It is often said that in the grim darkness of the 42nd Millennium there can be only war... The battle for control over Vomia Prime's hive spire was no exception, it was a long and bloody affair indeed...
Lit by the thousands of uncontrollable fires dancing along it's steep flanks the towering structure was illuminated in an ominous blood red orange; the sinister crimson glow originating from the raging inferno that was encapsulating the lower rungs of the population. The ferrocrete and limestone façade of each hab-block twisted and writhed in the unnatural light, as inhuman shapes and shadows flickered along the ancient gothic architecture. Toxic fumes from sabotaged manufactorums and fuel depots destroyed by the retreating enemy continuously spilled into the air with plumes of pitch black smoke, leaving a rancid oily acrylic taste to each agonizing breath and a red tinge to stain the evening sky.
Even as the altitude rose, up to the very top of the highest point on the planet where the air drew thin, the haze and cacophonic noise of battle was astoundingly still as overwhelming and breathtaking to behold from the peak. A feat, considering the hive spire reached nearly into the Void of space itself.
Carnage and blood, iron and flesh, they all clashed together for dominance in the furnace of war. There was no escaping it.
It had not always been like this...
The ancient central spire, oldest and greatest amongst the many shorter spikes that dotted the hive's foundation was a bastion of the Imperium and Humanity, the colossal structure comprising of countless habitation and production levels stacked one on top of another, stood sprouting straight upwards and perpendicular to the planet crust. The tower rose endlessly upwards, towering towards the very stars and heavens themselves beyond the firmament. This needle shaped structure, standing as a monolith and testament to mankind's prowess in haphazard engineering, was by all rights the capital, industrial hub, and means by which the Imperium held lawful dominion all across the local territorial star system, far in the distant South East corner of the Ultima Segmentum.
The city was almost like as a lighthouse to those few who called this planet home, a beacon constructed against the cold night. Guiding the populace to it's solid foundation,
It had been made this way for as long as the people could remember, all due in thanks to the wise guidance of those who ruled the tower, namely by the one of the four great noble houses living upon the hive: the Vomia dynasty, the most powerful of highborne dynasties and from which the very planet and city both took their namesakes from in honor of their deeds.
The city was like as a lighthouse to those few who called this planet home; a beacon in the dark, constructed against the cold night. Guiding the populace and forming the bedrock to the civilization's solid foundation.
It had been made this way for as long as the people could remember, all due in thanks to the wise guidance of those who ruled the tower, namely by the one of the four great noble houses living upon the hive: the Vomia dynasty, the most powerful of highborne dynasties and from which the very planet and city both took their namesakes from in honor of their deeds.
Industrious, faithful, and stalwart against the foes of the Imperium. The Vomian legacy had maintained order and stability for as long as anyone could remember... Until today.
A distant crumple of sound, like the thunder that often rolled across the barren sandy wastes, shook the air. The explosion drew the attention of the vermin that dwelled within the crumbling ruins dotting the lower base of the hive. They skittered and scuttled for their meager lives, scampering into the safety or their burrows as a rain of stray rounds from miles above smashed into long abandoned lower buildings, annihilating only the rotting mummified corpses of those long dead souls who still called such hovels home.
Soon the rain of death fell like a monsoon, as more and more cannonade missed their intended targets and fell the hundreds of miles to the surface below.
Each misfired explosive round adding an additional imprint upon the cratered sandy moonscape wastes. Sending clouds of ashy dust into the sky, further depredating the air into an unbreathable mess as the toxic particles became airborne.
High above the poisonous industrial dunes, reaching past the rusting machinery, and escaping the deadly wastes that surrounded the massive column's base the world was no better... For war had finally come to Vomia Prime.
On all the thousands upon thousands of levels of the hive city the local Human populace was currently embroiled in an all consuming revolt and brutal civil unrest.
Thousands upon thousands of lives perished as a barrage of artillery strikes dislodged a weakened section of the hive's outter layer, dragging every poor soul down to be crushed in their ferrocrete graves below. It was tragic and wasteful, each piece broken off damning the city and it's inhabitants in the crucible of bloody conflict. Each round fired from the guns built to protect the city was another nail in their coffins. Meant for defense, these cannons targeted the very streets and living quarters they were sworn to protect. The bark of the massive guns was like the tolling of a death knell...
How much longer the city could survive as it crumbled was unknown, but should the fighting persist it wouldn't be long before the tower fell, swallowed by the shadows below...
Loyal servants to the Golden Throne, those that still served the Royal Noble House of Vomia and who stayed pious to the Imperial Creed, fought back against the invading pillagers. They made efforts to defend their home, as much as they could and for what little remained. By bayonet and las lock they'd clash with the blood thirsty mercenaries that had attacked their city. An off world force held under the sway of the vile traitorous nobles that'd invited them here.
Untold millions had already perished in the ensuing chaos of the violent coup d'état orchestrated by those turncoat highborns; the people's lives consigned to a brutal death by the usurper's unjust bid for power and dominance over the planet. Families and innocent civilians were forced to flee their homes as the fighting spread from hab-block to hab-block, from tight knit ferrocrete alleyways to parks and courtyards.
Every able bodied man, woman, and even child was in some ways fighting tooth and nail for their survival within the crumbling Hive. They joined together in mobs, erecting palisades made out of broken furniture and street carts, gathering their daily tools as makeshift weapons by which to repel any interloping foreign mercenary. The advancing destruction of their homes only furthering to fuel the fever by which the people rallied behind. They clamored for vengeance and justice to be brought upon the treacherous usurper's forces. Itinerant Ecclesiastical street preachers led their congregations in morale boosting sermons, chanting hymns to the blessed Emperor on Terra, praying for both strength and salvation as together they rose up against tyrannical actions of the diabolical traitors.
But even so... The enemy was strong. Well armed and paid handsomely for their services. The sellsword companies under the command of the Usurper fought back viciously, turning the tide against the Loyalists despite their zeal. Battle after battle the mercenaries utilized modern Imperial Las Rifles and automatic firing Bolter guns, weapons rarely seen on a rural extant planet such as this, which had to rely upon millennia old outdated armaments and technology.
