As always, there are three advance chapters are up on my P-atreon: p-atreon /SkySage24
Isha did not know how long she stayed there, choking under the stifling heat of the wards, held by the shackles wrapped around her wrists.
The heat of the wards receded after a while, strangely enough, no longer strangling the life out of her.
But Isha still could not find it in herself to get up, held down not only by the chains, but the thick blanket of despair that had settled across her.
All her dreams and hopes of saving her children, of avenging her family, seemed far out of reach now.
She was once more a slave, just as she had been during the War in Heaven, bound to the will of a cold and capricious master who only saw her as a tool to further his own goals.
And this time, she did not even have her family or friends to share her burden. Kurnous, Vaul, Hoeth, Mother, Gorkamorka, even Asuryan…none of them were here.
She was utterly alone, a slave making more slave soldiers for her overlord. Just like all the countless trillions of her children she had created and sent to die against the Yngir, who had never known anything except war until their flesh was torn apart and their souls devoured.
What was she going to do?
She simply lay there, unable to find a way out of the haze that had consumed her, until the doors of her chambers swung open.
"Lady Isha," came the voice of a Custodes she did not recognize. And with him was another presence, a dark void that muffled the screams of the Warp, yet also laid another weight upon Isha's shoulders. "The Emperor requests your presence."
Dully, tiredly, Isha pulled herself to her feet. Whatever else, she could hardly afford to anger the Emperor any further.
There were two Custodes in her chambers, accompanied by what Isha recognized as the Emperor's null maidens, the Sisters of Silence.
They were clad in golden armor of their own, smaller and sleeker than that of the Custodes, but nevertheless formidable. Masks concealed their faces, but could not conceal the dark aura that they all radiated.
The leader of the Null Maidens was the most powerful of them all, a woman with a long, wild red mane of hair. Powerful enough to effect even Greater Daemons and practically invisible to mortals.
Combined with the wards and the shackles, it was no wonder she had been sent by the Emperor to escort her.
But Isha could not find it in herself to care.
She simply nodded tiredly to the Custodes. "Of course."
They surrounded her and led her down the hallways of the palace in a tight formation, and Isha trudged along as she wondered what in the world the Emperor wanted.
Soon, they arrived at their destination.
This was a part of the fortress she had never been to before. The doors were still ornate and decorative, marked, but…smaller than she was used to, crafted from some polished wood etched with golden sigils rather than stone and metal.
And she could feel the Emperor's burning presence inside.
Isha swallowed, but could not stop for even a moment as the doors swung open and her guards led her inside.
The chambers inside were not something she expected at all.
They were large, as to be expected from the Emperor, but not cavernous. There were expensive decorations, from the thick red carpet that muffled even the sounds of the Custodes' footsteps, to the paintings on the walls, the large windows framed with gold and gems that stretched from the ground to the roof, and the golden chandeliers that hung from the ceiling.
But there were no war trophies, nor banners. None of the portraits depicted a battle or a diplomatic meeting or anything of that sort; only people, animals, and landscapes.
There were several other doors leading deeper inside, but Isha's eyes were drawn to the center of the room.
There was a large, thick board in the center, easily twice as wide as Isha was tall in her human form, painted with rich black and gold squares. And atop the board were gleaming statues of obsidian and gold, wearing rich, colorful clothes and with gems for eyes, wielding shining swords and staffs. Some were simply clad in robes, standing, others wore crowns and a few statues even depicted an armored warrior astride a horse.
No, not statues. Isha realized. Game pieces.
This was a life-sized version of a human game. Regicide, Isha believed it was called, though this version seemed a little different than the one she had read about in the small library of human writings the Emperor had granted her. An older version, perhaps?
On both sides of the board, there were two large chairs, practically wooden thrones, with rich red cushions on them. The chair behind the black pieces was empty, but the Emperor sat on the chair behind the golden pieces. He was dressed more informally than she had ever seen him before, clad in neither his golden armour, nor the black uniform he usually wore, but a simple white robe. A toga, if Isha remembered correctly.
Though he seemed calm, Isha could not help the trickle of fear that crawled down her spine, but she raised her chin and refused to let it show.
"Isha, welcome," The Guardian said quietly. "Leave us," he directed to her golden-armored guards, who obeyed promptly, backing away and leaving the two of them alone.
With a flick of his wrist, the Emperor released the shackles around Isha's own, which fell to the floor. Isha jolted in surprise, rubbing her wrists and eyeing the Emperor in surprise, but he did not seem to take notice, simply waving at the empty throne. "Please, sit."
Isha obeyed warily, walking across the room and sinking into the chair. What is this about? She wondered.
"Are you familiar with this game?" The Emperor asked, staring at her intently from across the board. He was taller than the pieces, and Isha felt a little uncomfortable in her human form, so much smaller than him, but she dared not assume a shape equal to his height.
"Regicide, is it not?" She ventured warily. "I understand it is fairly popular among humans."
The Emperor smiled faintly. "Regicide is the latest version, yes. But the version here, the one that this board is made for, is called Chess, a much older iteration from my youth. Malcador prefers Regicide, but I must confess, I prefer the classic version. There is a certain charm to it that the newer variations lack."
Isha nodded, uncertain of how he wanted her to respond.
"Would you indulge me by playing a game?" The Emperor asked, leaning back in his chair.
"I do not know how," Isha replied, hiding her confusion. Why was the Emperor speaking to her civilly once more? Why did he want to play an actual, human game with her?
Try as she might, she could not puzzle out his reasoning.
The Emperor waved his hand, and a thin book appeared in front of her, hovering in the air. "A beginner's manual," He said. "You should have no trouble absorbing it."
