~Conquest Begins~
~798. M30~
~Segmentum Ultima~
~Jedathra~
~Aurelia, The Seventeenth Primarch, The Listener~
She had seen visions of him coming. Golden halo and burning blade. He came for her and took her away, and punished those that had her. But he didn't punish her for letting them hurt her. She allowed it to happen. It was her fault that she was spoiled. But he wouldn't punish her, because he loved her. Because he came from the heavens and smote them, smote so many of them, had her cleaned and fed, and swaddled her in warm sheets. He carried her away from that place.
She hadn't been punished for letting them touch her. He knew that they touched her and that she let them and he didn't punish her. He held her and spoke gently and promised to give her anything she needed, anything she wanted.
She had been passed over, because he loved her, and didn't want to punish her. Each night, she slept with that thought in mind, a warm smile on her face, hidden under the covers he gave her.
She had to give back. It was greedy, sinful, to only take. She had to give in return. But she was a weak and foolish girl. She knew so little. So she had to learn, so she selfishly asked for more and he gave it to her. She asked to learn, she wanted to learn everything, because she couldn't give anything unless she knew something, so to give everything she had to learn everything.
She learned so much. So very much, and there was still so much more to learn. He taught her about himself, he taught her about the galaxy and the things within, he taught her about the immaterial world, about the gods and their servants.
About how he was going to make war with them, because he was strong enough to do so. Mighty enough to speak of fighting gods and winning, because he was the son of their father. Petra told her what brother told her about father. The Eldar told her about the light in the galaxy. If she strained her ears enough to listen, and eyes enough to see, she could hear it.
In the quietest and darkest parts of the night, with her eyes closed and no sound around her, there was a faint golden light on the horizon, and a murmur of choir-song. That was her father, a man like her brother, mighty enough to make war on gods like men make war on men. They loved her.
The thoughts made her smile wobbly and head feel light. She was rotten.
Great Scholar Raistlyn taught her how to read and write in several languages, taught her the nature of the immaterial and the gods within, taught her the histories of the wheel of all the peoples he knew within it, taught her arithmetic, geometry, poetry, several instruments, what he knew of engineering and materium sciences, and so much more.
Stormcloak Arshall taught her to focus her mind, to channel her psychic energies and talents, to close herself off from whispers within the sea of souls, taught her how to use the blade, hammer, halberd, and gun, taught her how to exercise and maintain her equipment.
Head Maidservant Miriel taught her to wash and dry clothing, taught her and her sisters how to cook and clean properly, taught them how to read mannerisms and speak properly, taught her how to present herself as a proper lady.
And Lord Brother taught her how to rule. How to look at all things before you, at all things that you had, and use them to their fullest effect. How to plan and think. How to prepare and when to act. How to make war. He taught her about themselves, and their people, about the histories of the wheel as he knew it, about anything and everything she could think to ask.
She was learning so much, and yet there was so much more to learn. With each thing she learned, she had more to repay him. She would become everything he needed to pay him back. He told her she could do anything she wanted to learn how to do, but that wasn't true.
She knew the truth. He loved her too much to punish her like she deserved. She was taking advantage of him, shamelessly, selfishly. She loved him. She was rotten.
She'd be the perfect aide, because he deserved nothing less than her everything.
So she had to learn more, so she could be more useful.
"Mrau." The fluffy creature in her lap let out as it got up to rotate and flop down again in a slightly different position. She smiled warmly, looking down at him. His name was Urizen, wisest of the wise. She had been allowed to go to the kennels of Gyrinx while on Charnac. Gyrinx were not owned, rather, they chose to own someone in turn. She was now the apparent pet to a ball of fluff that wanted treats and scratches. It was quite the predicament, whatever shall she do?
She reached down and rubbed against the back of the juvenile Gyrinx's ear. Urizen let out another 'mrau' as he leaned into her fingers. Urizen was an acceptable master, she supposed. He was generous, and gave her shed hair, gentle bites, and annoyed looks whenever she moved around too much.
Urizen jumped slightly, poking his head up to the sound of distant cheers and the clang of metal footsteps on stony ground. She looked up in turn, resisting the urge to fidget with her new dress.
This world was resisting her brother's efforts to conquer them, for the day after he spoke with their queen and dominated their knightesses, challenger knights from across the land were beginning to make their way to the capital. The queen had apparently offended many by bowing, countering her own house words of 'We Do Not Bow'.
Hilarious.
So brother decided to accelerate the process, and bring every challenger directly to him through the webway, for duels outside the capital. His plan was simple, defeat every challenger in the world, one after another, and force them all to kneel to him. Once that was done, he would proceed with his plans of integration, recruitment, and negotiating the repair of their knights.
She knew he could, he was strong, after all. Stronger than anything these warmachines could muster against him in a duel. He was strong enough to destroy cities, overthrow sorcerer-kings, and duel dozens of Stormcloaks at a time.
He would defeat them, then he would save them, and they would serve him very well.
