"I tell you, you do not need to be concerned. I will lock this room, and have the servitors clean it. We will blame this unsightly accident on a malfunctioning servitor. You do not need to be alarmed," the interdimensionally shifted soul of Grigori fucking Rasputin said to me as he cradled one of the few unbroken glasses in this room in his hand, sipping what appeared to be a clear liquor. I was now busying myself with searching the bloody body of Ven Tristan, seeing if I could find anything of use. While I knew that this guy had hated me, it was too coincidental and definitely felt planned that he just happened to be here.

Investigating the body, I discovered that the Navigator's exposed skin had even been blackened in places as if he had been burned by a powerful electric flashover. His jaw was open in an eternal scream, and his eyes stared blankly into forever in an expression of incredible horror. The Navigator's face was covered in blood, and bits of viscera from my effort of blinding his third eye. Near his head on the floor, the remains of his Warp eye stained what used to be a finely woven carpet. This was a gruesome sight.

Bleary and somewhat traumatized, I was still committed to getting to the bottom of this mystery. This definitely felt like I had been set up! Evring had led me away to the party to a psychically dampened room where an assassin was waiting, and he had conveniently been a man with a violent grudge against me. This absolutely had to have been coordinated, and for Evring's sake, I sincerely hoped that he was actually as dumb as he seemed, because he was probably not going to have a good time the next time he saw me.

At my heightening angry emotions, I again felt gleeful (and disturbing) anticipation at the prospect of more violent revenge as I continued to examine Ven Tristan's body. Turning over my shoulder, I looked over to Rasputin again. I was upset, suspicious, and still stunned at the recognition of the Grand Advisor's true identity. "Listen, I know this guy wanted me dead, but this feels like someone told him that I'd be here, and Evring had led me here under the guise of giving me some bullshit 'tour'. And then, you're here, and he's screaming at you that you set him up. Got any explanation for why he said that? It also sounds like you two knew each other. Give me a good excuse for these coincidences," I said as I rifled through the bloody robes. In one pocket, I found a bundle of small photographs held together with a metal clip. Each one depicted smiling roughly attired adventurers. One of the photos depicting the happy group had a note on its back which said, "Happy 200th birthday to the worst Navigator we've ever had!"

I could tell that Rasputin was considering how to respond as I continued to search. In another pocket, I discovered what appeared to be some kind of medal. It was a small three-eyed metal skull with black wings suspended by a red ribbon. Turning it around, I found a small engraving:

Awarded to Ven the IVth of Navigator House Tristan for valor in the...

The remainder of the inscription had been scratched off. Between these pictures and this medal, I now found myself feeling incredibly guilty. This guy had had a life and a history. He had been over 200 years old, and apparently was brave and fierce enough to be given a medal of distinction from a former military engagement. He and his crew were now all dead, all thanks to me.

My breath caught as I realized something else. Ven Tristan's crew was actually worse than dead, as at least a few of them had actually been transfigured into lengths of living thread for a Lord of Change to use in his fun art projects. Tzeentch himself had even mentioned that those poor souls would persist and remain aware forever in the Warp as pieces of fucking string on a greater daemon's loom!

I appeared obviously upset by the appearance of my brighter halo, so Rasputin had waited a moment before responding to me. "As Grand Advisor, I have been blamed for many mishaps and difficulties because it is convenient to do so, you see. I'm quite used to people being superstitious and scapegoating me, in this universe and in my last. But, the story is thus: Ven Tristan was known to the noble families here as he and the crew of the Ebon Hare were frequently contracted out for various courier and reconnaissance tasks in the region. It may sound peculiar, but many of us, including myself, have been experiencing dreams of an Empress wreathed in gold light, and the great eagle she rides upon. I was lucky enough to have a vision clear enough to roughly pinpoint a probable location for this eagle. With the blessings of Langwidere and the Sinclair family, the crew of the Ebon Hare was contracted to go to the location I had witnessed in my dreams."

I stood from Ven Tristan's body, holding his medal and the bundle of pictures in one hand, and the Nemeses Argentum in the other. A small push of Sight could not detect any overt deception, but I still did not like this situation. "So, you're the one who hired the Ebon Hare?" I asked.

Rasputin nodded. "The script I referenced earlier was the bonus Ven Tristan received for the completion of his job upon arrival back in Evna. Since he was the only surviving member of his crew, he received the entire payout, and did not have to split it with the rest of his friends. It was a lot of money. Pity."

I sighed sadly. "You were really just curious? That's it?" I asked.

