If Trazyn had known Manric's opinion of him, he would have been quite put out.

Trazyn actually had no idea the clone had been aware. By any logical of the physical universe he shouldn't have been, no mental activity had registered on Trazyn's instruments. Unfortunately, the magic of the Warp worked on its' own rules and Fulgrim had a full warp entity fused with him. Fortunately, for a dark degree of fortune, that entity would always have preserved his sanity, altering Fulgrim's perception of time so a thousand years passed in a blink. He hadn't been in stasis for that long, but it wouldn't have mattered if he had.

So while it was a known complication, that stasis did not entirely work on those with strong connections to the Immaterium, Trazyn did his best to avoid it. Normally, those who failed to take stasis registered some brain activity, alerting him to the problem and he either gave up on them or moved them to a full tesseract. In a tesseract, Trazyn could create a time loop and hold them safely that way, aware but not fully cognizant of what was happening. Precisely how he held those foolish Chaos Marines and drukhari, but often with a much longer loop designed to keep them content.

It was worth noting, however, that most necrons did not know that Trazyn was so careful with his acquisitions. Like Simokh, they assumed that he just callously condemned some of them to madness. They were only lesser beings, after all. Orikan knew better but he was one of the few to actually know Trazyn that well. And so the minor misunderstanding continued, and effectively deceived Manric.

Meanwhile, Trazyn sailed on in blissful ignorance. He wandered around Hope, just taking in the ambience. He attended a play in a park, an amusing outdoor production from an amateur drama company. Most pleasantly of all, while the humans gave him and his entourage plenty of room, they otherwise took their presence for granted. Trazyn could see why… he wasn't the only necron on the surface of Hope and he actually caught more looks from Lords and Crypteks who recognized him.

Finally Trazyn went to pay a call on Reinhart. As fun as it was to wander around aimlessly and drink in the sights, it would be nice to get some guidance on the best places to go. Not to mention that he really wanted to see that play being made. Apparently it was a human serial, each episode taking roughly four weeks to film and it had twelve episodes planned. Trazyn was deeply interested, he'd never observed such a production before.

When Trazyn met Reinhart, he was quite impressed.

"My! What a beautiful body, I would not have imagined anything like it," Trazyn said, marvelling at the design of it. "I really need some of these human made shells for my collection." Reinhart gazed back at him with a stern air.

"If you absolutely must, please steal them at the manufacturing facilities, rather than taking them after transference." Well, he supposed he could. In fact, he could even activate the flux so they appeared to be 'alive' despite not being fully activated. "Leaving that aside, would you like to go see the filming of the show? My grandson is currently working on it." Ah, yes!

"If they are doing that right now, I would love to," Trazyn said sincerely and Reinhart nodded. That involved another trip, to the studio where they were doing the filming.

"We are not actually filming everything in sequence. Right now, we're working on the episodes that are shot within the Phaeron's court." Interesting. "We're going to be working on the scenes in the water tank next." Water tank? "In the story, a powerful chronomancer is deceived and tossed overboard to die in the ocean." That seemed a bit incompetent, but Trazyn knew perfectly well that Chronomancers were far from infallible. He smirked internally at the thought.

(far away, Orikan felt a bit of annoyance for absolutely no reason)

"However, while an impressively cruel method to kill someone, it will backfire as he manages to survive and reach a fishing vessel. Using his Chronomancy to find the one possible outcome that can keep him alive." Ah, so true, you never wanted to give someone with the ability to predict the future any possible avenue to survive. If there was any chance, they would find it. Although.

"Why would you not film it in the ocean? Would it not look better?" Trazyn asked and Reinhart tilted his head.

"The ocean is a fickle bitch." The sudden curse word, from someone who seemed so proper, took Trazyn aback. Reinhart saw that and his eyes sparkled as he flashed a quick glyph of amusement and apology. "Forgive me, that's a quote." Ah, of course. "Working with the ocean is always considered a bad idea. Nothing can ruin a shoot faster. We might take it to a lake, if needed, but nothing more than that… we'll see how the water tank turns out before we decide." Fascinating! He needed to record this.

