Author's Note: For those interested, there are now eight advance chapters on P-atreon (remove the spaces and dash): p-atreon/ SkySage24.
"Our target is this: the so-called Krooked Klaw clan," Sernalla gestured to the holographic display of the local sector, particularly to the mishappen splash of green to the northeast.
The Iyanden Council chambers were empty except for the Craftworld's Marshal and the Everqueen's Knight, Cadaith. The others were busy with other matters, but this was their work alone.
"I sent a few psychomatons to scout ahead, and as far as I can tell, the Krooked Klaw are the most powerful of the warring Ork clans. They control roughly half a dozen star systems already. They are close to establishing their dominance over all other Orks in the region," Sernalla continued, even as Cadaith steepled his fingers, leaning forward to listen intently.
"We don't have the forces or ability to smash their empire, but that's not the goal here. As the Everqueen said, our objective is-"
"-to cut off the head, yes. I remember what she said," Cadaith replied. "I am Her Serenity's champion, I can recall basic commands she gives us."
Sernalla's eyebrow twitched, but she didn't argue. "The main target is the Warboss Kulo and his lieutenants," she said instead. A flick of her wrist caused the display to expand and focus on the green smear, showing the division between the clans. "They're what's holding the Krooked Klaw together, and cowing the other Orks in the region. With them dead, the Krooked Klaw will tear itself apart and the other Orks will pounce at the show of weakness. The resultant infighting should curtail the expansion of the Orks for at least another ten years."
Cadaith hummed, leaning back in his chair. He understood the mission and he would obey for it had come from the Everqueen herself…but it grated on his pride as a scion of Ulthanesh to let this vermin go unchecked. To not exterminate them utterly, so that the civilized races might not be bothered by them.
This was not possible, of course. Iyanden's psychomatons were limited in number, and civilian-grade besides. They could still perform the decapitation strike handily, but to crush every Ork clan in the region underfoot would require forces they simply did not have.
Why had the Dominion at its height not simply eradicated the Ork menace outright? The pleasure cults were too stupid and self-absorbed, of course, but why not before they had risen to power?
Cadaith wondered if the Everqueen would tell him if he asked. Or would she dismiss it as insolence?
It was hard to say. Cadaith had no desire to offend their Mother, for he had sworn to be her faithful knight and champion. She had accepted his oath, and given him the power to carry it through.
The power still burned within him now, a divine flame that Cadaith was conscious of with every passing moment. It granted him both strength and insight.
All Eldar could see into the Aethyr, of course, but ever since the Fall, most of them could only see the darkness, the maw of the great monster waiting for them.
With the light of the Everqueen, the darkness had not been eradicated but it had been pushed back. An apt metaphor for the lives of all of Iyanden.
It was something they could never truly repay the Everqueen for, but Cadaith was determined to live up to his oath and prove that he was worthy of her blessing.
No matter the skepticism from some quarters.
"There is a Webway Gate right here," Sernalla said, highlighting one section of the map. "It will deposit you just near the edge of the Krooked Klaw's systems. From there, once you link up with…the humans, you can take this gate to the moon of their central world."
Cadaith suppressed a frown at the hitch in Sernalla's voice when she said, humans. For all their differences, they both agreed that they disliked the idea of working with the servants of the so-called Emperor…but it was what the Everqueen had commanded.
"I find the humans distasteful as well, but it is what the Everqueen had commanded," Cadaith told the Marshal. "We must do as she says."
Sernalla's eyes flashed angrily. "Did I say that we should not?" She snapped. "I don't recall suggesting we should disobey Mother."
"No, but your annoyance was obvious. You should not let such things show."
Sernalla's prosthetic hand clenched, the crystalline fingers briefly sharpening into claws before morphing back again. "I don't need a lecture from you on manners, Cadaith. You may be one of the Everqueen's champions, but you are not my parent or superior."
"I only meant-"
"I know what you meant," Sernalla said frostily, standing up. "The psychomatons will be waiting for you in the bay. Don't be late."
Without waiting for another word, the Marshal stalked out of the room, ignoring Cadaith's calls for her to wait.
Cadaith sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Perhaps he should have been gentler with his reproval. While it was unbefitting, Cadaith would be lying if he said he did not understand how Sernalla felt.
Working with humans was one thing, which Cadaith could have understood. It was the duty of the Eldar to shepherd the lesser races, and forgetting that duty in favour of abusing them was a great mark of shame for the Dominion.
But working with the Emperor's servants…
Cadaith shuddered as he remembered the oppressive heat, the titan of black-gold flame pressing a blade to the throat of Iyanden. The struggle to breathe, the overwhelming fear, the promise of death…
It had been one of the worst moments of his life. He had been utterly helpless, unable to do anything but watch as a foreign god threatened to destroy Iyanden and one of the last few remnants of their people.
Cadaith's nightmares had been haunted by the Emperor since then, only second in frequency to the Devourer birthed by the pleasure cults. And he knew wasn't the only one. The Emperor was a figure of fear and dread for the entire Craftworld, from the most ancient travellers to the toddlers in their cribs.