"Yes, tsarina."

My intuition informed me that what he was saying was true. Fuck.

A wave of loathing washed over my soul again. The crew of the Ebon Hare had all died because of my reactionary fear. While I had no way of knowing then if they had been hired by the Inquisition, or some other nefarious organization, knowing now that the whole reason that ship had been out there was because someone on this world had been curious was a knife to the gut.

"Tsarina, I-"

I interrupted Rasputin. "And what's with you calling me tsarina? Look, I'm real sorry, but I'm not a reincarnated Russian. If you couldn't tell by my accent, I'm American."

Rasputin hummed, his incredible blue eyes searching for how he would respond. "But your surname is Romanov, correct?"

"Yes, but, I'm not a royal. I'm just some random dummy from America. Year 2018."

"The future?" Rasputin smiled at me. His eyes were incredibly unsettling, even to someone like me.

"The future past, I guess. But anyway, I'm just an American. And another thing-" I paused as I gripped my temple. Why couldn't I just have a relaxing fun time at a fun party? Of course, being Tzeentch's fun project meant that all this weird shit would happen to me. "-why the hell was that Navigator wandering around in the back of the palace with a poison dart? I feel like you're not telling me something."

My Corona shimmered around me as I watched this man, and internally, I struggled again with wanting to seek retribution against a threat. Deep down, I was actually itching for another fight!

A scene then flickered in my mind's eye. It was of Sebastian standing in a modest library, his arms crossed in an expression of contempt that was similar to mine. His Corona surrounded him in a bright angry light; it appeared that he was very upset with the person standing before him, who wore plain robes and held a staff topped with a gold eagle with spread wings. At Sebastian's feet, the charred remains of a man smouldered as he demanded with a brutal commanding voice, "Explain yourself!"

Within a heartbeat, my world reformed, and I stood before Rasputin once again, still greatly disquieted.

Rasputin frowned, his blue eyes fixing on me. "As I had said, Ven Tristan was known to us. He and his crew were friendly with the Sinclairs, and I knew him tangentially. At times, he was known to visit the palace. What was going through his distraught mind as he wandered drunkenly through the halls of the palace is a mystery. Perhaps, using his abilities or simply his own connections, he was able to discern where you were, and that you were exposed enough for him to assault you? But, truthfully, I discovered that you were here, and divined that you were in trouble. Quickly, I rushed to your aid, for I find you fascinating and wished to save you. You can look within my mind to sense my intention if you wish."

I swayed on my feet again, and felt my soul gnash its metaphorical teeth hungrily, wanting an outlet for whatever violent force inside of me that sought retribution against those who would subdue me. I was really on tilt right now, I thought, my head spinning. I then distantly remembered that I had drawn the eye of something big, red, and angry in the Warp.

And, it had found my anger pleasing...

Swallowing, I tasted blood, and took a few deep breaths, forcing myself off the brink. As fun as killing everyone who upset me sounded right now, I recognized that line of thinking as unusual, and stifled it. Far away, I sensed growling frustration as the angry eye in the Warp once again turned away from me. Nope, not dealing with that right now.

The taste of blood blessedly vanished.

I decided to glance again within Rasputin's soul, and superficially, I saw again that he genuinely wanted to save me. Okay, that was good enough for now, I conceded to myself. "Okay, listen. I'm going to get to the bottom of this," I said to the displaced monk. "I still don't know why you want to help me, but listen: I'll eventually figure everything out. I'm not a normal psyker, just so you know."

"That much was evident with your spectacular aura, tsarina!" Rasputin replied to me, unbothered. "So, I'm thinking that we should get back to the party. The dinner feast will be soon, and I suspect our absences will be noticed. But, know this: I am sworn to your name, royalty or not. My oath to the Romanov family was sworn before my oath to Langwidere and the Sinclairs, and therefore, has priority. You do not trust me right now; that much is evident. But I truly wish to serve you, tsarina!"

"Stop calling me tsarina," I scolded. No wonder they used to call this guy 'the Mad Monk'; Rasputin's strange gaze and unusual behavior (not to mention that he had not been disturbed when I had brutalized Ven Tristan) made him unsettling to be around. "We're not in Russia. You can call me Erika, or Inheritor. Just, I don't know, if I find out you're being shady with me, I won't be happy."

"Of course, Inheritor. Thy will be done!" Rasputin bowed. "Shall we be going then? It will be most interesting to make an appearance beside a God-Empress of Mankind while dressed as Malcador. Why, I'm even quite excited!"

