One thing in his story to the Imperium that Manric had barely touched on was the matter of the golden chain. Guilliman knew the story of it, and the Inquisition did not particularly need to know. Also, much of it had happened after they returned.

As the aeldari celebrated the return of their champions and mourned the lost, Manric was soundly hugged by Sehenna. But that chain was still in his hand and as he returned her hug, it tinkled against her body, making her look.

"What is that?" Sehenna asked and Manric was able to examine the golden chain for the first time. It appeared to be fashioned as a necklace, but a very heavy one, of links of fine gold. Hanging from the chain were two things, a golden aquila, the emblem of the Imperium of Man. The other thing was a giant ruby of surpassing quality and fineness. It fit neatly into the palm of Manric's hand, which made it large indeed and it seemed to glow within with a brilliant light.

"Incredible," Manric breathed, as he perceived the true nature of the enormous stone. This was not a physical rock, anymore than ghost wood was actual wood. No, this was a creation of the soul, the solidified lifeblood of… who? Manric didn't know but he felt the gem thrumming with pure life. Feeling oddly disinclined to share it with the aeldari, Manric stuffed it away into his chest. An odd way to carry things, to be sure, but there was enough room in there and the flexible necrodermis could hold it in place. Then he looked at Sehenna. "I am not sure… I will examine it later." She nodded, understanding that he wanted to keep this to himself. Manric felt nothing from his spear, so presumably it approved of his action.

All of the eldar desperately needed to rest and truthfully, Manric did as well. And his part in things was essentially done, so he departed Craftworld Iyanden for his ship. He would go to Hope for some time with his family and also to decompress from that mission. While he was there, Manric thought he would introduce them to Sehenna. Why not, after all?

And while he was in Hope, Manric would meditate on his spear and the stone and try to understand what purpose this relic had to play.

Simokh held the precious ruby in his hand, regarding it curiously. To his oculars, it was merely a stone. But if Manric said it was something else entirely, he would accept that.

"You wish me to turn this gold into a power gauntlet?" Simokh examined the golden chain, analyzing the composition. To his surprise, it was not gold at all but actually – "Transpositanium?!" It was not pure transpositanium though, it was an alloy of pure gold and that even more precious ore. Simokh was absolutely in awe of the wealth he was holding in his hands. Did Manric have any idea how valuable this was? "This is far beyond my level of expertise." Simokh was merely a mid-level Technomancer. He was afraid to even touch this material. How had the transpositanium been alloyed with the gold in the first place? He knew of no method to do such a thing.

"Simokh… I know this may sound strange, but I have foreseen that only you can forge this into the weapon I need." Simokh turned to look at Manric, disbelief rising through his broken engrams. Although they were less broken than they had been, he sometimes felt true emotions now although usually for Rahkaak. "Meditate on the stone and let it guide you. It will show you the way." …

"What is this stone?" Simokh asked, almost fearing the answer. "You say it can act as a C'Tan shard?" Manric claimed this ruby would power the weapon, just as whatever source of power that fed Imotekh's gauntlet. Simokh had no idea how that peerless item had been made but power sources were often the most troublesome part of making such items. C'Tan shards were the easiest method but were also reserved for very intensely powerful items, like the blackstone forges or Szarekh's battle platform. Manric hesitated a moment before divulging the information.

"It is the shard of a soul… the soul of the Primarch, Sanguinius." Simokh stared at Manric for a moment before looking back at the ruby. He knew very little about the Imperium of Man but he was aware this had to be an incredibly holy object to them. "This is what he wants. The rest of his soul fragments are lost, and will be lost for a very long time, so he wants to be useful and in the hands of a warrior he respects. He has chosen me for now and he will guide you in making the gauntlet, if you let him."

"…" Simokh wasn't sure what to think of this. It was very mystical, which made him wary, but C'Tan shards could certainly communicate so surely this soul shard could as well. And he did know how to meditate. It had been a very long time since he had done so, but the memory of it persisted. Did he still need incense? Setting aside that question – it probably wasn't necessary – Simokh returned his attention to Manric, who was waiting patiently.