For every shot fired from a Vomian pattern las lock ten more came back from the enemy... And so, despite having the numerical superiority the Loyalists were soon pushed out of their recent territorial gains.
"Fire!" A row of Vomian blue jackets unleashed a volley of burning red into the advancing enemy. Their las beams scything down a small group of mercenaries in a wave of energy before they could reach solid cover. The officer commanding the troop barked his next orders to the trembling and anxious young men under his command, "Next rank, take aim!"
Before the next volley could be unleashed however a black and red painted automobile came careening from around the street corner. The armored vehicle screeched to a stop in the center of the road and aimed it's rooftop mounted heavy stubber at the formation of soldiers, the mercenary manning the machinegun aboard grinned viscously, pulling the back the trigger and unleashing a torrent of hot lead into the line of shocked local PDF.
None of them survived the onslaught...
Similar skirmishes were taking place all along every level of the hive, and with their losses quickly mounting the PDF quickly deemed that without prompt aid from outside the system it would seem as if their war would soon be lost...
Desperate astropathic calls for aid were sent out by the remaining Loyalists forces. Many of which were, regrettably, left unheeded or largely ignored by their interstellar neighbors. To the rest of the Imperium they didn't even know, nor care, about the existence of the tiny backwater bastion of Humanity to begin with. Vomia wasn't really on any of the commonly updated Navis Nobilite star charts, and thus if it weren't for the occasional cargo hauling star ship and rare Rogue Trader passing through many could forget the systems existence altogether.
But still, they tried their best to petition for relief.
It wasn't until the Astropaths nearly collapsed from overexertion after several grueling days of nonstop transponding did their finqlly efforts did word finally reach back to them from the local Imperial commander of their slice of the Ultima Segmentum.
...However to the shock and dismay of many, their civil conflict was deemed too small for the infinite forces of the Astra Militarum, or even Emperor's own angels, the Adeptus Astartes, to squash the usurpers on their behalf. To them this seemed like nothing more than the squabbling of some mere Provincials, not a matter for the Imperium at large to deal with. There were far too many fronts to bolster, and there was none that could be spared for a peacekeeping force to be tasked with bringing stability to a small tiny spec of the Imperium. In essence, they were deemed tactically insignificant by the High Lords of Terra and left alone.
Instead, the local PDF were the only ones left to sort the mess out... A task the relatively small and under-equipped force of locally conscripted soldiers were now desperately struggling to handle.
Many fell into despair at the ill news of being abandoned so, cursing the High Lords for not sparing them any reinforcements at all, not even a regiment of the Guard. Meanwhile, the traitor's forces took the initiative and seized most of the Hive spire for themselves. More suffering followed by the Fat Tyrant's total seizure of power, as his jackboot crushed all in his path! It was almost all over for the Loyalists...
They needed someone who could rise up against the tide and return order and stability to the Imperial planet... A beacon in this hopeless darkness... A savior to the masses... A gallant knight to vanquish the evil in this dire time... What they needed was...
A hero!
Indeed, one such person would not give in so easily, not to the seemingly unstoppable foe and unwinnable odds! Never! This person raged and fought harder than ever before as the light of hope began to grow dim. Her swift actions and commanding spirit swung the tide in many battles along the spire. This heroine also used her Emperor given overwhelming brute strength and immovable piety to crush her foes! Proving that she alone was more than a match for a hundred men or more!
The rising heroine led her people to where they were now, and through her herculean efforts the final victory was almost upon them!
As it turns out Vomia didn't need to look elsewhere to find one of His "Angels" for salvation. They had one amongst them all along...
Another explosion rocked the upper Hive levels, sending rats and similar vermin scampering away in all directions down the street to find shelter from any falling debris. None such rain of shrapnel came however, for what had landed along the upper spire level was not in fact another piece of high-explosive ordinance, but rather something perhaps magnitudes greater in destructive force.
A lone figure gracefully emerged from amongst the smoky dust cloud, the smallish form of the figure unraveling into the shape of a lone girl as the air parted around her. Long silver hair flowing freely in the wind behind her as her similarly glossy armor shined with nary a scratch upon it. Regal cool eyes of purple surveyed the destroyed street before her. Spying her target a determined frown creased her brows. Rose colored lips curled into a semi-snarl as abject hatred briefly flashed across her elegant features.
Slowly the armored figure began her approach to the end of the street, intent on wreaking vengeance upon the gathering of busy black booted mercenaries.
These sellswords, men garbed in the black and red fatigue uniforms of the Usurper and his cronies had been caught in the midst of setting up defenses in the gardens by the foot of the Royal quarters. They had been in such a rush to erect the additional defenses that they almost didn't notice the avenging angel's gradual approach. Their task halted as soon as their ears heard the measured ominous clip of the approaching figure's metal heels crash upon the cobblestone... A chill ran up their collective spines, almost as if they instinctually knew danger fast approaching.
Turning their heads towards the source of the heavy footsteps they each beheld the one responsible for orchestrating their final defeat: The Silver Haired Chevalier, the Avenging Angel, the Liberator of Vomia! All the names briefly flashed before their minds, but ultimately they could only know her by her true name: Death.
"Oh frak, it's the Princess!" One such henchman shouted, dropping the ammo crate he'd previously been carrying, scurrying to retrieve his autogun from it's sling.
Everyone else seemed to break free from their stunned stupor upon the shout and they in turn raised their rifles at the approaching figure, their confused expressions indicating that they'd expected the one who'd been their nightmare to be a much grander in size than this; if the boogeyman methodically hunting them down was this pint sized brat! Some of the men actually grew keen at the prospect of defeating such a powerful opponent, if the rumors had been false about the height of their grim reaper then perhaps her fighting prowess had been lies as well! Propoganda by these worthless Provincials meant to scare them into submission! Well, if it was just one measly brat then it'd be an easy fight indeed! Their opponent was nothing more than a little girl after all!
Oh, how they'd soon be gravely mistaken.
With a mighty kick against the cobblestone street the Princess rocketed forwards at breakneck speed, knocking up a thick cloud of dust that trailed behind in her wake as she ran. The speed at which the lone girl had rushed towards their sandbag line left the marauding men no chance to land a hit with their weapons, try as they might. Several did test their luck at nabbing a snapshot on the small deadly figure but their shots went wild, hitting their allies instead in the crossfire. Silver coated power armor crashed into the gathered men with the force of a wrecking ball, sending bodies flying in every which direction. The grown men screamed in shock and pain at the sudden blitz into their ranks.