That was a bit funny, I had to concede. Aside from the beard, Rasputin really did remind me of a crazier-looking Malcador.

After double checking to see that I wasn't covered in blood, I put away my magic scissors and Ven Tristan's mementos in my cloak pocket. A few cleaning servitors were summoned with the click of a button on a bookcase, and was given instructions to disrupt the Navigator's body, making it appear that the servitors had brutally killed him. The ease of which Rasputin did this was chilling. It felt as if he had either planned this whole thing out, and had been emotionally prepared, or that he was a complete sociopath. Both options were bad, but for now, tolerating the Mad Monk seemed to be the best course of action. We both then left the destroyed parlor as the sounds of metal fists striking a corpse squelched messily behind us. With a click, the Grand Advisor had locked the door.

Walking down the portrait hall again, I turned upward to observe the paintings. "Is Langwidere out in public tonight? How is she dressed?" I asked as we walked. "I still haven't met her."

Rasputin observed me with a small mad smile. "I've not yet seen her this evening, but I saw her yesterday. She proclaimed to me that she had been working on an ingenious costume that would overshadow all others this evening. I don't see how she could outdo a genuine God-Empress, but governor Langwidere is both innovative and brilliant." The Grand Advisor then took a breath as we continued walking down the hall. "If you are seeking her out, I believe she will find you. I must admit that you bear a strange resemblance to Evanora of the East, which is something I wonder about. How terribly inconvenient that your soul found its way into Evanora's body!"

I was about to answer until I felt a strange psychic tickle run down my spine, and I paused my walk midstride. It felt as if someone was trying to speak to me remotely. "Hold on a minute," I said to Rasputin as I closed my eyes.

Inheritor, can you hear me? Librarian Rezel's strong telepathic voice spoke to me. You are at the party?

Yeah, I'm here, I responded. Someone just tried to kill me again too. Go figure.

What?! the Librarian cried out. I could tell that he had shouted his surprise aloud.

A Renegade Navigator with a poison dart. I was led down to a parlor in the palace by Evring Sinclair, who then ran off before this guy threw a dart at my head. I killed him, so no worries.

You dispatched your assassin? And the evidence of wrongdoing on your behalf? Rezel psychic voice echoed with worry.

I'm actually standing here with Grand Advisor Grigori, and he's helping me cover it up, and is pinning the blame on some rogue servitors. The advisor saved me, and also, I just found out that this guy is a Traveler, just like me! Did you guys know about him?

A long pause filled with surprise. I could sense that Librarian was breathing deeply to calm himself down. A familiar presence walked near to him, and I could now tell that Lian was asking Rezel if he was alright. After a short time, I finally heard back, We were in the process of investigating him for being a Traveler. It does not surprise us, as fate seems to bend about his passage. What does surprise me that the Grand Advisor is helping you. Grigori is a brilliant social engineer, and a psyker of power. Even we are not certain of his motivations, and the revelation that he is a Traveler like yourself alarms me. A reminder that as you can bend fate, so can he in a lesser manner.

I've got my eye on him, I responded to Rezel as Rasputin smiled at me as he fixed his wild eyes on mine. I had read that the Mad Monk of Russia had a terrifying presence, and that was certainly evident here. What's going on over there? Everything okay?

I'm contacting you to let you know that ten minutes ago, a group of three Wheelers sped down Port Aubergine on their normal security patrol, until something made them freeze still before the Divine Retribution. They shook, and began to roll in circles before the group began to cackle in keening unnatural voices. They have since resumed their patrol, but we cannot contact the Tower of Reason due to sudden signal interference in order to speak to Magos Amee. In addition, our covert surveillance of the palace is now in place. Master Foras quietly patrols the palace grounds and gardens with one other Brother. Should you require him, he is located near the hedge maze and is equipped with a listening device.

What about Null, my Tech-priest? Can you talk to him? I asked. Last I heard he was on the Divine Retribution.

Your Tech-priest departed the Divine Retribution thirty minutes ago, and boarded a craft bound for the Tower of Reason. He was carrying technical supplies and various strange tools. He has told us that he is studying the blackstone pylon core of the Tower, and that he needed to run some tests with his own equipment. Beyond that, I know nothing. The hologram Virgil is still within your vessel.

Wait, there's a blackstone pylon here? I asked, genuinely surprised. Why hadn't anyone told me this?

