He slithered across the ground as he entered the grand court of the hunter. His lower half had more muscular power than a dozen men and enough dexterity to allow him to move it in pretty much any way he desired. It was also bulky, slow moving over long distances and a hindrance to his ability to perform the acrobatics that the Fey took great pride in performing.
He had tried to work around his tail more than once but he simply hadn't found a way to use it acrobatically that also didn't leave him immensely exhausted afterwards. He hated it, hated the way his own siblings looked at him with disgust and visible disdain. If he were not a High Lord he was certain that he would never have been allowed within the court again.
Thankfully he was a High Lord, and no matter how much his kin may despise the sight of him they could not deny him entry. To do so would be tantamount to a death sentence after all, especially considering his position. He was the lord of spies, master of information and espionage. It wasn't an exaggeration to say that nothing happened on Ulanir without him being aware of it.
His Attenater's had spread across the entirety of the world and overtaken many positions of power, entire hives had been subverted on nearly every level due to his machinations. He could say the word and the hives would fall within a day as every level of their governance revolted against the Imperial yoke.
The Imperials had no idea how deep his infiltration reached, nor how easy it would be for him to completely destroy them from the inside out. Sex, magic, drugs and well crafted glamors all acted as one to create the perfect mix of strategies to keep Imperial high society under control and he would do it all a thousand times more to ensure his race thrived.
Which is why he was making his way to the grand court. He had received Nirsun's report and rewarded the agent with a well deserved month's leave, he would receive his next assignment not long afterwards. Things were progressing as his visions had said they would. The creator had accepted his request for an audience, his agents had reported that the admiral was already preparing to assault Hafin.
Apparently he had begun conscripting ten new regiments of pdf from the Relnothian's, but even if they were rushed through the most basic of training it would be at least a month and a half before they were ready to fight. More than enough time for his plan to take effect and their forces to be on the march. The Imperium may have infinite manpower, but they could not fight against the Fey warmachine.
He approached the doors to the court that were as open and resplendent as always. Gold and green mosaics depicting the creation of the Fey, and the subsequent battles of the conquest decorated the walls. Trees and flowers bloomed along the sides of the grand walkways that all led to the central terrace of the court, at the head of which the throne of their creator sat.
It was in this singular space of power that animals were able to roam freely. Fey creatures of power that glowed with magical might as they walked in and out of the wilds at will. Here the borders between the material and Fey realms were at their thinnest, crumbling under the sheer magical weight of the collected lords and ladies of the Fey and amplified by the creator and his throne.
He passed by these gorgeous sights with nary a glance sent their way. He had been here many times before, and he had seen it all again and again and again. He cared little for the beauty and majesty that the Throne room was meant to convey. He was here on business and none of this beauty was meant for him anyways.
The Animals avoided him. They hissed and hunched up in his presence, while those nearest glared at him for daring to provoke such creatures of beauty. He could only scoff at them, he hadn't done anything to provoke the animals wrath other than be himself. He ignored the deep pain in his chest as he ignored the glares sent his way, he would be beautiful again soon. Soon.
"It's always a pleasure to see you, Lord Vannem. I can always count on you to have fun news for the court after all."
He turned to the voice to see Lord Linnan, master of the Jaeger corp and his eternal rival. He had never really gotten along with Linnan, even from their earliest days they had been at one another's throats over various issues and when he was transformed into his current form by the Creator it was Linnan that most benefited from his fall.
The bastard had even gone so far as to steal away many of his vassals in those horrible days after his transformation, leaving him bereft of nearly 3/4ths of his vassalage. It had taken months to rebuild and he had to do it all completely on his own as no Fey would swear themselves to him.
Vannem smiled, showing off all of his teeth. He took great pleasure in the microscopic flinch that elicited from Linnan. "I'm glad you feel that way Linnan. It pleases me greatly that a Lord of lesser standing than myself might learn from my methods to become better than they are currently."
The smile never left Linnans' face as he responded. "Lesser Lord? Lord Vannem, please don't say such things. We were born together after all, and I am the master of the Jaegers as you know. If I didn't know better I would say you were insulting me."
"Insult you? That would require my statement to be any less than fact. I am one of the High lords, Master of all that is shadow and deceit as you know. I've certainly used enough of your Jaegers for you to know." Linnans smiled dropped slightly before it was right back up in full force, Vannem could only laugh.
Before Linnan could speak once more Vannem continued. "You are a Lord yes and one given a great purpose but in all his wisdom the Creator has deemed not to grant you the title of High Lord. You are not suggesting that the Creator was wrong are you?"
