Manric met with the aeldari under the light of three moons, on a land that was surpassingly beautiful.

So this is a Maiden World. It was a gorgeous planet, full of verdant green life. The temperature was a bit on the colder end, Manric was sure it would have a rough winter, but that only made it similar to Hope. They met in an amphitheatre of ancient stone, overgrown with moss and vines. Beautiful statues, also grown over, looked down upon them. Manric tilted his head back, regarding them thoughtfully. He really didn't understand all this effort being put into a land that was left uninhabited for so long. He understood the Eldar thought in the long term, but at a certain point it seemed pointless. Unless this world was more along the lines of a religious shrine?

In some ways, you will always be human. Manric glanced at his spear. It was brighter than usual, as if it was responding to this place.

"Am I? I think the Necrons would agree with me." Manric said as he waited for the eldar to arrive. He'd come himself, leaving everyone else on the ship, while they were bringing people from several ships so it was unsurprising he'd beaten them by a few minutes.

They are surprisingly similar to you humans. Yes… Manric would never say it, most of the Necrons would take offense, but he knew part of the reason they were getting along well was a certain similarity in outlook. The one Necron he'd been able to discuss it with was Nuhkes, and he agreed that humans were among the closest species he'd found to his own. Given the bloody history of the necrontyr, and the equally bloody history of humanity, Manric wasn't sure if he should be amused or sad for them all.

Then the time for reflection was past, as smooth shadows moved into the amphitheatre. The Eldar were all very beautiful, but that seemed strangely artificial to Manric. Engineered, designed. Manric knew it might partly be just his knowledge that the aeldari were a created species, spawned deliberately, but they seemed to lack variety to him. On the other hand, his own body was literally engineered and not so pretty so perhaps he should not complain.

Then someone else entered the amphitheatre, moving with heavier steps, and Manric stared and without thought, crossed himself to signify his shock.

Roboute Guilliman was not exactly how Manric had pictured him. He'd assumed the pictures had taken liberties with his size, and some of them had, but he was still impressively tall. The armor made him taller but Manric still judged he was at least ten feet, putting him significantly taller than Manric's Necron body. The armor he wore was a beautiful thing and Manric could recognize the kind of in depth, personal work he had sometimes seen from the finest of Necron technology, crafted individually by a great Technomancer. Imotekh's staff was the best example of something of that caliber, although the Stormlord would no doubt snort and say that his staff was vastly superior.

Guilliman himself was surprisingly graceful to Manric. He found the Astartes distorted and ungainly, despite their sometimes great dexterity. They could not move the way Manric could, no matter how hard they might try. Guilliman, though, seemed designed to match his great height. It was hard to tell with the armor in the way but if it was stripped aside, Manric thought it was possible the Primarch could dance. And to Manric's mind, that made him vastly more threatening than any run of the mill Astartes.

"I… am honored and… somewhat shocked that you would wish to speak to me." Manric said, a touch overwhelmed. "Did you truly arrange all of this?" Manric found that a touch alarming. He was just an Overlord! Admittedly, a fairly important one… Manric did not KNOW of course, Imotekh would never say, but he was sure he had been earmarked as a candidate to lead a wing of the Stormlord's forces if they expanded enough or if someone happened to die. Still, it was quite shocking that the current ruler of the Imperium of Man would arrange a meeting with him.

"I did. And yes, I know this is honestly a great waste of all of our time and effort given the likely outcome, but it was the only way I could think of to meet you." Well. Fair enough, he supposed. "So, you were human…" Guilliman examined him and seemed to find him disturbing yet fascinating.

"May we go first?" The female aeldari cut in and Guilliman seemed a touch amused as he nodded. Then she turned to him. "Is that truly the Spear of the Ancients? The Legacy of Laaror, great hero of our people?" They still remembered his name? Manric was a touch surprised, and felt an echoing surprise from the spear. "What gives you the right to even touch that sacred relic, Mon'Keigh?" Oh ho.

"It's rather amusing how that word sounds quite close to a real insult in our language." Even though monkeys did not exist on Hope – as a non-agricultural animal, they hadn't been brought along – they still existed in popular fiction. "And my right to this weapon is as the spoils of battle. I slew the drukhari who owned it in honorable combat."