It lays in the core of the Tower of Reason. It is the corkscrew building at the edges of Evna's western border. Null stated that you have a communication device before he left, and has reassured us that you will call him if there is trouble, but the current signal interference prevents that.

Oh no! I thought, upset as I reached into my cloak pocket! I had taken out my communication phone-thing before getting dressed, and had left it on the chair of the dining room back in the penthouse! Shit! Embarrassed, I informed Rezel, I don't have my device with me, not that it would work if you can't get a signal. But, the Divine Retribution responds to crew requests, and I'm pretty sure it can sent and receive information too. If you can, find a way to get a hold of Virgil inside the vessel and...

I paused for a moment. I was getting pretty strong, and the Divine Retribution was now a part of me. I wondered if I could telepathically reach my vessel and Virgil's form inside of it from here? The Emperor didn't need to be seated on the Golden Throne for it to work for him, I remembered.

Wait a minute, Rezel. I'm going to see if I can reach into the throne on the ship and talk to Virgil myself.

Very well. I await your instruction, the Librarian responded to me. I could tell that he was also speaking to Lian, filling him in on what was going on.

I exhaled a breath that I had not realized that I had been holding, and I turned back to Rasputin, who was watching me. "I don't know who you're talking to, but we should really be off to dinner. Soon they call us to sit at the feast."

"I'm talking with a friend. It's important. Just wait a little bit."

I closed my eyes again, and with a large metaphysical breath, I focused my energy. Gold light began to shine brightly around both my head and my entire body as a wave of warmth washed over me. Concentrating, I sought the location of the Divine Retribution across town.

Happily, I felt the majestic machine respond, and it shifted slightly on its talons, causing Virgil and the two witnesses to startle as they busied themselves with organizing all our new supplies.

Virgil, I said through the Divine Retribution.

"Ma-machine spirit?!" Virgil cried out, startled at the sudden noise and movement.

Virgil, it's me. It's Erika. I'm at the party and interfacing with the Divine Retribution remotely. This isn't easy for me so I can't stay and chat, so I need you to do something.

"Of course, Inheritor!"

Please contact Null if you can. It might not be easy, and you might need to use the Retribution to do this. You're crew, so it will respond to some requests. The Librarian outside told me they're having problems with communications, so there's something fishy going on. Some Wheelers are acting crazy. And tell Null I don't have my phone with me. Sorry.

"Your... phone?"

Yeah, I left it in the hotel room. I forgot it.

"You mean your portable vox?"

Oh, right, 40k words. Yeah, that. I left the vox in the hotel room. If anything goes wrong, I'll contact you through the Divine Retribution this way since I don't have that vox thing. I'll check in now and again, but see if you can get a hold of Null and tell him about the malfunctioning Wheelers.

I felt that Virgil was nodding.

Alright, that's it. See you later.

After explaining to Librarian Rezel what I was doing, I brought myself back to the present as I stood in the hallway with Rasputin. I was slightly dizzy from the experience, and while I knew that it was possible to remotely communicate with the Divine Retribution, it was very taxing. I lessened my bright Corona, and stretched.

"You are almost too difficult to observe, you know. Your light makes it look like you are on fire," the mad monk cooed, his fingers folded together in praise before me. "Maybe there is truth to people speaking of you as if you are this reality's new Empress?"

"Well, I don't know about that," I said with another stretch to chase my vertigo away. "But what I do know is that Evring is about to have a very awkward time if I see him at dinner. Let's head out."

Rasputin and I walked down the long portrait corridor, and through the private museum. As we walked into the performance hall, we once again were accosted by guards, and this time Rasputin was the one who waived them away. The Solitaire had joined this colorful troupe now, and was now practicing dance moves with two lean female dancers. The mood was tense now that this individual was here, and as I passed, the strange damned Aeldari creature nodded in friendly greeting to me. Solitaires were very strange to be close to. Metaphorically, if Aeldari were small bright stars, Harlequin Solitaires were primordial black holes. Immensely powerful, dark, and unknowable, it felt as if Slaanesh's eye burned with pitch black intensity against the Solitaire, who could only laugh at oblivion as he stood on the brink. It made the creature strangely beautiful, in a way.

Opening the door again, we were back in the sun room with the fountain, and the wave of humid cool air washed over me refreshingly. The change of atmosphere was refreshing, and helped me to forget that I had psychically crushed the bones and eaten the soul of a powerful Navigator after plucking out his Warp eye while simultaneously somehow drawing the attention of a gawking Chaos God. Hey, at least my life was interesting now.