"These eldar have infested you with their mysticisms," Simokh said and Manric tapped his spear with his fingers, flashing glyphs that made a simple message of it has always been this way. Well, he might have a point. "Very well, I will do what I can." He would not promise anything but he would meditate on the jewel as requested. Ah, perhaps that was why it had to be him. Who else would humor this madness?

"Thank you, I very much appreciate it," Manric said sincerely before leaving him with the ruby and golden chain. Simokh stared at it for a moment, before preparing for his meditations.

The preparations were simple. Simokh no longer needed a cushion and he didn't have any incense, but he did arrange the lights to make the green glow more pleasing. Then he knelt on the floor, holding the stone in his hands and gazing at it as he attempted to meditate. He no longer had breathing, but he could control the ebb and flow of his flux, the pace of his engrams. He slowed his mental processing in a very deliberate way, trying to find that old sensation that could be called meditation.

Simokh was not conscious of time in this state. He gazed into the ruby and gradually, he came to perceive a spark of light in it. Not true light, his oculars reported nothing, but something that resonated with his soul. And as he fell into a deep trance, he saw what needed to be done.

Moving to his feet, he began designing the power gauntlet. He did not need Manric's measurements, they were recorded, so it began easily enough with the basic shell. Then Simokh refined the design, unaware that he was showing expertise far beyond his usual level of skill… what was taking shape was a weapon that any Overlord would be proud to own, the work of the finest of Technomancers. When the design was perfected, Simokh began the process of turning it into reality.

It took several days of concentrated work, as Simokh followed an unusual process to melt and shape the alloy without losing the unique properties of the composition. The aquila was set aside – it was pure gold and would be used for adornment later – as was the gem, to be inset at the end. Working with absolute dedication to detail, Simokh built the power gauntlet. Tiny scarabs and other tools assisted him, the many things Technomancers employed to make such fine work.

When the gauntlet was done, Simokh inscribed some of the plates with necron runes. They were runes for bravery and valor in battle, praising the strength of the gauntlet itself. This was a strange compromise with the spirit in the stone… it would have preferred something that appeared completely Imperial, but Simokh wanted it acknowledged that necrons had created this. The meanings of the runes were pleasing to the soul, so it consented. When that was done, Simokh gently shaped and inlaid the aquila into the gauntlet, followed by the ruby. The spot for the ruby was perfectly made and it settled easily into place, fusing instantly with the gauntlet.

Then it was done. Simokh roused from his trance and realized he was intensely tired… his mind needed a bit of time to reorganize and clean up from the stresses he had placed it under. Deciding that was paramount, Simokh gave himself an hour and went into a recovery cycle. When he roused from that reverie, he felt infinitely better and was able to examine his own work.

"I made this?" Simokh murmured as he picked up the power gauntlet. "…" He admired his own work, in awe of it. He should not have been able to do this. This kind of intensely creative and individualized work was the provenance of the greatest of Technomancers. Simokh felt deeply honored that he had been given the opportunity to create such a work.

Checking time, he realized that the entire process had taken a week. No wonder he had been fatigued. Reaching out, Simokh sent a quick interstitial message to Manric and got back a quick acknowledgement and promise he would return soon. Ah, he was with his family. Understandable, he took every opportunity to be with them he could.

Manric arrived with his pet Warrior in tow. She was looking at everything and Simokh wasn't too surprised, as he knew she was among the recently resouled.

(Simokh had no idea that Sehenna had never seen planetary environments until recently. Because they were a small dynasty, the Uhnashret had never had a caste devoted entirely to naval officers like the Sautekh)

"It is done," Simokh said simply before offering Manric the gauntlet. He took it with a properly reverential air. The Warrior made a soft sound and flashed a clumsy glyph for awe.

"It is beautiful beyond words. I am no expert in such things, but I can see the workmanship of it. What does it do?" Manric asked and Simokh explained.

"It is capable of three things, although the last depends on the wearer being a particularly strong psyker." The gauntlet would use Manric's connection to the Warp to accomplish it, although it would work for any psyker of sufficient strength. "It can fire blasts of power, similar to a Gauntlet of Fire." The only difference was the flame would be brilliant red, reflecting the color of the ruby. "It can also generate a very powerful force shield." Simokh wasn't going to detail precisely how it worked, but it was a combination of quantum shielding and void shielding. That would make it virtually impossible to penetrate, but – "You will have to stand still and project it, doing nothing else. It can also generate a much smaller, purely quantum shield that can be used to deflect smaller attacks." That would be highly useful in combat. "The ability that only a psyker can use is the ability to separate your conscience from your body, using the stone as a focus. Then you should be able to survey the entire battle." Simokh knew nothing of how to manage battles but he could still see the worth of that. Manric was delighted.