"Those scum had no right to it either." Well, the spirits of the spear would agree with that. "Return it to us." Oh really.

"You want my spear? Take it." Manric smoothly tossed her the spear. Her eyes went wide and she caught it, largely by reflex, which was a mistake. There was a crackling sound and she was blasted away, hitting the ground and rolling hard. It was still not serious, more of a sting than anything, but looked quite impressive. The spear flew away and hit a stone, slicing deeply into the rock and ending upright. Manric was quite pleased with the symbolism. "Does anyone else want to try to remove the sword from the stone? I'm told you can become a King." They wouldn't understand that, but they got the gist. There was a heavy silence. "No? Disappointing." Manric walked to the stone and easily pulled his spear free, leaning against it as he turned to the aeldari. The man in blue's lips were tight, but Manric sensed his irritation was more directed at the woman than at him.

"Great spirits of the spear, can you please tell us why you have forsaken us so? Why you have turned to one not of our kind, allied to our great enemy?" Another woman, not a warrior at all, asked in a supplicating tone. Manric was a bit surprised at how she regarded the Necrons, mainly because he was sure Imotekh did not regard the Craftworlders the same way. He considered them a minor nuisance and far too arrogant for their own good, but certainly not a great enemy.

Do you want me to respond for you? Manric mentally asked the spear and received assent. Then he turned his attention to the female speaker… even among the others, she was beautiful, with flowing blonde hair and sapphire blue eyes. She was wearing a gown of sapphire lined with gold, full and flowing and elegant.

"In the fall of your people, this spear was looted from a museum in a lost, ruined world. The drukhari could not make it work for them, the spirits sealed themselves away, so they assumed it was only a replica of the ancient weapon." Not an unwarranted assumption, for something sixty million years old. "So they thought it was merely a spear and used it as such."

"As you may know, this weapon requires the power of a wielder to take action." Manric glanced towards the woman in red, who had climbed to her feet and was mostly unhurt, just shaken. "So they could not actively reject the drukhari. They were consigned to endure, as this blade was whetted with innocent blood." From the emotions he could sense, the grim resignation, the eldar had already understood where this story was going.

"When I was only a young man, the drukhari holding it thought to challenge me to single combat. I was a prodigy, even then, and with skill and luck I won." It had been lucky, but the drukhari had also been an arrogant fool, thinking he could play with Manric. He'd learned otherwise. "It felt good in my hand, so I kept it. The spear opened to me, touched my mind and soul, and ultimately chose me." Manric was deeply honored by that. "It will not turn aside." If it had been up to him, he would have left it at that, but he sensed impatience from the spear. "And forgive me… I do not wish to say this. But you are not forgiven for the misdeed of your ancestors," Manric said as gently as he could. "My spear rejects you, until that wrong is righted."

"I was not even alive then! None of us were. And we are the descendants of those who saw the doom coming! What more do we have to do?! What more can we do?!" The young eldar woman said and Manric actually felt badly for her.

"I agree with you, but I am human. The spear does not, and I think your elders understand." The man in blue nodded.

"I do, and our forgiveness will come when the dreadful infant is dead," he said to the young eldar woman, who lapsed into silence, but beneath her anger Manric could sense deep hurt. She thought she was worthy of the spear and perhaps she would be, if matters were different. The spirits of the spear did not mind headstrong young warriors. "Please keep that spear in trust for us, if you can." Manric decided not to point out that from what he'd heard, Trazyn the Infinite was probably stalking him with the intent to steal the spear.

Then it was Guilliman's turn and Manric asked the first question.

"There is one thing I do not understand… can you perhaps enlighten me?" Guilliman gave him a questioning look. "What happened to Christianity? I know it has been a very long time, but it was such a popular religion, along with the other religions of the One God… but all reports I have seen indicate they are all dead, replaced with worship of the Emperor. That seems very strange to me, how did this come to pass?" It particularly troubled Manric because in many forms, worship of God had endured for well over ten thousand years. This death of the religion did not seem natural.

