Manric was a bit puzzled to get a request from Overlord Naszar to meet him on his flagship, the Sarlok. Particularly since he asked that Zivok come as well, which indicated this had something to do with the resouling operations. Naszar was among Imotekh's great nemesors, though, and Manric was only an Overlord so he immediately consented. Suspecting something was going on, he brough with him some soul filled ghost wood.
"What's this about?" Zivok asked on the transport as Manric carefully set the ghost wood down on the floor. It was in a padded case, to prevent breakage, but they were all still careful. The material was so distressingly fragile but that was probably part of why it worked so well in moving souls around.
"I don't know but I suspect he wants us to resoul someone who shouldn't qualify." Perhaps a Necron Warrior that Naszar knew was special, or perhaps something more exotic. Someone that Imotekh would not approve of, would consider a waste of time and resources, so this would be along the lines of a personal favor. "You might be here to give a bit of an official stamp to it." If it was something exotic, Zivok could easily justify it as an experiment.
"Well, I'm quite curious to see what it is," Zivok said and Manric nodded, although he had a feeling he knew what it would be. Something immediately sprang to mind that Imotekh would never, ever approve of.
When they were brought aboard the Sarlok and escorted to Naszar, Manric was immediately proven right.
"I know this is not a good use of resources and Imotekh would refuse me. But this is my father, Sekemekh," Naszar said, his voice a bit uneven as he stood in front of a force field confinement. It shone with a dull yellow but they could still easily see and Manric felt a deep sadness as he gazed at what was inside. Once, it had been an Overlord but that had been a long time ago. Now it was a badly devolved Flayer, but with some vestiges of the glory that had been. His headdress was still beautiful, even caked with filth, and little tiles still hung from it, caked with blood. A badly ripped shred of flesh and skin, almost rotted away, was hanging over his face and an eyehole had been torn into it. The Flayer scuttled to the back of his cage, looking at them warily through his mask of skin. "Can he be resouled?"
"Oh my. I've heard of this, but never seen it," Zivok said and Manric winced a little as the scientist examined the Flayer. "You do understand that the resouling might cure his current behavior, but it's unlikely to repair the brain damage?"
"Engrammatic damage," Manric corrected. Zivok waved it away.
"Potato, potahto." Zivok! Manric sighed audibly. "Shut up Manric you're not my mother."
"Are the two of you finished?" Naszar was less than amused by their banter and Manric immediately shut up. He knew quite well that most nemesors were not as accommodating as Zahndrekh. "I know this might not do too much but if there is anything I can do to help him, any chance he might remember me…" Manric could easily detect Naszar's deep emotions, how important this was to him and he nodded before glancing at Zivok.
"Well, I will certainly give my official sanction to this. It's only one soul, after all. Manric, will he need to be restrained?" That was an interesting question and Manric gazed at the Flayer for a moment. Hmm.
"I'm not sure. Right now, he is suffering greatly from his hunger." Manric could feel it coiling inside the cursed Overlord, burning at his guts. The Flayer was making small sounds, what sounded like growls if you didn't know better but to Manric they were whimpers of pain. "I know it will be dangerous, but let me see if I can ease his pain." If they could ease that mindless hunger, they might be able to pacify him enough that they could attach the ghost wood and get the soul into him without restraints.
The force field could be modified to let someone go in, without actually opening it for the one inside to go out. After it was modified, Manric entered, unarmed. The Flayer regarded him warily and quickly scuttled in another direction as Manric approached. He had a fair amount of room and Manric noticed he had… toys? Skulls and bones, but also balls and other items that were clearly meant to keep him amused. Naszar had to also be providing him with the organic remains, everything his father needed to be somewhat content. It struck Manric as terribly sad.
"It is fine. Really, it is. I can make you feel better," Manric murmured, projecting reassurance and waiting patiently. There was a long pause, as the Flayer mulled it over, but he finally crept forward, still wary but intrigued. Manric gently rested a hand on his head, before soothing the curse inside him. It was harder than with Ahmakeph, much harder, since the curse was so deeply entrenched. "…" Manric actually felt like the Flayer virus might be sentient as he gently soothed it with lies. It almost seemed to be detecting his subterfuge although it did accept it, in the end. Naszar's father made a soft sound, almost like a chirp, and Manric detected his intentions just in time. Manric dodged to the side with all his speed as a hand lashed out, claws ready to impale him. He caught that hand as he heard shouts and quickly tried to soothe him. "No, no, you don't have to do that. I'm fine. I'm fine." Manric knew the words would mean nothing so he communicated directly, mind to mind, almost like a picture book. "I can't get sick, I am fine."
"What was that?" Naszar demanded and Manric couldn't respond immediately, just holding up a hand. He kept all his attention on Naszar's father and the Flayer gradually settled down, chirruping quizzically. Manric could sense his puzzlement but acceptance and relaxed a little.
