Chapter 10.1:

Chapter 10.1: The first light illuminates, the second distracts.


Thousands of years before mankind had thought to touch the stars a man remembered an old story he had been told by his own teacher. The man had earned his name in history for his shoulders could spread as wide as his mind. The lesson spoke of the nature of the divine and that of man.

Man was wise, man was powerful and man was greedy. The perfect man made gods fear him and the King of Gods, a being of unquenchable passions and divine Lightning and Thunder cursed man. No longer will man be a full being of two minds, two hearts, four arms and four legs. It was now cursed, as gods feared his ambition, and now man was forced to live life as half of what it could once be, forever searching that which could make him whole.

It was a story among many that I saw, and one of the few common points between the Divinities of Man and those of Eldar and there were very few to find.

Both acknowledge the absolute nonsense a being of two souls and one mind could accomplish but this was not the purpose of the story of the man upon whose shoulders much of human thought stands.

For man, the Divine was a chain and a shield. The chain kept man united, yet weak, in order to ensure that his own ambition would not consume the word around him before he was strong enough to resist his own power and the results of ambition, thus protecting man from the consequences of the actions it had not yet done.

The divinities of man were meant to constrain and unite man, to ensure the engine that is the ambition of man was crippled so that it could not use one of two infinite power sources the human soul had access to before it was ready and thus transform them into infinite power across all that was and could be.

Love and Greed.

Divinity was meant to shackle greed, to dilute it and to do what it could so that man learned that love would not destroy him if he allowed it to bloom, for when it embraced love it would be whole and mighty again.

The divinities of Eldar did not exist to constrain us but to encourage. Each Eldar divinity represented a path towards obsession, each of their words were a lesson into how Eldar could embrace divine madness and achieve greater heights still.

In times past, there was a ritual to adulthood, where eldar would have to prove that they had left childhood and embraced the ability to feel faith. For each of the gods that the Eldar worshiped, any Eldar wishing to become an adult had to suffer a sentence of years equal to the number of divines eldar kind knew as true.

The sentence? They were to embrace a divine for said number of years and then abandon them willingly on the last day and without others telling him to do so. He had to do this for all the gods in order to earn his adulthood.

Many did not achieve adulthood until they reached their first thousand years for there was always a divine they could not instinctively let go of, one divine their mind and soul truly belonged to, thus requiring of them the one thing Eldar were not prone to do, to beg for guidance from those that knew better than them and learn their ways so that they would achieve adulthood. It was an attempt to teach humility to a race whose name the galaxy has learned was synonymous to Pride.

The Empire of Ten Million Suns has existed without this ritual for longer than the eldar had followed it. This was a mistake, but it gave my siblings and I the idea for the three stratagems. Each was less of a plan and more of a methodology to escape danger by mimicking one of the three divine that might pull us out of danger. A worship so farcical it turned holy.

The first stratagem was the Theorem of Cegorach.

We would pretend to be followers of Cegorach, to tell the stories of our people in song, dance and show but with a twist I did not see the followers of Cegorach ever using as I looked in the archives.

Cegorach's followers were still welcomed in most spaces they went to, their attempts at teaching used as the backdrop for the nights' activities.

We would do so poorly, incredibly so, hilariously so and most importantly noticeably so. We would abandon our pride with a smile and a bow as each interpretation of the values of the Eldar that the followers of he who laughed at the absurdity of existence learned what it was to be laughed at and do so knowing their lessons would be mocked. We counted on it, we exaggerated failures in our repetitions to make them even more embarrassing, to make it look as if a young troupe was trying something new in the hope of attracting attention by mimicking incompetence. We learned to quickly change the shape of our wraithbone armor, to match the various characters in the plays and the possibility that the first stratagem could be implemented was the reason we made our armors so bland.

It would make it easier to morph it to a new suit in the colors and design we desired.

The theorem was that if we would make the Eldar pay attention to us and make them laugh, the laughter would allow us passage to the next group until we could do so again, or perhaps give us the chance to stab those standing in our way when they were not looking.

We did not implement it because he had never had to deal with a large group of Eldar, for we had managed to place ourselves so well it was never needed, even if Aesan's warning did not force us to pick the second stratagem and its intricate maneuvering.

The second stratagem we named The Mission of Khaine.

I was born blessed by Isha, Divine Mother of the Children of the Stars.