"Ah, the Scrier's Gaze! I have always wanted that. Along with my ability to create holes in reality with my spear, or punch them myself, my deadliness on the battlefield will be greatly enhanced." Yes indeed. And that was why Simokh had not used the properties of the gauntlet for teleportation, although the material would lend itself to that… Manric essentially already had that ability, in a different form. "May I try it on?"

"You may," Simokh said gravely. He wanted to make sure it was all working properly although he thought the chance of any mistake was incredibly slim. Sure enough, when Manric donned the gauntlet it moved as smoothly as his real hand, meshing beautifully with his body. Manric did not test the destructive properties but did test the shielding and tilted his head back a moment, presumably testing the Scrier's Gaze.

"Ah, incredible. Simokh… when I go back to Mandragora, did you want me to enter this in their records?" Simokh paused for a moment at that question. That was… somewhat concerning. While it would be wonderful to have this recorded as his great masterwork, one of the peerless items of their race, it might gain him unwanted attention. Still… for the sake of posterity, he did want it to be recorded.

"I would wish that but can you please make sure it is noted that this was not entirely my accomplishment and I cannot repeat such a working?" Simokh finally said. He didn't want the Crypteks of Mandragora to get ideas that he was some kind of hidden genius. Manric flashed a quick glyph of amusement.

"May I see…?" The Warrior asked and Manric took off the gauntlet so she could get a better look. Simokh gazed at her with a bit of curiosity… the scarf she was wearing had the old emblem for Gidrim, which was currently out of use but had presumably been her emblem when she had lived. All Simokh knew about her was that she was female, and Manric's close companion.

"Forgive me, I have not caught your name," Simokh said and she started slightly.

"Oh! Forgive me, great one. I am Sehenna," she said and Simokh thought that was a rather pretty name. "It is truly beautiful, I have never seen anything like it." That made him feel a bit of pride, despite his broken engrams.

"You know, we should show Phaeron Rahkaak before we go," Manric said and that was true, Simokh would like her to see it. "And introduce her to Sehenna." That made the young Warrior squeak.

"M-me?! The Phaeron?!" Ah, poor child, she was so young. Simokh decided not to point out that if she was truly intent on following Manric everywhere, she might eventually meet Imotekh. He thought Sehenna might die at the thought. Feeling deep pride in himself, Simokh went with Manric to show Rahkaak his greatest achievement.

Even if it had not entirely been his own doing, he should still be proud of the accomplishment.

Elsewhere, Roboute Guilliman was developing a pounding migraine.

He had been arguing with the Adeptus Mechanicus for hours. It had taken years, decades really, but word had finally reached them about the STC. Guilliman thought it was the one on Antioch that had done it… despite all of the Stormlord's security, some whisper of it had slipped out. And when the Mechanicus had the scent, they had doggedly pursued it and gotten information about Hope.

Now the entire Priesthood of Mars, even Belisarius Cawl, wanted to declare war on the Stormlord and take the STC, either from Hope or Antioch. Guilliman was attempting, to the best of his ability, to explain how they were completely insane and they were not taking it well.

"I reiterate. This is the tactical situation," Guilliman said before going through it again, for the fortieth time. Hope was incredibly well fortified and could be approached via only three routes in the Warp. And one of those routes petered out long before the destination, making it feasible but very dangerous. Hope was, essentially, a death trap for the Imperium.

Hive World Antioch was just as bad. Imotekh had not picked it at random… The Warp conduits to Antioch were badly broken by the extension of the Eye of Terror. In addition to that, the Stormlord had thoughtfully mined them with negatively charged blackstone fortresses. Likely that was entirely to annoy Chaos, but it worked fairly well on the Imperium. Most of the ships going to Antioch used necron FTL technology, these days.