"He thought he was going to infect me. He was trying to give me a merciful death," Manric said, backing away and reaching out. Zivok understood the gesture and passed a piece of ghost wood through the restraining field, along with the required wires already attached.
"He is capable of that?" Naszar asked and Manric could sense sudden hope. Manric nodded as he gently soothed the Flayer, coaxing him to move a bit upright so the ghost wood could be attached.
"He's completely non-verbal, language means nothing to him, but other than that he's fairly high functioning." Manric could tell that the Flayer was capable of enough reasoning to be very, very dangerous. He would be capable of spotting traps, for instance, and reasoning out what his prey might be doing. An absolute nightmare for anything he was hunting. Was this typical of Flayers? Manric wasn't sure. "Hopefully some language might return." That was what he had lost, above all else. Manric quickly forced the soul into the body and the Flayer made a sharp, buzzing sound. Manric soothed him again and gently spread the soul through his body, before he could become too upset at the pain. Then he stood back, waiting to see the reaction.
There was a soft chirping sound, before Sekemekh reached up and scratched at his head, shaking it until the covering of skin and flesh came off. Instead of it being something he craved, it was now an irritation and there was another, disconsolate chirp. Manric tried to understand what was wrong and received an impression of gleaming metal.
"Oh… he wants to be clean," Manric suddenly understood. "Can we summon some scarabs?" They would easily be able to take care of this, devouring all the dirt and turning it into pure energy. "You should be able to drop the force field." Manric wouldn't call him safe, exactly, but he was clean of the Flayer virus.
"He wants to be clean…" Naszar said and Manric could tell it was really hitting home to him now, that his father was cured. He stared at the broken-down Overlord and Manric could feel his strong, almost painful emotions, the grief and longing hope that maybe, just maybe, things could be fixed. Scarabs came into the room and began the task of cleaning him off, as the former Flayer passively accepted it.
"While you don't have to keep him in a restraining field any longer, you should likely be very cautious of introducing him to your crew. I would suspect he has no understanding of social situations and if he were to see, say, two warriors sparring he might take it entirely the wrong way," Zivok said and Manric nodded. That was a very good point and from what he could tell from his empathy, Zivok was probably correct. "For the sake of at least pretending this is an experiment, can you send me updates on his progress?" Naszar nodded and Manric could tell he was barely paying attention to them. Well, fair enough. Manric gently nudged Zivok and they left Naszar with his father, before departing the Sarlok for Mandragora. As they went, Manric felt saddened but also pleased.
With any luck, Naszar might someday have his father back.
Itolyx hadn't said anything to anyone, but he was in a minor depression since his resouling.
I cannot believe the things I have learned. He had learned about his family. His mother, a high caste prostitute to the ruling class. He and his half-brothers, all with different but identified fathers, every one of high rank. Two of his brothers had gone to the Immortals and one to the Crypteks. Itolyx could only mourn them, because they were all dead. One in combat, the other two in the ruins of the crownworld, destroyed by the drukhari. Itolyx was the only survivor of his close kin.
But there was one other, related to him through his father, and that bothered Itolyx greatly. Does Kototep know we share a father? Itolyx was sure he hadn't before, but did he know now? Had he ever been told about his half-brother? It was possible he hadn't, Itolyx couldn't remember ever meeting his father, just being told his name and seeing his half-brother at court. Itolyx struggled to remember… had he been dead? Was that why he had no memories of him?
There was only one person who could give him answers, and that was Kototep. Itolyx agonized about it for some time before diffidently asking Zahndrekh for permission to initiate a two way FTL communication.
"Oh, why? What is happening?" Zahndrekh asked and Itolyx wished he hadn't, but understood why he would. Two way FTL links were really very energy expensive and normally done only for serious tactical situations.
"It is purely a private matter. I understand if I cannot," Itolyx said humbly. "I have learned that Overlord Kototep is my half brother. We share a father, but I cannot remember him… I am hopeful that he can tell me something about him." It was suddenly important to know.
"Kototep, your brother? How intriguing! Well, let me check…" Zahndrekh checked the status of the fleet. "I believe we can spare the power generation for it right now. Go ahead, but try to keep your conversation under an hour." That should be more than sufficient and Itolyx nodded.
"Thank you nemesor, I deeply appreciate it," he said before signing off. Then Itolyx went to his quarters before arranging the message. Hopefully, Kototep would take it, he wasn't entirely reliable and getting a two-way FTL message would surely puzzle him.
When Itolyx sent it, he waited patiently but the response was surprisingly prompt.
Who is… Itolyx? Kototep was beyond confused, flashing glyphs to indicate it. Itolyx came to the conclusion that he didn't know. Why would you talk to me? Like this? It surely was baffling to him, given the energy expenditures involved.
