Day 181, Year 988, 41st Millennium
Hive Orion
Lower Hive
"And who is Malcador?" Eric asked with genuine curiosity. Whenever Raul mentioned this man, he seemed overwhelmed by grief, or something close to it. It clearly showed that this person must have been incredibly important to him.
"Malcador? How should I put it... he was many things. But none of that matters. Most importantly, he was a hero," Raul sobbed as he replied, reminiscing about the memories he shared with the man. He thought that maybe he shouldn't have abandoned the Emperor, that he should have stood by their shared ideals. If he had done so, perhaps the chances of survival for the man he considered a friend would have been higher.
But what could he have done?
He possessed no combat skills, and his administrative abilities were abysmal. The only things he was good at were business and accumulating vast amounts of wealth. His skills hadn't been needed in the slightest. He was worthless—a disposable nobody who could be replaced at any moment, or worse, a burden to others.
Raul brought both hands up to cover his face before breaking down into tears, drowning in self-blame.
"Why didn't I do it?! I'm such a fool!" he sobbed, tears streaming down his face and soaking his mask. Normally, he never allowed himself to dwell on these things. It was a memory from a distant past that he could never forget, yet constantly tried to bury to escape the guilt. Ever since he first met Malcador in Rome, around 15 B.C., they had quickly become friends. They were comrades who always had each other's backs. Even through the Dark Age of Technology and the Age of Strife, he and Malcador had remained friends, supporting one another—until the birth of Slaanesh.
Everything he had tried to rebuild after the rebellion of the Men of Iron—everything that had been taking shape and going so well—was ruined. The arrival of massive Warp storms severed the colony worlds from one another, causing everything to collapse. The financial empire he had meticulously planned and all his assets were obliterated in the ensuing chaos, destroyed by both humanity and alien scum.
The result was that he was left with nothing. He became a worthless being, nothing more than a useless Perpetual.
Even before the Unification Wars, he had chosen to disagree with the Emperor and Malcador's plans. He opted to leave Terra to satisfy his own selfish desires, settling on this planet to build himself up again. At the time, he had comforted himself with the thought that, if given the chance, he would surely go back and help his friend.
But when the Horus Heresy erupted, he remained as useless as ever. He couldn't do a single thing, serving as little more than target practice for the Traitors.
And before he could make any difference, the war ended. Malcador was officially confirmed dead.
"I'm worthless. Worthless. Worthless. I don't deserve to live. I'm just a useless burden..." Raul muttered, his lips trembling. His body and limbs began to shake slightly as he wept.
Eric watched this entire breakdown unfold. He patiently listened to Raul's words without walking away. It wasn't that he particularly wanted to sit there and listen to someone drowning in past regrets vent their pent-up emotions; he certainly had no desire to play emergency therapist. He simply felt pity.
Raul's tone and body language clearly indicated that the man before him was in a state of profound grief and depression, deeply consumed by guilt over what he had or hadn't done.
"Worthless. Worthless. You're worthless." Raul continued to cry into his hands, trembling in his chair. But before Eric could even notice, Raul pulled a pistol from beneath his cloak, pressed it under his chin, and pulled the trigger.
*Bang!!!*
The gunshot echoed loudly. Eric flinched, his hand instinctively reaching for his own weapon as he witnessed the scene. Raul was now slumped dead over the table in front of him. A pool of red blood seeped through his cloak, dripping off the table and onto the floor.
Eric was entirely at a loss. He slowly released his grip on his gun, his hands shaking slightly. He had killed people before, yes, but seeing someone commit suicide right in front of his eyes left him paralyzed. Even though he couldn't stand Raul, that didn't mean he was emotionally prepared to witness something like this.
Suddenly, one of the most bizarre events of his life unfolded.
He saw Raul's fingers twitch... and it wasn't the post-mortem spasms of a fresh corpse.
Eric bolted upright, instantly drawing his pistol and aiming it at Raul's head. Then, Raul—who by all accounts should be dead—used his arms to push himself back up into his chair, letting out a heavy sigh. His face was covered in blood, but the wound that should have been under his chin had vanished as if it had never existed.
