I am not a good writer, never have been. But I like Jurgen, and I like all the work people have done here. From Zahariel's chapters, to all of the sidestories and cheeky 1-4 liners that are scattered amongst the pages.
I hope someone enjoys this little offering of mine in which I submit to you all as thanks for the magnificent story saved here.
Used the two side stories, "A Mug of Recaf", and "The Smallest Detail" as reference. So if you notice the refences or bits I used... good for you.
Not sure what to call it, if it even deserves a name.
People had never really liked Jurgen, and the feeling was mutual to him. This feeling was shared with most that Jurgen met in his travels in life, sometimes amplified to the extreme, but he tried not to think of that experience as much as possible. There was 1 special case however. 1 person who he trusts beyond all others. The one sitting in front of him with the leaders of Slawkenberg. The man who had risked his own life to save him when all others would have left him for death or expended him like a power cell without thought. Ciaphas Cain. The liberator of Slawkenberg. The one he had pledged his life to all those years ago.
He stood at ease to his left. Both as to be able to aid him in anything asked of him, and to watch over him. After what had happened at the celebration of his master's name day with the lady inquisitor, he wasn't game to let his lord out of his sight again.
To his right, sometimes leaning against a wall appearing to relax, other times mirroring him standing to Cain's right, was Malicia. Once Drukhari raider, now bloodward to the liberator. Bonded into his service by lady Emeli. He never was sure how to feel about her. For one, she was a xeno, someone all of humanity, no matter their allegiance, had been taught to both hate and fear. But on the other hand, she was eternally branded with the same symbol of Emeli. When he focused himself and felt her essence, where there would usually be an eternally leaking faucet of light slowly ebbing into the realm of souls as is usual with her kind, there was now a tainted flame marked with the essence of her master's spouse.
The Liberation Council meeting was coming to an end. Topics ranging from new tank production lines and material redistribution, to urban planning and proposed contracts for expansion of hab-blocks for the citizenry had been discussed, argued, evaluated, and modified to exhausting lengths that even Telison-Kappa in their mechanically augmented state was beginning to show signs of possibly being drowsy. A rare sight to see in the Borgs outside of them needing to spend time meditating and recharging.
Cain particularly was showing signs of exhaustion, letting his head fall down against the table as the last of the council filed out of the room after passing on their leaving remarks to their compatriots. It was at times like this when Jurgen often found Cain would enjoy a glass to sometimes full bottle from the overturned Governor's, now the Liberator's, private cellar, in which bottles, cartens, kegs, racks, sacks, buckets, and even frozen cubes of various liquors from all over the galaxy had consolidated into a small wonder of different smells and tastes that would amaze the senses. Such a beauty was preserved during the initial rebellion partly to its out of the way location, but also by Cain's own interest in the chamber and its contents, often visiting it for long periods of time after tenuous events. At first Jurgen would follow Cain into the cooled room, often finding it relaxing to simply sit with his friend's presence and enjoy the serenity of it all. Lately however he has been letting Cain simply enjoy the peace it all while he will sit in the room in front doing some minor paperwork too negligible to be worth the Liberator's attention, sitting down on the comfortable sofa he had received as a gift from a couple of Emeli's handmaidens.
"Will you be requiring refreshments this evening sir?" he inquired, already knowing the answer but still asking for courtesy's sake, while leaning slightly forward in order to see Cain's face. "Would you like me to retrieve you a bottle from the cellar or would you like me to prepare you a recaf?".
The liberator seemed to very briefly flinch at Jurgen's words before sitting back up and tidying up the papers from the meeting. Seeming to confirm to him that his master was simply mentally exhausted from the day's work and had briefly slipped into his own mind. Such a thing was to be expected by Jurgen, who saw Cain's apparent willing burden to shoulder the entirety of Slawkenberg's people unto himself. Such a thought only reaffirmed his loyalty to him in Jurgen's mind.
"I think I shall Jurgen, thank you." Ciaphas responded. Jurgen felt his heart seeming to glow a little at the appreciation before taking a step back turning for the door. He briefly locked eyes with Malicia on his way out, having an unspoken conversation. While he would never truly trust her, she was at least one of the only people he was willing to leave his dear master alone with.
Jurgen would walk the halls of the Liberation Palace with a confident purpose filled stride towards his goal, occasionally turning his head as he strided to briefly look at one of the decorations placed by the people of Slawkenberg and the local citizenry of Cainopolis. Ranging from tapestries and paintings from the handmaidens, pristine or weathered weapons and armour from the USA, notices and work schedules from administration, and technological units such as temperature and humidity control units built into the palace under the Bringers Of Renewed Greatness. It was a genuinely nice sight to Jurgen to see this place grow from the oppressive monument to the Imperium's tyranny to a symbol of unity for the people.
