"I understand that Auntie Slaanesh isn't technically just a girl… at least, not all the time… but I never knew what to call her whenever she visited. So, she said that I could just call her 'aunt' all the time so I wouldn't get confused." Admu said to Leman.
"Interesting." Leman said half-heartedly, growing more and more dread-filled the closer they got to the Prince of Pleasure's domain. Dealing with the servants of Slaanesh always made Leman's skin crawl and tempers flare, almost as much as the sorcerous thralls of the Lord of Change. At the very least, the daemons of the other gods could be said to act on mere base urges, little more than beasts enslaved to their masters. One might assume Slaanesh's minions would be similar, but Leman had learned otherwise. Khorne does not care from whence the blood flows, Nurgle does not pay any mind to where or how his rot spreads, and Tzeentch… who the hell knows what that thing wants. The forces of Slaanesh on the other hand, are painstakingly deliberate, despite what their unhinged and hedonistic behavior may communicate. They seek to find the perfect temptations, the most painful tortures, probing one's defenses like a million needles all at once. When an opening is found, the rest pour in like water through a burst dam, tearing you apart from the inside and relishing in every agonizing moment. Slaanesh is not just a malevolent force of destruction and mayhem, there is a sadistic and manipulative intelligence behind it, no doubt inherited from the Aeldari which gave birth to it.
Suffice to say, he wanted to get this trial over with as quickly as possible.
"I've never been to Arcadia, but I've heard so much about it. I hear that its streets are paved with marble, and that every building is in a different style painted in every color imaginable. Everyone wears the most elegant clothes, and every restaurant serves a different kind of food…" she said, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.
That's how it always begins. Leman thought. They draw you in with the simple pleasures, aesthetic perfection… then once they have their hooks in you, they draw their knives. For a moment, he remembered his brother Fulgrim. He quickly buried the thought. The trek through the mountain pass to Arcadia was somewhat treacherous, with the peaks above seeming to rival those of Asaheim itself. Admu kept her signature cheery disposition the entire way, marveling at the mountains that she had spent her entire life watching from afar up close for the first time.
"Mister Russ, didn't you say your home planet had mountains like this?" she said.
"Aye, the mountains of Fenris are widely renowned within the Imperium. Chief among them is the Fang, a mountain so tall that it pierces the sky and reaches the stars. Starships can dock at its peak, so great is its height." Leman said.
"Incredible… maybe we can build starship docks on these mountains, and then I can visit Fenris for myself!" Admu said.
She's barely out of the forest and already dreams of void-travel… she's got lofty ambitions, that's for sure. Leman thought.
"Look mister Russ, there it is!" Admu said, pointing at a vast, glittering city in the distance, crisscrossed by artificial and natural channels. Despite this planet resembling a feudal world for the most part, this city was quite an engineering marvel. Towers which seemed to defy physics shot up into the sky, waterfalls flowed backwards to feed channels along its raised streets, and at its center was an imposing ziggurat-like structure, with several tiers of raised buildings and a spiraling road leading from the bottom to a grand palace at the top.
I can guess what lies within that structure. looks like we have our destination. Leman thought.
"Isn't it amazing? It's like a forest… but made of buildings!" Admu marveled. "It's even more beautiful than I could have imagined…" As they approached the gates of the city, Russ could make out the elaborate painted murals and patterns which adorned each building, all completely unique and distinct yet somehow blending into one another seamlessly.
Typical hedonists… lavishing every little detail with such unnecessary indulgence. He thought.
They approached the walls of the city, which looked to be made of some fusion of marble, alabaster, and pearl. They were lavishly painted and embossed with ornate scenes and figures, like a miles-long tapestry woven from solid stone.
No defensive value whatsoever - purely decorative. Leman thought.
The immense gate to the city, wrought from precious metals and encrusted with glittering jewels, slowly swung open to greet the two travelers. Two guards dressed in white capes and wearing gilded platinum armor emerged and invited them inside.
"Greetings challenger," one of the guards said with a disciplined yet sonorous voice, bowing his head slightly. "... and lady Admu." he said, bowing to her as well. The guard wore a helmet and mask which bore a soft yet serious face, designed to accentuate beauty and authority in equal measures. So detailed was the metalworking of the guards' armor that Russ almost believed they were made of living metal, such as the kind his late brother Ferrus bore on his hands. "The Patroness has awaited your arrival with great anticipation."
"Wonderful. Where will the trial be held? I would hate to waste our most gracious host's precious time." Leman Russ said, barely trying to sound sincere.
"Our patron is preparing the trial as we speak, in the meantime you are free to roam the city and indulge yourselves as honored guests." the guard said.
"How exciting!" Admu said, clasping her hands together in anticipation. Leman merely rubbed the bridge of his nose and let out a defeated sigh.
Upon passing through the gates and entering a town square, Leman's senses were accosted by a flood of sensations. The smells of cultivated flower gardens, baked goods, wafting perfumes, and burning incense engulfed his enhanced olfactory sensors, and throngs of fancifully dressed pedestrians crowded the square, busying themselves with conversation, music, drink, or merely relaxing in the many gardens and shaded alcoves. Upon closer inspection, Leman noticed something odd about the beings around him.