"When my father wanted to save humanity from the Time of Strife, and bring together his empire, he wanted to end the practice of religion entirely," Guilliman said after a moment, to Manric's great surprise. "He wanted to replace it with belief in humanity itself, in our great goals and abilities. He wanted all our monuments to be dedicated to humanity, and all our efforts returned to humanity, in his creation of a new golden age."

"That sounds like atheism and secular humanism," Manric said, gently tapping his fingers on his staff. This deeply resonated with him because – "I have never been religious, and I am deeply inclined towards secular humanism – yes?" The eldar in blue was looking like he wanted to speak.

"Forgive me, I am curious. What is secular humanism?" Ah. Perhaps he should define it.

"The belief that humanity has value in and of itself. That one can have ethics, moral values and stances, that do not rely on religious faith and dogma. That there need not be a heaven and hell for one to behave morally, and find value in that simply for itself." Manric tapped his fingers on his staff again, thinking about it for a moment. He'd always found that philosophy, and atheism in general, deeply attractive. But he'd never pursued it because… Manric looked back at Guilliman. "I think you've just told me that the Emperor fundamentally did not understand the nature of humanity." He had never pursued such things because while they were accepted on Hope, his father had violently rejected the thought of his son being an atheist.

"Why do you say that?" Guilliman said and Manric had the distinct feeling that while he would never say it, he did not actually disagree.

"Because secular humanism is such a difficult belief system to adhere to. It requires deep thought, reflection and understanding. It benefits greatly from the study of the ancient stoics." From the way Guilliman raised his eyebrows, he hadn't been expecting that. "I think perhaps it came easily to your father and he thought it should come easily to everyone, but it simply doesn't. Most people prefer lazy thinking and easy answers, and atheism and secular humanism just doesn't offer that."

"Yes, and that is the point. Humanity needs to rise above that, move past it. Do you believe we can't?" Well.

"Individually, we can. As a species, we cannot," Manric said with complete, utter certainty. Guilliman raised his eyebrows again at his conviction.

"Why are you so sure?" They were going into a strange topic, Manric realized, but he was genuinely enjoying this. It reminded him strongly of his conversations with Nuhkes. Speaking of which.

"The Uhnashret Dynasty has a dedicated Necron xenobiologist. His name is Nuhkes. He loves studying other species and humanity in particular fascinates him, because we are similar to their parent race, the necrontyr." Guilliman looked mildly shocked and Manric suddenly wondered. Surely he knew that about Necrons, that they had once been alive? The eldar could certainly have told him. "The necrontyr were naturally evolved, just as humans, and just as humans, they were exceedingly religious… there are many similarities. Nuhkes believes that this tendency to lazy thinking and easy answers is actually adaptive. Herd animals do not benefit from independence of thought, not for everyone at least. For a leader, there must be followers." Manric gently tapped his staff again. "Imagine if everyone in the Imperium were as intelligent and independent minded as your father. How could it function?" It couldn't, or so Manric believed at least.

"That is quite a depressing view on humanity. But you can still find worth in humanity just for itself?" Guilliman asked and Manric made a soft, buzzing sigh.

"That is part of why secular humanism is such a hard creed… I do not know. I've never truly studied it, not that deeply." Manric could sense deep skepticism in Guilliman. Still, it was true, despite all he knew Manric considered himself just a hobbyist in such things. He certainly wasn't a deep philosophical thinker although he probably could have been, if he hadn't been dedicated to his craft. "Personally, I do find worth in humanity, and also the Necrons. We are all flawed in so many ways, yet beautiful and worthy in spite of it."

"So you equate humanity with the Necrons. I see…" Guilliman mused and Manric wondered if he should have revealed that. But it was true, necron life was as precious to him as human life at this point. "I would have thought secular humanism would only be for humans. It certainly was for my father…" Guilliman suddenly shook his head and made a casting away gesture. "While philosophy is interesting, I really did not come here for that." No. "Tell me, do your people have an STC?" ?!