Immediately, I felt many eyes turn my way, and I felt a small rush from their admiration of me. Being this way was addictive, I thought, keeping tabs on myself this time as Rasputin and I walked through the crowd of wealthy partygoers. Alberich then spotted us, and said, "My leader, I greatly apologize for drinking as I have been, I-"

"Not your fault, actually. Don't worry about it. Word Bear put a psychic suggestion inside of you to go and drink while he spoke to me. I burned it off, so no worries now."

"A suggestion?" Alberich replied softly, his brow furrowed. He then hiccuped, and finally noticed that Rasputin was beside me. Oh man, this was going to be entertaining. Russians and Germans weren't typically friends in the early part of the 20th century. "Who is that?" the beastman asked, turning his gold beak toward the infamous Russian monk.

"Pleased to meet you, Alberich. I am Grand Advisor Grigori, and I serve the interests of the rulers of the Conglomeration of Ev."

"How did you know my name, and-" Alberich's eyes widened in shock as he stepped back. He then briefly studied the advisor's robed costume with wide suspicious beastman turned to me, his ears down and his feathers ruffled. Tell me he is not from a universe similar to ours, my leader! Alberich replied in a pitched psychic voice.

"His speech. He sounds German," Rasputin responded to Alberich's shock with a small amused smile. He then turned to me. "Is this mutant also a Traveler?"

"Funny how this all just comes together," I replied, massaging my temples. "Yeah, Alberich is a Traveler, and a German. And Alberich, wait till I tell you about-" I started to detail what had happened to me in the parlor, but the beastman interrupted me as he glowered at the Grand Advisor.

"I am a proud son of the Fatherland," the beastman growled, his feathers bristled. "Why are you here? Your voice. Are you a Russian?"

Rasputin stood grinning widely at this confrontation, and it looked like he found this all very amusing. "Why yes, I am a Russian. And I am a proud son of the Motherland, and an avowed servant to the Romanov family. It is interesting to meet more displaced travelers of reality. I thought I was the only one for a long time. And to randomly run into a German of all things, hah!"

Alberich was not happy, and turned to me. Why is he being friendly with you? Russians are untermensch, poorly evolved savages that are slaves to their base human impulses! He is likely a manipulative orgiastic sex fiend, and a drunk!

"Is he upset?" Rasputin asked me. "His feathers are on end. He reminds me of a startled gold pigeon!"

"Stop it right now," I said, pushing a small lick of power behind my voice, and glancing at both men. "I don't need this shit. Alberich, relax, I need to tell you what just happened. Get a hold of yourself. That's an order."

Alberich immediately paused, and took two deep breaths before bowing his head in my direction. "I'm sorry, my leader. I have negative experiences with Russians."

Before Rasputin could say anything in response to that, I turned to the monk, and said, "Go somewhere else. If you want, I can catch up with you later."

"Very well. The feast will be soon, and the entire ruling body of Tar Vigaz will likely be at dinner, so make sure you both have calmed your fires before then. You will likely run into Evring, so don't do anything I would do!" Rasputin replied with an ice cold grin as he politely bowed before me, and began to wander away. "Remember what I said about my oath, tsarina!"

I shook my head as I watched the Grand Advisor walk away, and moved to sit down on one of the stone benches. Alberich sat next to me, and quietly waited for me to speak to him. Watching Rasputin walk away, I saw a woman dressed (heretically) as a female "sexy" Ultramarine as she recognized the Mad Monk with a smile. He immediately drew her into a bear hug, pressing his chest against her scantily clad body. Well, that was definitely on "brand" for the infamous womanizing Rasputin of Russia.

Turning to Alberich, I telepathically detailed what had happened in the parlor. As I recalled crushing Ven Tristan against the wall, I once again remembered his screams of agony, and I shivered.

The Navigator we saw at the costume shop, the man that hated you. Is that who you speak of? Alberich asked me to clarify. I nodded. You killed him?

Yeah, that's the guy. And I don't think that I was the one who technically killed him. I think Rasputin actually broke his neck, but I think I cracked his sternum and broke his rib cage, so he probably didn't have that long to live after I had done that.

Alberich sighed deeply. Better him than you, my leader. Do you need help cleaning anything?

No, actually. Well, I hope not, I said, looking in Rasputin's direction. It dawned on me that the Grand Advisor could just turn around and tell everyone what had happened, and because of his station, he would instantly be believed. Going by Mombi's nasty reaction toward my appearance at this party, I doubted that anyone would be on my side in a fight. This was a bad situation. He commanded some servitors to come in and start beating the body when we both left, and he said that he was going to blame Ven Tristan's death on servitors going crazy.