This little monster had knocked over half a dozen with but a single charge!
With her weapon raised in hand the little warrior set to work demolishing men twice her size with ease, toppling them down by sheer force of her armored fists or by the end of her glistening weapon, one that seemed longer than she was herself yet she'd wielded with no issue. The small frame she possessed had a surprising hidden strength that the little hero utilized with practiced ease. To onlookers, it almost seemed as if the silver figure was dancing amongst the formation of the enemy, sending bodies flying with a twirl and each step matching the beat of the battle colliding around her.
Higher up the steps to the pair of giant wooden doors a team of gunners had finally managed to finish setting up their heavy bolter, the automatic gun's large barrel tracking the swift movements of the silver haired Hero. The gun let loose a stream of deafening thuds as it poured explosive bolter shells down the marble steps, scything through a row of their own comrades in the chance of taking down their tenacious enemy.
The shells detonated along the ground, but none managed to hit their intended target. With a mighty bound the silver Hero had leaped over the rain of death, landing on top of the emplaced gun with a crash. The bolter went silent as the men aiming it were swiftly dispatched. Still, a few survived the onslaught, and they too charged up the steps to meet the foe, and their doom.
Moments later, once the dance had come to a final flourish it was only the girl left standing in a sea of slain enemies.
She was soon met with the force that had been trailing behind her up the spire, they'd struggled to keep up with the Princesses' rapid advance, but soon the courtyard was full of Blue and White uniforms. The armoured warrior was now dwarfed by the men under her command, she stood tiny amongst the newly gathered crowd of PDF Gardes. Despite her diminutive size however she was easy to spot beneath the crowd, after all her radiance shined brighter than any other! (besides the Emperor of course).
Olivia Vomia, proper heir to the throne of Vomia Prime, stood gallantly in her suit of gilded silver power armor. A cape of royal purple velvet rippling in the wind behind her. Her locks of long silver hair blowing as well in the breeze, like strands of glowing sunlight.
Inside her blazing amethyst eyes there held deep a fiery spirit far greater than any other slimy hive noble, her conviction and grace marking as the true 'nobility' destined to rule this world that shared her family name, unlike the other sniveling sycophants that'd sided with her Uncle. The aureate leafy crown adorning her head shone with the same brilliant light of the Golden Throne of the Emperor on Holy Terra itself, tacitly sanctioning her as the chosen and granting her power in holy reconquest.
"The Arch Traitor is held up in the upper spire, we're nearly there just one more push and we shall have liberated us all!" As her voice shouted out the girl was met with a chorus of cheers and battle cries of the gathered men in blue and white PDF uniforms.
"Onwards men! To victory!" The small figure shouted at the top of her lungs. Together they charged forth through the final breach, past the barricades and into the enemy stronghold. More enemies met them inside, and so the battle continued it's bloody dance of death.
All of this, the wanton murder, theft, and barbarism was set off by the greed and avarice of a singular man; a beast who hungered not just for sweets and savory meats, but power beyond his to own station. And today they would see him vanquished!
Inside the top of said heavenly scraping spire the battle was finally being drawn to it's decisive conclusion. The reverberating clangs of metal on metal acting almost like the gong of a megalithic church steeple, their spirited toll announcing that the end was neigh.
The interior of the spire was a painting of utter destruction; many countless bodies of the recently fallen were stacked up together in massive bleeding heaps along the walls, morbidly some were even used as sandbags to entrench firing positions as either side of the skirmish sought protective cover. Mountains of slain corpses stained the once grand Governor's palace with deep crimson pools of their rancid blood and gore. The cowardly traitors had forever besmirched a once proud and noble place with their dishonorable offal!
The remaining ruins of the great throne room were cast about in no better a shape; priceless art pieces were torn asunder, statues toppled like fallen giants, and the better part of the arching vaulted ceiling had caved in under several artillery bombardments. Beyond the broken marble stone walls the smoke filled skies were rife with the sporadic beams of bright green tracer fire from flak cannons and the zipping screeches of rudimentary PDF fliers. Thunderous booms from below marked the detonation of heavy munitions from the myriad of smaller conflicts dotting the hive city of Vomia Prime.
Caught in the center of this swirling maelstrom of civil war two lone figures were left standing facing one another. Both of the combatants were similarly armored and poised to finish this bloody battle once and for all; one was an ugly fat golden toadlike monster, easily dwarfing an obese grox in the obscene size of it's meaty girth. While the other was the regal form of a silver haired warrior princess who challenged the gluttonous beast for the seat of the throne.
"Today you shall know true fear Princess Olivia! For I shall route your puny resistance and finally take full control over what's rightfully mine!" Krumb rumbled, swinging his meaty club into a brave yet hapless PDF trooper that'd made the regrettable mistake of bayonet charging towards the armored lard cake nearly twice his size. The smaller man's body was flung clear through a nearby window.
Krumb set his relative in a blisteringly ugly grin. "For I, the horrible Ogre King shall defeat you and take the crown and planet for myself! Muahaha!" The villain cackled in a melodramatic voice.
"Not if I have anything to say about it you vile fiend!"
The lone girl stepped forwards against the gigantic beast. Valiant and brave, the epitome of the virtues of a heroic figure. The young woman wasn't at all intimidated by the posturing of her corrupt uncle. Olivia did not back down by his mere threats, for she felt no fear. Her long silver hair blowing in an unseen breeze as she scowled up at the violent beast. "Your madness and hunger for power stops here!"
Olivia aimed her blazing sword of justice, (which for some reason resembled a long golden cudgel more than a holy relic sword), up at her treacherous family member, she would not give up the crown and her people so easily! "Krumb, your days of living have come to an end! Your evil schemes have harmed the planet and her people, and for that you shall die! In the name of the Emperor, and my family, En garde!"
"So be it!" Krumb bleated, charging forth like an enraged bull Grox. A massive battle ensued as the giant's club met Olivia's own. Sparks went flying from the contact, the power behind the strikes were so enormous that they shook the whole Upper Spire! The fate of a whole star system and perhaps even beyond hung in the balance of this momentous duel!
