[High General Kisher Xandros Devora]
High General Kisher Xandros Devora had scarcely been home a week after returning from a four-month-long leave of absence from the Nebula when he received the summons from Lord Archimedes Vulpes to attend to him.
Perhaps he should have reported to his liege lord first upon his return, but with a man of his rank and position, time was always in short supply. He spent a few days at home getting reacquainted with his children and grandchildren, getting brought up to speed on the goings-on within his family before turning his head back towards his duties. The next three days after that were spent going over the transcripts of high-level meetings within his chain of command so that he could get an unbiased feel for what had transpired in his absence before he subjected himself to at least a week's worth of briefings.
The High General deemed it the best use of his limited time. He knew that his Lord would understand— they were both the sort who placed their duties to the people above all else— and he believed that swiftly returning to his work would be the best possible way to show Lord Vulpes his appreciation.
However, it appeared that his silent return had not gone unnoticed for long.
Helena Illman, his dutiful secretary, brought the summons in with her as she delivered his customary morning recaff.
"Welcome back, General Devora. I see that your Rejuvenant treatment was a success. You're looking as fierce as your portrait out in the Grand Hall, My Lord." The young woman placed his mug on his desk and gave him a pretty smile.
He let the flattery roll off him like rain on his greatcoat, but rather than chastize her as he usually would have, he let it slide; he had been an old man for far more years than he'd been a young one, and he was going to allow himself to enjoy his newfound youth for a bit before he tightened back up. The rejuvenat chiurgeons at Port Wander had done their work well: his skin was as smooth as a twenty-year-old line trooper who hadn't yet needed to shave, his muscles were corded and strong, and his visage now unscarred. Even his once-wispy white hair was once more dark as the void and trimmed to Vulpes PDF regulation shortness.
The only thing that remained of the old man was his eyes— cold, flat, and winter-grey.
They were the eyes of a centenarian who had watched four generations of soldiers drill, salute, retire, and die of old age... all the while he still waited for a real war.
His wife had perished many years before he did, the woman a pious rarity who eschewed the idea of being restored to her youth instead of joining the God Emperor when her time came, and that left him bereft of a life partner. This meant that he'd gone for many years without female companionship outside of his relatives, and now that he was once more in the prime of his life, he wasn't going to immediately discard feminine interest outright. Though Helena was far beneath his station to even entertain the idea of liaising with her outside of their current professional environment.
So he gave her a calculated and polite smile. "My thanks for the warm welcome, Helena."
He took a small sip of the brew and let it settle against his tongue while the small implants within analyzed the fluid for any known poisons; after a few seconds of cogitation, the implant signaled that it was clear, and he took a much deeper sip.
"Now, what do you have for me there?" He gestured to the scroll still in her hands, and she bowed her head as she presented it.
"I do not know the contents, My Lord, but this came from Lord Vulpes' personal desk via the tubes."
Throughout the hive was a pressurized pneumatic system of tubes that carried small items and letters; an ancient legacy system that had existed since the Vulpes Spire was being constructed all those years ago. It was incredibly low-tech, but it was simple, reliable, and most importantly of all the number of people who knew of its existence was very few. Should there be sabotage or interference with the hive-wide vox systems, then the tube system was ready and able to provide quick, if simple guidance from the top.
"It was from a golden tube, yes?" The High General asked with a quirked eyebrow as he opened up a drawer on his desk and grabbed a set of tongs, which he used to slide the vellum scroll into the Multi-Auspex built within.
Plain, clear plast tubes were for general communications, while silver opaque tubes were used by the PDF; gold tubes were used only by the Lord Governor's office, and the black tubes were used by the Umbrian spy network. Those who handled black tubes had strict instructions to place them in the proper transference tube and then forget they ever saw them pass through. Rumor had it that the tubes used by the Seneschal's spy network had an aerosolized poison within that could kill a man in seconds if opened, and while the General didn't know the veracity of the claim, if it kept the foolish and nosy from opening them... then the Umbrians were free to spread whatever amount of misinformation they believed was necessary.
Helena's brunette curls bounced as she bobbed her head, "Yes, My Lord. And I sent it back immediately as protocol dictates."