When they got to the studio they were allowed in, and directed to a specific area designated for watchers. The Lychguard arrayed themselves against the wall as Reinhart and Trazyn watched the actors practicing and performing the scenes. Trazyn was particularly impressed by the makeup and prosthetics they were using. They were convincing necrontyr, although it wasn't entirely perfect.

"The issues you see with the prosthetics will be cleaned up afterwards, to complete the illusion of necrontyr." Ah, that made sense! "We could do it entirely without makeup and prosthetics, but that would make the computer work far more intense and expensive." Reinhart paused for a moment before flashing glyphs for satisfied malice. "The budget is perfect, keeping them fed just enough, but lean and hungry. That is the area where the greatest creativity happens." Trazyn was suddenly sure he had been an excellent King. The civil service probably hadn't loved him, though.

They seemed to be having difficulty with this particular scene, though. Trazyn watched as they tried, over and over, to get the perfect cut and the problem was definitely the actors. It was meant to be a passionate moment between a cryptek and the Phaeron's daughter, a young and beautiful female necrontyr. They got the lines wrong in a very amusing way, and that caused the entire thing to dissolve into laughter and the actors seemed unable to find their gravitas again, to the utter frustration of the director.

"Cut! You're all idiots!" He finally called as the two actors laughed like loons. Then a third actor strode onto the stage, a lissome young man who immediately caught Trazyn's attention. He had seen more humans than he could even guess at but he'd seldom seen such youthful, androgynous beauty. Trazyn almost wondered if perhaps this was a woman, but he tentatively identified it as a man. "Adler! I said cut!" Ah, definitely a man, that was a male human name.

"Don't tell me what to do monkey!" Adler said in a shockingly haunty tone and Trazyn blinked his oculars as he heard Reinhart make a buzzing sigh. "And address me correctly! I am Mephet'ran!" WHAT?! After one quick shocked moment, Trazyn realized he was just an actor in character, not speaking literally. Given how shards of Mephet'ran could disguise themselves, he'd actually had a bad moment. "Now!" He was holding a wine glass in one hand and took a drink from it before moving into song.

/You are a bunch of stupid monkeys/
/What is this idiotic waste of time?/
/I am tired of waiting for you all/
/So I shall make my own scene to play!/

Trazyn was impressed by the ad libbed performance, and more impressed when the young man moved around the stage, launching into a soliloquy from 'Mephet'ran' about his despair at them all. Everyone was watching, he noticed, completely bespelled by the performance. Adler prudently brought it to a halt just before it might have gotten repetitive, ending it with an entreaty.

/Now try it again and get it right this time/
/Get/
/It/
/Done!/

Then he tossed the glass to the floor and it shattered with a dramatic flair before Adler swept off the stage. Everyone applauded, even the director. Then he turned to the camera workers.

"Did you catch all that?" There were affirmatives. "Good, that won't be for the show but we can use it for an extended cut. Can someone clean up that wine glass? And Rosa, Daghar, are you ready to try again?" The two actors seemed completely sobered and reset from the performance and they nodded. "Alright, we'll give it one more try."

This time, the scene was perfect. Trazyn watched in fascination as they played the part of surreptitious lovers to the hilt. It was beautiful and there was so much artistry of so many kinds, both simulating the emotions and capturing them on the film. And in the corner, just barely visible to someone watching closely, was 'Mephet'ran' watching the couple with a devious smile.

"Cut!" The director called and Adler came out to congratulate them as everyone rejoiced in finally recording the scene properly. "Adler, you're an asshole, but thank you!" He bowed deeply to the director, making many people laugh. "Break for lunch!"

"Did you want to meet Adler? He's my grandson, so you'll be able to see him many times before you leave I'm sure," Reinhart said and there was nothing Trazyn wanted more. What a talented young man! When they were introduced to his slight surprise, Adler already knew him.

"Trazyn the Infinite? I've heard of you, didn't you steal a monument once?" Adler sipped his wine, which appeared to be his idea of lunch. Not healthy but hardly Trazyn's business as he bristled a bit.

"Why does everyone characterize my preservation of culture as theft?" he asked plaintively. "No one appreciates what I do." Adler laughed and stepped forward, coming surprisingly close as he looked up to meet Trazyn's eyes. He wasn't short for a human, perhaps six feet, but that put him considerably shorter than any necron.