Before either side could land a decisive strike a thunderous booming voice shouted from the heavens, breaking through the sound of battle louder than any cannon.
"Archibald Augustus Godwin Vomia!" A stern yet caring feminine voice reprimanded, "Cease this nonsense this instant!"
The battle came to a screeching halt upon the booming command, like a pic screen set on pause. All the characters of the epic duel were caught in the midst of action, standing frozen where they were. The author of these fictitious events however wasn't subject to the interjection, the creative source for all of this imagined battle felt he had to protest for the sake of the story he was narrating. "B-but mother! It was just getting to the best part!"
"I've told you before! No playing with the cutlery! They are not your toys!" The boy's mother commanded, "Put them back right this instant or I'll have you taken back to your room!" There was no arguing against that tone of voice.
"Aww..."
The battlefield immediately faded away like fog in morning sunlight as the illusion was broken and reality took the place of imagination. The ruined throne room turned back once more into the silk white tablecloth and the combatants resumed their functions as mere tableware. The toy soldiers on either side of the battle returned back into salt and pepper shakers, most of which were toppled over or positioned into set pieces for the skirmish the boy had concocted in his head.
"...Yes mother..." Archie sighed as he followed his mother's instructions. The silver spoon that had been his elder sister Olivia was placed back where it had came from along with the gold gilded tea pot she'd been fighting to the death. The small boy who'd used said stand-ins for his imaginary (and highly embellished) recreation of the battle his sister had fought only days prior began to sulk.
"That's much better, thank you Archie," the boy's mother eased up on her motherly frown, her usual serine smile soon returning to the woman's lips. But not before an exasperated sigh could escape from her mouth. "I must admit, you have such an active imagination my child, but you must always remember to maintain your manners while at the table. It's uncouth to play with your utensils, nor while seated for dinner. You must remember this."
"Yes mother..." Archie repeated in monotone, his enthusiasm for the lesson was clearly not there. The young Prince was obviously bored out of his wits waiting for his sister to arrive. They'd been seated in the dining hall for what seemed like hours now.
As Catherine watched her son grow further tired of sitting idly by she could sympathize with his plight. She also detested upsetting the boy, but with their father gone it was up to her to set the example as the responsible adult in the family... Her husband had always known what to do in these sorts of situations; he knew how to reprimand someone for their actions while at the same time encouraging better behavior and growth. When he'd scolded Archie in the past he'd worn such a calm and stoic look, yet Catherine could tell he was also proud of their children's immense creativity. He'd only let it slip by carrying the faintest of smiles on his lips, one only she could ever notice as together they'd watch over their children playing... She missed him dearly.
Presently it was only the Mother and Son seated at the long dinner table set up within the great dining hall, no other nobles were present to see the small family of royals acting in such a way. If they weren't alone Catherine would've had to been a great deal sterner with the child, for ill-manners and a ruined reputation could be the death-knell for the unprepared royalty. It wouldn't do if other noble houses suspected she'd somehow lost control over her family as the Matriarch and assume by her very children's actions that the family were weak and vulnerable, much like her deceased traitorous brother and his side of the family had done so not even a week prior. Even the smallest of controversies could lead into full blown insurrections if not handled properly. And thus, as much as it hurt her to put a dampener on her dearest son's happiness it was a sacrifice for their continued survival.
"...Mother, when is Sister finally going to show herself?" The small boy sitting across the impossibly large dining table asked. Archibald Vomia had a rather despondent look on his face as he fiddled with the buttons on his sleeve. "I... I haven't seen her since, well, since Uncle Krumb-"
Catherine let out a shrill panicked squeak, interrupting her son and rising from her chair. "Hush now Archie! We shall never speak of that man at this table ever again!" The noblewoman admonished from the other side of the table cloth. The woman's wide purple eyes darted about anxiously, as if to gauge the reactions of the waiting servants by the far wall. None of them stirred, though that may have been due to the influence of the giant chrome headed servitor standing beside them all. Butler had that effect on most, especially when one of his enhanced mechanical arms could crush said person without much effort.
Still, it'd been a struggle and a half rooting out Krumb's remaining followers; those that had actively and tacitly allowed his little coup d'état to take place. Over the last several days many small pockets of decent or conspiracy were crushed by the PDF and those still loyal to the Vomia line. As a result of the grand purge nearly three quarters of the uppermost spire's servants had been "dismissed", often escorted to cells to await trial or (and it was unnerving to think of how many) had been gunned down in firefights upon their attempted arrest. Judging by the number of weapons caches uncovered and by the number of those fanatic enough to risk combat with the PDF when being detained it was no small wonder the planet wasn't already in full scale revolt... It was a blessing by the Emperor that the traitors had been so unorganized.
Catherine shuddered to imagine what a full scale conflict would look like on this planet... Unlike her son she wasn't quite so optimistic on their chances of winning should war break out.
Their forces were small, far too small in fact; the number of remaining PDF gardes were barely enough to maintain order amongst the lower rungs of the hive city and the outskirts leading into the countryside beyond. They'd had to enlist the aid of several guilds and underhive "security" firms to patrol the sections the PDF didn't have the manpower to patrol. And even then, there was no guarantee these mercenary forces could remain loyal under the current circumstances with the state the planetary treasury was in. As much as she detested her traitorous relative, Krumb had been the industrial kingpin to Vomia Prime, and with him and his branch family gone the vacuum of power left behind in their stead was as much of a deathbow as their little coup d'état. The scar upon the economy would be felt for decades to come... And in the meantime the Governor's purse was getting thinner by the minute. Soon they'd need to start levying taxes just to keep the oil in the lamps burning... So it was imperative they avoided any such needless bloodshed, not while they were in such dire straights.
Also, the thought of placing her remaining family at risk by triggering a civil war sent shivers down the noblewomen's spine. She'd rather not have Olivia nor Archie placed in such mortal danger again if she could help it.
And so, while she temporarily held the reigns of the planet Catherine had felt like she was tip toeing across a mine field, while blind folded... And told there were poisonous vipers lurking out of sight. Navigating the hazards of undetected splinter cells of rebels or ambitious factions waiting to seize power from a weakened ruling family.