(it really was a bit rough for Navigators in the Sautekh empire. When trade with the Imperium fully opened, a great many of them would try to migrate back)

(the Inquisition would check them for 'corruption' but because of how valuable they were, it would be relatively light interrogation)

On top of the difficulties getting there, the Stormlord was ready for them. While bringing great forces to Hope required the Stormlord to go out of his way, Antioch lay at the centre of his empire. Not even that far from Mandragora, the Stormlord could bring every wing of his army to defend it. That was WHY the STC was there, despite the ork infestation… it was a perfectly defensible world.

Fortunately, Roboute finally had some company and a second voice to help him dealing with this.

"That Hope system would be a cheese grater for our forces. Antioch…" Lion El'Jonson studied the tactical map before shaking his head. "Not worth it. I don't think we can take Hope at all, we might take Antioch, but it isn't worth it."

"How can you say that? Do you not understand the incredible increases to our technical base that would be possible?" Belisarius Cawl said and Guilliman sighed internally. He wanted the STC more for the practical effect than the religious aspect. Cawl saw exactly what Guilliman had… that the STC was a treasure trove of minor improvements that could completely overhaul their technical base.

"Do you understand the impact of losing a good half of our forces to the Stormlord when we are fighting Chaos and the Tyranids?" El'Jonson demanded and Guilliman thought that was conservative. They'd have to go in with absolutely overwhelming force and the Stormlord would respond with the same. "Not to mention what is happening in the Pariah nexus. You propose that we cripple ourselves against the LEAST dangerous threat?"

"Even, perhaps, a possible ally," Guilliman said quietly and El'Jonson looked at him sharply. He met his brother's gaze evenly. "I am told the Stormlord hates the Silent King."

"They are still the same xenos. They will look aside from those differences when assailed from outside," El'Jonson said sharply but Guilliman shook his head.

"You are wrong, brother. I have it on good authority that this hatred is depthless beyond our understanding." Actually… no, they COULD understand it. "It is the depth of hatred given to the traitor, the hatred we have for Horus. Imotekh will not assist the Silent King in anything besides finding his death." The Lion lifted his eyebrows a little and seemed skeptical, but accepted the correction. "And Cawl, you know as well as I do that blackstone can be positively charged to enhance the warp. If the Stormlord is willing to give us such blackstone…" That could make penetrating the Pariah Nexus infinitely easier. Trusting on the faith of his people in the emperor made Guilliman want to cringe. Even though that somehow had worked, just straight up depending on it felt like a horrendous idea. Also, given how the blackstone worked, it could amplify that faith and make it more effective at breaking the miasma.

"We should not be depending on xenos technology at all! We must reclaim our own!" One of the great Martian Priests said. And while true, that would not be helpful against the Pariah Nexus in the slightest. Even at the very height of the Dark Age of Technology, humans had been depressingly ignorant of the Warp. With their War in Heaven, the necrons were vastly more versed with it, if in some very limited ways. Not to mention that this STC was NOT FROM the height of the DAOT, something that Guilliman had reminded them of several times.

It was all very unpleasant but after hours more of wrangling, and even El'Jonson looking like he was getting a headache, the Martian Priesthood accepted the unpleasant truth. They were far from defeated – they would be watching like a hawk for an opportunity – but for now, they accepted that they couldn't have the STC. Guilliman was sure that Lion El'Jonson's support for his position had really been what had convinced them, in the end. It was hard to continue when the Primarch noted for having the greatest strategic acumen of them all told you that you were completely doomed.

"Guilliman… can you at least try to get some STC fragments out of them? Anything?" Cawl said with an almost wistful air. Guilliman sighed audibly.

"I'll try, Cawl, I'll try." How though? Even if he somehow negotiated with the Stormlord, he was sure Imotekh would drive a hard bargain. Or rather, his agents… Guilliman understood perfectly well how Manric's gifts worked, the eldar had informed him, so he was sure Imotekh would use the Overlord as a negotiator. And it was utterly vexing but when Guilliman had asked Yvraine if there was a way to block an empathic telepath, she had just stared at him in puzzlement and asked why you would. Apparently, even among the drukhari, such gifts were seen as entirely positive in nature.

