I am Szarekh. I am the Silent King. This is my story.

I was born into the crumbling remains of a once mighty empire, riven with war and decaying more with every decade. In the success of our species was the seeds of our destruction… the necrontyr were fractious and warlike, constantly expanding and seeking. Once we had claimed the entire galaxy, there was nowhere to look but each other.

And the Old Ones. They were above us, not truly having any kind of empire at all. They held some worlds, cradles of life where they experimented with primordial powers. If they needed another world, they did not take ours, they simply spun a new one into being. It was awe inspiring… oh, we had the technology to do such things but it would have been a herculean effort for us. They did it like it was nothing.

My grandfather was the one who began the conflict with the Old Ones. It was sad and pathetic and we failed miserably. They barely even gave us the courtesy of killing us, instead humiliating us in startling fashions. Opening holes in reality and sending our ships strange places, causing all our equipment to fail, so many things. And sometimes, our objectives would simply vanish, hidden from us or warped away.

It cost my grandfather his life, as he was deposed by the triarch and my father became the Silent King. I was only a small child when that happened. I remember it clearly, because that was the day my father ceased to speak to me. From that day forward, he did not say a word.

You might ask, why would the Silent King not at least talk to his family? The decree that the Silent King not speak was meant to maintain his mystery and majesty. Why was it needed to follow it at all times? I demanded that of my tutors, as a child, and they would not answer, only tell me it was required. And my father would look so sad.

I only understood later. The Silent King and the triarchs made a vicious and unstable triad of power. The Silent King ruled, but often not strongly and it was the decree of the triarchs that he not speak at any time. It was possible that if a Silent King refused to remain silent, his tongue could be removed. It had happened to my great grandfather.

Duty was hammered into my mind from a young age, so hard it was almost an indoctrination. I would rule our entire species. I would decide our course, lead us to greatness. Our fates would be in my hands. And I believed it, I truly did.

What was my childhood like? I have little to compare it to. Yet… I would say it was… grim. I lived in a cold stone fortress on a broken and icy world. Unsuited to the necrontyr now, it had once been a paradise for our kind, before we had destroyed it in our endless wars. The traditional seat of the Silent King's power, it was important to remain here as a statement that it was ours. Any challenger to our rule would try to take it, for the symbolism if nothing else.

My mother was dead, taken by some illness when I was very small. I had no official siblings although I was introduced to a few of the unofficial ones, to give me playmates. In retrospect I know that if I had proven unsuitable in some way, one of them could have been ennobled and quietly slipped into my place. Father would not even have objected, if I were too stupid or fell ill.

Everything about my childhood was tightly controlled. The meals I ate were carefully tested for poison and properly portioned out. I was expected to meet expectations on my learning and if I did not, correction was swift and painful. Play time was also portioned out, by strict measurements although we were at least given a great area in which to run freely. As I grew older I had an instructor at arms, who worked to turn me into a warrior as well.

I was not a rebellious child. To the contrary, I was a conformist. I rarely required any real punishment as I tried so hard to please my father. I loved him so much and seeing him change in front of my eyes hurt me cruelly. I was determined that one thing he would not have to worry about was me. I would be perfect for him, a model son.

My father was Silent King during the Wars of Succession. It aged him swiftly, even for a necrontyr. He went from young and vital to grim and aged in only a handful of years. And as much as I hated the triarchs, when I became Silent King, I will grant them this: They did not spare themselves. One of them died in what was, for an extra layer of tragedy, a great victory. The other went insane. I heard salacious rumors that he started killing and eating the servants. But the more levelheaded, reliable sources said he merely started taking his clothes off and giving nonsensical orders. Whatever the case might be, he was gently removed from his office and his son claimed the position of triarch. I would come to hate him.

My father died when I was only twelve years old. I truly think that exhaustion and heartache killed him, the weight of his duties destroying his spirit. Ah, my poor father, he was truly just a kind, good natured soul. Completely unsuited to his position but still bearing it with strength and doing his best.