"Good, good." Kisher hummed with a nod, and upon the auspex drawer opening up— which was a good sign because if it had been contaminated with something unseemly, it would have begun its purgation protocols— he grabbed the vellum scroll and cracked the seal.
But not before giving his secretary a brief side-eye. "Thank you, Helena. If I require anything else, I will notify you."
He could see the glimmer of curiosity in her eyes, but Helena was an intelligent sort; smart enough to keep her mouth closed and not ask questions. The young woman accepted the dismissal and bowed lowly at the waist before she swept out of his office with a none-too-hidden sashay of her hips. His eyes lingered on the pencil skirt that hugged her backside a few moments longer than he would have liked before the door closed, and he had to chalk that up to him being a young man again.
The old him wouldn't have even bothered watching her leave.
"Ah, to be young again." He snorted to himself as he shook his head.
He could see why the nobility would consistently pay through the nose— or failing that, hatching perfidious schemes to acquire the wealth to purchase a rejuvenant treatment. Even as a High General, with multiple generations of wealth backing him, it cost him almost all of his personally accrued funds to get his own, and that was after the Lord Governor reached into his own accounts to take the edge off that particular blade. However, despite the costs, he was young again, with another full century of life to live if he played his cards right and kept on top of his health.
Perhaps the next time, he'll have amassed the necessary funds to purchase it himself without having to rely on the generosity of his Lord?
The High General, soon to be retired, cracked the seal open.
"Let me see what you require, Lord Vulpes."
After reading the brief summons, an invitation to break the fast with him and his two rumored children, the High General saw that he was going to have to shuffle some meetings around.
He reached over and pressed the activation stud down on the vox caster next to his desk.
"Helena. Cancel my meetings for the rest of the morning. If they are critical, have them moved to the afternoon. And have my pilots prep my Lander."
Sixty-eight kilometers above the ground, the private landing pads of the Vulpes floors were awash with activity; the PDF Aquila Lander that banked in smoothly for its landing was just one of many already on the pads. From the ship's observation dome, High General Kisher Devora could see the Lady Admiral's blue and gold peacock sitting on its struts, and next to it was the black and silver Aquila of the Seneschal. He should have known that those two would be invited, but for all that he never saw eye to eye with the Umbrian and the Navige, he knew that it was merely inter-service rivalries that pitted them against one another.
They all had the same duty, but they just went about it in different ways.
One chose to look the enemies of the Rogue Trader in the eyes and strike them down, the other preferred to slay them from relative safety tens of thousands of kilometers away, and the last liked to cloak its blades in shadows and poison.
"We are coming in for landing, High General." The Lander Captain's voice broke through the vox.
"Bring her in nice and easy, Captain." He replied.
Rather than strap himself into his command throne, the High General opted to grab two of the handholds; Captain Tarsis was one of the best, and his landings were always smooth.
The struts of the Aquila lander kissed the adamantium landing deck with a hiss of hydraulics.
"We have landed safely, Sir. Should I stay on board?"
"Yes." Was all the general said as he tugged his great coat closed and donned the rebreather mask before cinching it tightly over his nose and mouth.
If he was to get any work done today after this breakfast meeting, then he was going to need the Captain to fly him back. Kisher greatly disliked the amount of time it took to travel the Vulpes Spire, even by ground car. If he didn't fly back then was likely he wouldn't make it back to his office until well after sundown, and he couldn't afford that as he had plenty of briefings he had to catch up on already, thanks to his four-month absence traveling to Port Wander.
The moment the ramp touched the deck, the High General swept out of the Lander and made his way toward the poly-plast 'Welcome Mat' tunnel with an unhurried gait. He was thankful for his newfound youth once more, because the frigid air would have already chilled his old bones. After reciprocating a handful of salutes from the PDF technicians that swarmed over his craft, the man made his way into the tunnel where a pair of Vulpes Guard Commandos were waiting for him in their black and silver carapace armor.
He passed through the airlock cycle without breaking stride, and the Commandos moved to follow without question; they knew who he was, and he knew where he was needed.