When we were young it was her that taught us how to gather food, how to hunt, how to forage and how to look after ones' home. When we grew she taught us the importance of family, of the bonds we shared and we all accepted each other as siblings and children of the same mother. When we were to have children of our own she was what we emulated, the divine example of what it meant to be a mother. She taught us how to mend relationships, how to mend souls and how to mend flesh as we guided those younger than us into a prosperous future.

A sliver of that legacy was my birthright, mine to nourish and mine to live up to and perhaps learn to grow past it.

I discarded it with the callousness one gives a missed bullet among thousands, her gifts were not what I needed in my first hour of my second life. I took for myself a different gift, that of Khaine, the murder of one half of those from whose love I was born from ensured it.

I did not want their love and thus rewarded it with murder and the Bloody Handed god rewarded me in turn.

For this, I lost the ability to heal others as well as even the least talented Eldar, when before I had the promise of being among the greatest. I lost the ability to sing to Wraithbone using my voice, I could still use my soul and special instruments and enchantments upon my gloves to do the same but again I lost the opportunity to be anything but the least in such a craft. I lost the chance at truly molding the spirits of my people with song, for the Gift of Khaine does not allow one to create and inspire, only destroy and cower.

The Gift I had given my birthright for was Murder. My voice learned to kill, my speech needing to forever be devoid of psychic ability lest it slither itself into a position where it would kill my audience unless I gave it a target, then it would obey my will eagerly.

It did not suit me, yet it was my third most loved possession.

The Mission of Khaine was simple in theory yet horrific in practice. I would pretend to be one of Khaine's blessed, there to teach my wards the way of the Bloody Handed God. I would scare, I would bluff, I would pretend to mastery yet not possessed and instead of flaunting it I would be keeping it in reserve to allow my followers the chance to prove their devotion to the God of Murder and in the case that I needed to act I would turn the audience to Khaines' murderous ways or at least threaten to and while they ran in fear, so would I and my siblings run towards the Webway while my would-be foes tried to get their bearings.

The first stratagem required equal sacrifice from me and my siblings for all of us would shatter our pride for the chance at survival.

The second required my own sacrifice for to even pretend at a status I did not possess came with a price it took too long to prepare to pay.

The third stratagem required the same from my siblings which is why I swore I would do what it takes to prevent it, even as my siblings insisted it be added to our contingency list despite my protests.

The third stratagem was called The Toil of the New God. It involved my siblings selling the experience one would feel when having the full undivided imagination and servitude of triplets for a 'limited' amount of acts.

It would turn my siblings into prostitutes for the cultists so that we could pay for our passage.

I was thankful that when Aesan had given us the portent of doom it was not the third stratagem that we were forced to enact, even as I knew my own siblings felt the same despair I would have felt if it were so.

Despair and regret mends easier than divinely ordained scars or death but they always hit harder when it is for those we love to feel them in our name.

I do not regret what is to come, I cannot do so, for my heart refuses to feel anything but pride. It is the one time in my life said pride had been useful.

The craftworlders wish to play, believing their ramshackle technology and delusions of adequacy gave them some moral ground to do anything but piss on. It is time for them to see how much that is worth.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'Fools and twins are born on the same day but they come from different mothers.'

I did not understand this saying when my own master told me of it. He told me it is his most prized piece of wisdom, something his own master shared upon him on his first day of apprenticeship and whose transcended wisdom guided his steps for ten thousand years.

I scoffed when I heard it the first time, believing it would be some form of test, a test I tried for twenty years to find the meaning of before giving up and treating it as simply the many centuries of combat giving my master one too many eccentricities.

To be Dilseth Aisse* was to be a fool that did not understand the wisdom of his master and wasted his first century of life not understanding the wisdom of his master and spending another century learning the lesson he tried to teach me the hard way.

Fools are a curse and a blessing, same for twins, but while the twins bless your people and curse your enemies, fools curse you and bless your enemies.

On my 230th​ year of life I renounced my Apprenticeship to my master and begged him to take me back so that I may learn again properly because I was a fool and did not learn properly the first time.

He did not laugh at me, he had not spat on me for my insolence, he did not beat me until my bones were dust for not giving his lessons the dutiful study and appreciation they deserved. He instead told me that he is proud of me and that I had followed the same footsteps as he and stood ready to one day give the same lesson to those I am to teach.

The lesson that without some shred of humility all eldar are fools.

I am now in my 4366th​ year of life. I have taken 50 apprentices, 2 of them had come to the same realization my master had taught me. The other 48 I have given up on, for they continue to be fools.

Of the sorry excuse of a warhost I lead today, only one shows the barest potential that I might take on as student and see if he can learn the lesson that took me 200 years to learn.

