~Gathering of the Heroes of Eld~
~798. M30~
~Segmentum Ultima~
~Approaching Charnac~
~Roboute Guilliman, Lord Commander of the Imperium and Imperial Regent~
The Gryphonne Forge-Empire eventually came to an internal settlement in response to his offer and plans, and then reached out to begin negotiating the finer details of their alliance. After the alliance was settled, he handed over the examples of archaeotech that they had pilfered from various worlds thus far, and copies of Codex Administratum and Lingua. All such gifts were received with emotionless gratitude.
In most respects, it was four smaller, more standard agreements wrapped into a package contract. A mutual military alliance, a trade agreement, a mutual research endeavor, and the establishment of a few basic agreements on matters of state-wide policy. The sovereign worlds of Gryphonne would remain technically independent, providing the industry and engineering expertise that his armies and eventual empire would need, and they would educate an engineering corp on the most basic foundations of engineering and the sciences (provided that this corp recite the appropriate litanies as policy, and have at least one Gryphonne tech-priest on hand for more complex matters).
They would also send military aid, primarily in the form of Titan detachments, and aid in establishing the various industrial requirements of developing worlds. Regular quotas of supplies would be extracted from his worlds and delivered to theirs, and regular quotas of guns, vehicles, and ships would be flown from their worlds to his.
In exchange, they would have a retinue of Eldar subject matter experts aiding them in understanding the webway gates and wraithbone as a material, as well as producing the plates for the first wave of wraithbone-armored Titans. They would not attempt to restrict the Eldar from using their technologies, but would have the right to oversee and veto uses of xenotech for his human and abhuman soldiers and citizens. They cited 'risks of spiritual decay' as the primary cause, but Guilliman knew the move was mostly political in nature. They were attempting to get on the alliance with permissive terms to regulate the new empire that would form as best they could.
Naturally, Guilliman agreed to this on the sub-condition that the rights and permissions of the alliance would be reviewed and potentially revised by a meeting of both parties once every one-hundred years. They, naturally wanting to leave themselves open to gaining more influence later, agreed to this term. Guilliman asked for initial approvals for what wraithbone would be used for, and they agreed to permit the material for simple weapons (no moving parts or energetically active components) and armor (unpowered). The review of other potential technologies was to be performed once they had a deeper understanding of the material.
Other, smaller agreements and settlements on specifics were made throughout the entirety of the contract, the end result being a one-hundred and forty-four page document that would be referenced in the so-called 'Charter of Ziz'. Ziz being the name of the mountain that used to sit on the now-stone plain that their first meeting was held upon.
The last order of business was him making the more personal request of a tutor for engineering and sciences for his sister, something that he could tell somewhat surprised the tech-priests. Likely wishing to gain political capital and favor with a potentially important figure in the burgeoning empire, they agreed simply enough (again, on the condition that she not teach others what they called 'the deeper mysteries'). This request was combined with the emissary sub-clause, and the group of tech-priests assigned to represent Gryphonne and its interests in Guilliman's retinue would have Petra's education as another duty.
"You did not exaggerate, Malum Caedo. She learns at a rate comparable to the uppermost ends of the Gryphonne-standard distributions of intellect. A prodigious intelligence." The almost-mechanical voice sounded out from behind a half-closed helm that resembled the head of a bird of prey. The lower mouth was visible, revealing a finely-maintained and short-cut beard, but the neck and upper head were hidden behind plates of powered armor. The throat was lined with seams, evidence of past augmentation, but otherwise looked as a standard human's might. The lower jaw of the helm was loose, currently hanging around the collar and ready to be retracted up to protect the wearer.
The eaglehelm's visor was a dark gold, behind which glowed the constant scroll of datalines and targeting system-circles. The cuirass was plated with the symbol of Gryphonne, the cog-winged eagle, and incorporated a greatcoat for additional protection. The power-armor itself was relatively thin plates painted light gray, with yellow shoulders and gold highlights. By the side of the man was a cog-poleaxe which was attached to some kind of electrifying component, and a heavy shield with another technical component in its interior.
Guilliman recognized the thin plate of technology on his upper-back which indicated the presence of a refractor field, a type of energy shield that helped to protect the wearer. At the man's waist was a plasma pistol, a powerful if finicky weapon that required regular maintenance and careful usage to prevent fatal self-detonation.
