POV: Archmagos Akellonon Doll Doll advanced toward the incident site, his steps steady and mechanical, accompanied by Xor and their respective teams. The alerts had come in rapid succession. Nicole had opened the puzzle; something had transpired-something serious. Forbidden knowledge had been spoken aloud by the xenos, in front of a crowd of Tech-Priests, adepts, and Magos Gertrude. "Priority Omega. Do you have permission to access that level of information, Xor?" Doll asked without slowing his pace. "Negative, Archmagos. It is marked above my current status. Do you?" Discover more novels at novelFɪre.net "I do. However, access involves numerous tedious checks, each one a bureaucratic cogwheel demanding justification. Any inquiry would attract the attention of higher Mechanicus authorities. Such knowledge is not to be accessed lightly." "…and yet the Princeps identified the information as forbidden? Recognized it?" "She retains credentials from before the Schism," Doll said grimly. "They allow access to certain censured archives. The gradual return of her memories has… complicated matters." They arrived at the chamber. Nicole stood alone, her posture taut with frustration. Everyone else was sedated. The Eldar, Stillness in Motion, had vanished. According to reports, the Xenos had left the ship-walking, somehow-smugly, before disappearing back toward the space hulk. Nicole's expression hardened when she saw him. "Master Doll," she began, hesitating, chewing over her words. He raised a hand. "Nicole. I am pleased you are unharmed. Gertrude appears to have dosed herself appropriately. She and the adepts will recover fully, though they'll be missing the last hour of their memories." He stepped closer, servo-limbs quiet for once. "Now. Regarding the forbidden knowledge. Please reduce your reference to a single word or short phrase for context without breaking protocol." Nicole didn't miss a beat. "C'tan." Doll's internal systems cross-checked the term. Omega-level protections were triggered immediately. "I see…" he said, his tone shifting to formal procedure. "Nicole, please answer the following three questions: One: are you in immediate danger from this marking? Two: are we, or the ship, in any immediate danger? Three: does this subject require immediate action?" She glanced at her hand, tension in her brow. "No… no, and… possibly no?" "Acceptable." He inclined his head. "As this knowledge is restricted behind Omega-level clearance, and appears to relate to the Necron xenos, I ask you not to speak of it further unless the matter becomes pressing." Nicole sighed, rubbing her face in weary frustration. "Fine. Master Doll… can I ask you some questions?" "Certainly." He observed Xor as the team began carefully moving the unconscious adepts. "Have you ever heard of a Mechanicus faction called the Cult of the Dragon?" she asked quietly. A brief search flagged the group: borderline heretical. "I am aware of them. A minor Mars centric faction. They had no significant presence on the Lathes." Nicole's gaze sharpened. "What about the pre-Imperial myth, the one about the Omnissiah and the Dragon?" It took longer than he liked to retrieve the relevant fragment from the Argent Drake's archives. Multiple authorization layers. Sparse information. Obscure. Multiple related files with high Omega-level clearance requests bearing mentions of the Omnissiah and 'the Dragon' appear in the index. Why bring this up? The Cult... the myth… a connection? Both mentioned a dragon. Dragon: a mythical quadrupedal winged fire breathing creature? The connection eluded him. "I have," he said at last, cautious. He offered no elaboration. Nicole's shoulders sagged. AME shifted silently on her perch. "Alright," she muttered. "I'll ask the Deathwatch if they know anything useful. One of them might've been a captain. I won't mention more than what we've discussed." "A wise course. Some truths are forbidden for good reason." He paused, then added with deliberate calm, "The Solitaire is gone, and you are alive. I will consider this a net gain. If the mark bothers you, you may keep it covered. That is… a suggestion, not an order." Nicole snorted but managed a smile. "I probably will. Tell Gertrude I'm sorry she had to knock herself out." "I shall. According to her logs, she had delayed rest cycles far too long. This may have been… overdue." Doll admitted. As he spoke, Doll reviewed the sensor data. He purged the audio segment containing the forbidden content without listening, and locked the remaining data behind Magi-level clearance. "We are clear," Xor reported. "No signs of neural rejection. Vital responses nominal. All will awaken in a few hours. I'll move them to a temporary bunkhouse for debriefing." —-------------------------------------------------------------------- It was frustrating knowing how big of a deal the mark was but having utterly no way of properly discussing it with anyone due to information restrictions without raising some very uncomfortable questions about my past life or deriving some convoluted excuse. No other human in the star system even knew what a C'tan was. Master Doll is probably the only individual with the qualifications to find out if he's willing to dig. No one on the Deathwatch team had encountered the Necrons and had a rank high enough to have access to the information. Let alone know of Mag'ladroth. It's not like I can tell anyone, "Oh yeah, so it turns out the possible inspiration for the Machine God might be the largest fragment of a fallen C'tan known as the Void Dragon, an ancient Star God trapped in a living metal