The heavy incense that filled the air tickled his nose, and he found that his tolerance for the stuff had greatly regressed ever since his rejuvenation; before he had appreciated it because strong scents were all he could smell in his advanced age, but now the cloying thickness was enough to make his eyes water.
In his mind, it was a most wonderful problem to be had.
The trio passed by numerous hardened checkpoints that served as elaborate kill-boxes, dressed up all of the finery that could be expected from a noble of Lord Vulpes' standing. Thick ferrocrete walls were adorned with gold, silver, and numerous slits where guardsmen could fire their weapons out at assaulting forces. Adamantium doors were gilded in fine-cut gems and golden plates that concealed firing holes for mobile lascannons and mutli-las repeaters. The exquisite black marble rectangles that broke up the pristine white flooring concealed ceramite barriers that were a foot thick and could spring up to cover defenders at a moment's notice.
There was even a Leman Russ tank at the very end of the hall, concealed by a false wall, that could be employed to stymie the advance of even Heretic Astartes should they attempt to infiltrate the private floors of the Vulpes dynasty from the landing pads; it had taken some work to get that particular bit of armor installed, but the heavy armor this high up in the Spire would be the last thing assaulters would expect.
After passing by some Servitors with their Mechanicus attendants, the High General and his two escorts turned right at an otherwise ordinary junction, and another false wall swung up to reveal a large chamber. It was brightly lit and filled with a dozen members of the PDF and a handful of the Spire's Enforcers; all of them were seated at various consoles and monitors, which showed camera feeds from the corridor and other critical locations. The High General waved off the whole room preemptively so that they wouldn't snap to attention upon his entering; it would take their eyes off their tasks.
At the back of the room was a simple lift, large enough to hold maybe twenty men abreast and ten deep, and standing at the entrance was a familiar face.
Kalista Umbrian, the current Senschal of Lord Vulpes, stood stiff-backed next to the lift with her wrists clasped behind her.
She was a descendant of Markus Umbrian, the vaunted first of her family's lineage, and she took that heritage as seriously as any Umbrian. Both the family's successes and failures were worn on their bodies as well as their souls, in the form of intricate tattoos that were inscribed into their flesh once they had reached adulthood. It was an odd, old custom from Markus Umbrian's homeworld of Tattanax II, a former feral world that Lord Vulpes' father had brought the Emperor's light to nearly six centuries ago, and though they had forever left the cradle of their civilization to follow the dynasty among the stars... the tradition remained.
Despite the tattoos scrawled across her face and neck, in both flowing High Gothic script and simple but stylized pictograms, the Seneschal was a conventionally pretty young woman. High cheekbones, pale skin, a finely sculpted nose, and thinly plucked eyebrows. Her expression, however, was always severe— as if she'd just been informed of a heretical plot unfolding underneath her nose— and her inky black hair and eyes seemed to drink in the light around her.
Kisher normally wouldn't have cared to pay this much attention to her unconventional beauty before, especially as he'd watched her grow up learning the family craft from her father's lap, but alas, he was a young man now, and it would do her a disservice to ignore her womanly efforts.
Especially with how she filled out the traditional Umbrian black suit— the only ornament she had was a single silver fox medallion hanging from a pin at her throat.
"High General, his Lordship is expecting you. The boy has just finished his post-decanting medical." Her voice was as soft and precise as ever, but he didn't miss the calculating look she gave as her eyes wandered over his rejuvenated form.
Kisher inclined his head as he stepped past her and into the lift. "Then let us not keep... the future waiting."
The lift ride down the personal floors of the Vulpes dynasty was silent, as he, the Seneschal, and the Vulpes Commandos were not ones for small talk.
Awaiting them at the bottom was a volt-cell powered cart that ferried them down gargantuan hallway after gargantuan hallway.
Given this was the private floor of the Vulpes Heir, it was notably barren of the trophies and portraits that could be found on the Lord Rogue Trader's floor.