Once she was sure that none among the maids or wait staff were about to avenge their fallen leader at the ill mention of his name Catherine returned her focus to the boy, speaking in a much softer tone. "But yes, your sister seems to be doing quite, er... fine, she's been looked after by some of our best physicians on the planet after all!" Catherine forced a smile, hoping her son didn't see past the front she was putting up. "She should be here with us shortly."
The answer didn't quite seem to satisfy the young child, who merely groaned in response. "But you said that last time Mother..." Archie sighed, "...I miss her dearly." The boy pouted, poking a finger at the silver spoon.
Catherine held back her own sigh, instead reaching across the table to pat her son's small hand. "Patience dear, your sister is... Dealing with a condition at the moment. I'm sure she'll come out to us soon enough."
Archie frowned in concern, but relented. "You're right Mother, I just hope Sister is feeling better..."
Catherine had noticed how the little Prince had progressively became more and more enamored (i.e. obsessed) over his older sibling. After her recent uncharacteristic display of heroics, by defeating their treacherous uncle in single combat and saving all of their lives, the boy had come to almost worship his previously distant sibling. (He wasn't the only one it seemed, as the mother had heard rumors from her spies of a certain member of the Ecclesiarchy spreading strange sermons about her other troublesome child. But so far she couldn't confirm the validity of a new Imperial Cult being built around her daughter.)
"You've really gained an interest in your Elder sister, haven't you Archie?" Catherine smiled regardless of her personal misgivings, she was just glad her two children were finally getting along.
The boy looked up at his mother with a renewed interest and excitement. "Oh most definitely! I never knew Olivia was so amazing!" The boy gushed with stars in his eyes, "She's like those heroes I read about in my books! The ones that fight against the foes of the Imperium and crush the enemies of Humanity!"
Of course, Catherine mused, only now slightly regretting her decision to gift her son a collection of Ciaphas Cain autobiographies for his tenth birthday.
"When sister started fighting back then she was like 'Pow!' 'Bam!' 'Crash!' And all those rotten nobles were laid out on the floor! Then, there was how she'd smashed Kr-" A quick glare by Catherine cut the word short in the boy's mouth, "...She'd smashed that ugly brute through the window! It was so awesome!"
"...Indeed, it certainly was a blessing to know that Olivia can handle herself in a duel." Catherine chuckled behind her hand, enjoying her child's excitement. Inwardly however the noblewoman ruminated on a thought that still had no answer. Though I still have no idea on where she'd learned to fight like that, we owe our lives and our people's lives to her bravery... But how did Olivia manage to fight like that?
Truth be told Catherine felt much the same as her son on the matter of her daughter's recent heroism, though perhaps not in the similar hero worship the boy had begun attributing to his sister. She instead worried endlessly about her eldest child, but more so for her health; at first it had been the heartbreak of seeing the back of Olivia's skull smashed in by one of Krumb's cronies, then after her miraculous recovery it was the girl's sudden change in personality...
Olivia's previous demeanor had been best described by some of the servants as "like an ornery Grox shoved into a dress and told she was the child of the Emperor"... Which was to say she'd always been rather unladylike and overbearing. Olivia would often berate the servants, scolding them for not fulfilling her every impossible wish, and chastising them for never arriving promptly enough with her favorite deserts. She would act high and mighty, lording over all those she deemed lesser than her by birthright (which was quite frankly almost everybody alive on the planet, with very few exceptions). Often she'd purposefully go out of her way to smear and slander those who she targeted for her amusement. Worst of all she took pleasure in deliberately stirring trouble between different noble Houses, seemingly just for the sport of it! Olivia would cackle as dynasties that'd served loyally for generations were torn apart by her subtle trickery... Olivia's abuse of power and massive selfish ego had been well known throughout the upper spire by this point, a black stain only dwarfed by Krumb's own heinous deeds.
As much as she was loath to agree with them, Catherine was not blind to her daughter's ill actions. Olivia had made it hard to believe she was indeed a truly good person, which every mother believes exists deep down in their children... But there was just so many times she could excuse her darling daughter's abhorrent behavior, especially when she herself had to apologize directly to several lesser nobles when their son's cape was set aflame... With the boy still in it.
Perhaps... Perhaps she's finally changed after taking that blow to her head. Catherine wondered to herself hopefully. Olivia's demeanor had certainly changed; from that of selfish to selfless in the heat of the battle. Even charging forth to save her little brother, and purposefully led a rampaging Krumb away from the unconscious nobles so they wouldn't be crushed. Even though they had betrayed her she still tried to save them.
Catherine hummed, a crease forming on her brow as she tried to make heads or tails of her mysterious child. Neither of these things were something the old Olivia would have done before, and neither was she trained in fencing nor martial arts... So how did she defeat so many that day?
Catherine kept pondering these questions that'd plagued her ever since the attempted coup. The answers she wanted were sadly kept locked away inside her daughter's dreaming mind, unavailable while she slept off the deep exhaustion she'd suffered from battle. After the third day of comatose slumber Catherine had began to worry...
That was until one of the maids tasked with monitoring Olivia's condition reported that her child had recently awoken and was in perfect physical health, only then did Catherine breath a sigh of relief. The maid had even taken it upon herself to see if Olivia was free of any malady or taint of corruption, the reasons for such a serious course of inspections weren't revealed by the maid, but she'd assured the concerned mother and temporary regent that her daughter was healthy as can be... With only a slight caveat...
Archie began toying with the silver tea spoon once more, a longing look upon his youthful face. "I can't wait to see dear sister again. I want to know what it's like, to be a hero."
"No! I don't want to!" I whined, shivering and hiding in terror behind a large decorative stone pillar.
"You have to!" Lydia shouted in annoyance, attempting to pull me out from my marble hidey-hole. Despite my much smaller frame I was surprisingly sturdy, my fingers were like vices as they clamped down onto the Greek styled pillar. It was a fight and a half before the maid finally dragged me out from behind the display pedestal, kicking and screaming... I blame the slipperiness of the tile flooring and my crumby high heeled shoes. Zero traction in these bad boys.