(not that empathic telepaths could survive among the drukhari, but the gifts were so respected that on the rare occasion one occurred, they were generally passed to the Craftworlders or Exodites)

(in return, drukhari could sometimes receive treatment from them for soul injuries beyond the usual)

Perhaps he could dispatch more Callidus assassins, but this time with the goal of just stealing some STC fragments. It would be insanely difficult for them, though… getting to Hope again would be feasible but how to get back? Antioch might be more feasible, they would have to look into it, but Guilliman was sure the Stormlord's security would be tight.

In what seemed like an incredible coincidence but was actually perfectly timed – Yvraine and the eldar had assisted, in addition to Orikan – before anyone could leave Macragge, a message from the Stormlord arrived. The bearers of that message managed to slip so close to the planet that it actually caused a great deal of uproar and chagrin.

I apologize most humbly for my failure, Lord Commander. I will accept any punishment deemed necessary, his naval commander, a grizzled old veteran, said apologetically. Guilliman waved it away – he knew the worth of this man, he wasn't quite on Imotekh's level but he came as close as a human could – and looked at the tactical readouts with puzzlement.

"Where is the necron ship?" Guilliman asked after a moment. He honestly couldn't see it. Lion El'Jonson pushed him a bit to the side and Guilliman went, letting him examine the display.

"Oh, there it is… but that's a ship, not a shuttle?" Something shuttle sized? With that clue Guilliman also managed to find it in the clutter around Macragge. He stared at it in perplexity though. It was bigger than a Doom Scythe, but hardly much larger than an actual shuttle. What on earth was it even for?

Apparently so. The necrons aboard say it's a survey ship and because they don't need life support, it's essentially an engine and very small living quarters, with a bit of space for equipment. Oh! Guilliman actually did understand the purpose of this vessel now, and he almost admired it.

"That's far more practical than using Rogue Traders to explore unknown areas. A shame we can't do something similar," he remarked. For humans, the closest equivalent would be an unmanned probe run by AI, but even if the Imperium began using basic AI again, such a thing would not be basic. "Do not be ashamed of your failure. It is understandable that it evaded your sensors." The vessel was too small to be a threat… too small to even contain life support, it did not have the capacity to mount any truly threatening weapon. Oh, it could have a Doom Scythe level gauss flayer, but just one of those would be sadly pathetic against a capital ship. And anything bigger would tear the ship to pieces the instant it was fired.

"Hm. Does it have actual stealth technology? Are these ever used as scouts?" El'Jonson asked, seeing more the military applications.

They claim that as it has no defenses, there is some stealth technology built into the hull. They also claim it is not normally used for military operations as the stealth tech it uses is more 'hope they don't see me' than 'they definitely won't see me' and that isn't good enough. The naval officer was skeptical and Guilliman felt the same. This one had gotten quite close. On the other hand, necrons had never been noted for having excessively good stealth technology. Drukhari ships, in particular, tended to be more stealthy.

"We only have their word for that… we should update our lexicon of ships to include this," his brother said and Guilliman nodded. That would let all commanders know to be on the alert for this kind of thing. "Leaving that aside, what do they want?"

They have transmitted a message from the Stormlord. It was their first communication with us. Ah, how clever, so even if the ship had been destroyed by some trigger happy captain they would still have had the message. Not wonderful for whoever was manning that little ship though. I will transmit it. The image of the Stormlord filled the screen. Guilliman had never seen Imotekh before and examined him curiously. He was quite an imposing xenos but Guilliman had seen much worse, in his day.

Roboute Guilliman, Lion El'Jonson, I greet you, Phaeron to Phaeron, the Stormlord said in low Gothic. Guilliman lifted his eyebrows. That already sounded like a peaceful entreaty? I request you meet me on the planet of Hope, at this point in time. An exact measurement was provided in the form of a binary cant. Guilliman was sure the tech priests would be able to pinpoint it down to the minute. Roughly a year from now. Ah, good, that gave him an idea. So we can discuss the matter of a peace treaty and trade relations between our great empires.

"Why HOPE? That could be a trap," El'Jonson muttered and almost as if he'd heard, the Stormlord addressed that issue.

I do not wish you to come to Hope, and I am sure you do not wish to come, but my prognostications are that your Mechanicus Priesthood will demand we meet there. DAMN! Guilliman sighed audibly as the Lion was taken aback.

