was not as careful to avoid being hit as he'd been before. Completely understandable, his organic frame had been so vulnerable to damage compared to the hard shell and self-repairing mechanisms of a necron. Still, he was far more careful to avoid damage than a true Necron would be, probably out of habit.

Then something happened that truly startled Ahmakeph. A tiny clip in reality, like the most minute of black holes, and a flicker of golden light that tried to grab Obyron's wrist at what would have been a very inconvenient moment. Obyron spotted it and moved with lightning swiftness to avoid the snare, but it cost him a good strike and a bit of momentum, an advantage that Manric pressed. Another flicker of light appeared but this one fumbled completely, dissipating as the handle of Obyron's spear passed through it. Ahmakeph tilted his head in disbelief, noticing that the aeldari spear was glowing with cold fire, fire that was actually licking at Manric's arms. What was that thing doing?

Manric was the one to bring the battle to a halt and Ahmakeph would have frowned if he could still do that, at the way he locked his joints and hung his head. Was he overheating himself? Ahmakeph had driven himself past safety point a time or two, and he could see the signs of it.

"I think I need to take a break from doing that, it's starting to hurt," he said, his voice sounding a bit muffled. Ahmakeph noticed the warp fire retreating from his arms, back into the head of the spear. Was that what was causing him pain? Although he shouldn't be feeling pain at all, not really. Ah, who knew, maybe the former human was speaking out of habit.

"Ah, certainly! And my little cousin has come to call." Oh rust off! "How are you doing, cousin?" Ahmakeph truly wished he could stab Zahndrekh. However, that would lead to swift and utter oblivion at the end of Obyron's scythe. Manric lifted his head and Ahmakeph could see the condensation on his head, mimicking sweat. Yes, he was overheating.

"I'm fine, and stop calling me that," Ahmakeph said crabbily, still eyeing the former human. "I was looking for Manric… are you alright? You can get a cryptek to look at that if you need it." They could do some emergency cooling. Manric shook his head.

"I think I'm fine, I just need a rest." If he could still talk, he probably was fine. "Sorry, I wish I could continue but something about using that is really getting to me." What WAS that anyway? Besides some arcane warp power that no necron should have. Although, this made him think.

"I would like to spar too, you know," Ahmakeph said, eyeing Obyron. This was the first time he'd seen the Vanguard sparring with another Overlord and it was intriguing.

"No." Eh? Ahmakeph was set back on his heels a bit at that stern refusal. "I will not assist someone who might turn on my Lord." Well, he couldn't fault that logic. Ahmakeph had always dreamed of stabbing that idiot Zahndrekh and Obyron surely knew it.

"Oh, I'm sure he would never really do that." He damned well would! "Perhaps if he swears on his honor not to use anything he learns against you and Zahndrekh?" Manric was gazing him with what Ahmakeph could only describe as a hopeful air and for a moment, he wanted to stab the former human too. But…

Maybe it was the torture he'd endured under the drukhari, or maybe it was just something about Manric. But Ahmakeph found it in himself to ruefully acknowledge that he was never going to live out his dream of killing Zahndrekh and taking over his place. For starters, Obyron had made much more competent conspirators vanish in the night, and slain stronger ones outright. But also, Ahmakeph had always known he wasn't the kind of strategic genius that Zahndrekh was, despite his madness. He'd always somewhat wondered what a lot of Zahndrekh's challengers thought they would do if they actually pulled it off. Imotekh would expect the same level of performance, did they really think they could do it? Maybe they did, but Ahmakeph wasn't delusional. He was just… just annoyed.

"I will swear, but only if you also take an oath to me," he said, giving in. It wasn't going to happen anyway. "That you will never, ever, make me watch the War in Heaven again." He would commit suicide by Obyron before letting that happen again.

"Oh cousin, it was good for you! You need to expand your mind," Zahndrekh said airily and Ahmakeph's hand tightened on his staff.

"Wait, is that the play Itolyx told me about? The one that lasts ten years?" Manric questioned and Ahmakeph nodded grimly. "Zahndrekh! You said Ahmakeph is your cousin? Surely you knew his personality well enough to know he would hate that!" Manric was giving Zahndrekh a disappointed stare now and to Ahmakeph's great amusement, the powerful nemesor was actually taken aback. "That's cruel and you should apologize." HAH!

"I don't need an apology, just swear not to do it again," Ahmakeph cut in. He didn't want any meaningless apologies, he just didn't want to sit through that hell a second time.

"Well, I… I do apologize, cousin. I just wanted everyone to enjoy it with me. I never really thought…" Zahndrekh sounded forlorn and Ahmakeph wondered if he fully appreciated how bloated the War in Heaven had become. Maybe not, with his disconnect from reality. "I swear, I won't make you see the War in Heaven again."

"Then I swear not to ever try to kill you." Ahmakeph pledged and he thought Obyron actually seemed surprised at the outcome, but after a moment, nodded his assent. Manric moved to the side with Zahndrekh as Ahmakeph took his place against Obyron.

Even if he couldn't use anything he learned against Zahndrekh, he could still use it to regain his lost status in the wars ahead.