~Conquest Begins~
~798. M30~
~Segmentum Ultima~
~Jedathra~
~Morrigan, The Fourteenth Primarch, Medicae-In-Training~
She poked at the dish before her, a plate filled food of the local variety. Roasted meats with a glaze of honey, grilled and diced vegetables, mashed roots, a form of thick-cut pie, all steaming with warmth and smelling appetizing. Next to her tray a cup of local wine, and then in front of her a wide variety of dishes piled high on serving trays.
The sound of excited rambling about her as the celebratory feast continued, hosted on behalf of her brother succeeding at the formalized conquest trial. According to their traditions, he was now the King of Jedathra, and thus they could claim that they weren't bowing to any outsider. A somewhat useless sounding work-around for them to cling to a handful of words, but it wasn't her business.
Bemused by this, brother accepted the title and decided to incorporate the iconography of the world into his planned empire. The end result of his design process was a chimeric gryphon of sorts. A white lion, with the front-half of an eagle, the cog-wings of the Gryphonne forge-empire, and a long, frilled, snake-like tail. In the iconography, it stood on a field of green and blue, with a crown of three stars over its head, and with its talon-like front limbs, it holds a golden sword and shield.
This supposedly combined the crowned serpent of the ruling house of Jedathra, the mechanical-eagle of the Gryphonne techpriests, and the three gods of the Eldar as a crown. The actual specifics of the imagery was beyond her interests, but it sounded important as brother explained it to her. Aurelia certainly looked impressed by it, eyes glowing merrily as they were listening to him talk about it.
Her attention returned to the food on her plate as she considered taking a bite. She was slightly hungry, but she could go on for much longer without needing to eat, and had done so before. She didn't know what most of these foods were before, and many more along the long feasting hall were still foreign to her. She was used to pale grain-bread and corpse-meals, to leaden waters and filthy beers.
Brother warned them to not drink anything offered, at risk of being poisoned. It was much more difficult to poison food gathered from a large dish that many people would take from, much easier to poison the jugs that servants would refill specific drinks from.
So the wine wasn't going to be touched, but she was hesitant to touch the food as well. She didn't see how clean the kitchens they were prepared in were. They could be filthy.
Kassandra had already reached her third dish, eating at a formally appropriate but rapid pace. Petra was eating as mechanically as she ever did, uncaring of the stares around her. Aurelia was eating with perfect mannerisms, a beautiful smile on her pretty face.
Leaving ugly, once-starving, scar-lipped Morrigan to stare at the plate of unfamiliar items with cutlery in hand, and not move an inch to actually eat. The sheer waste was making her angry, this much food would be a bounty reserved for dreams on Barbarus. It would be eaten with tears of thanks in eyes.
The world was rotting. She could see it. Her soul was filthy.
She couldn't bring herself to touch any of it, not without knowing how clean the kitchens were, how clean the hands of the cooks were, and how thoroughly they kept filth from accumulating in their workstations. She had been learning to cook from her sisters and the Eldar, mostly because it was difficult to stomach anything she didn't prepare herself.
"Is there something wrong, guest?" A voice spoke near her, causing her to turn her head. The woman next to brought up a slice of meat to her lips and bit down, quickly chewing and swallowing with a raised brow. She was a young looking woman, much shorter than Morrigan herself, and wearing a dress that actually seemed to fit her instead of her body practically spilling out like Morrigan's own.
The dresses from the Queen were gifts, but they were clearly gifts made for shorter women and quickly refitted for women of her and her sister's sizes. Petra was the shortest, and she was still six and a half feet tall. The sky-blue and cream-white dress looked best on her.
Morrigan was the tallest at around eight feet. She had to be careful to not snap the green-gold dress by moving the wrong ways, and it barely covered her. Her shoulders were mostly exposed, the skirt only came down to her mid-thigh, and her scarred and weathered body was clearly displayed.