None of those that joined me were older than 500 years old. This was for many their first serious mission.

The mission was almost routine in how simple it is to be.

The farseer sensed some interesting individuals upon this world. Eldar around which fate shifted in unusual ways. Our goal was to go to the border world of the empire and see why.

We were not to engage with them, we were not to talk to them unless addressed to first and we were to just observe and try to tell the seers what we saw so that they may try to use this information to make sense of the farseers' madness.

It was the 55th​ such mission I have been a part of, the 55th​ time I went to a world of the empire, in search of something a seer thought interesting. It rarely did lead to much. The only reason such missions were noteworthy was due to the fact they happened in the worlds of the empire that the pleasure cults had taken over fully, thus turning easy missions into important ones.

I did not expect issues, I had given my warriors simple orders that I always give on such worlds. Orders that I believed a gyrinx would be able to follow.

1. Keep in formation until we are attacked, if we are disengage and await for orders before fully engaging in force. We need to know if we can take on whatever decides a host of 86 armed and armored eldar is an acceptable target.
2. Only kill the guardian of the gate if you have to, we would rather not anger the local prince if we can help it. We don't know if they still care for the sacks of crystal and bones they left there.
3. Do not start shooting randomly, we do not want to draw attention. We can't survive any serious attention if it does fall on us.
4. By all that is holy do not separate from the group. There's things in the shadows and dark alleys that think your screams are an aphrodisiac, do not give them an easy target.

They were simple orders, routine orders, things that should be obvious even to the newly born that one would be better served by following than by ignoring.

For some reason, the many centuries old wastes of food and Wraithbone I have been given command over had somehow failed to listen to any of my orders for one reason or the other.

The first order broken was the second. It was the only one that was excusable in hindsight. The dirt stain was planning to drink our souls to see if he can get drunk after failing for the last 300 years to do so.

The scout who did so, a woman I only knew by soul signature would have gotten only a screaming session for her insubordination. No write-ups, nobody up the chain would hear of her stupidity, farseer or not, to know of it and when she reached home she would be granted a transfer to a command of my non-failed apprentices who had need of trigger happy scouts. It was more of a reward than anything, but one I felt was deserved as she probably saved someone's life.

The second order to be broken was the third order I have given. For this order, the other scout had no excuse. The individual she shot upon had surprised us yes, but they showed that they were willing to parlay. The entire encounter could have ended up with us receiving local assistance or perhaps even new recruits. She decided to shoot the poor bastard that tried to greet us with an open hand.

I was more surprised she survived my desire to shoot her and that my self-restraint decided to hold more than the fact that her target survived and showed her a very rude one fingered salute. I was also far more incensed by the fact that what should have been an easy parley turned into a shuriken fight as the allies of the would be diplomat decided to start shooting at us to cover the retreat of their leader.

This turn of events lead directly to the breaking of my first order. My forces did not wait for orders before engaging. I was by this point so angry I lacked words to describe it or the ability to do anything else but follow my instincts and try to keep my warriors from killing themselves.

I have spent less than 10 heartbeasts on this world and I already wished my command was dead by my hand more than that of this worlds' inhabitants.

I was angry, not cruel.

The breaking of my last order seemed almost routine in comparison to what came before. The sort of thing one does as easily as breathing when looked upon it from afar as a fifth of my troops broke it as they tried to reposition themselves for a better firing position on those the rest of their comrades chased.

I realized then the difference between different types of experienced individuals. I was used to warriors that knew that things are extremely dangerous when the enemy is an eldar. I expected caution, I expected trust and fear, and instead I found myself having to teach these lessons to those who had only ever fought orks.

To fight orks is different than fighting Eldar, their passions run deep and to await for orders as they engaged you was to await for death. Spiritual connection and synchronization, superior firepower and agile movement were the ways to fight the green tide, not strict adherence to a chain of command and restraint.

'Mother I apologize for what I am about to do, I know you hated it when I resembled father too much, but I now need to scream so hard another world will feel the weight of that which I have earned as my birthright.

I'm sorry I keep reminding you of the first day as a guardian when you met father and of the last day you saw him before my birth. I am sorry that I swore I would never remind you of my fallen father and yet each day I fail my promise and become more like the father who died before I was born. I am sorry, but your unfilial son's anger is too large and my subordinates too foolish.'

My voice boomed across the soul of my command. Bloodlust fueled by anger washing across that which was born of ritual and experience.

"Do I command eldar or Mon-keigh! Red wing get back in position before I feed your souls to your children! Maybe they can use them better!"