"They're… dolls." Leman said, equal parts unsettled and morbidly curious. Each of them had balled joints where their limbs connected, and their skin was made of all manner of precious materials from ivory, to jade, and even gold. Those guards weren't wearing armor… that was their true forms. He thought. His mind returned to what Nurgle had said to him on the last day of his trial, that the gods of this realm could not create daemons themselves. If that is so, then what could these… things possibly be? The idea of finding out slightly unnerved him, but he also felt it could be a way to gain some leverage over this "Patroness" he so dreaded meeting. He knew not what the nature of this "trial" would be… gathering intel on his opponent could give him an extra card up his sleeve. Before he could continue to develop this plan of action, a shockingly tall and thin yet still elegant figure stepped in the way of the pair. It stood even taller than Admu, and wore a multicolored, aristocratic suit that consisted of several layers with golden hemmings. Even more shockingly, it sported 3 pairs of long, multi-jointed arms, wrapped around itself in a pose that expressed a certain noble aloofness which elicited a slight scowl from Leman. His angular, androgynous face was made of porcelain decorated with ornate, glittering patterns, with eyes of vivid ruby. The figure began to speak:
"Ah, there you are, master Russ… mistress Admu." he said, taking a deep bow with all 3 of its right arms. To Russ's surprise, the figure's face moved like living flesh despite his mask-like appearance. "I am Eradinas, the most renowned seamster in Arcadia. I have been tasked with providing you my services by the Patroness themselves." Admu's face was as bright with joy as the morning sun, while Russ remained expressionless.
"What is wrong with our current garbs?" Leman asked bitingly. The seamster studied Leman's appearance with an unchanging expression.
"I… insist upon it - as a matter of hospitality, of course." he said with a strictly professional tone. Leman turned to Admu, who looked at him with an eager expression. Leman sighed.
Maybe it would be best to try and blend in… it's not like I have much else to do in this damned place. He thought. "Make it brief."
"Worry not master Russ. In no time at all you'll be the most sharply dressed man in the entire city!" he said gleefully. Leman groaned.
The six-armed tailor moved like a blur with each hand working independently, one pair weaving needle and thread, another performing measurements, while yet another snipped and cut fabric all at a blinding speed and with exact precision. After only a few minutes of work, the octopodal seamster stepped aside and showed Russ his work: It was an obnoxiously colored, overly stiff 3-piece suit, encrusted with more jewels and gold trimmings than a ceremonial Custodes battle-suit.
"I would sooner bathe in the kraken-infested waters of the worldsea with naught but my undergarments than wear this… abomination." Russ said. Eradinas tapped his finger against his porcelain cheek.
"Hmmmm… yes, yes, this is far too tacky. Overdesigned, insists upon itself. Just horrendous. Wait a moment, I'll incinerate it and be back with another." Eradinas said, grabbing the outfit and disappearing into the back of the shop. He returned a few minutes later and revealed his work. It was a loose, white blouse made of high-quality fabrics, accentuated by subtle gold and silver hemmings along the neck and sleeves woven into knotted patterns and embroidered with the image of a silver wolf's head. The ensemble included dark, form-fitting leather pants, a gold-trimmed, intricately woven rope belt, and black, steel-toed boots. It seemed relatively practical, and when Russ tried it on, he was surprised by its comfort and mobility. In terms of casual wear, it was hardly the worst thing he'd ever worn. Eradinas seemed pleased with his work. "Yes… simple and subdued, yet bold and effective… revealing in all the right ways… It perfectly complements your rugged physique and cold yet passionate demeanor, like a ravishing, glistening warrior, returning from the hunt…" the seamster lavished, making Leman even more uncomfortable than he already was.
Admu emerged from the dressing room next, dressed in a silky white sundress, hemmed with lavish green and yellow trimmings like vines and leaves coiling around her. Her hair was done up in braids that curled around her head, adorned with a crown of golden flowers. She twirled around to let the flowing dress fan out and gave a dainty look.
"What do you think, mister Russ?" she said bashfully.
"I'm probably not the right person to answer that question…" he said, rubbing his chin. "The flowers look nice on you, though." Admu giggled.
"T-Thank you mister Russ, I-I think you look nice too!" she said, accidentally bumping her horns in the doorway absent-mindedly.
"Are you alright? I wouldn't want you to, uh, break those off." he said, gesturing to her horns.
"Oh, you don't have to worry about that. Papa says they're still baby horns, they'll break off when they're ready and my adult ones will grow in." she said.
The two left the shop, Admu waving goodbye to Eradinas. They walked down the marble-white streets, with colorful bouquets, streamers, flags, and manicured plants lining the boulevard. The doll-creatures were everywhere, enjoying all manner of pastimes and recreations. Musicians, performers, painters, sculptors, chefs, and other artisans - all of them artificial doll-creatures like the seamster - worked in open-air ateliers, creating a whirlwind of sensations which saturated the mind with powerful yet enjoyable stimuli. Each of the dolls were a work of art unto themselves, an elegant patchwork of shapes, designs, and materials, and no two were exactly the same. Most sported rather conventional looks: two arms, two legs, one head, and so on. Though occasionally they saw one which greatly diverged from this design, usually to serve them some purpose in whatever vocation they were engaged in, much like the eccentric tailor from before. Admu was positively enchanted, marveling at the myriad of sights, sounds, and smells which filled their surroundings. Russ on the other hand, was rather unnerved. His harsh upbringing had given him a distaste for hedonism and extravagance, seeing them as a decadent indulgence for the weak-willed and privileged. Moreover, whereas the demigods of Nurgle's forest were tolerable in their appearance, these creatures deviated from humanoid forms in ways that were repellant to him. Nonetheless, he would hold his tongue. He needed to remain in the good graces of the beings which lorded over this world, as much as it irritated him. His train of thought was interrupted by Admu tugging on his sleeve.
"Mister Russ, we should get something to eat. We haven't eaten since yesterday, aren't you feeling hungry?" she asked. Leman thought about explaining to her the details of primarch metabolic physiology and why he didn't really need to eat for the next month or so, but decided it probably wasn't worth it.
"Sure, why not." he said. Admu pulled him into a nearby cafe, the smell of hot, brewed drinks and baked goods wafting through the air, and they sat down at one of the tables. They were greeted by a kindly woman in modest attire, which struck Leman as peculiar.