"What would make you think so?" Manric asked, buying time as he internally swore. Who had slipped up?! They had emphasized and over emphasized to everyone, from the least soldier to the greatest warrior, that the STC Must Not Be Mentioned. Manric hadn't thought his men would slip up even drunk, but someone must have! Guilliman seemed to sense his feelings because he gave Manric a small smile.

"No one said anything. But on reviewing my reports on your people, a small detail caught my eye… that your colony is only five thousand years old." Ahhhh… damn! "That makes absolutely no sense if you follow the religion of Christianity. The only answer seemed to be that you come from a different part of the timeline and if so, you could easily have a functional STC. It would explain so much about you." The older eldar were quite interested in this, Manric noted. But then, they understood the technological might that had been held by humanity at their height. The younger were bored and contemptuous, to his amusement. "Including your odd fondness for xenos."

"You might want to follow that with 'no offense'," Manric said drily, glancing at the eldar. The man in blue was just amused.

"We're used to it, from you Mon'Keigh's." Ouch! Manric laughed and several of the eldar twitched at the buzzing sound before understanding what he was trying to do. But Guilliman was focused on something else.

"Also, your over-reliance on AI… do you understand the dangers of that?" Ah. Manric was actually surprised Guilliman would bring that up, considering what the Imperium used. "We fought a great war with the Men of Iron and that was part of what brought humanity to its' knees. Do you know that?"

"I did not know that but there is nothing to fear. The Necrons are well versed in AI and also, the limits that must be imposed to avoid aberrant behavior." Manric had to say it though, he simply had to, and he let his voice become very sharp. "You, meanwhile, have tossed the baby out with the bathwater. What is this insanity of using humans as organic computers? It is a gross violation of the Code of Terra. In the ancient days of the Terran expansion, you would all be judged and condemned for it!"

"Judged and condemned by those who completely passed by the Time of Strife, when Chaos went wild? Those who did not experience the crusades, the Horus Heresy and who were barely touched by the fall of Cadia? You know nothing of what the Imperium of Man has survived!" Guilliman's voice was equally sharp and Manric wanted to respond, but held himself back. Anger never solved anything, unless you intended to use the point of a weapon at least. Also, the Primarch had made a relevant point.

"You note that I am not judging your religion, your Inquisition, or even your campaigns against xenos, although I want to." How many innocents had been put to the fires in those Crusades? Manric could not even guess. "I am specifically stating that your use of servitors is an abomination in the eyes of the Code of Terra. There is absolutely no justification for it and the only reason you do it is an insane rejection of AI, taken to purely absurd levels." Oh, it made sense to be cautious of AI, to be sure. But to reject it so thoroughly was just rank insanity, to Manric's mind. Guilliman would have responded but held himself back, and there was a very tense moment.

"We are clearly not going to agree on this point." No. "Perhaps we should move on." Manric nodded cautiously, before doing his part to do that.

"What will you do about our STC?" When was the armada due? Guilliman heard the unspoken question and gave him a crooked smile.

"Nothing." Nothing? "Other than try very, very hard to keep this information away from the Mechanicus." Ah… why? "I know Imotekh the Stormlord much better than I would like. He is waiting for us to attack you." Well. Yes, Imotekh DID tend to show a great deal of pleasure at the thought of a Mechanicus fleet moving on Hope. Orikan the Diviner was specifically watching for signs of it and to make the situation for the Imperium even worse, there were really only three possible approaches on the Hope system. The reason for that was the terrible state of the walls of reality… to get transshipments at Coreworld Abydos, they had to use Necron FTL or actually employ positively charged Blackstone to open a 'gate' for a Warp ship. While it was a damned nuisance, it did mean the Imperium would have a hell of a time launching any kind of sneak attack. "I have no interest in putting my forces through that kind of meat grinder for something with minimal strategic value." Minimal…? "I suspect you left early into the Dark Age of Technology, the middle at most. You don't have the truly valuable technologies like replication." Replication? What was he talking about?

"I don't even know what that is, so you might be correct," Manric said, a little bemused. "Although you do have a point… our technology base is, by and large, a touch inferior to Necron technology." So it was far from some incredible godlike technology that could do anything. It was just very, very good. Still, did Guilliman fully appreciate what they intended to accomplish with their shell program? Well, Manric definitely wasn't going to tell him.

