To Manric's relief, re-introducing Kakkophet to Panaa went extremely well.
She immediately knew him and greeted him as a superior, but one she was on friendly terms with. There was no fear in her, to Manric's relief but also a bit of puzzlement. She had been afraid and uncomfortable, detailing the sacrifices of the necrontyr. Why did she not fear one of the priests who had held the knife? Manric wasn't sure how to ask, but finally brought up the question, as obliquely as he could and what he learned was quite interesting.
"I did not conduct the sacrifices every year. Phaeron Rahkaak, in her great wisdom, decreed that the tekhenu should change every year. And because three is a lucky number, it was decided that the tekhenu should work in groups of three, and perform the sacrifices to the gods every third year." Ah, interesting. Manric had not once in his life considered the practical necessities of large-scale human sacrifice, but he supposed it made sense that you might want to rotate the priests to prevent mental issues. "Except for the Solar Year of course. On that year, all tekhenu honored the gods." Of course. "On years when we were not conducting the holy sacrifices, we would serve in lesser ways. As I have a good singing voice I chose to join the chorus singing the praises of the dead."
"Kakkophet was always welcome among us," Panaa said before hesitating a brief moment. "I… I would not speak ill of other priests. But there were others among the tekhenu who were not." Kakkophet shrugged, a rolling of his shoulders.
"I will not criticize my fellow tekhenu. But there were some whose motivations I did not understand." Ahhh, interesting. Manric took this to mean that some of the butchers of the gods were sadists and possibly masochists as well, but Kakkophet was not one of those. "Those were the ones who would try to conduct the sacrifices even when it was not their year. We sometimes had to remind them that the gods did not look favorably on those who acted out of turn."
Feeling deeply relieved, Manric left Kakkophet to Panaa. He was confident now that she could introduce him to Christianity and convert his fervor into a new, more socially acceptable form. Although it honestly made him a bit sad, that there were humans and necrontyr who simply could not live without religion. It made him feel a bit more sympathetic with the Emperor and his dreams for humanity. Still, he had been very foolish to deny reality… when you did that, reality tended to come back to bite you in the worst way possible.
(Manric did not know the full story of the Horus heresy but if he had been told Lorgar's part in it, he would simply have nodded and said it was inevitable)
That done, Manric went to see what Fulgrim was up to. Today was what they had decided to call a 'forging day', when Fulgrim would use the tools of Hope and also the necrons to attempt to build new gear for himself. Apparently the Primarchs were all naturally good with machines although Vulcan was acknowledged as the best of them. Still, once Fulgrim mastered his natural abilities, he should be able to make works equalling some of the higher Technomancers. Not, perhaps, whatever mad genius who had somehow made a gauntlet that accessed the heart of a star – how had someone done THAT? – but still, very high Technomancers.
That required working with his memories, though, and Fulgrim was well aware of it. He'd had little time to spend on this with Fabius Bile and his few attempts had gone right into the deep end, trying to make amazing things and resulted in grand failures. He was doing it properly this time, working on smaller things and building his skill. Manric was confident he would master this but how long would it take? The battle with Slaanesh on Yggdrasil would take place in roughly five years and Manric had already decided they should inform Guilliman and invite Fulgrim. He would have to confirm that with Imotekh, of course, but if the Stormlord consented Fulgrim might get to battle the Demon Prince sooner than later.
Right now, Fulgrim was working on a new shield generator. His brows were pulled down as he worked with intense concentration, using incredibly small tools and a few tiny scarabs. Manric wondered if the Imperium of Man would have any equivalent of those little helpers, when Fulgrim returned to them, but for now there was no point in NOT using them.
Manric said nothing, just watching for a time before departing, but with a destination in mind. Fulgrim wasn't nearly as bad as Yantek had been… Manric still felt a bit of melancholy at the thought of him… but he did forget to eat when he was working. He would go fetch some food for him.