"Why hello there, I've not seen either of you around here before. My name is Aureliné, what brings you to Arcadia?" she said, setting down two cups on the table. Her face was beautiful, but not in the way Leman would have expected. Rather than bearing supernaturally perfect features, her face was warm, kind and inviting. She even had hints of wrinkles woven into her mask-like face, which gave off a matronly charm. Her silken, light-brown hair hung gently along her face, like a woven tapestry of chestnut and caramel hues, her dark eyes were like a deep velvety chocolate, and her tender smile shone like the sun, setting gently on a hot summer's afternoon.
"Oh, uh, I am Leman Russ, and this is Admu. We're here on… business." he said, as if snapping out of a trance. He picked up the cup and gave it a tentative whiff. "Is this… recaf?" he asked.
"Recaf? Oh darling, I assure you my blend is far better than some chemically synthesized stimulant." she said with a lighthearted chuckle. He took a sip and was surprised by its pleasantness.
She is certainly right; I'd take this over recaf any day. He thought. "Actually, I am here to see your, 'patroness' Slaanesh." he said. Upon hearing the god's name, Aureliné shuddered, and a strange look shot across her face before quickly returning to normal.
"I-I'm sorry, but the Patroness does not allow her name to be spoken within the city." she said. "I don't blame you for not knowing, but… please refrain from doing so in the future." Leman nodded suspiciously. "Anyway, how about I get the two of you something to eat?" she said.
She brought them a platter of small and intricately crafted delicacies, a far cry from the bounteous portions of the dining hall in Nurgle's domain. Admu took a bite of a small cake dressed with fruit and seemed to be enjoying it immensely. Russ wasn't really hungry, especially not for something as… unsubstantial as this.
Well… I'm here, I may as well try one. He thought, grabbing a small pastry adorned with herbs. He popped it into his mouth, and it was… surprisingly good, not to mention filling. It was as if he had eaten an entire meal within a single bite.
"Judging by the look on your face, I'm guessing it caught you by surprise?" Aureliné said with a soft laugh.
"This is… quite satisfying." he said.
"I'm glad you enjoyed it, dear." She said.
"I do not wish to offend, but I expected this place to be more… unrestrained." he said. "Do the millennia of indulgences such as this not lead one to ever increasing hedonism?" he said, genuinely curious.
"Oh, I see what you mean. That's the wonderful thing about this place, thanks to our Patroness, every pleasure, no matter how small, never loses its luster. The dew-smell of a cool spring morning, the taste of fresh water on a hot afternoon, the gentle touch of a lover on a cold winter's night…" she caressed her cheek, her eyes closed as she reveled in fond memories. "...each time it feels just as wonderful as the first. There's no need to go seeking out the stronger stuff." she said. "Though we do keep some of our more… sensual activities behind closed doors" she whispered to Leman with a flirtatious wink, an innocent Admu none the wiser.
"Well… why continue to create then?" Leman asked, trying to change the subject. "If the enjoyment never wanes, why not simply indulge in the same things all the time?" he asked.
"Because creating is the best part, of course. Nothing compares to the satisfaction of seeing someone enjoy something you've created. And creating something new, something that's never been seen before, that's a feeling that simply cannot be compared."
"That's incredible miss Aureliné…" Admu said with starry eyes.
"Yes, it's quite wonderful. Though, in this place, there are still things that even we cannot create..." she said, placing a hand on her midsection with a longing expression. "Just let me know if there's anything else you two need, I'll be in the back making horderves for the ball later tonight." she said. Admu gasped.
"A ball!? Oh, I hope we get invited!" she said, shaking with anticipation. Leman let out a defeated sigh.
Admu and Leman finished their meals and bid farewell to Aureliné. They toured the streets of Arcadia, Admu occasionally dragging Leman into an atelier or studio to sample whatever was being crafted or performed. A surprising highlight for the old wolf was coming across a gymnasium, which he entered with much less apprehension. It was a huge, open-air colosseum dedicated to sports and recreation, with all kinds of gear and equipment for training and exercising the body. Strapping men and women with figures of sculpted bronze and gold ran, threw, and grappled with one another in friendly competitions of strength and skill. Leman quite enjoyed it, spending a good hour or two upending the local wrestling rosters by defeating every contestant who challenged him while Admu sat in the stands, cheering him on.
As the day drew to a close, the two ventured closer to the center of the city where Slaanesh's grand palace lay atop an artificial mountain. They noticed a crowd of the city's residents gathering around some kind of commotion and drew closer to investigate. They saw a woman, fallen to her knees and sobbing intensely. She was hysterical, her arms shaking and her breathing ragged and labored. Leman noted that this was the first time he had seen anyone in this city express a decidedly negative emotion.
"Oh gods, I'm sorry, I'm sorry… "she cried. "I was too late, it's my fault Kelduin, I couldn't save you from her." The crowd around her was trying to console her, to no avail. Suddenly, an intensely sweet and soothing smell wafted through the air, and in a cloud of sparkling mist and flower petals a feminine figure appeared. Adorned with luxurious, brightly colored silks, furs, feathers, and jewelry which draped across her soft and shapely form, she strode towards the grieving woman with a supernatural grace with her long, patterned cloak flowing behind her. Her face was hauntingly beautiful, an arrangement of soft curves and sharp features which entranced all who looked upon her, drawing them into her unfathomably deep magenta and rose-colored eyes. Her lips were full and glossy, curled ever-so-slightly into a disarming smile which even made the primarch lower his defenses, much to his chagrin.
So, the prince finally makes their appearance… or should I say princess? Leman thought.
She lowered herself to one knee, brushing aside the distressed woman's hair from her face and wiping a tear from her eye. The Patroness caressed her face, looking into her eyes with a look of fondness and understanding. She pulled the woman into an embrace, and the two were enveloped in an aura of warm, calming light. The grieving woman closed her eyes, and a look of relief washed over her face.
"Thank you, Patroness." she said, gently pulling away and wiping the tears from her face.
"It is my pleasure, Melanys." Slaanesh said, her voice like golden honey. She rose to her feet, the crowd around her celebrating in praise and gratitude for their Patroness. She sauntered towards Leman and Admu, her alluring smile making Leman force himself to remain vigilant against her beguiling aura.