"Oh. They would, wouldn't they." And they would absolutely demand to be present, too. You couldn't pry Cawl away with an electro-prod.

You may bring a force of this size – What Imotekh offered was roughly the size of a wing of his army. Guilliman nodded to himself. That would be more than enough for them to cause a great deal of damage to the Hope system, if they chose to attack. This was going to require trust on both sides, though, a great deal of trust. I will have a similar force in position. If you abuse my trust, there will be no negotiation in the future. Also, keep that idiot Helbrecht away. I am aware he is hunting me, but I have no time for his foolishness. Well Guilliman certainly hadn't been intending to bring the Black Templars but they certainly might try to invite themselves along. He would have to be very firm with them. The message ended then, and the image of the officer came back up.

The survey ship is waiting for your reply, sir. Guilliman nodded absently, thinking about the message.

"Advise them to wait, and advise everyone else to not touch them. Anyone who harms that ship will be executed," Guilliman said, knowing full well someone might do it. He believed as firmly as his father in the superiority of humanity, but the current Imperium took their fearful xenophobia to senseless levels. Why be so afraid of something that was innately inferior?

(ironically, most necrons would have agreed with the sentiment… with themselves as the obviously superior race of course)

"I know very little of this xenos race, and nothing of this xenos in particular. What do you think, brother?" El'Jonson asked and Guilliman thought hard about it. What he knew of Imotekh's character, Manric and Zahndrekh, all the interactions he'd had with Sautekh necrons in particular.

"I believe this is not a trap," Guilliman finally said. "I believe Imotekh would be willing to trap us in many ways, but a false peace treaty is not among them… I believe he would regard this tactic with utter disdain." He would try to confirm that with Yvraine and the eldar, but Guilliman was fairly sure of his own conclusion. "And the way he spoke to us… to dissemble in that way to bait a trap… that is completely out of character for him." He just couldn't see it. Lion El'Jonson gazed at him consideringly.

"And you believe meeting with these xenos and forging a peace treaty with them is truly the best for us?" The Lion asked and Guilliman had to think hard about it. Was it really the best for the Imperium of Man to make peace with the Stormlord? To concede, likely permanently, the territory within his grasp?

"Honestly? Yes," Guilliman finally said. "There are so many advantages. We can likely get them to cough up a few STC fragments, but there's more than that… we need their aide in the Pariah nexus. And my contacts have indicated that Imotekh is also an enemy of the Maynarkh Dynasty, who destroyed the Orpheus sector. If we can get him to take them on for us…" Guilliman didn't think for a moment the Maynarkh were going to stay confined to the sector they had devastated and the Imperium of Man was between them and the Sautekh Dynasty. "Also, I believe that Imotekh is fundamentally reliable." A lot of xenos just weren't. He trusted Yvraine but in general, the eldar were unreliable. The orks were utterly laughable and the Tau were… not entirely right. Guilliman wasn't sure how to define that, even to himself, but he'd dealt with the Ethereals once and it had put him on guard. There was something off about them.

"Well, we should follow the course of prudence. Only one of us should go," El'Jonson said and Guilliman nodded. That was clearly indicated. "You should go, I am terrible at such things." Yes.

"I wish I could leave Cawl, he's incredibly valuable, but he'd kill me if I tried." Guilliman realized he'd made his decision and this time, he reached out to the little survey ship directly. The screen flashed on and he saw that it contained three necrons. Two of them were settled against a wall and looked sharply over as the screen came on, while the third was at the controls. "Please advise the Stormlord I will meet with him as requested. You have leave to depart." Guilliman quickly signalled to his ships that the survey ship was going to be departing shortly.

"Thank you sir, we appreciate it," the necron said before cutting the connection. The tiny little ship boosted out of the system with truly impressive speed and Guilliman lifted his eyebrows at the readings. But then, you could do things like that when life support was completely optional. Not to mention the lack of need for sanitation facilities.

So in a year, they would meet with the Stormlord. Guilliman would need to inform the Mechanicus – so helpful that they were right here – and begin plans on who should accompany him to Hope.

All he was sure of right now was that it would not include Helbrecht and the Black Templars.