"I am sorry… I have been resouled, and remember the past. Did you know we are half-brothers?" Itolyx asked and Kototep made glyphs of shock. "My mother was a palace prostitute." That was actually a very respectable thing for a commoner to be. But then, their place in life was to serve and please the nobility and what gave more pleasure than that?
Really? I'm surprised father even… no wait, he was injured one time and came back to convalesce for a year. That's probably when it happened. So he remembered their father! But he died just two years after that. You don't remember him? Ah, so his father had been dead.
"No, I do not. I was not sure he was dead… can you please tell me about him?" Itolyx wasn't sure why, but he had a great desire to know about his father. At the time, he'd probably known, but now he had forgotten. There was a moment of silence as Kototep thought about it.
Well honestly, father would probably have liked you far better than he liked me… he was a warrior, through and through. I'm sure you remember this but even though we were largely a peaceful Dynasty, we still had to defend ourselves regularly. Yes. The War in Heaven had not entirely passed them by, they had sometimes fought bands of Krork, in particular. Also a few small incursions of aeldari. Not to mention pirates and other raiders of their own species, freebooters with no particular allegiance. Father was a powerful Overlord and nemesor. He was constantly away fighting. I confess, I saw very little of him and whenever he was around I wished he would just go away. Kototep made glyphs of resignation and amusement. It didn't bother me when he called me a worthless little parasite, but it did get tiresome. I would read him my poetry to get him to go away. Oh.
"So you do not remember much of him personally?" Itolyx was finding this mildly disappointing, although from Kototep's description of their father, it was no surprise they hadn't gotten along. Kototep hesitated for a long moment.
Itolyx… I don't like to slander the dead. But my father's reputation when he was here was… was not… let me put it this way. Your mother probably wasn't too pleased with what happened. …What? Rahkaak's parents, the old Phaeron and her husband, tolerated my father for many reasons but when my mother died, I was placed directly under their guardianship. They justified it as my father was constantly away, but well. There was a bit more to it than that. Oh.
"I see…" Itolyx was dismayed, but now his memories at least made sense. No wonder his mother had not discussed his father much. That, he knew, was the great downside of being a palace prostitute… you could not say no and nobles could be very, very cruel. Phaeron Rahkaak and her parents might not have tolerated that kind of behavior from a lesser light, but a powerful nemesor with a track record of victory would have more leeway, even if they found it odious. "I am not pleased to hear it, but I am very grateful for your honesty." He vastly preferred to know the truth.
It's not a problem. But since I have you on this method of communication, I should make use of it! Itolyx made a glyph of confusion. Use it for what? Here, take this data dump – Itolyx blinked as something came through. Was this a – a work of fiction? It's an outline and also a rough draft for a play. Can you show it to Imotekh and get his opinion? The Stormlord?! Itolyx was just an Overlord! Or get Manric to do it. Oh that sounded so much better. Itolyx had never spoken to Imotekh and was frankly in awe of him. I know Imotekh is likely no connoisseur of the arts, but he probably knows exactly who can review this and give us some feedback. The War in Heaven didn't get so bloated on its own, I know Mandragora has some playwrights. That was true although their quality was questionable at best. Itolyx had heard some Crypteks who fancied themselves critics complaining about that… they tended to agree that most of the additions had made the War in Heaven worse.
"I will, but do not necessarily take the feedback too seriously. The qualify of their work is questionable," Itolyx said before thinking of something. "Are you writing this?" That would be quite surprising. Kototep had never done anything but poetry that he knew.
No, although I made the outline and came up with the plot with Panaa's help. A human playwright is helping us make it a reality. Ah, that made sense. Reinhart convinced the Phaeron to invest in the production… I confess to not understanding all the monetary aspects, but apparently art can actually make money. Well, back in the Flesh Times artists had to eat so Itolyx would presume so. Kototep had always been in a privileged position, it was amusing how clueless he could be.
"If Reinhart is running it, I am sure it will be a success," Itolyx said. Reinhart was exceedingly competent and rarely had failures. "I will take this to Manric and see what he can do." Itolyx was sure Manric would know who to talk to. Perhaps not the Stormlord himself, perhaps Manric would know what crypteks could offer their knowledge.
Thank you so much! Itolyx ended the connection and pondered what he had learned. As he did, though, he also pondered something else… the change in Kototep. Before, Itolyx would have described him as unpleasant and peevish, with an overblown sense of his own accomplishments that was, perhaps, hiding a great sense of his own worthlessness. Now, Kototep seemed happy and almost serene, not even pretending to competence in such things as war and finance. It was a very pleasant change and Itolyx could only assume it was due to the return of Kototep's art. Having that taken away had truly ripped the heart out of him and now that fire was returned.
For Kototep's sake, Itolyx hoped this play was a success.