"You were invited to dinner by the Queen-Regent and Prince themselves! An invitation, mind you, you've ignored for the third time in a row!" My bossy maid said, "So to spare them any further insult we're going! Whether you want to or not!"
Lydia had at this point dragged me down the vacant hallway, through several floors of this endlessly tall spire, and all the way up to a rather gigantic set of wooden doors, which were inlaid with gold and more skulls than a Punisher convention at Fort Knox.
Seriously, what was up with the Imperium and their bloody skulls? From the number of servo skulls flittering about the place, to the skulls used as little roomba floor cleaners, there wasn't a room that didn't have some form human remains repurposed into some part of the furniture. It was all so overly edgy and morbid it made me slightly nauseous. In just the last minute alone I counted at least slightly over a dozen severed dead heads... I was also pretty sure if you just added in some blood fountains and changed some of the gold to brass this place would be right up Khorne's alley... Note to self: hire a new interior decorator before we're all charged with heresy.
Aside from the bones littering the place the vast hallway we'd been traveling down was fully decorated with many elegantly carved stone sculptors and art pieces, none of which were thankfully alive to bare witness to our embarrassing display of chicanery. This wasn't somewhere dark and depraved like the Dark Eldar city of Commorragh after all, where the leather couches were made of still living people... Or well, now that I think on it, technically we Humans in the Imperium made people we didn't like into desktop computers or vending machines. I even recalled reading something about rebellious students being entombed into the walls of the Schola Progenium after a minor rebellion, so we weren't far too dissimilar to those spike knife ear fuckers... I sincerely hope none of these walls had living people entombed in them, literally giving the walls a set of eyes and ears. The dead skulls were already too much.
Man, now that I think of it this whole place was just about perfect for a bunch of cultists and depraved xenos... It gave me the willies.
"They've been patiently waiting for three days to see you again, all while you hid under the covers!" The maid chided, literally dragging me back to reality. "The least you can do is show up for a single meal with them!"
It was also the most I could do as well. I'd been hiding in my room for the past several days on purpose; after the realization had struck me that I'd been stuck in the worst Isekai imaginable I was mortally terrified of ever stepping foot outside my comforting pillow fort. Beyond the protection and comfort of my bedroom walls was a hive city, and perhaps a planet, full of treacherous nobles and crazy religious zealots ready to take me out at the slightest provocation... At least inside that room I felt somewhat safe, okay? Otherwise my neurosis flared up the moment I was exposed to the harsh reality I was stranded in.
"I dun wanna!" I pouted again, sounding a lot more petulant than I had anticipated... I blame the squeakiness of my new voice box.
"Especially not after you made me wear this... This... This abomination!" I gestured wildly to the horrendously frilly garment I'd been shoved into. "It's downright humiliating!"
I attempted to pluck at the pink ribbon holding my corset together. My short arms couldn't quite reach the spot it was tied to on back, I was stuck like a dog chasing it's own tail.
"It's called a 'Dress' M'lady," Lydia deadpanned, she was well and truly fed up with all my whinging by now. "Get used to wearing such unfamiliar garments, because you'll be wearing them a lot from now on."
I stopped my circles to glare back at the red headed maid. "Yeah yeah, I know what a dress is Lydia, I'm not stupid," I rolled my eyes back at her, judging by the look my crazy maid was giving me she didn't believe that for one second. "I'm asking why you specifically forced me to wear this pink and yellow one! It's ugly as fuck!" I made no effort to hide my disgust.
"I thought everyone was supposed to wear dark and depressing colors in the 42nd millennium, not pink and fluffy! I look like someone chewed up and spat out a Rosy Maple Moth on a dress! Even I can tell this is too garish!"
Lydia smirked, actually smirked! The gall of this bitch! "Because you look adorable in it. That's why." Lydia stood back to admire the puffy pink and yellow monstrosity I'd become.
"Before M'lady would never be caught dead wearing frills or such cute outfits, so I always wondered what she'd look like in them. So consider this merely some small selfishness on the part of your 'most loyal' maid." Lydia struggled to halt her small bout of giggles at my morose expression. "Aaand I'll admit, it's also bit of harmless revenge for being such a massive karking twat. Two birds, one stone."
My blood boiled, so I flipped this conniving maid off. "Fuck you!" My Barbie's first gala appearance did absolutely no favors to the menacing image of my seething rage. It's so goddamn hard to be taken seriously when you're now half your original height, I swear.
"You were too much of a coward to try." The maid fired back in a huff, a slight blush resting on her freckled cheeks. "You nearly made me question my whole life and sexuality with that little stunt you pulled that night! Pulling me down to the covers and nearly taking my... Nearly taking my purity away from me! All because you pleaded and whispered those sweet nothings in my ear, like how 'you needed me' and how your heart was throbbing so hard it was about ready to burst! Your words sounded like a confession by a love-struck youth, burning with hormonal passion!" Lydia made a fake motion of swooning over such a dramatic confession. "Oh, Emperor! I blame you if I could never marry!"
I swallowed a hard lump in my throat, feeling the weight of my guilt. I'd come close to doing something unforgivable, hadn't I? Even if it'd been a misunderstanding. "...In retrospect, I'll admit I really should have chosen my words a bit more carefully..."
Lydia peered down at me, a raised eyebrow lifted as she drove home her point. "Yes, as you should. When the seemingly highest ranking Imperial authority in the system implies they wish to share their bed I couldn't have said 'no' now could I? I'm but a lowly maid after all, a servant, a serf! Your word is law now, and other people's lives will hinge upon your every word, so as a little piece of advice it'd be wise to be more cautious of your new authority from now on, 'Oliver'."
The deathly expression of the crimson haired maid made while using my actual name made me take a shaky step backwards. Nobody but her knew of it, seeing as I had confessed my true identity to her. Should she wish she had the leverage to toss me to the Inquisition on that much alone. Confiding in her seemed to have been a horrible idea in hindsight now... "Th-that was all by accident! I swear!"
"Hmm..."
"A-and I'm sorry for misleading you, I didn't mean to abuse my position! I just didn't know what was going on!" By this point I was blushing like mad, though more so because I was cringing in embarrassment in remembering the sordid event and not at all in how I remembered how large certain parts of Lydia's anatomy were. Entirely irrelevant.