Eyes had long ago turned their way, but now they were focused on Linnan. The Fey did love the opportunity to bring one of their own down a peg, and Linnan was not excluded from that. There were many who would love to have his position. He could see Linnan's eyes scan around at the many passing Fey before snapping back to his form.
"Of course I would never imply such Lord Vannem, I was simply asking that you not imply that I have somehow not earned the position I have been given by the creator as well. I may not have the same prestige that you do in all your greatness, but I fulfill my duties all the same."
"The both of you are sniveling rats that should know your place and cease with your petty games. No one is fooled by your platitudes." Their eyes snapped to the side at the familiar voice. Fear clutched his heart as he saw Dyrrath approach, First born of the Fey, Archlord of all fey whose word was only second to the Creator himself.
Fear was a natural conclusion when the first born approached, especially when he was in one of his moods. He carried his son in his arms, still little bigger than a newborn even a year and a half after being born. The babe slept in its fathers arms with little care for the outside world even as its father marched with a fury nearing that of how he had been during the conquest.
"Vannem follow me, Linnan leave my sight you should know better than to speak in such a way to a High Lord. You will be punished for such when I see you next." He fell in with the Archlord even as Linnan bowed and quickly fled from sight.
Silence encompassed the two of them as they walked, slithered in his case. He could feel the Archlords anger as it radiated outwards. He had been this way since he and the creator had blown up at one another a year ago and it seemed nothing would change it any time soon. Personally he preferred it when he was consumed by his grief, at least then he wouldn't have to worry about the Archlord getting in the way of his plans.
They passed by many as they walked, all of which made way for their personage. It was a stark contrast to the way his kin seemed to ignore his presence and even impede his path. They would have never dared to do so if he had not been cursed he knew. "We are here." Dyrrath spoke.
They stood before a new set of doors, a set he had only ever seen in his visions leading up to this moment. He knew what would happen when he entered, when he gave his report on what had been done and what he had caused with his actions.
He was scared, he would not lie. This was the last time he would be able to move for many years to come, but it was necessary. This was the only way he could ensure the survival of all fey and secure for himself a grand reward at the end of it all. His visions hadn't been wrong yet.
With a quick but deep breath he pushed the doors open and entered the private office of the Creator. Like his vision had told him the creator was currently in his human form, while Celras was at his side doing paperwork. He entered the room at a respectable pace while Dyrrath closed the door behind him.
Kneeling, as much as his body would allow him too, Vannem spoke the customary greeting that his Lord had established. "My Lord, I am Vannem. Marchenfurst of Shadow and Deceit, and I present myself before the Stammvater of all Fey."
Looking up from his work the Creator flicked his wrist indicating that he was free to speak. "My Lord it has recently come to my attention through my Agents that the Admiral of the Imperial fleet has finally grown tired of the good General's actions and has taken action. Relnoth has fallen to his armies and he now raises dozens more from its population to begin a war to take the rest of the planet." He stopped speaking when the Creator raised a hand.
"For what reason have you brought this to my attention Vannem. You know I care little for the actions of the Imperials. Our defenses are impenetrable to anything less than a full on invasion or Exterminatus. The Imperials will bleed themselves dry on one another while we build our strength." He had foreseen the creator's words and had prepared for such, it was why he knew pain was to come.
"The hive he first attacked, Relnoth, was one of those hives that I had infiltrated to its highest level. We of course held out as long as we could, trying our best to stop the Imperial advance but when we were unable to do so I ordered my agents to reach into the Admirals mind to steal what information we-"
"Why is this relevant? Do not seek to use words to obfuscate your true intentions." He bowed his head in acknowledgment. "During the procedure my agents revealed themselves under my orders to better obtain information from the Admiral and hint at our activities beyond Nafith. He is now gunning to destroy us and will aim his conquests towards us."
He finished speaking and kept his eyes to the ground. He could hear the creator's heartbeat skyrocket and his magic explode outwards as he was sent face first into the floor. "YOU DID WHAT!? You purposely caused the Imperials to focus their forces upon us instead of each other!? How stupid can you be! They would have killed one another and we could have cleaned up what remained easily!"
He couldn't speak, the magic pushing down on his body was overwhelming, crushing the life out of his frame even as the Creator raged. He expected as much, and the pain was just as bad as he knew it would be. He prepared himself for the transformation, the punishment that would be inflicted upon him that would leave him as little less than a pulsating blob for years to come, only kept alive by to be a living monument to the price of treason.