Occasionally he would pass a clerk, artisan, borg, patrolling guard, or petitioner on their own travels. Sometimes they would make a noticeable effort to give Jurgen a wide berth, other times walking past without noticing him, with a noticeable few looking at him with a nod before continuing their journey. Jurgen had often found himself standing a little taller with every nod, having felt like a place where someone of his particular talents was treated with a degree of caution but also respected, not to mention his position decreeing respect and admiration from a number of people, not that he cared too much for their affection and envy, with his thoughts solely devoted to his lord, Ciaphas Cain.
As he walked and turned down the corridors, he thought to himself what bottle to retrieve for the Liberator. Weighing the options and choices in his mind, before noticing something odd. Opening himself slightly to the Aether, he sensed a collection of souls following a fair few steps behind him. Their essences marked with a clear purpose and golden hue, their numbers slowly grew as he made his path.
He tugged lightly at the white gloves, dusted off his jacket, and checked his chronograph. This would set him back briefly, but he should still have time. After a few more turns, the amount of followers stopped growing, staying at a steady dozen or so. Jurgen felt himself adopt a sneer at the thought of these people. Followers of the Emperor who felt more loyalty to the old Governor Giorba's rule than the Liberation Council's. Such people did occasionally pop up, but were becoming rarer by year. But still, they had made it inside the palace, and posed a risk to Cain. This was something he could not allow.
He turned on his heels suddenly, facing his pursuers, seeming to catch them off guard. "I know you have been following me for a little while." he asserted to the dozen before him, "Lay down your arms and present yourself before the local guard and no harm shall come to you or your families." There wasn't any real thought behind his words, more something he felt he should say out of necessity. He already felt their convictions and what was about to happen.
"Fug you heretic! You will fall before the righteous efforts of the emperor's faithful!" one of them preached. Each of Jurgen's opponents seemed to be armed with an assortment of weapons, ranging from a collection of common las-pistols, old enforcer cudgels and rusted knives, to even what looked like a large hammer that appeared more ceremonial than anything with a bayonet oddly welded onto it. Each of the assailants were in various states of wear and tear, old PDF armour, a couple low level Arbites uniforms that had seen better days, one of them even wearing a filth covered outfit of one of the old guards of the now dead Governor.
"Once we kill you, no one will be between us and the traitorous commis-" Another continued before abruptly being silenced and turning to ash.
The now slightly smaller collection of warriors before him all took a step back from Jurgen and he finished waving his hand. It didn't take much for him to do such a thing anymore, having spent long periods of time exploring and training his abilities to such an extent that he could do such an action with barely a thought. He was fine with people talking down to him, but when someone dared insult his lord. That was something he could allow.
"Emperor's bowels, he is just one man. Charge! For the Emperor!" the filth covered guard raged. Before aiming his las-pistol squarely at Jurgen.
The next few events seemed to happen instantly to the soldier.
First the six of his group seemed to explode in a silent explosion of gore aimed directly at himself and the fellow beside him.
The three not hit by the blast ran towards the psyker before appearing to be frozen in place. Each of them holding their mouths open in silent screams of rage and fear unheard by anyone. With a closure of Jurgens left hand, the three of them were caved in like empty cans into balls of meat and cloth, their bladed weapons reduced to little more than thin toothpicks sticking out from the balls like taster dishes served at a ball.
Finally the man beside the guard, a preacher who had escaped the initial riots of the rebellion, seems to stretch backwards, his spine arching backwards before popping out of the back of the priest and falling to the ground with a clatter. The prior dying in a small pool of his own blood flowing out of his back and mouth.
As the guard wiped the blood from his eyes, he saw that he was alone, being stared down by the psyker. "You'll pay for this one day scum!" he swore while raising his pistol. "Your soul will be burnt to cinders before the golden throne."
"Enough of that." Jurgen refuted, before with a flick of his fingers, the head of the guard was cleanly separated from his shoulders.
Jurgen looked around himself briefly at the mix of gore and ash around him before waving his hand to blow it all to the side, as to not get a dash of it on himself before channelling the warp to blow it all to gather and condense it into a small pile to make it easier to be cleaned by any of the janitorial staff.
With that done, Jurgen dusted himself off, fixed the pristine gloves on his hands, and continued on his way to retrieve the refreshments. As he walked, he checked his chronograph, he hadn't wasted much time on these loyalists. And so he hurried his steps in order to get back to Cain. The Liberator wanted some refreshments, and Jurgen meant to see that he got it.
Edit: Spelling Mistake and a couple words I forgot to put in.