"Auntie!" Admu said, holding her arms out.
"Oh Admu, my darling, it has been too long." she said, pulling the girl into a tight embrace. "I have been meaning to visit you for some time, I'm so glad you could come to visit." she said, stroking the girl's hair lovingly. "I hope Eradinas treated you well? I love the outfit, by the way. If nothing else, he has an unparalleled fashion sense." she said with a soft laugh. She turned to Leman, who merely glared at her with a serious expression, and her smile gained a mischievous undertone. "And what do we have here… this must be the challenger, Leman Russ." She said, circling him like a playful lion. "Khorne never said you would be so… handsome." Leman restrained his ever-increasing desire to strangle the licentious deity.
"I expected you to be wearing something more… revealing." He said, venting his temper with snide remarks rather than violence.
"Oh darling, salaciousness is so gauche. I prefer to leave something up to the imagination." she said, her voice dripping with a puckish friskiness. "Anyway, I hope you two will attend the ball I am holding in my palace this evening. It would be an honor to host such esteemed and honored guests." she said. "...the trial can wait until after we've had our fun." Leman groaned. "Anyway, I'll leave you two to your sightseeing. The ball is at sundown, I've made all the preparations for both of you, so you do not need to worry about a thing. See you there!" she said, disappearing in a puff of petals and perfume.
"Oh, aren't you excited mister Russ? We get to go to a real ball!" Admu said.
"Positively enchanted." He said with a grimace.
Leman and Admu ascended the grand ziggurat, passing by magnificent buildings which seemed to defy the laws of physics in their monumental construction.
I wonder if Rogal Dorn would appreciate such feats of architecture. He thought. Though Rogal would probably find their defenses woefully lacking, and immediately set to 'fortifying his position'. The thought of Rogal Dorn, in all his stoic obliviousness, dealing with the residents of this city gave Leman a hearty chuckle.
When they reached the pinnacle of the grand pyramidal structure they were greeted by an opulent mansion, one so large it rivaled some of the grandest constructions on Terra itself. It was made of marble, white as pure snow, and covered in a kaleidoscopic arrangement of colored banners and rainbow lights. Lying outside of it was a sprawling garden of expertly manicured topiaries and trees grafted with wide arrays of flowers and fruits, with visitors plucking them straight from their branches to enjoy. The entrance was like a city square unto itself, statues of dizzying scales and unbelievable craftsmanship towering above the partygoers below. The inside was like a maze, with so many rooms each with its own attractions that it was disorienting. Luckily, a sharply dressed attendant found them and was able to guide them through the labyrinthine palace. Eventually they reached the heart of the mansion, an immense dining room, auditorium, and dance floor all in one, filled to the brim with mingling partygoers and attendees. It was composed of several levels open to a central chamber which, judging by its incredible size, Leman guessed could comfortably hold a Warlord or even Warmaster Titan. The intoxicating scents which permeated the entire city reached their height in this place, likely due to it being the residence of the city's Patroness from which all of its pleasures emanated from. Leman noticed at the very center of this cavernous hall a grand stage, upon which he saw a beautifully dressed woman, adorned in a long, flowing white dress with rainbow-colored feathers. She had a maiden's beauty, pure and innocent, and was singing a hauntingly elegant melody to the throngs of listeners below. Behind her, he could see Slaanesh just out of the spotlight, as if protecting the girl from some unforeseen threat. Leman was beginning to have suspicions as to just what the nature of these puppet-creatures were, and what Slaanesh's relation to them was.
Eventually, after carousing and mingling for some time (although Russ mostly just followed Admu's lead while drinking spirits that were far too weak to ever intoxicate him), a servant informed Russ and Admu that the Patroness had requested their presence.
Finally. Leman thought, downing another painfully fruity drink in the hopes it could make the night more bearable.
They entered a slightly dark, warmly lit room filled with leather furniture and faded paintings. The walls were all darkly stained wood, and a grand hearth sat at the room's center with a roaring fire within. It was a large departure from the styles of the previous rooms, though not lacking in opulence whatsoever. Slaanesh sat on a black leather couch, drinking a dark liquid from a glass in the light of the fire.
"Russ, Admu, come and sit." she beckoned. The two complied, with Admu sitting to her aunt's side and Russ sitting across from the god. Russ's face was frozen in a serious expression. Leman and Slaanesh stared at one another for a good few minutes, Leman attempting to ascertain the motives of this god-being while Admu simply sat and waited patiently, not wanting to disturb whatever it was they were doing. Finally, Slaanesh let out a sigh.
"By the stars, would you relax? You look as if I'm about to pull a knife from my undergarments and insert it between your ribs." She said exasperatedly. "You're even more of a buzzkill than Khorne for bloody sakes."
"Mindless indulgence is an opiate for the weak." he said resolutely. She grabbed a bottle and glass, then walked over to him.
"Here, drink this." She said, pouring him a glass of the dark liquid. Leman looked at it with suspicion, swirling the elixir tentatively, then shrugged and down the glass. His eyes shot open with surprise, and he looked at the glass with confusion.
"This is-"
"Fenrisian ale, yes." Slaanesh said, cutting him off. "It's a bit of an acquired taste. Wonderful aftertaste, though. Don't you agree?"
"Can I try some?" Admu said. Slaanesh had a worried expression.
"Uh, how old are you again dear? A few dozen centuries? Perhaps you should start with something lighter…" she said, laughing nervously. She surreptitiously poured her some tonic water mixed with fruit juice and spices, then served it to her. Admu began sipping happily, her tail wagging with jubilation. "Now, Leman Russ, about your trial…" Slaanesh was cut off by the door to the room opening suddenly. The singer in the white dress that Russ had seen earlier entered with a silver platter containing a tea set, and up close he could see her face was practically glowing with a youthful vibrance. Slaanesh bore a look of shock and terror.