Unfortunately, he didn't really need to.

"Although this… this abominable thing you do with your bodies, abandoning them for machines. And you are sacrificing your souls in the process?" Guilliman found that extremely hard to swallow, Manric could see. And the beautiful eldar woman stirred.

"He has not. The Spear of the Ancients would not work, in the hands of soulless metal." Guilliman was shocked by that, Manric sensed. "Also, he is powerful and even without looking deeply, I can sense what he has done to himself." … "That was a terrible sacrifice to make."

"I did it to save a friend," Manric said simply, reaching up to rub his chest, reminded of the ache. It never quite went away.

"Was that friend a Necron?" she was genuinely curious and Manric found something about her very engaging, so it convinced him to respond.

(he had no idea he was dealing with another bearer of empathic telepathy, and one much older and wiser)

"Yes, he was a Necron. He was afflicted by a… a curse that was stealing away his sanity. A small fragment of my soul cured him." She nodded and Manric could sense her respect. Although many of the other eldar were highly dubious and some thought he was insane. Then Manric gave his attention back to Guilliman. "Although most of us do sacrifice our souls for this afterlife. We do it to protect the living."

"Yes… the report on that was rather poetic." Guilliman said before abruptly changing the subject. Manric wondered why. "Can you tell me what Imotekh's relationship is with the Silent King?"

(Guilliman had decided that questioning him further on that was pointless)

(they were not about to stop, after all)

Manric paused for a long moment as he considered how to respond to that, tapping his fingers against his spear thoughtfully. It was really quite a loaded question, but for reasons Guilliman did not know. No doubt he was just wondering if Imotekh was likely to come to Szarekh's aide. After a long moment of consideration, Manric decided that the Stormlord's interests would be best served by giving Guilliman the truth and he leaned forward slightly, taking a very sincere posture.

"You recall how you said this meeting was, by and large, wasted effort? I think with that one question, all your effort might be repaid. Because the relationship between Imotekh and Szarekh is hatred." Guilliman's eyes widened but Manric was not done. "I will not give you the story behind it – it is not mine to tell – but even if the Silent King came to the Stormlord on bended knee and begged for forgiveness, it is unlikely Imotekh would find any in his heart. Szarekh might not know it yet, but they are enemies." The Silent King no doubt knew that Imotekh disliked him and was not a reliable ally, but he probably had no idea the Stormlord wanted to stab him in the back. And Imotekh hadn't even fully remembered yet. If they were ever able to arouse his memories of the end of the necrontyr, surely it would be even worse.

(Manric had no idea how right he was)

"I see. That is very interesting." Guilliman was extremely thoughtful now. No doubt he was thinking of potential temporary alliances, and also the advantages they might have if the Necrons began to turn on each other. Manric wasn't entirely sure – they could never trust the Imperium – but Imotekh might indeed be highly receptive to an alliance at some point. "That is valuable information… thank you." Manric felt things were coming to an end here. But he did want to speak to the eldar for a moment. He turned to the man in blue.

"If we are speaking of the Stormlord's attitudes, you should know he does not truly consider you an enemy." The man frowned slightly and Manric felt his disbelief. "He merely wants to conquer you, like everyone else. He has no hard feelings about the past." Imotekh wasn't bothered that the ancient aeldari had once been his sworn enemies. "I suppose what I am saying is that if you are ever in a losing situation, you can surrender to the Stormlord and be incorporated into his empire." Manric wasn't sure they knew that. Imotekh had grumbled before about how eldar tended to fight to the death in rather absurd ways. He did appreciate how humans tended to surrender, when they were obviously beaten.

"We thank you for the advice, but we have no intention of every surrendering to our ancient enemies." Well, he'd tried. Manric glanced around and could tell all of the eldar agreed with him, and some were insulted at the very idea.

"Well, just keep it in mind." Manric said, giving up. After that the meeting broke up and he was allowed to return to his ship and leave. All the crew were very relieved to see him back and even more relieved to get away from Iathglas intact. Manric was also very relieved and eager to get back.

What would their next campaign be?