I was not like my father. I was a true contender for power. At first, the triarchs underestimated me and I used it against them with cleverness and guile. In a few short years, I was ascendent and they wondered how it had happened. I hated them both and they hated me, but we still worked together even as they plotted to rip the power out of my hands.

I searched for anything that could end the Wars of Succession and counter the Old Ones. I found it when we discovered the Star Gods. They were not the original deities we had worshipped, of course. But at a bit of cajoling, they were willing to take up the names and attributes. It was easy enough for them as the gods had always been bloodthirsty and so were the C'Tan. I saw them for the monsters they were but I thought we could have an equitable relationship. We could feed them the life they craved, in our great sacrifices and they could assist us.

I will not bore you with the details of the War in Heaven. Look to the play, if you wish my role in that. I will tell you the things no one knows about me… that I had a son. It was very hard for me, so hard, and I honor my wife greatly for her patience. She was the one who quietly told me we must go to the crypteks for assistance. They determined that my inability was due to a defect, and assisted us in making a child. It was all kept very quiet… if the other triarchs had known, it would have been used against me.

Did I incline towards other males? No. I felt no desire at all, of any kind. I might as well have been the metal I would become later. They said it was a hormonal defect. That made matters hard for the Crypteks as well… there was little to be used. My son would be the only one. A terrible thing, for a race as fragile as the necrontyr. And that is what brought me to this.

I do not want this to be taken as an excuse. I merely state it because I believe it is the truth… I think the C'Tan knew what was coming, and waited for just the right moment. I held my son as he died, suffering and bleeding, and broke my silence to whisper in his ear. I love you. I love you. Those were the first and last words he heard me speak.

As I was watching my child be interred, my grief still searing my mind, the C'Tan came to me. Mephet'ran, curse his black heart, made his offer of immortality. And in my grief it just seemed right. Yes, one generation would be sacrificed but then all this pain could end. No more children would die slowly, in agonizing pain. No more Curse of the Bitter Star. No more suffering of any kind. Finally, finally, we would be free.

So I made that choice for the necrontyr. I did that, and I will bear the responsibility for all that came after. I truly did not know that our free will would be lost, that the necrons would all be slaved to my command protocols. It was a heady feeling, though, to finally subordinate the triarch to my will. To make commands that were simply obeyed, without attempts to creatively reinterpret them. So strange and it made me feel like I was finally, truly, a King.

That passed, of course, and I perceived the damnation I had led my people into. I realized that I was not the same, that none of them were the same, that something deep and fundamental had been lost along with our flesh. Even when I deliberately retracted my command protocols, to let someone like Imotekh a bit of free will, I could see the difference. We were all shadows of what we had been.

Despite what I had lost, I was still myself and I turned on the C'Tan with all my cleverness and guile. I shattered them, as we had been shattered, but it did nothing to mend the damage. Deeply repentant, I decreed the Great Sleep before severing my command protocols and leaving to wander the universe.

I truly meant to never come back. I would leave them alone, to find their way without me. The Great Sleep would give them a fighting chance to survive and reclaim our glory, but I had no right to lead them. They could take charge of their own destiny.

Then I found the Tyranids. The great, scuttling intelligence, the locusts who stripped away all life in their terrible and mindless pursuit of perfection. They utterly horrified me, merely a giant appetite and a strange drive to continue evolving to better and better forms. To what purpose? After observing them, I came to the conclusion that there was no purpose. I strongly believe that the Tyranids are a bio-weapon like the Krork, but gone horrifically wrong and out of control. And as the krork seek only more violence, the Tyranids seek only more biomass. There is no reason beyond that.

What is my plan? Very well, I will tell you. I have carefully accumulated samples of DNA from a variety of suitable species. Each one has advantages and disadvantages, we will have to see which is most suitable. I have also gathered fundamentals of organic matter, the building blocks of life, and preserved everything in stasis. When time has no grasp, it will be unaffected by the end of the Immaterium. I will wait for the Tyranids to come and be fully engaged, slurping down worlds and thinking themselves invincible. Then, I will activate the Pariah Nexus and destroy them all.