"They're garbage." Elder sister Petra spoke, wearing her own new dress and staring at the weathered warmachines with a deeper-than-usual frown. "Practically falling apart at the joints."
"Please be kind, sister." Aurelia spoke gently. "They have not the expertise of our allies in the priesthood."
Petra grunted in an unsatisfied manner, indicating that she was already trying to be polite. Aurelia smiled indulgently, and pet Urizen again. Urizen was currently having a contest of wills with Kassandra, staring unblinking at her, and her staring back.
"Their queen is useless." Morrigan spoke her mind, causing Aurelia to give a stern look in turn, even as Petra grunted in agreement. Morrigan, with her own dress of green and gold, continued speaking. "She saw him arrive, demanded an unfair duel, was unbalanced that he won, then failed to seduce him. She tried to eliminate him through a proxy, failed, tried to tie herself to the new power, failed, and is now letting her vassals run rampant instead of reeling them in."
"I don't know how she got the crown." Morrigan finished off, ignoring the herald in the distance announcing the upcoming events to the assembled citizens and nobility watching from the stands. There were fifty knights assembled, practically a warfront on its own, and most of which were standing offline to the side of the massive arena. The assembled knight-pilots were mostly lounging nearby, staring at her Lord Brother, who stood undaunted in the center of the arena.
She noticed that most of the knight-pilots were female with reddish hair. A matriarchy perhaps? Or just a random occurrence?
"Oh? Already figured that part out?" An unfamiliar voice called, the four sisters turned their head to see a new woman entering their tent, allowed in by the Stormcloak guards. That meant her mind had already been read, and intentioned determined as non-hostile, so she was relatively safe to be around.
Aurelia noticed Stormcloak Arshall slip silently behind the woman, ready to put her down if the situation called for it.
The woman was tall for a human, but much shorter than any of the sisters, with scarlet hair tied back in a functional ponytail and a lone green eye staring at them. The other eye, hidden behind a patch and marked by a great scar that trailed up her scalp. She was clad in colorful gambeson, her left sleeve tied off at the shoulder, indicating a missing limb. Then long cream-colored hose on her legs, and then leather riding boots on her feet.
"You got it right, giant girl. My sister is completely useless and can't rein in her vassals. That's why she's on the throne." Ah, the vassals allow her to keep token power, allowing them more freedom to do as they please. She had learned about things like this.
"What?" Morrigan grunted, a bit slower on matters of politicking. She was a very straightforward girl, which made her sneakier moments more unexpected. Aurelia focused on the woman, tuning out her explanation of the situation to Morrigan. Sister of the queen, outspoken and scarred, and a knight-interface behind and underneath her ponytail. She was clearly a more practiced warrior than her sister, judging from the callouses on her hands, and on a knight-world that was important.
So she wasn't the queen despite likely being able to take the crown by force if required, that meant she was limited in some way. Politics alone, or something more? She focused on the conversation once more.
"Your brother is the ninth attempted conqueror in our history that used the title 'Emperor of Mankind'. Granted, he claims that it's your father. Somewhat original of him." The woman spoke, nodding at Lord-Brother in the center of the field, rolling his neck and shoulders.
"Brother will succeed." Kassandra spoke, still not breaking her staring with Urizen. "He will defeat forty-four, and the last six will surrender without a fight."
The woman raised her brows at that and snorted, unimpressed. "I'm sure he will, he's beyond human for certain, but yesterday he grew weary after a dozen, this is more than threefold a dozen, many with superior weaponry."
"He wasn't physically weary." Morrigan refuted, turning her gaze back to their Lord-Brother. "Something like this isn't enough to exhaust him."
"Well either he'll be defeated or our new overlord, either way it's nothing I can affect."
Petra glanced over. "...You have a plug."
The woman frowned and glared at nothing for a moment. "My knight was destroyed against greenskins. Not much use on a proper battlefield anymore."
"...Would you like to make a wager then?" Aurelia spoke innocently. The woman raised a brow at her, even as her eye narrowed.
"...What are you proposing, girl?"
"The outcome of the battle. If Kassandra's prediction comes true, you ask to join lord-brother's retinue as a knight-pilot. I'm sure he'll appreciate having a veteran on hand." It was always good to recruit talent when possible, and brother mentioned wanting to have a personal force of knights on hand for the conquest.
"...And if it doesn't?"
"Then I'll ask on your behalf." Aurelia smiled widely at the woman, who snorted with a grin.
"Cheeky girl. Sure, I'll take you up on that offer. Better than staying here with the harlot on the throne. He'll have to get me a new knight though, otherwise he can fuck off."
Aurelia kept her smile on her face, turning her gaze back to the field. She added the first tally to the marks against the woman. Petra and Morrigan glared openly, Kassandra ignored her entirely.