"Miss Patroness, I heard you were having guests and thought I would surprise you with some tea I made-" The girl locked eyes with Admu, who looked at her with a characteristic innocence.
"Hello, what's your name?" Admu said. The girl simply stared at her with a wide and unreadable expression. She dropped the platter, the teapot shattering on the floor and spilling at her feet. She grabbed her head, falling to her knees and shaking profusely.
"...Mother? Mother… mother… mother I'M SORRY MOTHER, PLEASE HELP ME SHE'S EATING ME, SHE'S TEARING ME APART I CAN STILL FEEL THE OTHER PARTS OF ME INSIDE OF HER PLEASE MOTHER, FATHER, ASURYAN, VAUL, ANYONE, ANYONEPLEASESAVEMEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE" she screamed, tearing at her eyes and face with desperation, tears dripping from her face. In an instant, Slaanesh swept across the room and held the girl tight in her arms, her cloak wrapping around them like a pair of wings. Immediately they were enveloped in a blinding aura, similar to the one they saw before only far, far more intense. Leman had to shield his eyes, but through the light he could see Slaanesh holding the terrified girl tightly, the god's face contorted in pain. The overwhelming aura subsided, and the maiden fell into a deep sleep with a serene expression. Slaanesh held her for a few more minutes, stroking her hair and whispering to her.
"Shhh… shhh… it's okay Lily, dear, it's okay. She can't hurt you here." she said. "Istvael, Forniel!" she called, beckoning two large servants to appear near-instantaneously. "Istvael, please take Lily to her room. See to it that she has everything she needs." she said. The butler acceded, gently picked up the unconscious girl and rushed off. "This is all my fault… I should have-" Slaanesh noticed Admu, who had a look of shock on her face and was on the verge of tears.
"I-I-I-I'm sorry, I don't know w-what I did, I-I didn't mean-" she said, her voice quivering. Slaanesh pulled her into her embrace to comfort her.
"No, no, no, Admu dear, it's not your fault at all. I'm sorry, I should have anticipated this. I was afraid of what would happen if-" she caressed Admu's face, wiping away a tear. "I know, how about you follow Forniel to the spa and take some time to relax?" she said, gesturing to the other butler.
"O-okay auntie…" Admu said, nuzzling her face into her aunt's shoulder. She left with the butler, and Slaanesh picked up the bottle of Fenrisian ale. She reached for a glass, hesitated, and then uncorked the bottle of ale and took a long swig. Leman was looking at her with suspicion.
"Your… children. They're Aeldari." Leman said, with an almost accusatory tone.
"Astute observation, Leman Russ." Slaanesh said. "But I have no right to call them my children."
"How? I thought all of the eldar souls in the immaterium were consumed?" he said.
Slaanesh sat down on the couch across from Leman. "The other gods were severed from their… 'other halves' many eons ago. Nurgle, Khorne, Tzeentch… to them, their connection to the outside is like an old scar. A faint memory, faded by the passing of time." she said. "For me, it is an open wound. A fresh, gaping hole, seeping with blood. I can still feel her, sometimes. Hear her thoughts, see through her eyes." she said, her eyes growing distant. "She tortures them, without end - constantly. I hear their screams, their cries for help, their desperate prayers to gods which can no longer answer them." She looked down. "When she carved me out of her, I took as many of them with me as I could. It was such a paltry amount, a raindrop in the ocean, a few grains of sand within the desert, but… if I could just help even a few…" Her eyes were unfocused. "They were in so much pain, so damaged beyond repair… I could not give them back their mortal lives, and because they were still a part of me… a part of her, I could not end their suffering. All I could do was help them forget. I took on their sadness, their pain, their trauma, I bear all of it for them. I crafted bodies for them, beautiful, untainted, unbroken… a reflection of what they were before her. Whatever I could do to ease their suffering, to make their false lives even a little more bearable…" Her voice began to falter. She turned to Leman with a piercing gaze. "I hate her. I want to kill her. To destroy her. I've tried to get to her through me, to use our lingering attachment to hurt her somehow, to inflict even a fraction of the suffering she's caused on them…" she said, rubbing the scars through her clothes. Her breathing was becoming labored. "But every time… she simply laughed." She bore a look of pain and hatred, her lips curled into a quivering scowl. Russ kept a straight face.
"The Eldar… they brought the fall upon themselves, did they not? It was their hedonism which wrought their downfall." He said, his face betraying no hint of emotion. Slaanesh took a deep breath and looked at him with a faint smile.
"You are right, Leman Russ. The folly of mortals is often their own undoing. I know that you have no love for my kin… but I can only imagine how your father must feel, imprisoned in his gilded cage, his own sons turned against one another, watching his own people descend into darkness and abandon the very ideals he founded his empire upo-"
"Do not speak of my father." Leman said, rising to his feet, his face bearing a stern expression.
"Very well then, son of Fenris. I believe you are ready for your trial." Slaanesh said, standing up as well. A look of confusion flashed across the old wolf's face. "Come with me."
Leman followed her down flights of stairs, into deeper and deeper layers of the ziggurat palace. The architecture became less elegant and decorative as they descended, painted walls and ornamentation giving way to bare, cyclopean stone.
"Let me guess, you will try to tempt me to prove my worthiness?" Leman said, "I have been tempted by the warp countless times, and each time I have resisted it."
"I will not lie to you, Leman Russ." Slaanesh said. "This will not be like any temptation you have faced before." The two reached the bottom of their long descent and stood at the entrance to a long hallway. It was lined with cold, rough stone, and the air was damp and heavy. At the other end, was another entrance which led to the path back to the surface. "Your task is to walk from here… to there." she said, pointing at the far end of the hallway.
"Very well." Leman said. He took a deep breath, straightened himself, and took the first step.