My command panicked as they realized a small scout group was the least of the their priorities.

I did not let go.

They couldn't follow orders right but thankfully their ears could still hear the screams. I only needed them to focus on mine and not those of their stupidity guiding their actions.

"Vanguard, for the love of our mother Isha, if I find a single one of you with blood on your sabers I'll make sure you clean it with your intestines, I don't care by which hole I have to force it in but by Khaine I'll extensively test it on you in order to find out! One hundred years should get me the results I seek!"

They stopped and ceased hunting down the small scout group. Now to wrangle the other half of my idiots.

"Blue wing, I sincerely hope a daemon came and sucked at least one of your souls out of your assholes because by the time I'll find you, you will be begging for it to have happened! Get back in position you unsightly and dumb orks before I make you! The only eldar thing about you is your grace! Do you think you are in a theater to be hopping around? I doubt Khaine's consort taught you those moves or maybe Cegorach decided to play on prank on you to look at how foolish you are, but what do I know, I'm just your commanding officer trying to keep your sorry souls attached to your bodies!"

"Scouts, if the two of your half of a half brain continue to look at your weapons funnily and you don't do your damn jobs and scout out the area I'll make sure you go tell Cegorach what's so funny about them. I need a laugh and I'm sure the Laughing God will send me a troupe to cheer me up once he hears your jokes. You'll be giving him materials for centuries, and if the gods are kind maybe even cure his madness!?"

My voice continued my harsh retorts. My troops finally remembered that orders exist in this reality and that I'm the one issuing them.

"To all of you shit-brained washed up poor looking imitations of corpses not even thinking about disobeying orders before they do so, if I find any of you disobeying my orders again I'm throwing you into the warp to beg the gods to send you home or to the next life because while I'm not so cruel to leave you in the empire, the Gods smite me if I'm letting your stupidity pollute the Webway on the way back home! Your next life will teach you that you have a brain and how to use it because this life has failed you!"

My warriors finally listened. The two scouts that started this whole waterfall on incompetence and insubordination finally remembered that this is a scouting mission, one which ideally they shouldn't have been firing during at all, and started doing their damned duty.

The other two women and coincidentally only warriors besides my future apprentice that could do something as basic as following orders remained by my side.

There are exactly three individuals that did not disobey any of my orders. Two of them are scouts and are awaiting for orders, the other I am unsure if he is even awake for all he moved but I would assume he was, because unlike the half-souled sleepwalkers in my command he actually remained in his position as vanguard and stood as the rally point to which the rest of circus I lead could gather at.

"Taiacca, Curana as two of the three working brains in my command each of you pick a wing, you will be having command over it. I'm not expecting the gods to provide a miracle, just keep the fools from shooting themselves while picking their noses with their rifles. I'll settle for them not firing up when they do so." I continued.

I finally stopped screaming. My voice was harsh to them, perhaps too harsh, but compared to what I subjected the rest of my command to I might as well offered them my sons' hand in marriage for the kindness I held in my soul for them.

I only had one to give each but I'm sure the boy would find a way to handle it. He's not a fool.

"Yes mission leader." the two individuals responded at the same time, their voices clipped and short.

Finally some competence. I will thank my master for sending these two to me if I survive this mission, I'm sure I would have died from anger if I did not have at least one competent subordinate but having two of them had managed to reduce my anger.

The air stopped being red now.

The two even kept their mocking of their new commands non-verbal, instead allowing the smugness of their souls to chastise those they now could freely order around.

"Eadon, stop shivering in fear, you have lead of the vanguard, it's your job to make sure they don't die stabbing each others' asses." I spoke to the last member of my command. I tried to keep my voice the same as that of the new Wing Leaders.

I am not sure I succeeded, having someone finally follow orders managed to calm me down somewhat.

He came from the Empire himself, he knew what sort of things awaited us and yet chose to face them regardless. I had a bit of hope for him and his shoulders slumped, but he proceeded to follow my orders without comment, his acknowledgement being sent through a quick emotion burst. I felt my hope grow.

He did not gloat to his command, but instead just quietly started organizing them.

Once things started settling into a rhythm I finally remembered to breath again. I forgot I needed to do so even if my body's functions did not.

We might still survive this.


AN: Had to cut this chapter in half. Diseths' creativity got to me and his wisdom made it too long to fit In a single chapter.

Diseth=Dílseach →Dutiful

Aisse= Aigne → Mind

Taiacca=Go Tapa → Fast.

Curana=Go cúramach → Carefully.

Eadon= éadóchas → despair