Manric left the Tomb, but only to find a convenient sandwich shop and purchase five very large sandwiches. Manric got him a variety of types, as he wasn't sure what Fulgrim would like. One he hesitated over was a pickled fish sandwich, but he finally decided to get it. Manric knew many people didn't like them but he'd personally always adored them. And it was just one, if Fulgrim didn't like it he wouldn't get it again.
When he got back into the Tomb World, Fulgrim was still working so Manric interrupted him with a soft buzz, intended to imitate a cough. Fulgrim looked up, surprised, and Manric held up the large paper bag. Fulgrim's stomach instantly growled.
"Oh, thank you! I completely forgot," he said and Manric buzzed a small laugh. Ah, how familiar it all was. He took the bag and started unpacking them, reading the little stickers on them. "Pickled herring! I love that. Thank you." Oh good!
"You're welcome. And I have word from the fleet… Imotekh will be arriving next week." That was something the young clone was very much looking forward to, although for a very strange reason.
Fulgrim had taken it completely to heart, that he was not yet ready to take on the Demon Prince Fulgrim. Manric had somehow not anticipated it, despite it being obvious… Fulgrim's reaction to that was an intense desire to train, to learn, to become better. As the greatest warrior on the planet, that meant Manric became his favorite sparring partner. He did spar against a few of Rahkaak's other Overlords, but except for one, they were all fairly standard. Overlord Taku-bekh was the one standout, perhaps as skilled as Obyron, but he was actually more of an administrator than a warrior and preferred to spend his time helping Rahkaak in managing the Uhnashret Dynasty as a whole. He would sometimes spar with Fulgrim but overall, he had better things to do.
The real cream of the crop, in terms of sparring partners, would be when Imotekh's fleet arrived. Manric was sure all of the powerful Overlords would be more than willing to take the opportunity to test a Primarch. Obyron, in particular, could teach Fulgrim so much… he was old and canny, less powerful than the young clone but full of the kind of battle wisdom that he needed to learn. Manric wouldn't be surprised if Imotekh himself consented to battle Fulgrim. That would be an interesting match up and Manric thought Fulgrim would lose, but mainly because Imotekh's phase generator took cheating to the next level. It would be very hard for even the magic of a Primarch to overcome it, particularly when it wasn't actually life and death. If not for that, though, Fulgrim would have a very good chance of taking the Stormlord… he wasn't quite the god of war he thought.
Manric was not a god of war either, of course, and sometimes in their sparring he would deliberately set the gauntlet aside to try his skill without it. Fulgrim almost always beat him then, unless Manric pulled out all the tricks he could and they happened to stick. Fulgrim was getting good at evading his little loops though. Manric could sense the spirits in the spear were quite amused with them both.
Manric loved it but it was still a bit exhausting, and he was looking forward to the arrival of the fleet so he could take a break and possibly spend some time figuring out what Trazyn had been up to. Apparently he was becoming quite a hit in some of the artistic communities but Manric had heard something bizarre that he wanted to look into. Had Trazyn really stated that he was looking into retrofitting his body with genitalia? Or had that been a joke?
(although Manric supposed there was no reason he couldn't)
(it would actually be easier for the pure necrons than the pwi-necrons, if that part of their mind could be safely accessed)
Putting aside that bit of insanity – who would his partners be? From what Manric had observed, he doubted many female necrons would be interested – Manric went home to meditate on his spear. He was doing that every night, now, often for very long periods. The vision that was recurring was worrying him, worrying him so much that Manric was actively trying to find an explanation for it.
Meditating on the spear came beautifully easily now, after so much practice. Manric also set the gauntlet beside the spear so if the spirit shard within wanted to offer insights, it could. It gave the gold of the meditation a slight glimmer of ruby and Manric sensed the spirits of the spear did not object. As always, he saw the faces of the dead, whispers of soldiers and family he had known. And the spirits of the aeldari, saying nothing but offering him their quiet support.