I cannot overstate the importance of this… the Tyranids are mentally connected to each other, even across entire galaxies and into the great void. They will feel this entire galaxy be cut off from them. They will sense the eerie emptiness and then the coldness of death. They will know what I have done to them and it will terrify them. This galaxy will be marked in red in the maps of their minds, to be avoided forever.

Will I bring an end to all organic life? Yes, because that is the price of destroying the Warp. I will bring an end to the tainted Immaterium, but only to give birth to a new one. This will not be a quick process… it will take millions of years, as we gently seed and nurture morbid planets. We will cultivate bacteria and mosses, as we encourage life to return. A long and arduous process, but one I am confident will bring fruit, as a new Immaterium kindles slowly into being. The aeldari even have a prophecy of this… that the tainted Warp will end when the last being who can use it dies, but only to be reborn, purified of all darkness. This is my goal.

When the Immaterium is reborn, Szeras will spin us souls from it, as we reclaim our lost bodies. I am confident we can do this. The necrontyr will be reborn, but not as we were. What would be the point of that? No, we will make beautiful bodies for ourselves, free of genetic flaws. Not immortal – we have learned the folly of that – but something close to the aeldari. Strong and beautiful and flawless.

What are you asking me?

…

That is a hard question. If the offer of the C'Tan had been true… would I do it again? Would I sacrifice the children…?

…I… think that I would. Yes… if only the bargain had been true, I think that I would make it again.

Does that make me a monster?

To Manric's mild amusement, when all the events at Hope were done, Zahndrekh and his wing of the Stormlord's fleet went back to where they had been.

That was the devastated planet they had taken from the Genestealer cult, what had technically been an Imperial world, and the lunar colony. To his pleasure, the colony had made solid progress in their absence. The domes were fully repaired and quite comfortable, the agriculture was proceeding nicely and the small picket of necrons they had left behind were intensely glad to see them.

"I felt like I had my naked arse hanging out waiting for a booted kick, no offense sir," one of the pwi-necrons said in High Gothic. Thankfully so, Manric knew that sentence would be both mildly obscene and baffling if translated into necron. Ahmakeph was with him and made glyphs indicating high hilarity. He was quite fluent with Terran now and understood the sentiment perfectly.

"That bad? Who did you think was going to give you the boot?" he asked and unfortunately, the pwi-necron had plenty of answers.

"Well an Imperium force came to scout us out, but then took off when we told them to take it up with Guilliman." Oh thank god, that could have been an incident. This word was officially ceded to them now, so it shouldn't be a problem in the future. "Then a group of orcs blundered into the system but we managed to get rid of them before they could reach the moon." Also thank god, they didn't need another fungi infestation. "And we're worried about other necrons. We've kept getting sensor ghosts… they think they're clever, the bastards." That made Ahmakeph flash a quick poem expressing his anger at their effrontery.

"Damn them! Well, you're all alive and we're back now. What's your status?" Ahmakeph asked and the pwi-necron quickly rattled off a reasonably detailed report on the progress of the colony. Manric was impressed, not just by the report but by the competence on display.

"Forgive me, what is your name?" Manric asked. He did not know this pwi-necron. There was a brief hesitation.

"Ah… it's Cristobel, sir." Wait. He knew that name, and knew it quite well. That was Viscount Yentark's personal aide and butler, his closest attendant. But surely not? "Captain Yentark is here with a new unit for your disposition, sir."

"Captain…?" Manric reeled a little, although he supposed he should have anticipated that Yentark would eventually take biotransference and rejoin the army. He was eminently qualified, after all. "Can you explain to me what happened?" How had this occurred?

"Well, there's not a lot to say sir. The viscount was getting old and sick and even though they say we'll have rejuvenation soon, it doesn't work well when you're already that old. It was just time. So the Captain gathered up all the boys and asked if we'd go with him, and we of course said we would." Cristobel touched his chest cartouche for a moment. He had chosen a more necron styled body. "I'm very pleased with this body. All the aches and pains suddenly gone away… well, I'm sure you've heard that wheeze before." Indeed he had. But Manric felt a cold trepidation at the thought of commanding Yentark. "So many of us came all at once that we have our own unit. We're called the Brightons." Oh… that was the name of the town they all came from, New Brighton. It was the seat of Yentark's family Estates. "Sir, I know this might alarm you but Captain has always deeply respected you. There's nothing to fear."