All in all, it was not the more willowy and inhuman magos that Guilliman had been expecting they assign to him. It was, indeed, a magos as he had been told. Reflecting their more martial culture perhaps, the tech-priests of Gryphonne apparently spent the first portion of their careers as members of their dedicated military forces, and then studied as magi after a set period. This allowed them to field much more troops in times of emergency, as all of their priests were also former soldiers ready for activation.
Not Magos Dominus, who served as dedicated commanders for forge world military affairs, but each and every priest also being trained in war-arts allowed them to draw out immense armies when the situation demanded it, at the cost of less overall members of the actual priesthood due to deaths in military service. Knowing the politicking that went on within such organizations, Guilliman figured they considered that a boon.
No, this was not the appearance of a standard techpriest magos. This was the appearance of a Secutarii Axiarch, a Titanguard Commander. One that just so happened to study as a magos as well, the only real evidence of this coming from the two mechadendrites that extended from the shoulders and hung low to the ground.
"She's a very bright young girl, shame that she's bound to such a foolish older brother, is that right?" Asarnil jested on the other side of the table they were seated at on the bridge. An easy grin on his face as he swirled his cup of wine. "Her foolish older brother who lusts after my servants with perverse and groping hands."
"I'll ask you to not accuse me of your own nature." Guilliman japped back, with his own cup tilting in Asarnil's direction. "How much work has Briaca actually managed to perform recently, with you hounding her so?"
"Lies fall so smoothly from your forked tongue." Asarnil lied as easily as he breathed, leaning back to sip at his wine, eyes closing in contentment. "Dear Miriel has been practically chained to your chambers for years now, serving you hand and foot and likely mouth."
"Fetching me more paper and ink you mean." He let Asarnil feel the full wrath of his unimpressed expression. He most certainly did not have time for romance when the fate of the galaxy was at stake, he had work to do.
"I was not aware of Malum Caedo's true nature. I shall request that you limit your perversions to the xenos, and spare my retinue your lustful intent." The Titanguard Commander spoke, interrupting the normal flow of conversation. "Of course, if such is required for our alliance to proceed smoothly, they will be willing to perform their duties to Gryphonne."
Guilliman let his face turn to stare at the utterly emotionless magos as Asarnil broke out into a burst of coughing laughter, almost spilling his drink. Guilliman leaned back and spoke to the ceiling. "I am fighting a war on two fronts, a state reserved for foolish and ill-prepared commanders. What series of tactical failures led me to this, I wonder."
"Magos Karl Calculatus, let it be known that you have the Dragonlord of Charnac's current favor." Asarnil decided to encourage his newfound ally, proving himself a traitor of the highest order.
"I am pleased, my diplomatic procedurals are serving me well." The barest hint of humor finally leaked into the almost-synthetic voice of the fabricator-general's son, and Guilliman's current emissary to Gryphonne. Such an individual in this role proved that the tech-priests were taking the alliance quite seriously, only a shame that he was now outnumbered in the field.
"I am glad to hear that Petra is doing well in her studies. I had been worried that her blunt mannerisms would cause offense." Guilliman shifted the course of the conversation in a very obvious manner, causing Asarnil to smile bemusedly at him.
"On the contrary. She speaks in an efficient and concise manner." Karl replied, letting one of his mechadendrites gently dip into the glass of his own wine, likely analyzing the chemical make-up before risking a drink. "...This beverage contains psycho-active glucose."
"It's called ambrosia, simply a form of psychically-infused wine. It fortifies the health of those who partake in it." Asarnil explained, downing the rest of his glass. "Fortunately it's not urbanite wines, those contain poisons that require active biomantic breakdown to enjoy as intended, which would probably be unpleasant for most to indulge in."
Karl risked a small taste, swirling the drink around his mouth for a moment, likely running it through another chemical analyzer, before finally swallowing. "...Acceptable." He finally spoke, high praise from a tech-priest.
Asarnil was about to reply, before a call from the front of the bridge sounded out. "My lords! We are approaching the end of the webway gate."
"Ah! Excellent." Asarnil spoke as he rose from his seated position, smiling at the bridge pseudo-windows. Around them, the labyrinthine walls of the webway gradually twisted into patterns slightly more familiar to Guilliman, a sight he witnessed five years ago. He himself stood, walking forwards to the balcony of the ship and crossing his arms. "Magos Calculatus, soon you shall see the verdant beauty of my homeworld and the preparations for our jolly conquest can begin."
"I am ready to commit the sight to memory, Dragonlord of Charnac." The man said as he walked forwards to stand next to Guilliman and Asarnil.