It was shameful. But it was a gift, and brother needed this to go well, so she wore it without complaint.
"I'm not hungry." She grumbled out, pushing her plate away and setting her cutlery down. The first thing she says to this stranger is a lie? How quick her tongue was to deceive others. She buried the shame under a layer of outwards irritation and hostility.
"Oh. Well that's a shame. It's really quite good." The young lady with reddish-brown hair and emerald-green dress spoke, taking another bite and chewing it quickly. Morrigan had already ruined this conversation, please stop talking and ignore her. Actually, please forget that she ever existed and go back to your meal in silence. "Maybe next time, the glazed saurus is delicious, especially paired with the wine and gravy." Why are you still talking, strange woman?
"Hm." Morrigan grunted, hoping to deter the stranger from speaking again. Much to her dismay, the stranger did not understand her silent plea for the conversation to stop, and kept going instead.
"Ah! I'm Janest de Valliere. Daughter of Duchess Valliere. It's a pleasure to meet you!" The so-called Janest quickly took another bite of food, making Morrigan suspect she would quickly die without eating.
Morrigan cursed the fact that she had to be polite. "...Morrigan."
Chew. Swallow. "Just Morrigan?" Chew.
"...Brother is the one with the fancy titles. I'm just his younger sister."
Swallow. "Oh. Well he's a King now, at least. So that means you're a princess. So Morrigan, Princess of Jedathra. Does he have any other titles?" Munch. Bite.
Morrigan considered it for a moment. Janest took a quick sip of wine. "...Our father is the Emperor of Mankind. He rules the Sol System."
"Ah! So crown-princess Morrigan! I'm pleased to meet you!"
…Morrigan turned her gaze to glance at the young woman, who was now loading up a second plate. She seemed to completely roll over any fumbling Morrigan made earlier, cheerfully speaking in between rapid mouthfuls. She seemed completely oblivious to her grunts and aura of irritation.
…This conversation might be salvageable.
"So what's with the whole…" Janest reached up to mime tugging at her ears. "People with the long ears?"
"They're Eldar." Morrigan grunted. "They're not actually humans, they just look like it. They're allies with my brother due to an oath made back on their homeworld of Charnac…"
And so the conversation went, Morrigan trying to not fumble her words or tear her dress, and Janest seemingly missing every impolite thing she did as she worked her way through a second and then a third plate of food.
—
It was relatively rare to find someone taller than her anymore. Only her brother and old Wraithknight Mallwyrn, and one of those was a dead Eldar entombed in a giant bone construct. Everyone else barely reached her sternum, with the rare exception of a few of the Eldar, who were still almost a full head shorter than her and their highest.
Her father's emissary was a new one added to that very short list, being nine feet tall and clad in great slabs of golden plated power armor, looking enormous compared to everyone except her brother. Shield-Captain Kytan he introduced himself as, and he was here on behalf of their father, coming to check up on them and act as their father's voice among brother's circle of various males with important-sounding titles and duties.
Honestly it was entirely too much gold. Gold, with white-gray helm-visor and trim, and red cloaks and horsetail, and just a hint of blue in the gemstones inlaid in the armor. His weapon, an ostentatious combination of a glaive and gun, was also decorated with golden eagles and sunbursts.
Even the Eldar, normally perfectly composed in behavior, occasionally gave double-takes at all the wealth on display in the giant man's armor and weaponry. The slightly stuffy stance and manner of speaking hadn't helped much for the first impressions.
She hadn't been sure what she was expecting when it came to an emissary from her apparent real father, one who called himself 'Emperor of Mankind' of all things.
She definitely hadn't expected someone who would exchange tips on how to hand-wash laundry with the maids. Or someone who apparently already knew how to speak Eldar, somehow.