"Fine... I shall forgive my new 'O so incompetent' mistress for her very first blunder. I'm even so magnanimous that I shan't breathe a word of the exact nature of her newfound wayward soul." Lydia spoke, putting on fake airs as I began to sweat bullets under the threat of being ratted out for the abnormal fraud I really was. It was a death sentence in the Imperium if others knew of my true nature.
Lydia went on, grinning mischievously, like a cat finding it's latest prey to toy with. "But for me to do so you'll have to take responsibility for my humiliation, by allowing me to choose your wardrobe from now on." The red headed maid giggled behind a white gloved hand as she looked me over once again. "And I've got to say, I'm so glad I chose this as your first dress. Seeing you all flustered like this is rather quite enjoyable, takes out some of my work stress."
My eye twitched at that. I was nobody's plaything! Briefly forgetting the dynamics of how much blackmail this snarky maid had on me I fired back as my temper flared. "Just because your mind went straight to the gutter that one time, after being pushed down so easily, doesn't mean I should be the one solely taking 'responsibility' for it like this! It's absurd!" I placed my hands on the hips of my gaudy dress, squaring up to the woman nearly twice my height who put me in it.
"I've apologized repeatedly for my mistakes, but this is just cruel! You've had me subjected to hours of wibbly wobbly Exorcism by that Brother Martin fellow and forced me into standing naked for the worst medical checkup in history! I was being scanned by a creepy pile of cogs and wires! Also, I'll sue you if he uploads those nudes to the Noosphere! They were for medical purposes only!" I threatened, the squeaky chirping I made only seemed to broaden the Cheshire smile of this servant.
"And besides, you nearly slit my throat after you cornered me on the bed, so I think we're even!" I countered.
Lydia smirked some more, clearly enjoying the banter, as if we were merely a pair of school girls having a trivial spat. "True, though that was because you were acting suspiciously weird, you weirdo!" Lydia huffed. "What else was I supposed to do if you'd been replaced by some malicious imposter, or worse, became some worshipper of a false faith?"
Lydia shrugged and shook her head, her long braid swishing behind her. "Turns out instead it's merely an annoying crazy parasite living rent free inside the Planetary Governor's daughter's body while M'lady's original soul is Emperor knows where. Oh the travesty."
"Look, I didn't choose to be here either! If I knew how to put things back the way they were I'd do so in a heartbeat! Trust me!" I said frowning, "But as far as I can tell 'Olivia' is maybe still in here somewhere... Or part of me, I dunno, it's weird. I keep getting flashes of her memories, bits 'n' pieces now and again, and from the vision I had courtesy of this darn leafy crown it makes me think our souls are somehow bonded together. So until I figure that all out you've just got to suck it up and deal with the present 'me' until further notice!"
"Oh, what a shame. You get to live in the lap of luxury while I have to pretend to carter to your every whim. What a tragedy this is for you." Lydia snarked.
"And you just don't realize how royally fucked this title really is!" I shouted, "If the proverbial sword of Damocles falls on top of my head I'll be sure my blood squirts in your eyeballs! You jerk!"
"Yes yes, I'll be sure to wipe up any mess your corpse makes when some Inquisitor comes by." Lydia said in a rather bored tone of voice. "But in the meantime may I just remind you that my main job, the one given to me by the former Governor, which is now your biological father at the moment, was to make sure that 'Olivia' didn't go too far out of line... And that was before this all nonsense started." Lydia sighed, "To me it almost seems like you've been intentionally skipping across said proverbial line, like it was an Emperor forsaken game."
I merely shrugged. "Well... I mean when you get down to it, all of this is kinda a game of sorts. Or at least it's all based off of one. Can't blame me for wanting to have some fun?"
Lydia pinched her nose, of all the things I'd spoken to her that was by far the one topic that'd absolutely rubbed her the wrong way. Me being a weird ass spirit possessing another Human being was one thing (Daemon hosts were unfortunately a hazard here in the 42nd millennium after all) but being told her whole reality was all a massive lie was a pill far too large for her to swallow. "...Again M'lady, I find that part of your story rather all too hard to believe. Telling me 'Your whole universe is a fantasy, based off a children's figurine game' screams pure and utter nonsense to me. It's really quite mad, and bordering on heresy if I might add."
I bristled at the use of the 'H' word. A shiver running down my spine as I instantly peered around for anyone within earshot. To be fair, if there was anyone nearby Lydia wouldn't dare be speaking to me in such a casual tone, nor dish out so many insults one after the other. But you could never be too careful.
After Lydia'd found out I wasn't a high born noble scion she'd nearly immediately dropped all pretenses of professional conduct, at least when it was the two of us. I'm sure if some stuffy old butler found us yammering on like this he'd throw a fit before throwing Lydia out an airlock for the scandalous act of a mere maid talking back to a noble. I actually didn't mind Lydia's brusque attitude, I found she was much easier for me to deal with this way, and apparently her "middle rung" hive speak was highly similar to a modern English accent, or well Low Gothic as it is called. Kinda reminded me of some people I knew back at the office, those that'd transferred in from our UK holdings in London.
"I told you the truth didn't I? Not once did I lie about any of it!" I whisper shouted, pointing a finger up at the disingenuous maid. "You said you could tell when people told lies around you! Everything I've said, about being from 'Terra' during the 2nd millennium. Of being a completely different person. Of how I have no idea how I got here? I told you things that'd get me turned into a servitor for less, and this is how you repay my secrets?! Using them to call me mad? How rude!"
"Hmmm, true, you didn't tell me anything you didn't believe to be false... But then again I suppose it's something only an idiot would make up, and idiots aren't much of a threat."
Ouch! I was so threatening! I seethed, puffing my cheeks out while Lydia continued mocking me. I could feel a few tears struggling to make it out the side of my eyes.
Lydia only giggled at my expense... I'd let her have this, if a little bullying by this red headed harlot was what it'd take to earn her good graces then I'd allow it. She'd put up with my petulance for several days after we'd had our little heart to heart discussion. It only seemed fair.