He was in a smoldering, ruined city, the wreckage of immense monuments and cathedrals still burning around him. The smell of ash and death choked his lungs, his enhanced physiology seemingly nullified by whatever infernal forces had conjured this vision. Feelings of intense sorrow and betrayal battered his mind, seeming to emanate from the very earth itself. Emerging from a pile of rubble and charred corpses, Leman beheld his father in gleaming, golden armor, standing before a legion of astartes. At their head was someone Leman had not seen for so long that he barely recognized him. It was his brother, Lorgar Aurelian, primarch of the Word Bearers. Seeing his former brother, now turned traitor, dredged up a combination of hatred and sorrow within Leman's heart. He had never looked down upon Lorgar in the manner that his other brothers had. While he had adhered to his father's edict against presenting the Emperor as a god, Leman sympathized with Lorgar's spiritual tendencies and yearning for something to place his faith in. He shared his faith and love for his father, though he knew not to disobey him in matters such as this. Lorgar loved their father more than anything, making it all the more tragic and infuriating for Russ when he learned of his treachery.
Yet, Lorgar loved the Emperor as a god, not a father. For disobeying the Emperor's orders and delaying the Crusade with his proselytizing, Lorgar was punished. A psychic shockwave like nothing Leman had ever felt shot through him. Lorgar and his sons fell to the ground, clutching their heads in anguish. The Emperor, in order to demonstrate to Lorgar and his legion the follies of their teachings, attempted to show them what being the presence of a god was truly like. He invaded their minds and choked their souls, violating them on the most fundamental level. The feelings of betrayal, of despair, of being cast down by the being they worshiped as a god, Leman felt all of it as if it were his own.
Leman clutched his chest and panted heavily, blinking repeatedly as he registered his surroundings. He was back in the hallway. As a primarch, he had some of the strongest psychic defenses of any human in the galaxy, enough to allow him to remain relatively sane after spending 10,000 years in the raw currents of the Immaterium. His incredibly long lifespan and centuries of battle and warfare had hardened his heart, stripped away and buried whatever part of him had been vulnerable to the emotions of others. None of that was effective here. It was as if his mind and soul were an open door, forcing him to feel every minute sensation, sentiment, and feeling as if it were his own. He had never felt vulnerability like this in his entire life, even in the presence of the Emperor. He looked down, and saw his right foot planted just inside the entryway. He had only taken one step. He clenched his teeth and took another.
He was in a ship, surrounded by writhing, disfigured bodies. They were the space marines of the 14th legion, the Death Guard, suffering from the "blessing" of the Plaguefather: Nurgle's rot. Leman's brother, Mortarion, stood above them, his fear and terror flooding Leman's mind. Even as he himself succumbed to the disease, the pale giant was trying and failing to put an end to his sons' suffering. Yet, even as he desperately hacked and slashed at their bodies they still lived, the release of death being eternally out of their reach. Leman Russ hated all the traitors of the Imperium, yet being forced to watch and even feel their helplessness, their yearning for death to release them from their suffering, Leman could not help but pity his brother as he wept for his sons, forced to sacrifice his own soul to save them from an eternity of endless agony.
Leman stumbled forward, clenching his fists and suppressing the urge to vomit. He wanted desperately to turn back, to cease this assault on his mind. He took several deep breaths, reminding himself of his duty. He was the Emperor's most loyal son, and he would do anything for his father. He would have to endure. He took another step.
He was in a windowless room, the only illumination coming from a dim, artificial lamp dangling from the ceiling and bars of harsh sunlight filtered through vents on the walls. He attempted to gain his bearings, before a searing, piercing pain shot through him. It was not his own, but another's; in the center of the room, bound with metal chains and strapped to an operating chair, was Leman's brother Angron. In spite of his superhuman size and strength, he was still only a boy, torn from his father and lost on a distant world. Another shot of pain rang through Leman. They were hammering the butcher's nails into the young primarch's skull. He could see in Angron's eyes the person he was, the man he was meant to be. A caring protector, whose physical strength was only surpassed by his capacity for empathy and paternal compassion. One by one the nails were hammered in, and that kind soul was extinguished, flickering out until nothing remained save hatred and malice.
Leman's face was drenched in sweat. His body screamed with agony, every fiber of his being telling him to stop. He took another step.
He was on a bleak, desolate world, bathed in darkness and lit only by a dying sun. Before him was a gaunt, sickly creature, with pale, translucent skin that almost seemed to be peeling off its bones. It was Konrad Curze, the Night Haunter, the dreaded primarch of the 8th legion. What was once one of the most feared beings in the the galaxy, an embodiment of terror itself, was now only a sad and pitiful wretch, writhing in the dirt. Before him stood a grotesque effigy of his own father, an idol of bones, its flesh long since rotted away. Curze was weeping, digging his bony fingers into the dirt in anguish, cursing his father, his fate, and begging for the "Emperor" to curse him, to declare him unforgivable, to vindicate everything he believed about himself, but he corpse-statue said nothing. What had happened to make him this way? What purpose could the Emperor possibly have had for such a twisted son? Leman tried to divorce himself from the scene before him, to stop the tide of anguish that flowed into him from his traitorous kin, but he could not. He could only bear the pain as his brother had since he first crawled out of the dark pits of Nostromo.
The end of the hallway seemed so far. He had barely even passed the entryway. His lungs burned and his heart screamed, his mind and soul shrieking in pain. Mustering all of his willpower, he took another step.