"...because the silks I wear come from Terran weaver-clans who use a genevariant of a local arachnid. You can't use rougher cleaners for it, rather you have to go slowly with more gentle cleaners. For more delicate pieces, you can only use warm water. It makes it a rather long process, but I find it…"
"Meditative?" The brown-haired maid said, chiming in with a smile. Kytan agreed with a nod, his expression wasn't visible behind the helm, but she imagined it was also smiling.
"Yes, meditative is a good way of putting it. I find it helps me to relax. I prefer working over lazing about regardless. The armor is much easier to find appropriate cleaners for, but the grooves and nooks tend to take more time regardless. The true issue is that you need a three-step process-"
"Wash, rinse, oil, Correct?" The red-haired maid piped up. "Wraithbone doesn't require this, but most common armor among our people is made of steel and leather. Do you…"
Morrigan turned to exchange looks with her sisters, all three of which were simply observing the scene unfurling before them with various emotions. Petra seemed annoyed. Kassandra was expressionless. Aurelia was amused.
She wasn't sure what her own expression was. She hadn't been expecting this based on Petra's off-handed statement about how well-maintained his armor seemed to be. Her father's emissary, surrounded by a gaggle of maids, chatting about housecare techniques.
She waved a hand to get the attention of her sisters, then pointed a thumb at the exit. They nodded, and slowly the four of them crept out of the room and into the hallways. Once out and the door closed, Morrigan turned to them and spoke flatly.
"I'm going to go bathe and change clothes." Petra nodded in acceptance, Aurelia smiled and replied. "I think I shall wait until Shield-Captain Kytan is finished, I wish to ask about Terra."
Kassandra waited for Aurelia to finish, before turning to look at her. "I'm coming."
…She could use someone to help get between her shoulder-blades, she supposed. That was the hardest part to scrub, it never felt like she properly got to it. She could use a… stick with a brush on it. Something of that nature.
The sisters went their separate ways. Petra walking off in some direction. Aurelia staying where she was, humming a tune. Morrigan and Kassandra walking back to their rooms to pick up a set of spare clothes first. Opening the door she saw Miriel currently in the process of changing their sheets, ears and then eyes flickering over to them as they entered the doorway.
Morrigan felt like she was guilty of something just looking into those stern eyes, even if she knew she had done nothing wrong. This time at least.
"Young Ladies." The head maid greeted, bowing properly and making Morrigan slightly uncomfortable. "Is your business with your father's Emissary concluded?"
"He got distracted with the maids." Kassandra answered tonelessly.
Silence for a moment. Miriel's ears flickered once and her eyes narrowed. "Oh?"
"They were sharing tips on cleaning armor and washing silks when we left." Morrigan clarified.
Silence for another moment. Miriel's ears angled upwards as her brows rose slightly. "...Oh?"
"We came to get clothes for a bath." Morrigan continued, foot shifting slightly for some reason. The dress was entirely too tight.
Miriel nodded and was about to speak before Kassandra interrupted with a blunt request. "Join us."
Morrigan froze. Miriel's eyes flashed with a few emotions. "It would hardly be proper for a maid to-"
"Please." Kassandra added, again completely tonelessly. Miriel's ears swayed slightly as her mouth closed. Her lips pressed together as she considered the idea, eyes flicking over to Morrigan.
"...Only if your sister is comfortable with it…"
Kassandra turned a blank stare on her. Morrigan looked away. "Yes, it's alright with me."
Miriel was quiet for a long time, before finally replying. "Very well, If the young ladies wish, I shall aid them in washing. Please allow me to finish this task first."
"We'll help." Kassandra offered on her behalf. Morrigan almost wanted to complain, but then Kassandra turned a blank stare on her again. She relented.
The sheets were very quickly made and the three departed for the very hot water and scented soaps of the bath. Miriel helped her wash that middle-part of her back, humming a gentle song as she did. Kassandra spent most of the time completely submerged in the hot water.
…It was nice. She felt clean afterwards.