shell by the Necrons to fight the rest of the galaxy. It's buried beneath Mars, was trapped there by the Omnissiah, and has been dreaming and subliminally influencing Martian culture for millennia. Also, he might be eating our faithful like the Omnissiah eats psykers." Any member of the Mechanicus would think I'm insane or have me executed. I glance down at the back of my hand. The mark was meant for the Original Nicole, who didn't know what Nercons were let alone what Mag'ladroth was. I don't think she was in the running to serve as a keeper. I also don't believe Original Nicole would be inclined to free the Dragon from the labyrinth. Mag'ladroth's presence when the mark bound itself to me didn't feel hostile or oppressive and Stillness in Motion mentioned 'making a deal with the Dragon.' So Mag'ladroth must want something from me? What could it possibly want that I would be willing to do for it that it couldn't do itself? I'm not foolish enough to let a shard out of its Tomb-prison anywhere near myself and I can't imagine my anti-AI nature works on them if even Pride can resist it somewhat. Just ask the Arotepk Dynasty how that went with a mindless shard of the Void Dragon. My thoughts stall… a mindless shard… implies some shards may have more intact mental faculties. Still… I'm not going to Mars or crossing the great rift anytime soon. The Dragon should be asleep… I think? So is it worth fretting this much over the mark? "Is this how I make Master Doll and the others feel when I do strange, absurd things?" I ask myself. "I need to send them all apology gifts." AME has been hovering, nearby sensing my distress through our bond link, uncertain as to how she can offer aid she has settled for being in close proximity. I reach out and give her a few pats. "Thanks AME. Don't worry I'll be alright - hopefully, just working through some thoughts." I reassure my fretting baby doomsday weapon. "I live in interesting times." I mumble, shaking my head as I retreat to my quarters from the forge. I decide to spend a full day decompressing; a long bath, a good meal delivered to my room, a few hours in deep self-reflective meditation, and I sleep in late. That first night's sleep after the marking is… peculiar. "Uhh… I thought you were gone?" I say as an Original Nicole fragment and I appear in my mindscape where we originally met. "Hi. Wasn't expecting to be back here so soon," Original Nicole mutters. "And not gone, I was subsumed into your soul. You've fused with most of my lingering soul fragments. Though I've slowly recovered enough energy to maintain my individuality for now." "Weird." I mutter with a shrug as I look around taking note of the new changes. Original Nicole shrugs back. "We're literally the same person, the line has become so blurred it's almost indistinguishable." Two new things stand out. First, the tether now binding AME to me - us. Second, a small, palm-sized statue of a coiled, slumbering dragon - its head adorned with the Ankh of the Triarch. "Yeah… some stuff happened," I reply apologetically, offering a sheepish smile. "Is all that about the Dragon being the Machine God true?" she asks rhetorically, her voice trembling just a little. "Possibly. I can't confirm much. A lot of what I know is just theory or speculation. Doesn't help that what was considered 'canon' changed a few times," I admit, not bothering to sugarcoat it. She has access to the information and I feel like Original Nicole is just trying to make conversation. We sit in silence for a while. Just… sitting. "AME is really cute… for a Dark Age superweapon. Sci's nice. And I think you picked a good candidate for Moderatus. Honestly, I could see Genta in a Reaver of her own, maybe even a Warbringer if you find one with the right temperament. Nyanko on the other hand… she might one day be fit for a Knight or even a Warhound if she can complete the training." Original Nicole says eventually, breaking the silence. "Yeah," I nod. "I think AME'll be fine as long as we don't overfeed her. Sci's a solid support. Genta has potential… but if I want to rebuild the full Legio, I'm going to need way more pilots and crew. Nyanko and the recruiting here on Ur-Haven is just the start." "Yeah… from what I saw in your - our memories about the Procession… you really need to process more of my… our old memories. The willpower exercises, especially. You're going to need them," she chides. I wince. "I'm trying, but the psyker stuff is… hard. Most of my memories are just text and lore dumps for you to sift through," I grumble. She gives me a flat, unimpressed stare. "Right… because it's not like you've got a backlog of history, secret knowledge of powerful xenos, warp entities, daemons - a list of possible true names - deep lore on the Omnissiah and his sons, and forbidden horrors beyond mortal comprehension just floating around in there." I look away, a sharp pang of guilt creeping in. "…Okay, you've been digging deeper than I thought. Touche." Her gaze sharpens. "You can't tell anyone. I don't think we can stay connected for long - it takes a lot of mental energy to do this..." she glanced at me and winced "sorry about the headache. Also don't expect another visit for a while." "I know," I huff, properly chastised. "There's a lot I can't tell anyone… but I'll share what I can when the time's right. I really hope you didn't see the ones about the daemonculaba." "That horrific thing isn't even the worst in your memories!" That earns me a well earned scolding smack on the head before Original Nicole's soul sliver fades back into my subconscious. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from NovelHub. Please report it. I meditate and relax. The throbbing in my head becomes noticeable a few minutes later. My attention eventually drifts to the statue. Looking over at the statue, I go over to poke at it, it just sits there. I can't move it at all. It doesn't feel hostile or invasive, just a new part of me. After a frustrating hour of no response I vent a little. "I don't know what you want!" I yell at it before I grumble and extricate myself from my mental space. I sit up, the headache still present and I dig in my things for some tea and a light stimulant. Once I take the edge off I remember something and head over to my vault digging out the pouch of auramite leftovers from when I made my armour. Once the headache has reached a tolerable level I go to play with AME. As a treat I feed her a few of the slivers of excess auramite, which she absolutely loves. The waffle iron I forgot about in all the fuss shows up in a box outside my quarters while i'm feeding AME. The solar auxilia gear and the other larger items have been sent to the armory, the forge, or my family storage area, respectively. "Screw it. We're going to make waffles." I say as I give the ancient breakfast pastry maker a thorough deep clean and technomancer psyker-powered restoration. I put in an order from Ur-Haven for the necessary ingredients or the closest approximates for the batter along with an order of various fresh fruits. The orders will take a few days to process and arrive so I adjust the schedules of Nyanko and a bunch of my personal staff to ensure they can all attend my impromptu brunch at the end of the week. With the Yggradsil DNA database I can probably arrange for vat-grown true replicates of all the original plant-based ingredients for the next time I decide to host a little brunch event. I access the seed database and with relative ease I find the templates I am looking for. A quick message is sent to the caretakers of the arboretum with some specific tree recommendations. A few Sugar Maple, Black Maple, Red Maple, Silver Maple, Boxelder and a Japanese Maple for good measure. Luckily, Ur-Haven has a species of maple tree in the northern hemisphere and a few gallons of expensive syrup get added to the order. Is it overpriced? Probably. Do I care right now? Nope. I could probably buy the entire planet's current supply even with the insane markup with my current account balance and not really notice. —------------------------------------------------------- POV: Farseer Anvial Veilwalker Anvial was attempting to rest, having just concluded the taxing work of scouring the ancient Eldar transport vessel. Liberating lost soulstones and overseeing its breakdown for transfer to the Starlight's Ghost. The greatest complication was, predictably, the Webway gate. Too damaged to function more than once more and far too valuable to abandon. It would only be broken down and shipped to the Ghost for repairs after Stillness in Motion departed. Nearby, his grandmother toiled, her soft, wordless singing warping wraithbone to her will as she patiently extracted each component with the care of an artisan and the authority of a matriarch. The seer-stone in Anvial's pocket quivered in warning. And then the Solitaire appeared in their midst. Anvial blinked twice in disbelief. Stillness in Motion radiated satisfaction - no, glee, a delightedly infectious amusement that poured off him in waves. The normally elusive figure seemed practically buoyant with smug contentment. "Farseer Anvial. Lady Seer Veilwaker," the Solitaire said, giving a dramatic bow, "our curtain call approaches. I have lingered too long among the Mon'keigh." Anvial frowned, a sharp throb passing through his temples, accompanied by the faint, familiar sound of a god laughing far too close to his ear. "The Princeps solved the puzzle, then?" he asked warily. "Indeed!" Stillness in Motion trilled, dancing a half-step in place. "The little fateless one now bears the mark of a Yngir… of all things, the Dragon of the Void!" His delighted chuckle echoed faintly through the empty halls. "But that tale is hers to unravel. I have… left gifts, in fair exchange for their hospitality and the delightful baubles hidden in their vaults. They may request your interpretation." Anvial rubbed at his temple, trying to process both the absurdity and inevitability of it all. "You are aware," he said carefully, "that once you leave, we must break down the gate to transfer it to the Ghost. It will not reopen again for some time." Before he could continue, his grandmother's hand lifted in quiet command. "If it is your will, Stillness in Motion, we shall open the gate for you," Lady Veilwaker said simply. Anvial glanced at her, confused, but her smooth mask revealed nothing. They stood in silence, watching the Harlequin step lightly through the shimmering portal and vanish beyond the veil. Only then did the elder Veilwaker speak. "It is not our place to remind an actor that some coins have two sides, grandchild. Nor is it our place to interfere in the lessons of the Laughing God." Anvial inclined his head, chastened by the gentle reminder. Together, they began dismantling the gate, wraithbone curling and folding at their command. "I will leave the remaining salvage to you, grandmother," Anvial said at last. "I am… curious about these 'gifts.' Hopefully, we will not need to defuse any diplomatic crises." Avnial departed heading into the Halo to ask after the Inquisitor and Lord Drakios regarding the gifts. The first gift was left for the Inquisitor. A slim, ivory-white key lay