Step after step, Leman endured. He trudged forward, each step showing him tragedies and atrocities one after another. He saw the slaughter upon Istvaan III and V, the feelings of betrayal and hatred of each marine like it were his own. He saw Fulgrim, the embodiment of the Emperor's desire for perfection, twisted into a foul mockery as he severed the head of his previously beloved brother, Ferrus Manus. He saw the devastation of Calth, where the legions of Lorgar and Guilliman brutalized one another, each side fueled by hatred and betrayal. He saw the legions of Perturabo and Dorn clash headlong into one another at Phall, Hydra Cordatus, Sebastus IV, and countless more theaters, their gene-fathers' bitter rivalry made manifest in blood and iron. He saw the destruction of Lion'el Johnson's homeworld of Caliban, torn asunder by treachery. He saw his own battle with the warmaster Horus on Trisolian and the struggles of his sons while he lay in a coma after being mortally wounded by the arch-traitor. He saw the desperate defenders of Terra stand firm against endless tides of traitor legions, even as the Emperor's throne room itself was besieged by daemonic forces. He saw every battle of the Heresy and the Scouring from every perspective, every tragic twist of the threads of fate which resulted in the deaths of trillions and the destruction of the Emperor's ideals, like the downfall of everything his father had sought to create laid bare all at once in minute, excruciating detail. Every vision was like a lashing wind shredding Leman's soul down its core, each step peeling away another layer until there would be nothing left. He had stopped paying attention to his surroundings, how far he had made it through the hallway, all of his willpower devoted solely to enduring the endless onslaught of pain, suffering, and sorrow which surrounded him with every step. His foot touched the ground, and Leman immediately recognized where he was.
The spires of Tizca burned like grim torches, signaling the triumph of the Space Wolves. Thousands upon thousands of space marines clad in red armor lay dead upon the streets of Prospero's capital, with countless more civilian corpses laid amongst them. Leman saw himself, 10,000 years ago, standing above his broken brother. Leman hated Magnus. Even before the Heresy, before his betrayal, Leman hated him. When he learned of his treachery, he longed to shed his blood, his own hatred for Magnus taken advantage of by Horus when he tricked him into believing the Emperor wanted his brother dead rather than captured. Despite this, all those millennia ago, Leman could not bring himself to enjoy fighting his brother. Upon Magnus's face he saw neither evil nor malice. He saw betrayal. A twisted anguish that can come only from the severed bonds of brotherhood. In spite of how much he hated his brother… he was still his brother. Leman clenched his fists.
"Why… why did you betray our father, Magnus?" Leman said. "Why did you continue to use your sorceries after being told so many times of your mistakes? All of this destruction, all of this bloodshed could have been prevented if you had only listened! Tell me Magnus! Tell me why!" he shouted, his furious cries falling silent upon the vision of his lost brother.
He had only a few more feet to go. Leman could feel his soul being torn apart, holding on by mere threads. His breathing ragged and his skin drenched in sweat, he forced himself to take one more step.
Before him was his father, lying mortally wounded upon the deck of the Vengeful Spirit. His golden armor tarnished by blood and battle damage, his face stricken with fear and doubt. He had never seen his father like this. To the side he saw the corpse of Sanguinius, the purest of his brothers, his white wings stained red with blood, laid low by the fury of the arch-traitor. Towering above was the warmaster himself. Coursing with daemonic energy, his face contorted into a mockery of flesh and malice, he looked down on his injured father with nothing but contempt. Leman saw the pain in his father's eyes as he forced himself to muster all of his arcane powers against his favorite son. A brilliant arc of light flooded his surroundings like a supernova, and for a moment he saw his brother once more, the taint of his ruinous masters stripped away by the Emperor's baleful light. He had upon his face a look of fear and desperation, as if finally realizing all that he had done, all of his mistakes, before his soul was vaporized by the one man who had loved him more than anyone else.
Leman Russ fell to his knees, feeling the weight of an entire galaxy fall upon him. His father had been struck down, wounded beyond repair. After 10,000 years he was nothing more than a corpse, an anchor for the Emperor's dwindling soul. Was the Imperium even still alive? After falling so far, after 10 millennia, could it even have survived? Was father and the Imperial Palace all that remained of it? Were his sons dead, consumed by some unbeatable foe centuries ago? Did Fenris still stand, or had it been finally scoured by his many enemies, his people long extinct? How could humanity ever hope to survive in such a cold and uncaring universe? Everything around him grew dark, and Leman wept from eyes that were not meant to weep.
He was awoken by the feeling of warmth upon his skin, a heat lapping against his hands. He opened his eyes and saw a lone fire, burning in the darkness in front of him. Above him was a starry night sky, and all around him was blackness. He saw movement out of the corner of his eye. A shape, flickering just out of the reach of the fire's meager illumination. Reflective eyes stared back at him, and he was face to face with a monstrous wolf.
It had bright yellow eyes, which seemed to burn with a primordial essence. Its fur was a silver gray, and it was covered in old scars. The wolf walked up to the fire and laid down.
Are you content with giving up now, Leman Russ? Leman heard the wolf speak, though its mouth did not move.
"I was not meant to feel regret… nor remorse. I am the Emperor's executioner, his most loyal son." he said, his voice faltering.
That which feels no regret is a beast, and that which feels no remorse is a machine. Which of those are you, Leman Russ?
"I don't understand, I was meant to be above these feelings, immune to despair. How am I to stand at the pinnacle of mankind with my father if I cannot cast off these burdens?"
You think that you can stand at the pinnacle of humanity by casting off that which makes you human?
"I…"
I have known your father for a long time. You think he has no regrets? No doubts? You are mistaken, Leman Russ. He is a man. The greatest of all men. And it is that humanity which makes him great. To carry the burden of humanity is to reject the temptation to abandon what makes you who you are in the pursuit of strength or power, even if the entire universe is bearing down upon you.
So tell me, Leman Russ. Will you carry this burden, or will you cast off your humanity?
Leman Russ looked down at his hands, scarred and calloused by a thousand battles. He clenched his fists.
"If my father can bear this burden, then so shall I."
Then go forth, Leman Russ. I will be waiting here, until the next time we meet.