Eric had just seen with his own eyes that the rumors of Raul being immortal were true. And aside from being a Perpetual, Eric was now convinced the man also had severe psychological issues.
He decided he needed to wrap up this conversation immediately, finish his mission as fast as possible, and get back to Hive Kathion so he could finally live happily in the Upper Hive.
"Sorry about my behavior just now. I was just a little stressed. So, what brings you down here? You didn't get exiled, did you? You can tell me; maybe I can help. Let me guess—an espionage mission, an assassination, sabotage, or some other mysterious task I can't figure out?" Raul asked casually, stretching his arms before pulling a handkerchief out of nowhere to wipe the blood from his face.
From Raul's perspective, seeing a young woman like Eric down in a place like this—especially since their last encounter was up in the Upper Hive, and she was now disguised as an Iron Fang ganger to boot—left only a few possibilities. If she hadn't been banished to the lower levels, she must be on a mission.
Faced with the question, Eric hesitated. It wasn't just because the mission was classified—the letter hadn't explicitly stated whether it was a secret or not, but common sense dictated that an assassination shouldn't be broadcasted to others, regardless of written instructions. And he knew better than to share mission details with Raul. He had no idea if the guy would sell the information or rat him out to the Iron Fang boss for some quick cash. Knowing Raul, there was a 90% chance he'd get sold out.
"It's a classified mission. I can't disclose the details," Eric replied with the best excuse he could muster, keeping his tone and demeanor fairly serious. Raul's reaction wasn't one of surprise. He simply shrugged lightly.
"Alright... Interested in buying some intel, then? I have information that might be useful to you. You might actually need this," Raul said, seizing the opportunity to make a sale.
Eric pondered for a moment. This intel might be helpful, or it might be useless. One thing was certain: the price would be exorbitant. Right now, he barely had any credits on him—certainly not enough to buy anything more expensive than a ration of Corpse Starch.
"What kind of intel is it?" Eric inquired further. Even though he had no money, he figured he could try to coax the information out of Raul by pretending he would pay later. Or...
Suddenly, a wicked idea popped into his head. Eric smiled and let out a soft chuckle as he realized how he could get back at Vann. Even if it didn't hurt Vann substantially, just making the man annoyed would be completely worth it and something he'd gladly do again.
"You're smiling and laughing like someone plotting a prank... but whatever. The intel I have covers the Iron Fang's guard rotation schedules within their base, secret entrances, blind spots you can use to sneak in with minimal risk of detection, and a list of gangers who can be bribed or reasoned with. This information is sold piecemeal. Which one do you want?" Raul gave a brief overview of the goods he was offering.
As it happened, this information was exactly what Eric needed for his mission. Coupled with his desire to spite Vann, he didn't care how astronomical the price would be; he decided to buy it all on the spot. Even though he secretly wondered how Raul had acquired such detailed intelligence, it didn't matter.
"I want all of it. How much for the whole package?" Eric asked confidently. However, he had already braced himself for a ridiculously high quote. Why? Because the very first time he walked into Raul's shop, one look at the price tag on an autogun told him exactly how badly Raul overcharged for everything. Some items were marked up three to four times their market value. And those were just physical goods on a shelf. For exclusive intel? There was no need to guess—it was going to cost a fortune.
"Hmm... Are you sure you can afford it?" Raul asked skeptically. He didn't believe someone like Eric could pay for intel this expensive. Even though Eric worked as an accountant at a machine parts manufactorum up in the Upper Hive and made a decent monthly wage, the cost of living there was extremely high. Having enough disposable income to buy this kind of intel outright was highly unlikely.
"I have enough to buy it," Eric shot back immediately. After all, he wasn't the one footing the bill—Vann was.
"The total price for everything... let's round it out to 400,000 kalfs."
When Raul finished speaking, Eric felt a slight shock at the number. It was roughly the same price as that single bottle of liquor Vann had bought for him back then. Vann had lied to him about where it came from, but once Eric learned the truth, he realized just how absurdly expensive that wonderfully tasting alcohol was—the very same bottle Vann had shared with him back at the St. Lucilla Church refugee camp.
Therefore, his master plan to get back at Vann or piss him off was a complete failure. If Vann had no problem casually dropping that much money on a bottle of booze, paying for this intel wouldn't even make him blink.