When Imotekh decided to move on Iyanden, he commanded the fleet himself.
While the forces under his command were his personal fleet, the great wing of his forces that Imotekh commanded himself, he also took Manric. That was just good sense. If anyone was going to get through the thick skulls of the aeldari and convince them to surrender, it would be Manric. Although Imotekh was absolutely certain he would have to bloody the Iyanden eldar thoroughly before they would finally see sense.
When Imotekh approached Iyanden, he saw the defending eldar ships were in a tight formation around the Craftworld. That surprised him a little because if they wanted to actively keep the Craftworld safe, they should try to keep him away from it. If he fired on them where they were, Imotekh would be in danger of destroying the prize he wanted to take. Ah, was that their strategy? If so it was annoying but he would be up for the challenge.
"Hailing," one of the Necron Warrior crew said. This one had a vocabulary of exactly one word, likely programmed by the C'Tan. Imotekh nodded.
"On screen." The Warrior's hands moved with assurance and the display lit up. Imotekh could see the hail was coming from the Craftworld and there were three eldar on screen, all looking particularly grim. He fully anticipated a denunciation and a demand that he leave Iyanden's space.
To Imotekh's shock, that wasn't what happened at all.
"Stormlord Imotekh, Phaeron of the Sautekh, we offer you our terms for surrender." Wait, what?! Imotekh was actually speechless for a moment. "We demand that you admit us to your empire with conditions. Our Council and Farseers shall be accounted Lords, and all others as commoners." That was quite a concession for a non-necron race, but Imotekh was still utterly shocked that they were offering surrender at all! What could possibly have motivated them so? "And you will cede to us your Overlord Manric Duleth, to assist us with ending She-Who-Thirsts." Oh.
"Detail that. What do you mean?" Imotekh rumbled, leaning forward as he stared at the screen intently. Manric was listening to the whole thing, which was rather convenient. The eldar looked like she wanted to do anything else, but she obliged.
"We require his assistance to retrieve the final Crone Sword from the Gardens of Slaanesh." Imotekh felt a prickle of unease as he considered that. From what he understood, that meant directly entering the Immaterium and placing Manric within the claws of Slaanesh. If he came out, he would be fine but if he didn't… "The great Eldrad and our Farseers have both prognosticated that if he is with us, there will be a good chance of success. If he is not, there is no chance." Hmmm.
For a long moment, Imotekh pondered the offer. It was a surprisingly difficult decision. Manric was exceedingly useful, both for his soul healing abilities and also his incredible talent for diplomacy. Empathic telepathy was next scale cheating, in negotiations, and Manric was insanely difficult to lie to. Not impossible, as the demon had demonstrated, but very difficult. Losing him would be a genuine loss to Imotekh and he did not discount the manner of the loss. It was one thing to send a soldier to death, another to send them to eternal torment. Of course, that part should not entirely be his decision.
"Manric? What do you say to this?" Imotekh asked although he was sure he knew the answer. Manric did not disappoint him.
"I cannot refuse such a request. I do understand the dangers, but this is a matter of life and death for an entire species. Not only that… removing Slaanesh will surely be a blow for Chaos Undivided." Yes, although the other three Ruinous Powers would quickly (and happily) fill the gap. "Lastly, while my spear would never demand it of me, I would feel unworthy of this weapon if I were to refuse this request." Indeed. "If you consent to this, Phaeron, I will gladly participate." Imotekh nodded before looking back at the eldar of Craftworld Iyanden.
"Very well, I accede to these demands in return for your oaths of fealty." The eldar obviously hated it but nodded reluctantly. Manric said nothing, so they had to be truly sincere. Excellent. "We will make this a formal agreement, but later. For now, I will begin moving your Craftworld into my sphere of influence." To Imotekh's mind that was very important and he did not want any delay. It would take years, but that just meant he wanted to get it started faster. The humans and their celestial equipment were in the middle of his fleet, well defended by his capital ships. He'd brought them in preparation for the victory but this was even better, they could get to work immediately. "I will send my human subjects to you. You will be responsible for their well being." That was part of why he'd brought the humans, as well. They could only carry so many supplies but it didn't matter when the Craftworld could supply all of their needs. The eldar woman nodded.
"We have foreseen this. Send them and they will be welcomed." For a certain degree of welcome, he was sure, but Imotekh began directing the fleet. His ships moved aside so the smaller, defenseless civilian ships could go through. The eldar vessels made room for them and after a bit of work with the unfamiliar systems, they were able to dock at the Craftworld. Imotekh waited patiently, knowing it would take them some time to get the great serpent that would reverse, then accelerate Iyanden's course, into place.
Imotekh knew he was taking a great chance – if Manric was lost, negotiating with the Imperium of Man would become far more challenging – but taking the Craftworld intact was well worth the danger.