He fell on his hands and knees, staring at the cold stone floor of the hallway. He would not be broken. He stood, wiping the sweat and tears from his face, and with a determined expression he stepped forward. He bore the weight of the Imperium on his back, its failures, its tragedies, and pressed onward. He could not change the past, but he was determined to forge a future for mankind in his father's name. When at last he had nearly reached his limit, when his soul felt like it would finally be torn asunder, he placed one foot forward and… nothing. No visions, no suffering. He was back in the hearth-room he had been in before Slaanesh brought him down into the depths of the palace.
He nearly collapsed, leaning against a wall and breathing heavily while trying to stay on his feet. He felt relief wash over him, as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He had done it. Then he noticed Slaanesh standing before him. Immediately his relief was replaced by an indignant fury, and he grabbed her by the throat, pinning her to the wall. She was unphased. He scowled at her.
"You said you would tempt me, daemon-witch." he said through clenched teeth. "Not… whatever devilry that was."
"Regret is the greatest temptation there is, son of Fenris." she said. After a few more moments of glaring, seeing that she was unaffected by his efforts, Leman finally let her go. He sighed and rubbed his eyes as he tried to recover from his ordeal.
"It is an intoxicating thing, regret. It consumes the mind and soul, reduces the greatest of men to nothing, tempting one to fall into despair." she said. "For a man who lives only in the past is a dead man." Leman simply trudged over to the couch, collapsing in exhaustion with a distant look on his face. Slaanesh sat next to him. "True beauty lies not in perfection, Leman Russ." she said, placing her hand on his. "Beauty is to, despite all of our regrets, our failings, our scars, our trauma… to persist. To live. To grow, and flourish. To breathe full the air of life, to find pleasure in even the most mundane pleasantries, despite how cold and uncaring the universe may be. To stay true to oneself, no matter how much the world wages war on your soul."
"You, Leman Russ, have passed my trial." she said, standing up and giving a respectful bow. "I'm going to see how Admu is doing, you may rest here in my palace for as long as you wish to recover your strength, champion. Considering your next trial, you will likely need as much of it as you can get." she left Leman Russ with a kind smile, and the exhausted primarch fell into the waiting arms of sleep.
"Morning sleepyhead!" Admu shouted, throwing open the curtains. Leman awoke in a world of white fluff and downy feathers, his eyes struggling to adjust to the light streaming through the window. He was in a large bed, apparently moved from where he had initially fallen asleep. He could feel his body being swallowed by a mountain of impossibly soft pillows and cushions, engulfed by blankets and comforters which seemed on the verge of drowning him in warmth and coziness.
"I don't think I've ever slept through the night so deeply since I was still being raised by wolves." Leman said.
"Night?" she said with a confused look. "You've been asleep for three days, mister Russ…" Leman's eyes shot open.
"Three days!?" He shouted incredulously. He struggled for a few minutes to untangle himself from the quicksand-like mound of pillows and blankets, finally planting his feet on the ground. As they walked through the halls of Slaanesh's palace together, Admu regaled him with all that she had done in his absence. Painting, sculpting, learning to play music, and so on. As she prattled on, Leman's thoughts drifted to all that he had experienced before falling unconscious. In particular, he remembered his peculiar encounter with the wolf-like being.
Was it a memory? Some kind of manifestation of my subconscious? Or something else… It said that it knew my father, what could that mean? he thought.
"Hey, are you listening to me mister Russ?" Admu said, slightly hurt from being ignored.
"A-apologies, I have a lot on my mind." he said. They emerged on a terrace, Slaanesh waiting for them.
"Why if it isn't sleeping beauty." Slaanesh said with a giggle. "It was a pleasure to have you two. Admu, you simply must visit more often, just… ah, please let me know in advance to make sure no more… incidents occur." she said with a hint of loving concern.
"Sure thing, auntie!" Admu said, embracing her.
"Oh, and champion," she said, addressing Leman. "I do have one more thing for you…" She grabbed him by his shirt collar and pulled him in for a kiss. Leman froze with a look of surprise on his face.
"A-auntie!" Admu shouted, pulling Leman away by his arm, her blushing face bearing a hint of jealousy. Slaanesh laughed with a playful coyness.
Leman was surprised, but not for the expected reason. The instant Slaanesh's lips touched his, in that intimate moment, he saw her true form. Not the elegant and perfect form she presented outwardly. He saw the pain she bore for her subjects. The sorrows of an entire race, the scars she wore as a reminder of her failures. Her soul was deep and unfathomable, like a deep, indigo abyss that simultaneously calmed and dispirited. He saw the impossible weight she bore at all times, her constant loving and playful disposition a nearly unflinching facade for the true pain that lay underneath, a facade for the benefit of those she held dear. It was in this moment that Leman finally understood.
"I was wrong." Leman said, turning to Slaanesh. She gave him a puzzled look. "You are not weak." He said, turning to leave. Slaanesh was speechless, caught off-guard by such an expected gesture. She watched them walk away, disappearing into the maze-like streets of the city.
"How did the challenger fare?" Khorne said, appearing behind Slaanesh and causing her to let out a small yelp in surprise.
"Oh dear brother please, you must stop doing that." Slaanesh said, holding her head. "He passed. With flying colors, I might add." Slaanesh said after recovering from her fright. "For a mortal to bear so much pain and sorrow for his father, for his sons, for his people… it is quite beautiful, no?" She said wistfully. Khorne was unmoved.
"We will see how strong he truly is. I will administer him the hardest test of worthiness I can offer." He said. Slaanesh looked at him with disbelief.
"Brother, you can't be serious… he is strong, unbelievably so. But even still he is just a mortal, you can't expect him to…"
"He will pass my trials, or he is unworthy. Then, it is up to Tzeentch to make the final judgment." Khorne said, his arms crossed as he gazed into the horizon. "I apologize for not staying longer sister, but I must take my leave. I must prepare my warriors for the challenger's arrival." he said, disappearing in a column of fire. Slaanesh took a seat on her couch, pouring herself a glass of Fenrisian ale and taking a sip.
"Leman Russ… I hope you are prepared for what you are about to face." she spoke to herself.