—
The people of Barbarus were being settled on Jedathra. Most of the twenty-four thousand were being given the traditionally fallow regions in the northern continent in order to settle, farm, and expand into useable land. That region was underpopulated due to its relatively frigid temperatures for half the year, stony soil, and lack of effective sea ports.
To the people of Barbarus, it was comfortably warm, with relatively dry and fertile soil, and a lack of natural dangers. It was practically paradise compared to Barbarus, with massive forests filled with healthy flora and fauna, long periods of sunlight and warmth, and only a handful of toxic berries to worry about not eating. They were given surplus supplies, were able to take all their tools off the ship, and a pristine wraithbone fortress was erected there for them to start their initial townships from.
They began work almost immediately, mayors studying the calendars they had been provided with almost religious devotion, and immediately planning their harvest in accordance with the dates provided.
They looked completely different to how they did on Barbarus. Moods were high and songs were being sung, they had filled out from the healthy meals and clean water provided, and almost all of them performed the instructions on how to keep clean and healthy with fervent devotion.
It was better than she could've hoped for them, when she first fled from Necare's lair so long ago. It felt bittersweet that she was responsible for essentially nothing of it, and that she was going to leave them behind soon. She could always visit in the future, but would she even have the right to? It was her fault that more of them weren't here, that the evacuation was partially sabotaged.
She had been nothing but a burden to these people. From her days leading pale-dead to slaughter them, to even now. She hadn't managed to help them at all. How worthless.
Her only benefit to these people is that she had a brother who was able to actually help them.
"Lady Morrigan?" A familiar voice called out to her. She turned her head to look down at the man who had approached her. Filled out with more meat and less weathering on his face, and a brighter look in his eyes. It was Tomas, wearing the ad-hoc ceremonial garb of a new Barbaran Baron (that being a single green sash).
"Tomas." She replied, nodding at the man. She had brought refugees to his village, all those years ago, and he had taken them in, and helped her defend against that great horde. The horde that her brother descended upon and slaughtered most of by himself.
He gave a weathered smile, twisted by immense optimism at his current situation contrasted with something sad. "I don't imagine we'll see each other much anymore. You'll be off with your god-blessed brother in the stars, and we'll be settlin' down here."
"Seems like it." She grunted out, turning her gaze to the white fortress surrounded by lush wildflowers and swaying grasses that slowly turned into immense forests. Not a drop of rot or murk anywhere to be seen. This was apparently the late winter, and it was still as warm as a Barbaran summer.
"Representin' all the people of Barbarus here, we'd like to ask ya something." Tomas shuffled slightly, reached behind him and pulling out a roll of cloth. She turned her head towards it.
"It's something of a tradition to make these sorts of symbols, especially so on these here knight-worlds apparently, so we only thought it appropriate for…" He unfurled the roll of cloth, revealing what was depicted on the banner.
A woman with white hair and a crown of flowers, holding a scythe in a field of pale corn. She is smiling. Morrigan looked at it for a moment, stunned. Tomas spoke sheepishly. "We'd thought it might be a bit presumptuous of us, but we'd like to use your image for our symbol."
"...Why?" She managed to get out.
Tomas scratched his head and shuffled his feet. "Ah, well it's just one of those 'pay yer respects' sorta thing. We'll choose a different one if ya want."
"No, why…" She swallowed. "...I didn't do anything." She felt her face twist into something ugly.
Tomas gave her a long look, before shaking his head with a sigh and a smile. "Yer brother may have brought us here, and we appreciate it and all he's done for us, we truly do. But we didn't forget how you were there first, with nothin' but a beat-up scythe, some ragged clothes, and a mean look in your eye. You were willing to fight for us when you had just as little. We don't want tah forget somethin' like that."
She stared for another long moment, speechless. She quickly looked away, pulling up her scarf to cover the bottom of her face. "...Do what you like." She said, voice thick with emotion.
Tomas sounded like he was smiling. "We can certainly oblige, Lady Morrigan."