Alberich still had the hiccups, and was now calming himself down. A Russian. I can't believe it, the beastman mentally sighed. Did you happen to catch his full name? We had a few dossiers on prominent Soviet military psychics. Maybe I would recognize him?

"Uh," I sputtered aloud. "I think you'll definitely recognize him. He's famous, and this is crazy. He's from 1916, and..." I took a deep breath, and decided to just say this aloud. I didn't want to get in the habit of using telepathy constantly. "...and his name is Grigori Rasputin. Yeah, that Grigori Rasputin. The Mad Monk of Russia."

"You're joking," Alberich immediately turned to watch Rasputin as he chatted sleazily with another scantily-clad woman, this one dressed suspiciously like a "sexy" bloodletter with a large chest and an even larger sword. The symbolism of Rasputin being salacious with someone dressed up like a devil was actually pretty funny. I watched the infamous monk paw at her and chuckled.

"Nope. Telling the truth. Grigori fucking Rasputin," I confirmed to Alberich.

"I do not enjoy this development. The Great Architect certainly gives our story many turns and twists to navigate," Alberich grumbled. I flinched at Alberich speaking again about Tzeentch in voice, but in this crowd, I didn't think anyone really cared. I had entertained that wildly aberrant conversation with Word Bear earlier, and no one seemed upset. The beastman tapped a long finger against his gold beak in thought. "Grigori Rasputin, as I know him, was suspected to be a sorcerer of strength, similar in energetic raw power to Aleister Crowley, if you are familiar with that name at all. I read about his womanizing, lecherous ways. Did you tell him that he dies by drowning after a gunshot?"

I chuckled. "Spoiler alert," I laughed morbidly. "He told me he was poisoned back in his home reality, and didn't say anything about drowning or being shot. I guess he makes it back home from here then."

Alberich continued to wear a thoughtful expression as I watched Word Bear enter the room again from a tall door. The polite Chaos Marine made a bee line toward Rasputin. Catching my eye, Word Bear nodded a polite greeting toward me before turning toward Rasputin and making conversation.

"You know, I read that they poisoned his wine, but it had no effect upon him. Afterward, his frustrated assassins shot him, and threw him into a river. It took a great effort to kill him. It has been suggested that powerful souls possess poison resistance, and that would certainly make sense, I suppose," Alberich elucidated.

A telepathic rumble caused my skin to crawl, and I recognized Word Bear's psychic voice. Grigori tells me that he is delighted with you! He has just informed me that he witnessed you kill an assassin. Or, you and Grigori both killed him, with you crushing his torso and plucking his Warp eye, and Grigori snapping his neck. Excellent news! Wish I could have seen it! Khorne was no doubt pleased at your rage and the blood you spilled, even if you are a bit too gold for his tastes.

Don't want to talk about that right now, man, I responded to Word Bear, slouching on my seat. Somewhere near by, I heard a man say, "Look at that Emperor costume! That's impressive!" I was not in the mood for any of this right now. A woman cried out in a happy scream in response to this observation.

Hearing the brief delighted exultation, I experienced a flashback of the pitched madness of Ven Tristan's screams echoing in hate and pain through my mind like splinters of bone. I was completely responsible for the doom of the curious crew of the Ebon Hare, the realization scraped painfully through me again. If not for me, those people would still be alive, and not existing in perpetual torment as entertainment for a greater daemon. I remembered again that I had even enjoyed hunting their ship as its Gellar Field failed, and later, I had actually smiled as I had crushed their Navigator's rib cage after mutilating him.

As I reeled in self-loathing, I could faintly hear Word Bear's jolly laughter as he responded telepathically to me. Very well! I shall catch up with you later, and if you need help with anything or anyone else, let me know. I do so love adventures!

Alberich was speaking to me about something, but I wasn't listening as I sat contemplating the erosion of my moral character. After a short time of sitting here feeling sorry for myself, a chime then rang through the hall, and through a door, a servitor then announced that dinner would be served in the main dining hall within fifteen minutes, and that we should all begin making our way there.

"Your Empress costume is simply divine! Why, if you were the one heading the Imperium, I never would have lost my faith!" an intoxicated man dressed in a lavender suit said to me as I walked. "Hail to the God-Empress! May she rule justly and with wisdom!"

If I was the best shot this universe had, then this universe was cursed indeed, I thought bitterly.