"I would love to appreciate what you do." Adler rested a hand on his chest cartouche and Trazyn stared. Was he being… flirted with? "I've heard you have a museum filled with all the wonders of the galaxy. I would LOVE to see it. Have you ever considered giving tours?" Trazyn flashed glyphs of amusement, although he knew the human couldn't see.

"Oh, I've tried. Unfortunately the humans spent most of the time screaming." Adler actually looked bewildered at the thought. Trazyn was highly amused and wondered what the young man would make of the typical Imperial citizen. Probably find them quite insufferable, was his guess.

"Well that's a ridiculous waste of an opportunity. If you ever decide to invite us, I have plenty of friends who would love to see it – and NO grandfather, I don't mean the opium fiends," Adler rolled his eyes at Reinhart, who made a grating sound as he flashed a glyph of frustration and annoyance. "I was thinking the fantastic four and Jerka, maybe a few others. The actually serious people."

"Oh. Well, the fantastic four would actually be a good choice. They're a group of artists," Reinhart said as Adler took a step back, sipping his wine again. "They all went to school together and are joined at the hip. Jerka is a rather brilliant special effects artist."

"Hm, intriguing. I'll think about it." Trazyn actually liked the thought. Artists would not be able to appreciate many of the things in his collection of course, but did he really WANT to teach the Mechanicus new tricks? Ahaha no. Artists could get a lot out of Solemnance on a completely different level.

Trazyn was able to chat a bit with the other actors and the director, who were not remotely afraid of him. The director was, to Trazyn's surprise, also the writer and producer, a man named Jarka Nowak. That seemed like a lot to do but as it turned out, Reinhart was filling most of the role of producer, free of charge.

"I am going to be paid a small percentage of the gross profits, if there is one. Nowak has a similar arrangement," Reinhart said before shrugging. "Honestly, I have very little real use for money… if this is a resounding success, I will likely use my profits to fund more productions. Perhaps some too artistic to turn a profit."

"You can always fund my work, grandfather," Adler said brightly and Trazyn managed a credible chuckle. Reinhart had few expressions but still managed to give Adler a jaundiced look.

"You don't need my help to buy nic sticks. Also, eat some food to slop up that wine, you're too thin." Adler rolled his eyes but glanced over the table before selecting a small sausage roll and munching on it. While they were eating, Trazyn noticed workers were rearranging the sets.

Trazyn watched the story unfold, spellbound. There were plenty of stops and starts, some work to perfect the scene, but they managed to record a very good segment of the cryptek climbing a set of stairs as rapidly as he could, almost collapsing from exhaustion as he reached the top and the Immortal stationed there. Apparently they were brothers and in things together. Trazyn did not fully understand what was happening, but this was basically a snippet of the fourth episode. Despite that, it was still quite interesting.

When the filming wrapped up for the day, Trazyn was very thoughtful. Just from what little he had seen, this work looked promising. Although.

"Is this only being made for a human audience, or is there a proper screenplay for necrons?" Trazyn asked Reinhart as they headed back to his home.

"Oh, there is definitely a necron play. We are waiting for the first season to be complete though, before we send it to Mandragora." Ah… why? "We want to include the full first season along with the play for the Stormlord. He might not appreciate art, but I am sure he has some appreciation for good entertainment. The first season might encourage him to put on the play for the Sautekh court."

"That is a rather good idea. I hope I will eventually be able to get a copy of the script for Nihilakh," Trazyn said thoughtfully. The nobles of the Nihilakh would be electrified at the thought of a NEW play, something they had never seen before, yet was nonetheless the work of their people. Trazyn knew it was largely Jarka's work, but he would play up Kototep for the Nihilakh court. It wasn't like Nowak would care anyway, if he had credit among the necrons.

Trazyn expected nothing to be happening at night, but he was wrong. With no need to sleep, Reinhart kept extremely irregular hours and the humans he was associating with seemed to have no regard for such things as well. Trazyn got to meet some extremely eccentric artists and musicians. He also got to meet a rather lovely young woman from the Imperium of Man, a mutant with a few feathers in her hair. She was more afraid of him than anyone he had met so far, but not by much. It was all so refreshing. Trazyn decided that tomorrow, he would see if he could arrange an audience with Rahkaak and arrange interviews with the resouled necrons. And perhaps some conversations with the pwi-necrons.