Hesitating only for a moment, Isha reached out and grasped the manual, flipping through it quickly. It was a simple thing, meant to be easy for mortals and even easier for a god. She absorbed it swiftly, quickly understanding the goal and rules of the game.
It was nothing very special, a flawed imitation of war that assumed both sides were constrained by specific rules they could never violate, but she could see the appeal of it, she supposed.
Isha shut the manual, offering the Emperor a slight nod. "It is your move, first, I believe?" The manual said the player with the white pieces began the game, and the Emperor's gold replaced those.
The Emperor nodded his head and spoke, issuing a command. At his words, one of his pawns, a statue of a soldier clad in sleek armour, moved forward.
Isha paused for a moment, wondering how she should play the game. If she defeated the Emperor, which was possible, if hardly a certainty, she did not know how he would react given his tempestuous mood yesterday. If she let him win, he would probably still be offended.
A situation where she was likely to face another bout of cold fury regardless of what happened.
Wonderful.
Reluctantly, she gave the command to one of her pieces. Hopefully, her inexperience with the game meant the Emperor would win no matter how hard she tried.
Taking a moment to analyze the pieces, Isha was faintly surprised to realize these were made from 'ordinary' metals and clothes. She had assumed the Emperor had willed them into existence, but though the craftsmanship was superb, there were tiny flaws on the molecular level that revealed that these were mortal-made. And inside the pieces was complex machinery. For a moment, she almost thought they were war-constructs of some sort, but no, they were too…fragile. The technology inside was advanced but delicate, and the shell that held them was not durable enough to be used for war.
Had the Emperor commissioned some mortal artisans to craft this for him? Strange. She knew he could be egotistical and prone to grand displays, but she had not thought him that self-indulgent.
The game continued in silence for a few more moves and Isha could not focus her attention entirely on it, keeping an eye on the Emperor as she tried to understand what he was up to.
"The chessboard was a gift to me," The Emperor said after a long silence, as he moved another piece.
"From one of your vassals?" Isha asked, raising an eyebrow. That would explain the rather gaudy nature of it all, if it was some warlord seeking to gain his master's favor.
To her surprise, the Emperor shook his head, the smile on his face widening. It was not an expression she had ever seen on him before, tinted with nostalgia and honest affection. It was almost how he looked at Horus, but…sadder, more wistful.
"No," He said softly. "It was given to me by some of my children several thousand years ago, long before the Iron War," His smile turned a little rueful. "They were aware of my fondness for gold, and thought it would be funny to give me something so ostentatious."
Ah. That explained the delicate machinery and expensive ornaments. Such technology and ornaments might have been rare and valuable in humanity's current state, but at their height, all this would simply have been a very gaudy toy.
"They did not expect me to be so fond of it," The Emperor continued wryly. "But I was. And I am even more so, now that they are gone."
And he was. Isha could see how perfectly preserved the pieces and the board were. The Emperor might not have willed them into existence, but he had certainly expended enough power to keep this in flawless condition.
But she still did not know exactly what he expected her to say. Before Iyanden's arrival, she might have said something along the lines of how gifts from one's children were to be treasured, but now that seemed more likely to ruin the Emperor's mood than anything.
"This game is almost childish, in a way," The Emperor said, abruptly changing the subject before Isha could decide on a response. "A fantasy of sorts. That war may be conducted within a strict set of rules, within a certain area, and none will or can break those rules in pursuit of victory."
"That it is," Isha agreed cautiously, still baffled.
"The game assumes that each piece, whether the pawn, the knight, or even the king and queen, is bound to the player's will. That they cannot function on their own, independently, to do anything that might go against the will of their master. Which works well as a conceit for the game, but it is also a mistake many leaders in real life have made, treating allies and followers as pawns to be moved around, who cannot and should not be allowed to act independently."
The Emperor fell silent, his golden eyes looking away from her for a moment.
"What I mean to say is," He said quietly. "That I am sorry."
What?
Isha stared at him blankly, completely unable to process what he said.
Was this some joke? Another of his damned tests? An illusion of Tzentech?
"I…I had forgotten what it feels like to have your children beyond your reach, alone and afraid and in danger, and all you wish you could do was at least offer a few comforting words to them,"
The Emperor paused, then shook his head. "No, I had not forgotten. I merely chose to deny it, to refuse to understand your pain and your decision, when I would have done the very same thing in your position."
He huffed a laugh. "If I was a prisoner, and humanity was broken and scattered and afraid…yes, I would have done the same thing."
"I cannot compel you to accept my apology, and I will not even try. But I do want you to know that I am sorry."
Isha opened her mouth, but no words came out. She did not know what to say. To accept his apology? To be furious that he would dare to think a few simple words could make up for threatening her children with genocide?
She truly did not know what to say or even think.
In the end, only one question came to mind.
"Why did you change your mind?" It was folly to ask, perhaps, but she could not contain herself. She truly did not understand what had brought this about.
The Emperor coughed uncomfortably, a human pretense that Isha found distinctly disconcerting after he had let loose his strength at Iyanden. But after a long moment, he raised his hand, drawing a golden crystal from thin air.
"Because of this," He said softly.
A dreamstone. The Emperor had successfully conjured a dreamstone, and had finally made the leap that she had been trying to convince him to take for years now.
Just after he had threatened her children with genocide, and forced her to agree to be a proponent of slavery and murder.
Miserable, broken laughter erupted from Isha's throat, like the howl of a dying animal.
The Emperor leaned back in his chair, eyes wide but Isha could not stop the distorted mockery of laughter that erupted from her throat any more than she could stop the tears that flowed down her face.
Was this how Hoeth had felt? Was this why he had just given up and lost himself to madness, becoming Cegorach?
"Isha…" The Emperor said softly, but trailed off, clearly unsure of what to say.
Isha found that she could not respond. Could not stop laughing or crying.
She was so tired.
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