After explaining myself and laying bare my soul, showing her all the cards I had in my tiny little hands, Lydia's hostility meter had dropped dramatically from 'slice 'n dice!' to 'I don't get paid enough for this shit'... Speaking of, I am paying her a salary... right? For the amount she was tolerating I'd give her a gold star and a raise if I could.
That tangent aside it'd been a struggle and a half to convince her I wasn't a corrupted warp daemon and instead merely some misbegotten sort of benign human soul who'd fucked up royally somehow and possessed her master's child by accident. It wasn't easy, but after being poked and prodded by several 'holy' relics and not bursting into flames it seemed to satisfy Lydia's paranoia... Which in the 42nd millennium was actually a rather good trait to have.
I shuddered to imagine what would have happened if she'd felt I was something other than merely a lost Human soul... Lydia's mood could swing on a dime, from playful teasing to downright cold blooded murder...
I also wasn't entirely a moron, as much as this stupid body and it's young hormones forced me to act like it; I at least knew I was being an annoying little brat most of the time, but from what I'd heard from Lydia, as well as the faint residual memories I gained from this body's previous inhabitant, I was a practical saint compared to the Original Olivia. The body's old owner had apparently been much muuuch worse when it'd come to pissing everyone off; a female version of Dennis the Menace, uncaring on how much damage she'd do and who she'd hurt in her lust for entertainment. So perhaps Lydia saw me as an upgrade of sorts?
There were far, far too many mysteries regarding this single servant, and at this point some of them I'd gladly leave buried; especially since Lydia could be rather tight lipped when it came to asking her about her rather large collection of knives. Or why she seemed perfectly unfazed by the 'Holy Light' my crown somehow emitted on occasions. Brother Martin had been positively bowing at my feet when I blasted the both of them, and yet this maid only seemed mildly enthused after being give a golden shower... Wait- Shit! Not what I meant!
Mental note: NEVER REFER TO THE MAGICAL CROWN FORCE FIELD THINGY LIKE THAT AGAIN!
Anyways. While I knew I shouldn't push my boundaries with this knife happy maid for some reason I couldn't help myself... Every word I said seemed to end up with my foot stuck in my mouth; I'd say things I didn't mean, or act far too immature for my age. Or well, the age I was previously before I died. Perhaps I was just having hormonal imbalances with this sudden sex change or I was starting to act the age of this Olivia character I'd been forced into. I swear I wasn't so spastic in my old adult body.
Lydia still insisted on referring to me as 'M'lady', despite knowing that I was a male before my soul skipping. She admitted it was mostly out of years of habit by this point anyways and refused to change her manner of addressing me. Regardless, even after divulging everything to her and admitting that I wasn't in fact the same Princess she'd previously served I was surprised Lydia kept tending to me as my personal servant. I would have thought she'd decide to sell me out to the Inquisition, or worse, once I admitted the truth. But nobody came in the middle of the night to black bag me, so I guess she hadn't told anyone yet. Why this was the case I couldn't fathom. Lydia was dogmatic enough in her beliefs in the Imperial Creed in almost every other regard, so having a soul skipping abhuman confess to her should have been my death sentence... And yet I still lived... So long as I towed the Imperial line of propaganda around everyone and at least pretend to be an Imperial governor I guess Lydia seemed content to let me live.
...At least until a Black Ship came by to pluck me up and away to be made into Emperor protein shakes. I shivered at the idea of being carted away in chains aboard one of those hellish ships.
Sensing that I'd retreated back into my usual depressive funk Lydia took the opportunity make some last minute adjustments to my outfit. She busied herself rearranging my dress to where it'd previously been set before I'd gone and messed it up. Her soft hands making short work of any creases in my dress and combing my hair back into order. Honestly, it made me feel like I was a child being fussed over... Which was exactly how it looked like from the outside. It was a good thing the spire was practically empty save a skeleton crew of servants, if someone had passed us by I'd have died of embarrassment.
"After all the effort I put into making you look presentable and you go and mess it up like this."
"...Don't blame me for how shitty this outfit is, it snags on everything and gets in the way when I run."
"Then why run away in the first place? Why cause such a scene M'lady? It's just a simple dinner with Olivia's birth mother and sibling. You go in, show that you're not totally brain damaged, eat some of the best dishes on the planet, and then I cart you back to your room. It can't be all that unpleasant."
I shot a look up at the maid. "Too late for that, it's already highly nerve wracking! I thought nearly having my throat slit by you was frightening, but beyond those doors I'm expecting a whole new level of dread..."
"Oh don't be ridiculous. I know I shouldn't bad mouth the royal family, but those two are as docile as flax-sheep."
"...Well, what if it is?" I turned my face away from the maid, not wanting to show the heat on my face. "I don't know any of them. To go through pretending to be their family just seems wrong to me... I... I technically killed their daughter, I think at least, when I took over this body. Or, I at least merged with her, I dunno." A memory resurfaced, of when I'd first woken up on this world, of Catherine bawling her eyes out believing her child had just been murdered in front of her... It twisted something deep inside me. That fragmented memory of her face hurt to recall.
"To just act like everything is fine, and pretend... I don't think I can do it."
Lydia didn't say anything for a long second, she just continued sorting out the ribbons on the dress and fixing my hair until she was finished. She hummed a gentle hymn or something while she did so, the tune was nice and calmed down my nerves somewhat. Once she was finished cleaning me up she turned me around and looked me dead in the eyes. "That's just another reason why I don't believe you're an evil Warp spirit M'lady. You seem to oddly care for other Humans, more so than the old Olivia ever did at least."
"...So now you believe I'm not some kind of demon?"
"Oh, I never said that." Lydia smirked, "You're just not an evil one." The young woman straightened out the little amethyst broach resting upon my collar, the white silk ribbon securing it in place was smooth, but sometimes my fidgeting would shift it around. That broach and the crown was almost perpetually stuck to me, and Lydia made sure I never removed either without good reason.
"I'll admit, whatever you really are you're still something odd, and I still don't trust you enough to not frak something up, so I need to keep my eye on you."
I deadpanned at my maid, unamused. "...I appreciate your vote of confidence in my moral character Lydia. Truly."
"I am sworn to carry your burdens M'lady." Lydia bowed before knocking on the giant skull ridden door. I had a dinner date with destiny to attend to.