Then the vision came. It was a simple piece of metal, blank and grey, with no identifying marks. As Manric watched, the metal twisted and warped and a face rose out of it. It was Obyron and despite the face having no expression, Manric could sense he was in immense pain. Vaguely, he could hear Zahndrekh's voice as he begged someone to let him go, to show mercy. And cruel, soulless laughter.
The basic message of this vision is clear. There will be disaster. But how will it happen? What can I do to prevent it? The simple explanation was that it would happen on Yggdrasil and Obyron would be killed. And yet… Is there a twist to the vision? His first vision, and the second, had both been easy to misinterpret. Could he also be misinterpreting this?
Unlike his other visions, Manric was not willing to wait to let this one become clear. The stakes were too high, the danger too pressing. So instead of peacefully allowing the vision to pass, Manric attempted to delve deeper. If not for the Spear and the aeldari spirits supporting him, what he was doing could have been quite dangerous. Yes, his mental discipline was excellent but it was one thing to block demons out of your mind when you were in the material realm. It was quite another, when you had deliberately ventured onto their own ground.
For Manric, opening himself to the Warp was a heady feeling. The Immaterium was pure life, pure energy, and it invigorated his mind. Viewing the Warp directly was very strange… dangerous and beautiful, he interpreted it largely as great, twisting currents of light and energy. Vaguely, Manric wondered. Was this what Navigators saw with their third eye?
(it was actually very similar)
(Manric would have been capable of looking into a Navigator's third eye without harm, although he would likely be entranced and unable to move)
The Immaterium was the realm of the subconsciousness, the manifestation of all the mental energies of every sentient species in the galaxy. As terrifying as it was beautiful, it was the land of magic, where natural laws held no sway. The places where souls began and came to an end, twisting in a neverending cycle, or so Manric chose to believe. It was a realm of belief and Manric carefully opened himself to that belief, giving to the Warp a simple appeal, a wordless plea. He could not compel an answer but perhaps some aspect of the Immaterium would respond.
Something responded. Manric felt himself gently surrounded by golden light, his mind and soul strengthened by the aeldari as a warp entity approached with unimaginable speed, the currents of the Immaterium tugging and swirling to accommodate something vast and powerful. After an undefinable moment, that could have been forever or just a second, the currents swirled again and the entity manifested in front of him in a recognizable form.
Manric knew the iconography of the Ruinous Powers so for a moment, he feared he had summoned a demon of Tzeentch. Tzeentch loved eyeballs and this entity was also terribly fond of them. It was mostly four rings, rolling gently against each other in a soothing motion. But those rings were covered in eyes, uncounted eyes, blinking slowly. In the centre of the Warp entity was a core, something like a great bundle of multicolored crystals, but gleaming with fire. They seemed to shift between being solid and not-solid, confusing his eyes. Holding this entity up were great wings, seemingly unattached to the body, but beating slowly. That also made Manric think of Tzeentch, with his fondness for birds.
Despite that, though, Manric sensed nothing malignant from this Warp entity. Quite the opposite… he sensed a peaceful nature of deep and quiet contemplation. Also, great curiosity as the entity examined him with those thousand eyes.
/What are you?/ For a moment, Manric saw himself reflected in all of those eyes and the sight left him a little speechless. In the realm of the soul, he appeared to be a stylized human being, but with the grace and pointed ears of an aeldari. Patches of his body were metal and green flux, almost in homage to his new nature. And in the middle of his chest was a great, angry red scar. Manric found that disturbing, as he saw the way it spider webbed through his chest, brutally livid and new. He had been aware, intellectually, that he had badly damaged his soul to save Ahmakeph but it was quite a thing to actually see that damage.
"I am not certain what I am anymore," Manric said after a moment. Was he truly human? He wasn't an eldar, but his mind owed something to them, and his body was necron. What could he even be called, at this point? "My name is Manric Duleth." Perhaps it was best to just discard it all and simply be himself. What did it matter, in the end?