There were so many things to do, he needed to get started.

When Fulgrim woke in the morning, he was confused about where he was.

For a moment he imagined he was in the far-off past, in the monastery of the Emperor's Children, the place he considered home. Then he imagined he was in Fabius' laboratories, rousing to a new day. Neither one was true and as he came fully to consciousness, Fulgrim realized he was in a place that was both familiar and incredibly strange.

Ah, I remember, he thought as he rubbed his eyes, propping himself up with an elbow as he came fully awake. As he did, he glanced around the room for a moment.

Hope's Landing reminded him of a decently sized city in any Civilised world, nothing particularly special. And the Estates of the Duleth family were not particularly impressive to Fulgrim either. The manor that could be expected of any noble family on a Knight World, it was built of ancient stone and well made, but without an eye towards beauty. Fulgrim was sure that originally it had not even had an eye towards comfort. Someone had come later and made sure the building was given creature comforts like proper heat retention and cooling, thankfully.

The one thing that truly impressed him about Hope was the thoughtfulness of the accommodations. As Fulgrim pried himself reluctantly out of bed, he remembered all the times he – or rather, the original Fulgrim – had suffered through homes that were built for normal humans. Or, in some cases, what seemed to be midgets. Who made a door that was merely six feet high?

The room he was in right now was perfectly suited to his height. Oh, a tiny bit on the short side perhaps, since it was built to accommodate eight foot tall necrons and he was ten feet tall. But only a bit, they had given plenty of clearance.

(that had been due to Manric wanting to make sure his spear wouldn't take out a light fixture)

(when he'd been human, that had been a recurring problem)

The bed was perfectly made with his size in mind, and so was the wardrobe provided. None of it fit perfectly of course but considering it had been made with nothing but a bit of eyeballing of Guilliman, years ago, it was incredibly close. Turning up the cuffs of the pants a bit fixed the only real problem and it was quite comfortable. After he was dressed Fulgrim regarded himself in a full length mirror but his mind was actually on his current situation.

Do I trust these humans and xenos? Fulgrim wanted to trust Manric. He wanted to trust him to such an extent, that it made him slightly suspicious of his own reactions. And yet, he could not shake the feeling that the metal xenos was an honest and trustworthy man. Also, the way Manric had comforted him when he was lost in his anguish at Fabius' betrayal… Fulgrim was no expert in the warp like Magnus, but he knew that kind of telepathy was very rare and deeply revealing. Manric could not hide his fundamental nature, when he touched someone that way.

If he accepted that Manric was not playing him false, did he still want to go along with the plans of the xenos? Fulgrim weighed it in his mind. Trying to escape Hope, steal a shuttle and flee sounded difficult at best, impossible at worst. The greatest thing that might make it impossible was the fear Fulgrim had that this planet did not employ human technology as he would understand it. What if he were to manage to escape, reach a shuttle and take a ship, all to find out that he couldn't read the controls? Force someone else to pilot it? It all sounded like a feeble dream of delusion.

The best action was probably to just wait patiently and see if the xenos were playing him false. Fulgrim hated the thought of it for a completely different reason though… he was to be traded to Guilliman for territorial concessions? This was how he would see his brother again, after so long?

What if Guilliman rejects me? Fulgrim was terribly afraid of that. After everything he… his other self had done, could he truly expect them to take him back? To accept that he wanted to make amends? Fabius Bile had… had betrayed him partly because he did not truly believe Fulgrim could be redeemed. He expected the clone to follow in the footsteps of the father. The very thought made Fulgrim feel violently ill and for a brief moment, the image of his beloved brother, Ferrus, crossed his vision. And the horrible feeling of a blade slicing through flesh and bone.

A knock at the door rescued his mind from that infernal remembrance.

"Sir? Breakfast is ready," a muffled voice came and Fulgrim nodded before replying.