Lord Archimedes had a fondness for extolling the virtues and accomplishments of his subordinates just as much as he had his own, and the walls of those grand halls were filled to the brim. Statues and portraits of past Rogue Traders of the dynasty lined the walls, along with those even of Kisher's family. Kisher's own great-great-grandfather Heinrich Devora had a place of honour halfway down the gallery: stern, scarred, power fist raised in eternal salute.
Heinrich had crushed the last xenos hold-outs on Ironfang with nothing but bayonets and faith, and every time he passed by that beautiful work of art, Kisher couldn't help but feel the old man's painted eyes judging him for never having done the same.
Of his nearly eighty years of service to the dynasty as a member of the PDF— eighty years of drills, simulations, and garrison duty— he'd only seen two actual battles, and one of them was a lingering humiliation.
Ashen Reach, that forsaken penal moon in Red Autumn, had been his first action.
He had been a young Colonel, back then, commanding the 33rd Vulpes Strikers, one of the PDF's few heavy infantry regiments, and their carapace armor and heavy weapons made them suitable for the task at hand. Twenty thousand inmates convicted of High Crimes—heretics, murderers, drug kingpins—had rioted, seizing control of their sector with smuggled shivs and improvised explosives. As the most senior officer, and a member of the Devora family no less, he'd been charged with orchestrating the assault as a test of his leadership abilities.
While the inmates had started with shivs and homemade explosives, they didn't stay that poorly armed for long; not after they managed to break into the prison armories.
Given the threat to the lives of his men, and that the mission to quell the rebellion wasn't time sensitive, the young Colonel had opted to take the methodical and textbook approach. It was two weeks of breaching habblocks and clearing them out one at a time, flushing out the criminals with heavy las fire and grenades, and the 33rd Strikers availed themselves well. 10,000 PDF troops had been properly blooded for the first time in centuries, and the inmates purged to the last— all accomplished with only 300 dead and twice that many wounded.
It was a clean victory, one that taught him the value of precision over needless bravado; the other plans from his peers would have seen the prison retaken more quickly, but the cost in lives would have been far greater.
However, even if that action had sharpened the 33rd, a blade not used would grow dull, and that applied even to him. His next action wouldn't be for thirty years, and by that point, the blooded members of his Striker Regiment had long-since retired, and the Colonel was now a General in charge of an even greener brigade. One that would be tested in 452.M41 by a pirate incursion.
A flotilla of void-scum, dragged into the Vulpes Maelstrom's currents, had limped out near the Vulpes Maelstrom Gate and claimed a terrestrial moon as their lair. Thankfully, the Mechanicus sensors had caught them while they were in the midst of fortifying the moon, and while House Navige's ships had crippled their vessels, it was up to the Vulpes PDF to flush the survivors on the surface out. The void battle was an indisputable victory, but the ground fight... that had been a rather bloody affair, but in hindsight, what else could they have expected?
They sent four regiments of green troops against a foe that had been hardened by the harshest cruelties the Expanse could muster, and they backed them into a corner with no hope of escape... and no offer of leniency given. But why should they have given those scum any quarter? They were the worst the wild lands of the Koronus Expanse had to offer, and the Vulpes PDF believed that they were poorly trained and under-equipped.
What could rusted autoguns and ad-hoc armor plating hope to do in the face of the overwhelming might of their well-drilled men and boys in black and grey?
It turned out that when backed into a corner, even pirates could band together and fight like a well-oiled machine, and it cost the Vulpes regiments a bloodied nose and a black eye.
Despite being outnumbered five-to-one, the pirate scum of the Expanse had managed to dig in deep. Though equipped with poorly serviced autoguns, heavy stubbers, and half-functional chain weapons, they had managed to conceal the true extent of their armaments until the battle had been engaged in full. Where they had gotten their hands on Militarum-grade Lascannons, they would never know, but between the heavy laser weapons and the queer looted xenos tech that could command arcing chains of plasma, they reaped a bloody toll upon the unprepared regiments.
The losses suffered that day turned out to be a spectre that forever loomed over the High General's shoulder; over two thousand of his men and boys would never be coming home, and he was one among many who had to answer for it.
Not just to his Lord, but also to the families of the slain.
Against greater foes, they might have suffered far worse casualties, or even been routed and forced to rely on naval bombardment to finish the task for them.