/I see./ The wheels rolled and Manric saw all the eyes blink, simultaneously. The voice of the entity reminded him of the sound of surf on the beach. It was actually quite pleasant to the ears. /I see your question. You wish assistance in understanding your vision./
"Yes. Please, can you assist, great Warp entity?" Manric was sure now that he was dealing with a non-chaos aligned Warp entity. He could sense no alarm from the spirits of his Spear, or from the soul shard of Sanguinius. And from the entity itself, Manric detected little aside from serenity.
/I will assist you but on the condition that you complete a task,/ it said and the crystals within glowed, shifting to fire and back to crystals. /As I dictate it. You will wish to do otherwise, but you must obey my words./ Manric was tempted to ask the nature of the task but then realized it did not matter. To potentially save Obyron's life, he would obey and from the nature of this entity he knew it would not be anything too terrible.
"Very well, I will do so," Manric acquiesced and felt the amusement of the spirits of the Spear. Did they know something? Then the Warp entity continued.
/Good. Now… I will interpret your vision./ There was a pause and Manric sensed that the Warp entity was engaged in deep contemplation, analyzing everything and seeing more than Manric could ever hope to. /This is a disaster born not of failure, but of victory. I see Obyron defending Zahndrekh, as is his duty, and standing tall over the corpse of another challenger. And so his fate will be sealed. If you wish to save him, do not let him win. Do not let him kill the one who bears a terrible blessing and curse./ Manric was deeply shaken by that because it would not have occurred to him in a million years.
"Some monster of Slaanesh." How like her, to have something so twisted that it punished the victor in such a horrifying way. "I see… I will warn Obyron. Would that be enough?" Manric really could not afford to be beside Obyron and Zahndrekh during the battle that was coming, but would it be enough? There was a long pause, as the Warp entity contemplated the future.
/Advise him to treat the challenger as he would a C'Tan shard./ Ah, an excellent suggestion! They could entrap it within a tesseract. Manric made a mental note… perhaps Trazyn would like an addition to his collection. /That should be sufficient to avoid disaster./
"Thank you," Manric said, feeling an incredible relief. "But what do you wish of me?" He would carry out whatever the Warp entity wanted with a glad heart.
/Before I tell you that, let me grant you another vision,/ it said and the eyes seemed to fill his vision again. And in them he saw a reflection of something else… he saw two necron Immortals fighting. One was a normal Sautekh necron, the other was painted bright red and seemed somehow feral to Manric. For a moment he wondered why this would matter… the second Immortal was probably Maynarkh. But then he saw something important, something that horrified him.
They were both wearing the emblem of Sautekh.
"What…" Manric breathed as the vision ceased and he was looking at the Warp entity again. "What does that mean?" His mind struggled with it. What could cause such discord within the Sautekh empire?
/Can you guess?/ The Warp entity asked and Manric thought very hard. Two Immortals. The red paint, the feral nature of the one… he suddenly groaned as he realized.
"Khorne…!" The resouling of the Immortals would make them vulnerable to Chaos and what would call to them more strongly than a god of war? "What can we do about it?" What measures could they take to stop the spread of the infection?
/Can you think of an answer?/ The Warp entity asked, gentle and patient. Manric thought hard about it, contemplating the problem in general and also the reactions of the Immortals who had been currently resouled. After full contemplation he came to what was, to him, a rather disagreeable conclusion.
"We must spread the worship of God among the Immortals." It was so frustrating but Manric understood the Imperium so much better now. Belief in a single deity was like an inoculation against the Ruinous Powers. Far from perfect but a first line of defense against them and without it, a fall into Chaos was inevitable. Manric rubbed his forehead. "I hate this." He wasn't even religious! Why was he somehow being tasked with spreading the worship of God?
/You will also hate this./ Oh god, what task did the entity have for him? /This is what I demand of you./ And the Warp entity explained, to Manric's horror, what was required of him. It was not something that would cause any damage, it was not a terrible request, it was merely intensely, squirmingly embarrassing. Manric thought he would vastly prefer stripping naked and running through a park, if he were still capable of that.