Fear? What is this maggot talking about? Ahmakeph reached out to him via interstitial messaging, thankfully private.

I'll explain later, Manric replied. Ahmakeph would understand the situation, when it was explained, but he didn't want to go into it in front of Cristobel. Also.

"What unfortunate timing," Manric muttered to himself. Yentark and his entire unit must have taken biotransference shortly before he had arrived in Hope. Likely they had been sent to meet Zahndrekh's fleet but it had already been moved, so they'd joined the picket to wait for them to come back. "Well, if worst comes to worst, I can always put you under Diarmuid." There was that, as far as he knew Diarmuid had never met Yentark. Cristobel winced.

"I've heard of that one… please don't do that to us, sir. We like you," he said and Manric made glyphs of appreciation for the sentiment. "Sorry sir, I haven't learned those yet." Ah right.

"Just saying thanks, I appreciate it. We'll sort it out," Manric said, confident they would manage. Well, fairly confident. As they walked away to check out the new buildings, Manric did his best to explain. "Yentark was my commander, back when I was just a snot nosed recruit. I distinctly remember him yelling at me once." It had been a terrifying experience but one virtually everyone in the unit had shared. "He had to retire because of injuries. To give a comparison, it might be like if Zahndrekh had to retire for, I don't know, ten years and you were promoted to his position. Then, when he came back, he had to come in as your subordinate." There was a brief silence as Ahmakeph thought about that.

"Ugh, I can actually imagine that now!" Oh? "Zahndrekh would look at me with a twinkle in his eye and say, are you sure about that cousin? Well, I'm sure it will be fine and I would say JUST TELL ME WHAT I'M DOING WRONG! And he would say Oh no, it's fine, don't mind me." Manric choked a little because he COULD imagine Zahndrekh doing that.

"He'd probably let you make your mistake, too, unless it was something too bad." Zahndrekh wouldn't let them get massacred but he would let Ahmakeph learn the hard way. "Fortunately, in terms of personality, Yentark is more like Imotekh." While that was daunting in its' own way, it was still better than being trolled by Zahndrekh.

"That sounds terrible too, just a different kind of terrible. Well, good luck." Yes, he would need it.

Manric wasn't that eager to hunt down Yentark – would Itolyx need more pwi-necrons? – so instead, he looked for Galen. He found the young man working in the agricultural fields, checking the poison bait meant to keep the beetles under control. The fields themselves were growing well, although Manric did not recognize the grey-blue plants that were being grown. He could only assume they were alien in nature, something well adapted to these harsh conditions.

"This planet is rather beautiful," Manric said, observing the weather. The thin atmosphere could sometimes lead to absolutely beautiful patterns in the sky and right now, he was viewing a gorgeous view of faded clouds, refracting the solar light into a light pink color and behind them, the planet this moon orbited. It peeked from behind the clouds, like a curious animal and Manric marveled at how beautiful it was from here. You could not see the damage the scorch had done, from so far away. Galen started.

"Oh, you came back!" Galen stood, brushing off a bit of dirt from his knees. "I wasn't sure I would see you again… how have you been?" How was he even to answer that?

"Things have been interesting," Manric said vaguely. It seemed too much to explain and also, Galen didn't need all of the details. Manric was no expert on such things, he dealt with soldiers, not civilians, but Reinhart had tried to explain it to him. While fear could be a galvanizing force, bringing people together, too much could cause them to fall into despair. Keeping the masses of humanity ignorant of the true situation was actually a blessing to them, so they could go on with their lives in peaceful ignorance. What good did it do some factory worker to know about the threats the Imperium faced, after all? The danger of becoming a servitor if he slacked off too much was already sufficient to get his best efforts. Also, knowing too much invited despair and that invited Chaos. Manric would never have been as hard hearted about it as the Inquisition, but the Sautekh Empire also had additional tools available to them. Mindshackle Scarabs had many uses and one was to erase a troublesome memory, if needed. Much kinder than killing someone who had heard too much.