"Maid, please go find the other godlings and tell them we are soon to arrive. I'm certain they'd like to witness my turquoise crown jewel." Asarnil commanded in aeldari without looking behind him.
"At once dragonlord." The red-haired maid called out, before turning quickly to do as she was commanded. After the door behind her closed, Karl commented again in his buzzing high gothic.
"I have reviewed the lexicon and guide provided by Malum Caedo. Your language is… comprehensive." To this Asarnil nodded casually.
"Aeldari was designed for poetry first, and actual communication second, according to legend. With psychic-communications being so instinctive to my people, our language is reserved mostly for demonstrating one's ability to use metaphor and symbolism."
"Intriguing. Yes. With psychic development a default amongst your kind, the need for verbal communication would be a secondary development. Language evolving ever-increasing complexity at the cost of usability would not be a hindrance in such conditions." Karl mused aloud. "It shall take time to master."
"Perhaps the development of a simplified variant should be considered?" Guilliman added to the conversation. "The need to communicate with those that don't have the same time to learn will be a limiting factor in expansion and education…"
"My kin will not appreciate that. Many among the Aeldari are quite proud of how inaccessible the language is to outsiders. It's common to consider it the language of civilization, and thus any incapable of it are not civilized creatures."
"An understandable sentiment. The priesthood considers Binaric Cant in a similar regard."
The conversation continued in that manner for some time, as the ship approached the mammothine pillars that supported the local webway gate of Charnac. Immense structures large enough for anything short of an Imperial Battleship to move through unhindered. Likely sung into existence long before any living memory could recall.
Soon enough, his sisters had arrived onto the bridge with curiosity in their eyes, and along with them several dozen Eldar from around the ship. Officers and directors of certain facilities, all eager to finally return home, even if only briefly.
Soon, the webway gates in front of their ship swirled to life, and Charnac's Pride sailed through, ready to look upon its home once again.
Guilliman felt his body tense at what they saw after exiting the portal. Asarnil went silent and his ears shot up in alert. Karl went completely still. The girls gasped. The Eldar let out brief murmurs of surprise and apprehension.
The past five years of their voyage had two primary objectives, retrieve a number of his siblings, and alert every exodite world they came across to the current status of Isha, and their plans to found an empire to build the army to rescue her. Sub-objectives such as checking his information about the state of the galaxy, and spreading the message of the oncoming emperor, and distributing his tomes on effective governance were also performed, but they were not critical to what they saw waiting for them, suspended over and around Charnac.
Eldar ships.
More Eldar ships than Guilliman had ever seen in one place before in his life.
Possibly more Eldar ships than Guilliman has ever seen before at all. Tens of thousands of them surrounding Charnac as if a swarm of white insects. Most of them were small, as he was used to seeing. Battleships, Cruisers, Escorts, filling the void around Charnac as far as he could see, extending outwards like a perfectly coordinated parade march.
And one ship in particular, directly over Charnac and closest to it. Smaller than a Craftworld (which were the scale of small planets), but larger than any other Eldar ship Guilliman had ever seen. Stretched out like an immense wyvern, bristling with guns he could see from here and swarming in smaller attack craft.
"Seventy thousand vessels larger than fighter craft. One point seven percent margin of error." Karl spoke out, staring at the fleet in Charnac's system and gold visor glowing. "...You did not inform us that you had a fleet of such scale, Malum Caedo."
"I… I did not expect this." Guilliman replied, mind racing through the possibilities. He had been expecting some Eldar ships to be waiting for them upon return to Charnac, but no more than perhaps a thousand. Seventy-thousand was well beyond anything in his predictions.
"Seven Aeldari fleets worth of ships." Asarnil spoke out, a firm and worried glare on his face. "And one capital-class vessel over my world." His ears twitched in agitation.
"...Asarnil." Guilliman spoke, suddenly becoming aware of something.
"Yes, Son of Man?" His voice was tense.
"I may need to redraft my plans again."
Asarnil's shoulders slumped with a long sigh.
—
"Dragonlord!" The Worldsinger Savan greeted them almost immediately upon exiting the webway gate upon one of the balconies of the World-Tree of Charnac. His face was lined with stress-induced grooves and his hair was slightly frazzled. Surrounding him were equally exhausted looking guards, who occasionally misstepped slightly. "Thank Gods you've returned!"