"Give me the intel. You can collect the payment from Vann Korvax. He'll cover the cost," Eric sighed softly. Despite his disappointment at failing to annoy Vann, at least this would make his mission a lot easier.
"Your boss, I assume?" Raul muttered as he got up from his chair and walked over to the counter to search for something.
"Yes... technically, he's my boss right now. Though not by choice," Eric said, his tone turning melancholic as he lowered his head slightly. Truthfully, he had been trying to avoid thinking about his situation, because dwelling on it always made him depressed. It was a constant, bitter reminder that he had to keep running these missions until Vann was satisfied, or until he could somehow scrounge up enough money to pay back the medical debts Vann held over his head.
"You know, you've got rotten luck getting tangled up in noble politics. I've been there, and let me tell you, it's a terrible idea to get involved with those people. Trust me, you should run while you still have the chance. Just like I'm about to get off this rock," Raul advised. Thanks to his incredibly long lifespan, Raul had experienced countless things, including dabbling in the politics of various eras and contexts. He thoroughly understood the inevitable problems and lethal risks that came with it.
After a brief moment, Raul emerged from behind the counter holding a small notebook. Eric stared at the book, lost in thought.
He had considered running away before, but he never had the courage. He lacked knowledge about how things worked in this futuristic world, and he certainly didn't have the funds to back a serious escape attempt. He was also terrified that Vann's connections truly reached everywhere, which would make fleeing exceedingly difficult, if not impossible. Moreover, even if he did manage to escape, he had no idea what horrors awaited him out there. Therefore, choosing to stay here seemed like his best option for now. It provided a certain degree of safety... well, at least up in the Upper Hive.
"I thought about running. But the more I think about it, staying in the Upper Hive seems like the best thing I can hope for right now," Eric confessed. Simply put, he didn't want to suffer anymore. He preferred a comfortable desk job and the relative safety of the Upper Hive. Even if he didn't have complete freedom, he had a job, a salary, a roof over his head, and he wasn't starving.
And he was terrified of ending up in an even worse situation.
"And I don't even know if my life would actually be better if I managed to run," he muttered, clenching his fists. A small knot of depression and despair began to form in his chest. The thing holding him back from pursuing true freedom was fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of the unpredictable, fear of uncertainty, and fear of whatever cruel fate the future might hold.
"I understand how you feel... there's a very high chance you could successfully escape only to die horribly during the journey. I'm not trying to scare you, but there's a significant risk of voidships getting lost in the Warp or misplaced in time. Worse still, you could get attacked by the entities lurking in there. And then there are the Drukhari corsairs, who actively hunt humans just to torture them, feed on their souls, and satisfy their twisted desires. The feeling of—"
Raul cut himself off when he noticed the glaring, increasingly terrified, and utterly despairing look on the young woman's face as he casually presented the grim realities of the galaxy.
"Hey, don't look at me like that, I really wasn't trying to scare you... but man, kids these days give up so easily. You know, there are countless fascinating planets out there in the galaxy. All sorts of worlds. Sometimes you find places with breathtakingly beautiful landscapes that are inherently dangerous, or places with a beauty beyond words... far more beautiful than anything Terra ever had. But there are also plenty of places classified as Hive Worlds or Death Worlds. If you ever had to survive on one of those, you'd realize that living here is like being in paradise," Raul explained as he sat back down and flipped open the notebook to verify the intel he was selling.
After a moment of checking, he closed it and handed it to Eric, who still looked deeply lost in thought, wrestling with the idea of escaping the planet.
As for Raul? He had already paid the deposit on a plot of land on a Civilized World. He just needed a little more cash, and then he was getting the hell out of here.
"Thanks for the service, Raul. I hope we cross paths again," Eric replied quietly, reaching out to take the notebook. His expression, alongside his bright blue eyes, was currently clouded, hesitant, and tense from overthinking his predicament. He stood up from the chair and quickly adjusted his gear. Within moments, he once again looked like a convincing Iron Fang ganger.