in his palm, impossibly smooth and carved with interlocking Harlequin glyphs that seemed to shift when glanced at sidelong. It had no teeth, no lock, no clear purpose. Yet it thrummed with subtle psychic laughter. Anvial explained it plainly. "This… is a polite insult. It means: 'I have danced through your vaults and you didn't even know it. There are doors you will never open, places you will never tread. I have gone where you cannot follow.'" The Inquisitor was displeased but with the Solitaire already far gone, there was nothing either of them could do about it. Lord Drakios found his gift placed neatly upon his desk - a mask of pale wraithbone, shaped into a regal dragon's visage, elegant rather than fearsome, with flowing horns and subtle iridescence glinting beneath spirit-stone inlays. It fit like it had always belonged to him, and the world sharpened behind its hollow eyes when Drakios briefly looked through it. Anvial was surprised but smiled. "This one is… respectful. 'You may yet wear the mask of power and wisdom, and perform on greater stages.' It is rare for a Solitaire to speak so highly of any Mon'keigh." Lord Drakios was at least appeased and glad to replace the lost trinkets in his vault with the lovely mask. The governor's gift was a vase, perfectly smooth and serene, rippling like calm water, wraithbone worked into a vessel of timeless peace. Subtle runes of balance and memory spiraled along its curves, and the air around it felt… calmer. Anvial's voice was dry as he explained. "This walks the line between polite and dismissal. 'In a world of turmoil, you remembered to be still. This is your reward, a quiet soul amidst the storm.' Consider it encouragement… or a polite request to stay out of larger games." There was no fourth gift. The Princeps, naturally, had the puzzle, and Anvial's inquiries confirmed the bottom chamber remained sealed and continued to vex her for now. "Oh dear," Anvial muttered, amused. "He's going to be quite cross with himself when he realizes he only watched the first act… and left during intermission. Assuming he's not aware of the puzzle's two-sided nature..." The Princeps' reply came sharp and scathing, her voice rising in irritation. "I don't care. That's his problem." A beat of quiet passed, then her voice softened and she sighed. "Hey, Anvial… want a waffle?" A tired smile tugged at the Farseer's lips. "A Waffle?" Something sweet tickled his nose. "Yes," he admitted, "Yes, I believe I do." —------------------------------------------------- My list of brunch guests has rapidly spiraled from just a small gathering to a modest event featuring the people I enjoy the company of most. My protective retinue, my recent cadre of followers from the bids, Arianwyn, and by extension Lord Drakios, Master Doll, the Magi, and several squads of the Star Dragons, a handful of guardsmen and felinids from the ship's crew, Navigator Lily, and my other psychic tutors. "Welcome, everyone, to my brunch. You are all here because I like you." I announce to the arrayed crowd. "Even the Xenos?" Baldos calls from the back. Anvial had shown up a little while ago and I had invited him to stick around. "Anvial, tell them the good news!" I say with a smile. "The Solitaire has departed. The gate he used to leave the system has been decommissioned for maintenance and repairs." Anvial said politely before sipping his flute of juice. "Alright, he can stay." Baldos grumbles. "Today, we will be showing off an ancient device that originated on ancient Terra over forty millennia ago! A device known as a 'waffle maker!' Please be patient as we have only one waffle maker, but we have plenty of batter supplies and toppings. Including sweet syrups and fresh fruits from Ur-Haven, a selection of whipped creams and butters, and even some chocolate chips. These are all traditional waffle toppings." I declare proudly. "In addition to the waffles, we have some pans to make pancakes as well. Everyone will get a serving before being allowed seconds." I demonstrate how to make a plain waffle to start. It's not the most entertaining or complex show, watching a waffle get made, but most of the audience is fascinated. Lord Drakios and Arianwyn seem to like both the waffles and pancakes. A few clever groups try different toppings and then share bites. Little Nyanko cries from happiness when she takes her first bite and gets consoled by her uncle. Even Anvial seems to like the pastries, though he was the only one to add whole raw slices of a puckeringly sour local fruit rather than squeezing it out for the juice. I shrug it off it's not my place to question the taste of the Xenos. After my brunch word started to spread throughout the ship and I knew it would be a matter of time until it spread to the Halo station and then to Ur-Haven. Finding no local equivalent outside of a few devices used by the nobility I simply upload the schematic for the waffle maker to the local noosphere. It's not like it was that complicated. Nonstick surface, heating element, waffle grid, power cord - some fancier ones have drip trays - thermostats, and indicator lights. Along with the schematics I added a document containing recipes for batter and various substitutions that could be made for a similar result, along with a few warnings about foods not to be cooked in the waffle maker. Just out of spite, knowing some idiot somewhere someday might say this was new technology, I included one last page with verified technical documents mentioning the age and origin of the device was made on Terra. With a link to the source marked as highly classified.