The pain of transformation never came though. Instead the pressure began to lighten and he was once more able to hear the creators words as they were whispered into his ear. "Why? Why do this to me, Vannem. You knew that betrayal would be punished and you did it anyway." He was speechless, this was not a part of his visions for this moment. The creator wasn't supposed to ask him why he had done what he had done.
That didn't mean he stayed speechless, he was fey, quick of mind and clever. "I've seen it, My Lord, the price of your policy of staying behind our walls. The Imperials would kill each other relentlessly and bleed one another dry. Combined with my own interventions and schemes they would be whittled down to shadows of their former selves that we could destroy with ease."
Slowly turning his head he looked into the Creator's eyes, projecting the future into his mind. "By the time it was all over though it would have been far too late. The Admiral has already sent out requests for reinforcements and in a decade's time they will arrive and bring with them the full might of the Imperium. Inquisitors, Mechanicum, Psykers, titan legions and more will come. Spurred to do so by the threat of a new and extremely dangerous threat we pose."
The Creator was silent for a time as he parsed through his visions, searched through his mind, and understood the problem with their current strategy. "Souls, we don't have the souls needed to fight against them. Even with the amount we currently harvest from the dead and dying it's not enough."
Vannem nodded his head as the pressure continued to decrease. "Yes my Lord. We must reap a bloody harvest in war to have the souls needed to create the defenses required to face off with and destroy the Imperial response force. This world must be ours within the next three years or we will be destroyed. That is why I have done as I have, to spur you into action and save us from extinction."
The magical pressure was gone and the raging tempest of magic that was the creator had died completely as he turned back into his human form. Slowly he rose from the ground and looked at the creator. He was back at his desk, his hand on his head while Celras stood to his side comforting him.
Dyrrath was at the far corner of the room, his eyes closed. "My Lord, I expected to be punished today for my actions and I was willing to take that punishment if it meant that I could save our race."
"And to be beautiful once more I know."
He coughed slightly, embarrassed. "Yes my Lord, I do wish to have my original form returned to me. I will not lie, but that is not my only reason for doing as I have done and I hope you know that."
The creator looked at him, staring into his eyes for a second to search for something. A minute passed before he nodded seemingly content with what he had found. "You have brought me information that will save our race Vannem and you have forced my hand in a way that will ensure I don't waste it. Your fair form will be returned to you and you will keep your position."
He could feel his heart beat in excitement, he would be beautiful again. "Thank you my Lord."
The creator nodded, "I have grown much in this last year and I acknowledge that I cannot rule with fear alone, and I cannot punish actions taken for the betterment of our race, even if they are manipulative. Someone has shown me that I need not embody the worst aspects of the Fey to rule." The creator's eyes looked towards Dyrrath who was still silent with his eyes closed.
Turning back to him he spoke, "Of course none can know that you twisted events in such a way to ensure this outcome and you will never speak of what happened here this day. Am I clear?"
"Yes my Lord, none will ever know of the words spoken here today."
"Good, now prepare yourself for the Ceremony, you will be returning to your original form tomorrow when the sun reaches its Zenith. No longer will you be the spider, your fair form will hide the webs you weave once more."
He bowed deeply, ecstatic and nearly incapable of staying still knowing that soon he would be beautiful once more. "Yes my Lord, I will prepare accordingly."
With a final flourish he exited the office. None who saw him could have guessed what happened inside those doors.
-
He adjusted Nuvian in his arms as the ceremony came to a head. The Creator had just finished his speech explaining an altered version of Vannems actions and the events that led to them, praising the little rat for his meritorious service to the Fey and himself. He could care less for the rat as magic swirled around him and his body which had once been a twisted and ugly abomination was restored to its handsome and perfect Fey form.
He had forgotten how tall Vannem had been, standing a little over eight feet tall, even taller than himself. Vannem had always been large. He had been created to be a leader of the Ritters but he had obviously found a calling far different than what his original purpose had been. He was just as handsome as he remembered though, with long flowing silver hair and emerald kaleidoscopic eyes that swirled with red accents, a strong aquiline nose, a sharp jawline, and a large thick neck.
Vannem was a mountain of Fey handsomeness given shape and form. Where many Fey were more beautiful than handsome Vannem and those like him stood in contrast. His sharp eyes, high cheekbones, and plump lips still all held the typical beauty of the fey though, contrasting perfectly to create a face few would deny was beyond attractive.
It disgusted him. The Fey form was one that just hid the evil deep within their hearts, the hatred and duplicity. Every time he looked at his kin he was reminded that they had been created to kill, to consume souls, and bargain with men for no other reason than their own entertainment. It was why the laws he had manipulated the creator into implementing had been so ironclad.