It was a humbling experience, but even lessons learned can be forgotten if given enough time to fade from memory, and not even the High General himself was immune to this.
It was only in these moments of silence, when he could afford to be introspective, that the memories of that battle bubbled up to the surface and reignited his shame.
However, he was among a small handful of senior officers who even remembered that battle, and it wasn't one they were keen on contemplating in any serious manner.
It was that debacle which prompted Lord Vulpes to petition for Imperial aid.
The Calixis Sector Navy, ever pragmatic, had seen an opportunity to remove a troublesome vessel that no flotilla wanted to claim on their ledgers, and gleefully foisted it and its crew onto the Nebula. The Tyrant-class cruiser Glorious Vision was an adamantium-clad paperweight for all of its wonderous technology, its plasma weapons ineffective against all but the smallest of escorts. It was too weak to be a ship of the line, and too large to sustain itself for more than a handful of months out of port, and too slow to properly patrol. However, for a static assignment like the one the Vulpes Nebula provided, it was perfect; pirate vessels were usually escort classes anyway.
The regiment of Cadian Shock Troopers, however, felt more appropriate, and likely were assigned to their Nebula as a means to take out the sting of hosting the Glorious Vision. Fox's Den did host a pleasure world, and the upper crust were keen to see it better defended after the Nebula PDF proved their incompetence against the up-jumped void-scum, so the 10,000 elite soldiers of Cadia were there to be Fox Den's true protectors.
Something that made the High General scoff whenever the thought crossed his mind.
The cart pulled off to the side, and the party of four disembarked before being admitted through another series of manned checkpoints; it took almost twenty minutes of walking, but they had finally arrived at the dining hall.
The dining hall doors were thirty meters tall, carved from a single slab of ivory taken from the beak of a void-kraken slain by Lord Vulpes in the outer reaches; his family archives had numerous different tellings of the tale.
While the dining hall on Lord Vulpes' floor was a cathedral of controlled opulence, the Heir Apparent's was far more utilitarian. There were statues of the Aquila and the God Emperor at the entrance, with large tapestries bearing the Vulpes dynasty's sigil hanging from the vaulted ceilings, but there was little else. Other than the large slab of green-gold stone that served as the hall's singular attraction. It appeared that the Lord Heir put the most emphasis on giving proper veneration and glory to the God Emperor; that the young man hadn't had the time to decorate it to his tastes never crossed his mind.
As this was an informal gathering, all six chairs were clustered closely together at the head of the table, where the unmistakable figure of Lord Archimedes Vulpes sat with a stiff back but a calm expression. He might be clad in the fine flamboyant silks that the nobility favored, but even with his hair wispy and skin sallow, the fire of a man who could command fleets and lead armies into battle still burned brightly. Now, if only he could stand to wear less jewelry, then the High General would have no more complaints about his Lord; there was respecting the sensibilities of the nobility, and then there was pandering.
Claiming the farthest seat was Lady Navige, the ancient and terrible crone clad in her naval dress uniform despite being long-retired from service; she locked eyes with him as she absentmindedly stroked the large sapphire that hung from her neck. No doubt the woman was lamenting her advanced age and inability to receive further rejuvenant treatment as she glared at his now youthful visage. The woman was certainly petty enough for that to be the case.
While the Seneschal strode forward to claim her rightful seat at her Lord's right hand, the High General ignored the small breach in protocol— as he was her senior and should sit first— in favor of looking over the young lady who was at his Lord's left hand.
So this was the girl that everyone had been whispering about for more than a decade?
She looked to be no older than thirteen, a tender age if there ever was one. Her ice-blue eyes were unmistakably her father's, but the black of her curls was a touch darker than Lord Vulpes' had been. She was slight, but she wore the pristine white dress quite well, and there was a small but eager light in her face that had Kisher wondering if he couldn't introduce her to his great-granddaughters so that they might become acquainted. Thankfully, she had not picked up her father's taste for copious amounts of gold, as only a black void-pearl necklace was looped around her neck.
The High General stopped before his Lord's chair and saluted before taking a knee. "Lord Vulpes, I have returned."