Working alongside his servants was an unbearable thought.
Yet, it had to be done. For Iyanden's safety, for the Everqueen's safety, for the oath that Cadaith had sworn.
He picked up his mask from the table, running his fingers over it. It had been modelled in Ulthanesh's visage, but he had made some modifications recently, with green lines and the rune of Isha on the forehead to honour his goddess.
Cadaith donned the mask, before striding from the room as well.
Outside, his faithful retainers were waiting.
His guards sprang to a salute at his appearance, and Cadaith smiled below his mask.
Let the rest of Iyanden scoff at their traditions and the ideals they had chosen to uphold, to turn their noses up at the idea of nobility as backwards and foolish nonsense.
This was loyalty.
"At ease, my friends," He said.
"Lord Cadaith," They nodded, following him as he walked away from the Council chambers.
"We saw Marshal Sernalla leave. She seemed angry," His sworn sword and old friend Argon said, an unspoken question in his voice.
"We disagreed, I'm afraid," Cadaith said, reluctant to delve into the specifics. "It is not relevant to our mission. She will make the arrangements as requested."
"Of course, sire." Argon agreed though Cadaith could sense the curiosity burning within him. But his old friend would never let that overcome his sense of propriety.
"Let us be off, my friends," Cadaith declared. "We must make our goodbyes, and then to war! We have Orks to kill."
"You…want me to go deal with the Orks?"
The Emperor waved a hand. "In a fashion. The bulk of the work will be handled by Iyanden's forces, but this is a goodwill mission of sorts, my son. I want you to go talk to the Aeldari and make a good impression on them."
Horus blinked, baffled. When his father had summoned him to his office and said he was sending him on a mission outside Sol, he had been delighted. Horus had not expected to be given leave to depart Terra for any matter for years, so this had been exciting.
But that it wasn't an actual campaign and just a diplomatic mission…that was disappointing.
"Can't someone else go?" Horus asked, instantly hating how whiny his voice came out. "I mean…the Imperium has many diplomats, Father. I feel that my skills are better used on the battlefield."
The Emperor shook his head from behind his desk. Even though he was sitting down and Horus was standing, the two of them were eye to eye.
"I could not trust any of them with this, Horus. It is far too important, and the Eldar would not respect them in any case."
Horus blinked. "Why not?"
"The Eldar are a bio-engineered race, my son," The Emperor explained. "They are faster, stronger and more long-lived than normal humans, in addition to being universally psychically powerful as well. They will not respect a frail mortal diplomat, no matter how charming or skilled said diplomat is."
"So they're all like Lady Isha?" Horus scowled, remembering the disapproval she had radiated the last time they had met.
"Lady Isha is…a special case. She is the eldest of the Aeldari who survived the destruction of their empire, and far more powerful than any others. The average Eldar is neither as skilled nor strong as she is, but they are still more than humans, enough to endow them with a false sense of superiority," The Emperor paused for a moment, his golden eyes thoughtful before he spoke again. "Most Eldar also do not share Lady Isha's values, my son. She believes in the value of all life and can be somewhat excessively soft-hearted, my son. The others of her race…they are more arrogant, more callous."
Horus's scowl became more thoughtful as he absorbed his father's words. "If they're that arrogant, will they listen even to me?"
"They will," The Emperor said with absolute confidence. "They are Eldar, but you are a Primarch. You are beyond even them, despite your youth. And you will not be alone, with two whole chapters of the Sixteenth Legion at your back."
Horus nodded, anticipation filling him. "So I'm supposed to show them humans are worthy of respect?"
"Yes, but also that we can be trusted. Eldar arrogance and xenophobia aside, when they first arrived, I…frightened them rather badly," The Emperor explained. "It had to be done, but now that Iyanden knows the Imperium is not to be crossed, they must also know that we can be reliable partners and allies."
"I'll do my best, Father," Horus promised, mentally pulling up lessons on diplomacy and politics. He had never thought he would need them much, but he should have known his father had a good reason.
The Emperor always did.
"I'm sure you will, son," The Emperor said, smiling. "Be charming, be strong and I'm sure the Eldar will be impressed by you. Don't worry too much about the Orks, the Eldar war machines are more than up to the task. You may have to do some fighting, that will be good for you, get a taste of what it's like to deal with Orks, but that's not the main concern."
"Are you sure, father? Surely we can do more damage if I and my Marines take the lead."
The Emperor shook his head firmly. "No. The Ork clans are simply too large and widespread. The Imperium does not have the armies and fleets to eradicate them utterly my son, it is an unfortunate truth of logistics. Your time will come once we have expanded, and Mars has had time to build our fleets."
Horus nodded, disgruntled but unable to dispute the simple material realities that constrained him.
But any annoyance and disappointment he might have felt was wiped by the Emperor's next words.
"I'm counting on you Horus, there is no one else I can trust with this."
Author's Note: The Krooked Klaw Clan is canonical, and isn't due to be wiped out for years yet, after it would have grown much larger. You can find information about them in the Battle of Rust page on Lexicanum.