"It has to be on that particular day and time? It can't be at the midnight Mass…?" Manric asked, grasping at straws. He thought he understood what this entity was, now, and why it would ask this of him. Although he was manfully denying the truth of the matter, except in the far back of his mind.
/No. Gather your fortitude./ Damn! /This is for the good of all. Give these items to the Child of the Emperor./ Ah… so that was what this was for… Manric sighed internally but he knew he could only obey. But how he wished he could do this his way, rather than make a grand spectacle of it! As he thought that, Manric detect what he thought was the spirits of the Spear having a good laugh at him, and Sanguinius too. Ugh.
"Very well, I will do it," Manric surrendered. Then he looked at the entity again. "Thank you… Angel of God." That was what this was, there was no doubt of it. Although Manric wondered what fever dream had caused an Angel to have such a bizarre appearance. The Angel said nothing, melting back into the Warp and Manric steeled himself.
As difficult as it was, he would carry out the Entity's instructions.
Merely a week later, Manric stood at the doors to the oldest church in Hope's Landing.
He had attended services at this church many times, when he was younger. His father had insisted, until Manric became old enough to quietly drop out of such things, often pleading his duties. Eloise had taken the children here. It was not actually a large church… being so old, it had been built to accommodate the original population of the colony. But it was the most respected of churches and the one run by the Bishop himself. The spiritual leader of Hope was currently giving a sermon, Manric could vaguely hear it even from outside.
Manric hesitated a moment, pressing his hand against the door. He most emphatically did not want to do this. He would have vastly preferred arranging a private meeting with the Bishop, having tea and biscuits and gently passing this message. Instead, he was being forced to make a grand spectacle of it and Manric was sure he knew why… this would be a religious event for the entire colony, a miracle made flesh. Manric resented being used this way, but it was a fair price for what he had received. Also, part of his mind guiltily reminded him that very soon they were in fact going to be battling against demons from Hell. Was it not fair enough, that God wished to remind his children that he existed?
(Manric did believe God existed, in the sense that as he was worshipped, he had to exist in the Warp in some form)
(That was just how the Warp worked, as the Tau had discovered with the Greater Good)
Squaring his shoulders, Manric pushed open the great door and walked into the church. He passed between the pews as the sermon stopped, the Bishop regarding him with deep surprise and alarm. There were whispers from the parishioners but Manric focused on his mission, refusing to pay attention to anything else. He came to a halt in from of the Bishop and spoke, his voice amplified by the power of destiny.
"I have spoken to the Throne of God. The time of battle against the demons of Chaos is at hand. The angel of death goes to war against the demon that thirsts. Surrender unto me the sword of God and the shield of God, that they may go into battle once again." Manric stopped then, just looking at the Bishop. He had gone pale, his eyes wide with shock. With shaking hands, he knelt and opened something, a part of the alter? And removed two objects before wordlessly offering them to Manric. Manric took them, examining them closely. One was a power sword, oversized and likely meant to be used in the hand of a mechanized gauntlet. It would fit Fulgrim's grip perfectly and Manric could tell, even with a quick glance, that it was beautifully made, a flower of ancient Terran technology. The second object was a shield generator and Manric thought it was even more impressive than the gauntlet, in a way. Larger than the typical shield generator it was nonetheless incredibly micronized and Manric would not be surprised if the shield it generated was on par with his gauntlet. These were beautiful weapons, weapons fit to be worn and used by a Primarch. Manric lifted his gaze from the weapons to meet the Bishop's gaze.
"The battle with demons is really…?" he said after a moment and Manric nodded.
"I am afraid so. These will be well used," Manric pledged and the Bishop nodded jerkily. Manric turned and left, well aware of all the eyes on him and he winced a little inside.
Things might get very unpleasant for him in the near future, in the aftermath of this, but he would just have to bear it.