"Rise, High General Devora." The elderly man waved him up to his feet. "I'm glad to see that the Rejuvenant treatment worked well for you. I also noticed that your first instinct was to make for the Iron Bastion to deal with paperwork rather than greet your Lord upon your return. Do I rate so lowly on your priority list that meetings and status updates take precedence over... enjoying your first drink as a young man with the man who made it possible?"
That was as subtle and as good-natured as a chastisement could be, and it was even said with a half-smirking grin, but the High General still felt the sting.
"Apologies, My Lord, but paperwork waits for no man, and I had quite the mountain waiting for me in my office."
The Rogue Trader sniffed as he grasped a chalice of genuine coffee, its ice clinking inside the golden rim. "And here I would have thought that regaining your youth once more would have taught you a valuable lesson about learning when to relax and enjoy it?"
"I may be retiring soon to let the next generation lead, My Lord, but respectfully, I can rest when I'm dead. Service to the God Emperor and the Vulpes Dynasty deserves no less."
"It appears as though we are all cursed with the desire to labor endlessly in the God Emperor's name. It's a wonder that none of my current sons have managed to pick up this trait; far too whimsical and lax, those three are." The old Lord Governor sighed and shook his head before he perked up. "Ah! Before I forget, High General Kisher Xandros Devora, may I introduce to you my daughter? This is Sable Vulpes, my pride and joy."
The High General stepped around his Lord's high-backed chair and took a knee between the seats before he reached out and gently grasped the young lady's hand; he pecked the back of her knuckles. "It is a great honor and pleasure to finally meet you, My Lady."
The young lady's cheeks pinkened as she smiled back. "It is a pleasure to meet you finally in person as well, High General. I've read all about your exploits in the PDF."
It was clearly spoken in good faith, but it felt more like a lance to the heart, and a subtle chill from the specter of his greatest failing settled over his shoulders.
From behind him, he heard the wretched crone huff out a small laugh.
"Then I hope that they were as informative for you as they were for me. Our battles in the Vulpes PDF are few, so we have to learn from them the best we can."
She must have sensed his discomfort, and she gave him a small nod before he rose up and took his seat.
There were two chairs still empty.
"Ah. We're just waiting on my sons to arrive." The Rogue Trader leaned forward and gestured to the seats with a hand. "They should be arriving any moment; Silenius and Archmagos Vul-Phi-Ceti were just finishing up their medical proceedings. Shouldn't be too long now."
As if summoned by the words, the great doors at the far end opened again.
"Impeccable timing."
Archmagos Vul-Phi-Ceti glided in first, mechadendrites slithering behind him like a den of metallic ratting snakes, with his Martian red robes whispering across the floor. Behind him walked the reason for this gathering.
Silenius P. Vulpes— the hidden scion.
He was tall, easily two meters, with broad shoulders, and black hair that matched the color and luster of his sister. He moved with a fluidity that was not seen in a boy who had just reached into adulthood; Kisher had seen verified Sword Dancers move with less grace. There was power in spades that rippled across his form, tightly constrained by his flesh, but it was apparent that the lad was unused to moving with such precision; there were hitches in his gait and stutters in his step, as if he was expecting himself to be less coordinated than he actually was.
His augmetics had been of the highest grade short of the Emperor's Angels of Death, of that the High General was certain, and to be installed by an Archmagos spoke of the great ties between the Rogue Trader and the Mechanicus. The closer he moved, the more apparent it became, as the High General could see the slightest shimmer on the lad's flesh in the form of a dermal weave so high quality he'd never seen its like before. And much like young Sable, those ice-blue eyes of his were so much like his father's that he couldn't be anything but the Rogue Trader's son; even in the three failures that defining trait bred true.
Silenius' coat was midnight blue void-silk lined with silver thread, with a high collar that was edged in gold; the Aquila pendant over his heart was polished so finely it seemed to glow. The rest of his outfit was far more muted, however, with a black suit, white-silk shirt, and a slate grey vest over black slacks. Wrapped around his hips was a pistol belt that contained a pair of training weapons— a cutlass and a las pistol— and it was clear that his martial instructor was getting the boy used to being armed at all times. As he was within his own home, however, live weapons were likely seen as being unnecessary, which was a small oversight in Kisher's opinion; if a man was going to wear his weapons, then he should be ready to use them. But he wasn't the Heir's instructor so he wasn't going to overstep over such a small thing.