"Savan. These Aeldari, who are they? Surely not all of them are Exodites!" Asarnil dismissed with standard protocol, moving quickly across the patio, followed by Guilliman and the escort of Stormcloaks. The rest of their members were left back on the ship, mostly as a safety measure and also so they'd stay out of their way when dealing with this affair.
"Not all of them, no! But all of them arrived, declaring the desire for a formal moot on Charnac! Look, there to the west!"
Asarnil and Guilliman turned their heads, to what Guilliman remembered was once a mountain.
There was a mountain-sized structure there instead, an immense castle of wraithbone that gleamed handsomely upon a foundation of bald mountain rock.
"When they started arriving en masse, more and more rooms had to be built until we simply couldn't keep up. I ended up having to simply commission a keep constructed to house them all, using every bonesinger and architect they brought with them as a labour force. Then they kept arriving!" Savan sounded on verge of collapse and hysterics. "This isn't an urban world! It's not designed to house millions of Eldar guests!"
"Why didn't you make them stay on the ships!" Asarnil threw up his hands in bafflement.
"You know how the rites of guesthood operate!" Savan shot back, jabbing a finger into the Dragonlord's chest. "The worldspirit will only shield them if they're guests on our soil! Do you want a daemonic invasion?!"
"I…" Asarnil twisted and uttered a curse in Aeldari, a word that Guilliman had never learned in his studies. He turned around again and asked. "They brought food as guest-gift, please tell me this!"
"Most, not all!"
Guilliman put a hand on Asarnil's shoulder. Asarnil froze, before taking a deep breath, and forcibly calming himself again.
Pushing the hand off his shoulder, Asarnil spoke with the cold tone Guilliman was used to from the Eldar. "Thank you, Roboute, Savan. Let us go see these guests."
"That isn't all." Savan spoke, voice harsh with overuse, a man forced to do too much for too long. Asarnil turned his head slowly, and looked at Savan.
"What else, Worldsinger?"
"The capital ship, it brought someone with higher authority than we."
Asarnil paused, brows furrowing as he puzzled that. Guilliman was confused as well, baffled by who could be considered higher than a sovereign on his own world. "Who?" The Dragonlord asked.
"I apologize for the overabundance of guests upon your world, Dragonlord of Charnac." A powerful voice called out from the doorway that led into the World-Tree's depths. "I took measures to relieve your planet with my personal supplies, but even they were not fully sufficient."
Savan turned with a head bowed low. Asarnil turned with brows narrowed and face cold. Guilliman turned with careful optimism given the words.
An Eldar standing nine feet in height was approaching them with measured steps. Plates of bone mail covered by a tabard of green and blue. Upon this tabard was the symbol of a golden tree, upon which five white stars hung. His build was powerful, his shoulders broad, his jaw strong, his features fair. His hair was golden, hanging down to his waist, bangs held back by a thin silver crown of intertwined antlers that three soul stones were mounted upon.
Swirling green eyes met the three of them, and nodded in consideration.
"Allow me to introduce myself in the proper manner, as a guest upon your world." The massive Eldar spoke, inclining his head towards Asarnil, who stood as tall and still as a statue. "I am Malekith Mallorn, four-thousandth four-hundredth and fifty-eighth of my name, commander of the capital-class ship, Seraphon. I would ask for the rights and responsibilities as a guest of Charnac, should you permit it."
Asarnil was silent for a long time before muttering out something at last. "...The Lord-Commander of the Exodus Fleet."
Malekith smiled gently, and nodded. "My legend precedes me, I'm afraid."
"...Yes… Yes, you shall have the rights and responsibilities of a guest, Malekith Mallorn." Asarnil couldn't drag his eyes away from the newcomer, who in turn, turned towards Guilliman and regarded him with a curious eye.
"Bane of Despair. Last Son of a Doomed Cycle. Conquering Godling."
"I have given myself no such titles." Guilliman responded. Malekith smiled and replied.
"And yet they are all true. I am pleased to meet you at last. I believe there is much to discuss, before, during, and after the moot."
"...Are you the one responsible for the vast number of ships above Charnac?" Guilliman questioned, brow furrowed slightly.
"I am." Malekith demonstrated little shame in the declaration.
"I will have to spill much ink rewriting all my plans, I expected far fewer ships than this."
"We have much work before us regardless. Ink spilled is blood saved."
"This is true." Guilliman found himself optimistic of this newcomer.
Asarnil and Savan stared at the two of them with blank faces and wide eyes.