Even if his kin wanted to play with the humans they would find that despite looking quite in their favor the laws pretty much forbid them from making deals with humans that they could twist to their advantage. Through a thousand footnotes and a million subtextual clauses his kin would never again be able to hurt the humans they had been created to protect, a fact he alone seemed to remember.
He missed Anluan, his sister, no not sister. His mother deserved more than the fate that she had been cursed with. The last time he had seen her she was pregnant with pups and he had forced the creator to reinforce her soul anchors to ensure that she would not be drained dry during their birthing. Something he had done without complaint. He tried not to think about the fact that he likely could have done the same for Nuvi, holding Nuvian closer in the process.
Tuning back into the speech his creator was giving he sat up slightly in preparation. "With that said it should be obvious what comes next for the Fey. Despite my best efforts it is obvious that the Imperials will not simply drain each other dry while we build our strength and as such we only have one course of action left to us. War. My Archlord of war, Dyrrath will explain more and it is with him that you will liaison as the war progresses, he has my full support and he will act as the commander of all forces during the conquest to come."
Rising from his lesser throne to the Creators left he walked onto the grand podium. To his front was the court of the Fey in its multitudes. Thousands of Lords of all kinds stood listening as they were not of enough importance to warrant a throne of their own. That honor went to the High Lords whose smaller thrones formed a semi-circle behind him.
Fifteen thrones formed the Semi-circle. Twelve for the High Lords which ruled the twelve different sections of Fey governance and society. One for himself as the Archlord of all Fey, One for Celras as the Consort of the Creator, and at the center was the throne of the Creator himself, overlooking it all.
Stepping up he performed a minor spell to throw his voice across the room so that all would hear him speak equally, and with another spell he crafted an illusion above him so that he might project his thoughts into a physical form for all to gaze upon. "I will not introduce myself as you all know who I am. Instead I will begin simply."
Adjusting Nuvian in his grip once more so that his son could be a bit more comfortable when he spoke he continued, "War. War is upon us once more. This war will be unlike any that we Fey have ever engaged in before, greater than the conquest of Nafith by a factor of a hundred thousand times. The Veterans of the conquest remember what those days were like in truth, the terror and the fear, the sacrifices made to advance even a mile."
Above him the illusion shifted between war rooms, logistical meetings, and the actual battlefield itself. All of it was pulled from his own memories as the assembly watched on, enraptured. They saw him planning offensives one minute, then dealing with logistical issues the next, and finally the real results of such pre-battle planning and preparation. The death and destruction was clearly visible, and his panting could be heard with every passing second as he sprinted across the battlefield to engage the Imperials and cultists in battle.
"This war will be much the same. Thousands of us will die in the first week of actual combat alone. Jaeger, Ritter, Hound, Artificer, Feenmutter, and Lord's will all die in the conflict to come. None of us are safe from death, including myself." Shifting to forward he materialized his blade in his hand and stabbed it into the ground.
"We will win. Through sacrifice and skill, strategy and superior arms, through Fey ingenuity and strength we will destroy the Imperials and claim this world as our own." The illusion above him changed to show a different scene. A million battalions of Fey soldiers marching together in unison as tanks, titans, and aircraft moved as one. The screams of triumph deafened the court as left the illusion and was projected into reality.
"This is the vision of the future that I see and that I will make real. Our armies have grown since our beginnings three years ago, and they have grown three fold since the end of the conquest. The Artificers have not been idle during the short peace following the conquest, new weapons are at our disposal never before seen by the Imperials. The Jaegers and Ritters have trained harder than ever before and working on the lessons learned during the conquest they are far better than they have ever been."
Turning and pointing towards Vannem he spoke, "And High Lord Vannem, Master of Shadow and Deceit has spread his hooks far and wide across every level of Imperial society. With a word from him the slow collapse of the Imperial war machine will begin, leaving the admiral few resources to use against us without great effort on his part to rebuild."
Spinning around he ripped his blade out of the ground and shoved it into the sky. "You see my Kin and Kindred? We shall not lose this war. Instead we shall win and bathe ourselves in glory, Victory shall be ours and its spoils will drown us!" Not bothering to wait for their reaction he turned to the creators throne and knelt.
"All hail the Stammvater! To war and glory!" He didn't have to wait long for his words to be echoed.
"All hail the Stammvater! To war and glory!"
"All hail the Stammvater! To war and glory!"
"All hail the Stammvater! To war and glory!"
"All hail the Stammvater! To war and glory!"
Their cries only grew louder as they cheered the Creator's name, working themselves into the state of mind he needed from them. It was all too easy.