However, most of all, there was an unmistakable air of command about him, clinging to him like a cloak.
With his masculine features and strong jaw, the scion looked every inch the perfect Heir.
The perfect Rogue Trader.
The only fly in the ointment, however, was the almost sullen look he had on those perfectly sculpted features; an unmistakable edge— the kind that liked dark poetry and sad songs— to go along with his commanding presence.
Silenius' eyes raked over the seated members individually before they settled on the young Sable Vulpes.
"A sister..." His whispered words were easy to hear with so little sound around them, and there was little done to disguise the joy and wonder in his voice. "I have a sister..."
"Yes, my son. This is your sister, her name is Sable." Archimedes, the father, smiled— the expression both proud and weary.
"You never told me I had a sister, Father." The young man flowed around the dining table like a wraith with two left feet; he might have bumped into Lady Navige's chair with his foot, but the lad didn't seem to pay it any mind.
"Your isolation was my doing, to shield you both from the knives that took your brothers." The Lord Governor's head turned and tracked his son as the lad strode toward them, "However, I believe that now is the time to start building bridges between kin, so you shall be strangers no longer."
The girl slipped out of her chair, her lithe fingers smoothing down her dress as she fidgeted underneath her elder brother's gaze. "H-Hello, brother. It's so good to finally meet you."
The large lad dropped down to one knee and, with great gentleness, he wrapped the girl in his arms and pulled her close. "Ah. We've only just met, but I've already decided that if anything happens to you, there would be no end to the corpses I'd leave in my wake."
Young Sable was just as surprised to hear those words if her open jaw was any indication, as seemed to be the case with both Lady Navige and Lady Umbrian, but Lord Vulpes seemed to have a fond smile on his lips, as if he was quite used to hearing such melodrama.
Even the eyes of the Archmagos seemed to be crinkled behind his face mask, which was a surprising amount of emotion for one of the Machine Cult to show.
"Mhmm. Yes." The older teen pulled apart from their embrace, and as serious as a battle cry from a Sororitas, uttered even more drivel that had the High General's insides curling. "Join me, and together we will rule this Sector, as brother and sister. Together, we will show this wild, untamed Expanse our true power."
[Silenius P. Vulpes]
"Lord Silenius," The be-tatted Seneschal of my father, a rather sumptuous beauty by the name of Kalista Umbrian, was currently the bane of my existence. "You mentioned that you had some goals of yours that you would like to see accomplished before your Lord Father named you the Heir officially?"
Given I had only truly been 'awake' at this point for a handful of hours, I had thought that this was going to be a friendly breakfast. A way to break the ice and introduce me to the movers and the shakers within my father's retinue over a meal in a low-stakes setting. We would meet, exchange pleasantries, and I could kick back and take in some critical information about the happenings behind the scenes that Silenius hadn't been privy to prior to my insertion.
Instead, I was less than two eggs and a slice of toast into my incredibly lavish meal before I was run through with a spit and hoisted over a fire to receive the 3rd Degree from all in attendance. Between my father, the Lady Admiral, High General, and the Seneschal, I was about ready to stick a fork in my own hand to test how done I was. It was quite clear that this was more akin to an ambush than a family gathering.
Only my sister had refrained from poking and prodding at me thus far, as she seemed content with sitting back and letting me act as ablative armor; she had a cute face and a ridiculously cute demeanor, but I think she instinctively knew that in this setting, if I wasn't the one under fire, then she would be.
It was treason, but a very cute treason.
Oh? What about the Archmagos? Well, given he spent half an hour putting pointed objects and all sorts of different bits and bobs inside my person, I was doing my level best to ignore him entirely.
Politely, of course.
He didn't seem to mind, and if anything, my abject refusal to even glance in his direction only amused rather than insulted him.