Most of the field was the same type of knights. Thinking on the matter, she supposed lighter knights would be quicker to destroy in battle and thus less likely to survive, and anything larger would be harder to repair, and thus less likely to endure. A comfortable middle ground then, the knights most likely to survive without professional repairs being composed of the hunchbacked, shell-armored, melee and ranged weapon variants. Even if much of their weapons and armor had clearly been replaced with what the knight-world could scrounge up or forge locally.
The herald declared the first two combatants to get onto their places on the field. Her brother already standing in his designated zone, and one of the rare variant knights stomping its way over to a space opposite of him. This one was taller, although its hunch still remained, carrying a great slab of shield-armor on one arm and its other arm replaced by a massive metal lance.
She made a note to learn the proper names for these machines.
"Representing her house in the trial of crowns! Baroness Dam Skorn takes to the field in her ancestral knight-armor, Emerald Lancer!" The herald called out from the near-center of the field, one hand raising a flag that pointed at the knight-armor in question. The knight armor raised its lance to the crowd, who roared in approval.
"Representing his house in the trial of crowns! Conqueror-Aspirant Malum Caedo takes to the field with his personal arms and armor!" The herald called out, waving a second flag at the giant that still stood about ten meters shorter than the knight-armor he stood on the opposite side of. The crowd roared again, clearly eager for some sort of bloodshed.
"Conqueror-Aspirant?" Petra asked with a furrowed brow.
The red-haired woman replied. "He's the ninth. We formalized the process on the fifth attempt."
Oh? Heh. Hilarious.
"The herald will walk to the side of the field and blow the starting trumpet. When the trumpet blows, the warriors may begin their bout. The bout is to be until surrender or death!" The herald carefully announced, quickly running off to the side of the arena in order to pick up the trumpet left there and blow into it.
Immediately, the knight-armor began to move forwards, slowly at first with each many-tonned stomp on comparatively soft earth, but quickly building up speed. Each stomp shook the ground lightly, and caused a great indent on the earth, kicking up clumps of ground behind it as it ran forwards.
Lance readied, it aimed it squarely at her brother. How much force was in that lance? Eighty or so tons of warmachine moving faster than a galloping horse focused on the tip of that spear… Enough to kill a castle wall, perhaps two or three.
Her brother stayed where he was, readying his shield and sword in a familiar stance. Aurelia smiled, recognizing what he was about to do, as did Petra and Morrigan.
"Does he intend to kill himself? Attempting to parry a charging Cerastus…?" The red-haired woman spoke, muttering to herself at the sight. "Even a greenskin warlord wouldn't be able, if they bothered trying…"
Morrigan snorted in amusement. The women glanced over, but quickly turned back to the scene. Green eye locked onto the scene. She wasn't present for his battles yesterday it seemed, but then again, neither was Aurelia.
Lord-Brother brought his sword down, next to his waist and brought his shield up in front of him, arms flexed at ready. The knight-lancer continued its charge, getting closer and closer to him.
It was about to connect.
Lord-Brother stomped to the side, the lance barely reached past him…
His arm shot out. His shield crashed against the lance with a devastatingly loud clang of metal crashing into metal. It was like hearing thunder, even over the roaring engines of the knight-armor.
The charging lance shot sideways in an instant, tip crashing into the ground. The knight-armor's own legs crashed into it the next moment. Aurelia could also see the exact moment it realized and the pilot started to panic.
It was falling forwards. It's lance bent and snapped ruinously.
Brother, shield out of his way, brought his sword out in an upwards slash.
A massive gout of golden fire followed as his blade crashed into the thinnest part of the great humanoid warmachine's torso. Intense heat washed over them as a bonfire erupted in the sky for an instant. The light poured into her, and the sound of choir filled her mind.
An instant later, the moment was past.
The two halves of the knight, separated by now molten-sections of armor, continued onwards. The legs skid to a halt quickly, while the upper torso rolled twice before finally stopping, an immense line of torn earth following in its wake.
Silence in the arena as lord-brother lowered his burning sword by his side once more, striding over to the upper half of the armor. Reaching the 'roof' of the knight, he jabbed his blade into the lid that normally protected the pilot, and twisted, popping the seal and causing it to swing open sideways.
"I would recommend yielding, lady knight." She heard him say, politely as he ever was.
She smiled as her body shuddered, the golden choir slowly leaving her mind again, disturbing poor Urizen. He looked up grumpily, breaking his staring contest with Kassandra, and voiced his displeasure.
"Mrau."
She scratched his ears to make up for the bother as the crowd started roaring in approval. The herald ran over to check on the situation, and brother sheathed his blade with a smile. Then, he started waving and smiling, which was met with even louder cheers of approval. He locked eyes with her and her sisters, and Aurelia waved with a grin. Petra, not to be outdone, waved harder and with a large frown of determination.
Morrigan gave a small wave, nervous as she was to show affection. Kassandra waved both hands with a blank face.
"...Well damn. I suppose I'm swearing oaths after this…" The red-haired woman muttered.
Aurelia smiled, and her eyes glowed a quiet gold.