Galen was not a simple factory worker, though. He was the unofficial leader of this community and some things, he needed to know.

"The Sautekh Empire has signed a peace treaty with the Imperium of Man. This world is now ours, as recognized by Roboute Guilliman and his brother, the Lion." They were both named as guarantors of the treaty. If they both died, the treaty would be considered null and void. On the necron side, the same was true of Imotekh and his current chosen successor, Naszar. Manric wondered if Naszar realized that he was earmarked to be Imotekh's successor and that Zahndrekh, in particular, had been briefed on what to do if the Stormlord perished. Possibly not, given that he was highly ambitious, but despite that Imotekh thought quite highly of him.

(While Zahndrekh was highly suitable, in many ways, he had not been selected because of his personality and eccentricities. Even resouled, Zahndrekh's sense of humor could drive his subordinates wild with frustration. Despite being respected, Zahndrekh was not well liked. Imotekh believed that as Phaeron of Sautekh, he would face too many challengers with the true potential to get past Obyron and bring him down. Meanwhile, Naszar was held in high regard by almost the entire court and with Zahndrekh acting as a strong support, would easily ascend and hold the rank of Phaeron)

(Ironically, if Zahndrekh had been elevated above him, Naszar would have been foremost of those plotting against him)

"As such, we will be getting in supplies, mostly from Balor and begin bringing in technicians and Crypteks to begin working on your planet and moon." The Genestealers weren't entirely cleared out, but they didn't need to be for what they were planning. The new recall facilities and various technologies the necrons required could easily be situated on the planet. They would also start fortifying the system, preparing it to become a vital link in the assault on the Nihilakh and ultimately, the Pariah Nexus. Galen, though, was looking at him like he had sprouted a second head.

"A peace treaty? HOW?! That is… is just not something we do!" Galen said and Manric hesitated. How to explain? "Manric… I know you probably don't really understand, since you've mostly dealt with me, but most humans are intensely xenophobic. And the Inquisition is just… I can't believe even the great Primarch could do such a thing." Then Galen stopped for a moment, before thinking aloud. "Unless the situation is even worse than I could have imagined. So bad that even the Inquisition must acknowledge that taking the Sautekh Empire out of play with a peace treaty is worthwhile…" Manric was slightly impressed as he watched Galen reason it out. "What happened to this planet, is this happening elsewhere? What other enemies is the Imperium of Man facing?"

"Do you truly want to know?" Manric asked gently. "Knowing that there is nothing you can do about it, but live as best you can?" Even if they were willing to take recruits from this shattered world, Manric would not take Galen. He was too young, he needed to have a family, but more than that, he was the leader of this small lunar colony. They took to him readily, both because of his family name and his intelligence and ability. When things were a bit settled, he would likely be officially named Planetary Governor of the moon. Galen examined him for a moment and Manric could detect a deep thoughtfulness in him and also, regret.

"You know, when I was in school we saw the recruitment ads for the Imperial Guard. We laughed at the propaganda back then… we didn't really believe any of it was real. We thought it was all squashing local rebellions and getting people to pay their tithes." That was the vast majority of the Guard's work, Manric knew. And you were relatively lucky to be chosen for such things, but only relatively. Some of the local rebellions could be as brutal as the orks or necrons. Not, admittedly, as bad as Chaos or the drukhari. Those could both offer a special kind of horror. "Then… this happened, and I learned we were wrong. So please, tell me. I don't want to be ignorant anymore." Manric sensed his deep sincerity and resolution, so he nodded.

"Very well," he said before detailing the problems with the Silent King and the Tyranids. Galen swallowed, hard, at the knowledge that all organic life in the galaxy could be exterminated in the next fourteen years if things went ill. Then he asked a question that genuinely surprised Manric.