He walked out of the shop briskly, not once looking back. He sighed, telling himself that perhaps he shouldn't obsess over running away or dreaming of a freedom where he didn't have to obey Vann's every command. Because no matter how many hypothetical choices existed out there, the path he had chosen was the most practical one.
"Wait, aren't you going to buy a weapon from my shop? You're really going out there with that low-quality autogun? I have some prime hardware in stock! I'll even give you a discount! Don't leave yet!" Raul called out after Eric desperately. It sounded as though he was agonizingly close to his financial goal, and just one more sale would be his ticket off this rock.
Eric paid him no mind, looking down at the notebook in his hand. His focus was now entirely razor-sharp on one thing: the mission. A step-by-step plan was already beginning to form in his head.
_____________________________________
Hive Kathion
Hive Spire
Vann strode through the ornate, magnificent corridors of the Hive Spire with a foul mood and a sense of deep displeasure. Recently, he had received reports that the Ork warbands had begun employing far more complex and sophisticated ambush tactics. This had resulted in catastrophic losses for several patrol units. Some squads were entirely wiped out, their armored patrol vehicles looted for scrap. Only a fortunate few managed to exterminate their Ork attackers or hold out long enough in protracted firefights for reinforcements to arrive.
After receiving the disastrous reports, he had spent nearly three sleepless nights analyzing, revising, and overhauling their operational doctrines and tactical plans. What he produced was more of a comprehensive guideline on best practices rather than just a simple operational manual. The core focus was on increasing situational awareness during troop movements and enforcing extreme caution during patrols.
Currently, there was no highly effective method to prevent an Ork ambush other than equipping units with Auspex scanners. However, those sensors were exorbitantly expensive—far too costly to be installed as standard issue on the heavy patrol vehicles of the PDF (Planetary Defense Force), let alone on their light attack buggies. Ironically, if he were to be completely honest, some of those buggies and heavy vehicles had already been outfitted with Auspex scanners, only to be lost anyway.
Today, he intended to present these new operational methods and tactical doctrines to the high-ranking officers of the PDF to ensure everyone was briefed on the changes. Following that, the information would trickle down the chain of command until every soldier conducting exterior patrols outside the Hive City was informed.
The reason he insisted on doing this personally wasn't because he was a stickler for protocol or bureaucratic procedure. He simply wanted to present the changes while simultaneously cultivating his public image as a competent leader.
But then, he had been summoned by Valen. What impeccable timing. When he first received the summons, he had nearly cursed aloud, but he managed to swallow his anger, delegated the presentation to his adjutant, and made his way up the Spire.
As he navigated the grand halls, he turned toward the estate's ancestral botanical garden. It was a garden that had been meticulously maintained for generations, filled with rare, vibrant, and hardy flora. Valen had stated he had a matter of grave importance to discuss. Vann sincerely hoped that whatever Valen wanted was actually important, and not some trivial nonsense or vague philosophical rambling that had nothing to do with him.
Vann pushed the heavy doors open and stepped into the massive atrium. As soon as the intense light inside hit his face, he squinted and instinctively raised a hand to shield his eyes. The glare came from arrays of powerful lumen-globes suspended from the ceiling, designed to simulate a harsh, sun-drenched environment. Furthermore, the temperature inside this biome was significantly higher than the cool, climate-controlled corridors of the Spire.
The atrium spanned hundreds of square meters. The floor was an ocean of exotic flowers of every conceivable color and species. Each bloom possessed a unique, unrepeatable shape, radiating its own distinct kind of beauty. Some emitted a sweet, intoxicating perfume, while others reeked of rot so foul that even a carrion-eater would steer clear.
And there, sitting at a table set with a medium-sized cake amidst the sea of flora, was his older brother, Valen.
"You're late, Vann," Valen said, his voice devoid of emotion but laced with unmistakable reprimand.
Vann frowned slightly at his brother's obsession with punctuality. It had always been this way; no matter how much Vann complained or argued, Valen simply did not comprehend the concept of leniency. It wasn't as if Valen was the one who had to travel all the way from the Lower Hive up to the Spire.
"I got here as fast as I could, Valen. What is it you want to talk about today? And it had better be important, because I had to put off crucial duties to meet you," Vann snapped irritably, his eyes locked onto Valen without blinking.