"I will be there shortly," he said before turning his attention back to his reflection. A quick brushing of his hair and a bit of work on the collar of the shirt and he was ready. Leaving the room, the servant bobbed a small curtsy before apologizing a little and asking if he preferred to join the family, knowing the table would be a bit uncomfortable for his height, or to eat in this wing at a table made to his size. Fulgrim instantly chose the latter. He wasn't really in the mood for company anyway and it was all so awkward. He remembered… the great monastery/palace of the Emperor's Children had kept everything scaled to them, but special chairs for when they had regular human visitors that were comfortable and would let them reach the tables with ease. That was so much easier than the other way around. I honestly wish the Emperor had not made us so outsized. It was all so inconvenient sometimes, although Fulgrim understood why it had been necessary. The girl curtsied again before leading him to the table.

The food came out shortly after, carried on a floating serving tray, something that was surely tech heresy. In the Imperium, such a minor robot would be replaced with a servitor, but Fulgrim wasn't going to make an issue of it. Honestly, he found the humming machine far more efficient and aesthetically pleasing than even the most elegant of servitors. What was the harm of it?

A vast quantity of food was served and Fulgrim approved of it all. It was so pleasant to eat real food, rather than the nutrient rich paste Bile had always served. And it was extremely excellent and filling food, an assortment of sausages, eggs, almost an entire loaf of bread in the form of toast, with an absolutely lovely cheese spread to go onto it. The cheese was thinned with sour cream and mixed with radishes and chives. Fulgrim tucked in with good appetite.

It was enough food for five normal humans, at least, but Fulgrim finished nearly all of it. As he was sitting back and just enjoying his tea, he heard a soft buzz and glanced over to see Manric in the doorway. Behind him, peeking past him, was another necron. This one seemed less elaborate than the Overlord, a common soldier he would guess.

"I see you weren't joking about the amount of food needed… may I join you?" Manric asked and Fulgrim nodded politely. He stepped into the room, the other necron trailing behind him and Fulgrim noticed he – she? – was wearing a rather lovely scarf of woven metal, with an elegant little pin. "This is Sehenna, she is my friend and companion." Ah, he had mentioned her before and now Fulgrim had a gender. Vaguely, he wondered how necrons told the difference.

(aside from the names, they actually couldn't, unless the design made it obvious, like Rahkaak's)

(it sometimes made things a little awkward)

"Fulgrim, I had a question that has been nagging at my mind." Hm? "You mentioned that you planned to be the only one with this name… what precisely do you plan to do about the Demon Prince Fulgrim?" Fulgrim tensed as all the shameful memories of his betrayal, his horrible actions, touched his mind.

"At the soonest opportunity, I will put an end to him. In single combat, as it should be," Fulgrim said harshly. He had no doubt at all that he would win. He had all of his forebearer's skill and was uncorrupted, with the true nature of a Primarch. Manric tilted his head slightly.

"You do not think you are too young?" Too… young? Fulgrim stared at him in puzzlement and a bit of offense. "The memories you carry might impart skill, but they do not impart age. I assure you, that can make a difference and the other Fulgrim has spanned much time." Fulgrim bristled a little at the suggestion. "Ah, I see, your mind is made up… in that case, you would have no objection to showing your skill to me?" Sehenna made a soft sound and Manric gestured to her in negation. Fulgrim felt sure his companion was concerned for him.

"I would gladly show you what I can do," Fulgrim said, setting down his tea and standing. "Now?" They could spar outside the manor. Manric shook his head.

"No. We should spar in the Tomb World, where we can unleash our powers in more safety. Also, I will need some time to have the barriers augmented to take into account the powers that will be unleashed." Fulgrim lifted an eyebrow. He was suggesting they use ALL of their power? "If you can defeat me, I will concede that you are indeed ready to challenge the demon prince." Well, he wasn't going to back down from that challenge! "Do you mind if some necrons watch? There may be warriors who would like to witness it."

"That is fine, I would prefer it." Fulgrim was aching to show his skill to others. Only Fabius Bile had seen him so far and had pronounced him every bit as good as the original. And with this necron, he would not need to hold back overmuch. He was only cold metal, after all, not fragile flesh and blood.

"Very well, I will arrange it," Manric said gravely and Fulgrim felt very pleased.

Defeating this xenos would hardly be a challenge, but it might be an acceptable warm up before he destroyed the Demon Prince.