"Are you taking recruits?" Manric leaned on his spear, truly startled by that question. He really hadn't thought Galen would make that offer.

"We are, but only from certain worlds, that are considered loyal to the Stormlord. Also, forgive me, but you are more valuable here," Manric said gently and Galen's lips tightened in rejection. "Unless you are a prodigy, in the time we have you cannot become a god of war and one warrior will make little difference. We need you here, organizing and helping this colony become a functional part of the Sautekh Empire." Manric reached out to gently touch his arm. "If you are still interested when you are older and this place is more settled, I will see what can be done." Manric might take Galen as a personal project, teaching him himself. He was a very good teacher in the Arts of War.

"It will be pointless by then," Galen muttered and Manric felt a deep sadness at his naivete.

"Not at all… when this is done, if we survive, we will next move against the Maynarkh Dynasty. They are insane and seek to exterminate all organic life… they have already accounted for trillions of human lives in their destruction of the Orpheus sector. Also, we are told they are deeply corrupted and will react to our necrons as though we are organic. There can be no peace with them, only war and it may span generations. Not to mention Chaos… possibly the Tau…" Nuhkes was still examining the small colony although he might move on to Tau worlds soon. He'd heard something about 'Farsight enclaves' and thought they might be promising to look into so he could compare and contrast them to Ethereal controlled worlds. "The orks and their WAAUGH… there are always new threats." It was rare for a threat to be as all-encompassing as the Tyranids and the Pariah Nexus but in general, the galaxy blazed with war and Manric didn't think it would ease anytime soon.

"Oh…" Galen's tone was a bit different and Manric felt him absorbing the fact that there was truly no end to it. "That's… how can you go on, knowing that it never ends?" Manric shook his head, feeling a powerful amusement at the question. Galen was asking from a place of despair at the enormity of it all, but for Manric the reality was quite different.

"This may sound horrible, but peace, true peace, is my greatest nightmare," Manric admitted. Galen looked at him with astonishment. "I am as made for war as this spear, and that was true even before I became a machine. I dreaded old age and retirement. I feared I would never adapt to it… this is my life, it is what I love and I never want it to end. If we achieved true peace I would bear it for everyone else, but I know I would not be happy." It just wasn't his nature. "I am pleased that I can bring about peace while still being true to who I am." In a completely peaceful galaxy, Manric suspected he would be tempted to try to find conflict. He would control that impulse with an iron will, knowing the danger of it, but it would not be pleasant. "If you do someday join us, you might find that this becomes true of you as well." Manric was far from the only one to feel this way. All of the Death Seekers but also plenty of men from the other units as well, who ultimately lived for war. Many of them had adapted to civilian life better than Manric or the Death Seekers, but it still wasn't what they would choose.

"I see," Galen seemed thoughtful, now. Wondering if that could be him? Perhaps. "So you will let me join you, someday?" Manric tilted his head.

"I would need permission from Imotekh but if he consented, I would take you on." While the disposition of a single human was a bit ridiculous to take to the Stormlord, breaking the current recruitment rules would require his consent. "But not until you are much older. Also, what about Kassandra?" That was the woman Galen had been with. His expression turned a bit grim.

"We're not together anymore." Oh. "Still, you're right, I shouldn't leave just yet." No… and that reminded him.

"We've gotten sidetracked. I was going to tell you about the plans we have for this planet, now that we have a peace treaty with the Imperium of Man." That did genuinely make a difference. The distance for raw materials had been dramatically decreased, for one thing, and this system might also be used as a transshipment point. Manric suspected there were going to be several such points… many ships of the Imperium would not want to venture deep into Sautekh territory and would prefer to make their trades at more neutral locations. Manric detailed the solid plans they had, to build recall and relay facilities, and also the more tentative plans for possible warehouses and accommodations. It was all very long term but depending on how things went, the domes might be expanded to offer entertainment for visitors. Before the Genestealers, such facilities had existed but they were gone now.

Depending on how the trade winds blew, this little system might undergo a transformation into a trading hub. They would just have to see.