"It is a matter of the utmost importance today. Istria Korvax has been betrothed to Oliver Kegemon, the Lord Commander of House Kegemon's House Guard. Their wedding is scheduled for next year. You should prepare to offer her your congratulations," Valen stated. His tone was more relaxed now, but his eyes and expression looked as though he had just made the most difficult decision of his life.
Hearing this, Vann raised a single eyebrow, profound irritation flaring within him. He was summoned all the way up here just for *this*? Why couldn't his brother have just sent a missive? It would have saved money and wouldn't have disrupted his work.
Furthermore, why on Terra would he attend the wedding of Istria Korvax? That spoiled, wretched brat of a woman. He had seen her before, and he had disliked her from the moment he laid eyes on her. He didn't even know who her true parents were, but witnessing her arrogant, entitled behavior was enough to earn his contempt.
This was a colossal waste of his highly valuable time.
"Give me one good reason why I should attend her wedding, Valen. I have absolutely no intention of going. Besides, would it kill you to use a courier or a vox-transmission for once? It would stop you from interfering with other people's work," Vann bluntly refused, taking the opportunity to criticize his brother's methods.
"She is your sister, Vann," Valen replied, his voice low, sounding as if he were struggling to suppress a rising anger before letting out a heavy sigh.
But Valen's words only plunged Vann into a state of utter confusion and bewilderment. He clearly remembered that he never had a younger sister. He had a beloved older sister and an older brother, making him the youngest sibling. His beloved sister had been assassinated by Valen fifteen years ago so that Valen could usurp the position of Patriarch of House Korvax. He absolutely did not have a younger sister.
Valen was surely trying to play mind games with him. Less than a year after Valen had seized control of House Korvax, their mother and uncle had been executed on some undisclosed charges.
There was simply no way Istria could be his sister. Aside from the complete lack of evidence, if she truly were his younger sister, Istria shouldn't look like a woman nearing her thirties. She should be a young teenager. If his mother had become pregnant right after Vann was exiled from the House, Istria would only be around fourteen years old.
"She is your sister. A half-sister," Valen said, his voice steeped in bitterness, carrying a heavy burden of shame and disgust. Yet, underlying it all, there was also a profound sense of guilt and pity.
"Are you accusing our mother of committing adultery, Valen? Don't you dare slander her," Vann warned, struggling to keep his fury in check and suppress the urge to lunge across the table and punch Valen in the face. It was bad enough that this bastard had murdered their sister and exiled him to the Lower Hive for over a decade. Now, his brother was tarnishing the memory of his beloved mother.
"Mother had an affair with our uncle... and I discovered it shortly after I exiled you. What did I do then? I waited until your sister was born. She was an innocent child; she did not deserve to suffer for sins she did not commit. But Mother and Uncle were not innocent. They both deserved death for the crime of incest. And that vile, abhorrent act of incest afflicted your poor sister with a genetic defect that accelerates her aging... That is the truth. You know perfectly well how much the people of House Korvax despise inbreeding. Everyone here looks at her as if she were a mutant. Don't harbor anger toward her for the way she acts. It is nothing more than a childish defense mechanism," Valen explained, his voice growing quieter with every word.
He closed his eyes, reflecting on the ghosts of the past. He thought of all the terrifying, ruthless decisions he had made—purging all dissenters, orchestrating the assassination of their older sister, and brutally crushing any opposition throughout his fifteen-year reign as the head of House Korvax.
"That's..." Vann was completely speechless. He hadn't realized his brother was capable of such cold, calculated ruthlessness for that specific reason.
He was well aware of the values and traditions of House Korvax. Unlike some noble houses that viewed intermarriage between relatives as an acceptable method of keeping the bloodline pure, House Korvax viewed the practice as an absolute abomination. Those who engaged in or supported such acts were treated with extreme prejudice. Even children born from incestuous unions were shown no mercy. Vann didn't share the extreme, puritanical hatred of his family, but he was educated enough to know that inbreeding was biologically disastrous. He just thought Valen's methods were far too extreme.
"Vann, I am begging you. Can you be the older brother she never had? Because I... I truly cannot be that for her."