"Hem. A rather broad question, Lady Umbrian, but one that I believe I can answer." I cleared my throat as I placed my cutlery down on my plate, and I used the act of wiping my mouth with a silk napkin to stall for time so that I could order my thoughts. "I know a great deal more than the average Imperial citizen, maybe even than my fellow nobles. However, much of that knowledge was obtained from the pages of a book or from the lips of one of my many esteemed instructors. While I have no reason to doubt the veracity of those teachings, I am of the mind that one can only truly know if they have experienced things first-hand."
"If I am to be the most effective leader I can be, then I must do more than rely on the knowledge of others. After all, what is a Rogue Trader if not a seeker of truth?" I picked up the ceramite mug of black coffee, real coffee and not the recaff that was commonly found in the Imperium, and took a sip from it. "There are many things I feel I must do before I can lay claim to the title; I must earn it, rather than have it handed to me."
Despite the chilly air of cold indifference that radiated off the Seneschal, I could see that my words had found some success with my father; he seemed rather pleased with my response.
"A rather succinct answer, but one that I find is lacking in critical details." Lady Umbrian, however, was less pleased. "Perhaps you could expound upon this further?"
Yeesh, tough crowd.
Yet, I had expected that to not be a satisfying enough answer for her. Somewhat. It was time to dust off the old memory banks and whip out the tried-and-true 'how I would go about things, if I were in X situation' mode of thinking that I always thought about as a fanfiction author.
I smiled as if butter couldn't melt in my mouth. "But of course, my Lady. It would be my pleasure."
"To be an effective Lord Governor and Rogue Trader, I must learn, experience, and understand the multiple facets that make up the overall scope of my duties." I held up a hand and began ticking off my fingers— making sure to start with my thumb as this was the Imperium and not America. "I must understand the laws of the Nebula and the Imperium at large. Even if I do not know the minutiae of every regulation, as I'll have a capable retinue who will, I must know the broad strokes of the edicts that my Lord father has labored under; both those he has passed himself, and those that come from Holy Terra.
Next, I should have a sublime understanding of the engines of commerce that power my realm— both the local and intersystem. The supply and demand. The logistical chains that keep our manufactorums fed and our products moving in, out, and around our Nebula. What the wider Imperium purchases and how we can better supply those needs for the maximum amount of growth for our people."
I continued to check off my fingers as I went down the list, and while the others present stayed engaged as I rambled on, I could see that I lost the interest of my sister very early on.
I needed to understand the military and how it operated, both the Navy and the ground forces.
I needed to understand the wider history of the Imperium and how our small slice of heaven fit within it.
I needed to understand the Ecclesiarchy and how the Imperial Cult shaped public policy, and how best to use those levers of power to my advantage.
I needed to learn how to be an exemplary dungeon delver and explorer, as part of the bit of being a Rogue Trader was going on dangerous adventures and finding cool shit to wave around as trophies.
I needed to be a supreme killer and stacker of bodies, both those of the xenos and the heretic, because people expected leadership to have a certain level of martial prowess.
I needed to be an innovator and industrialist, so that we could make newer and better shit, and do it in a way that wouldn't have the wider Mechanicus frothing at the mouth and mounting a crusade against us.
Of course, I couched it all in flowery terms and pretty language, but I made it explicitly clear that I understood the scope of the burden that I would bear as the Lord Governor and Rogue Trader, even if I didn't yet feel its weight.
My throat was a bit parched by the end of it, and my food had grown cold, but I was at least pleased that I'd given the lot of them something to chew on so that I could get back to my meal.
"It appears as though you've given this far more thought than I would have expected from one so young." It was Lady Navige who spoke, and the old woman stroked her chin thoughtfully as she leaned against the arm of her chair. "However, the more you have revealed, the more I find myself growing curious as to just how you would accomplish all of that. Tell me, how exactly would you go about learning the realms of business, young man?"
I resisted the urge to groan in frustration.
"I have many plans, Lady Navige, but I must confess that many of them are still in the early stages of exploration. I've only just progressed far enough into my studies that my current slate of tutors believes that there is little more that they can teach me. So I suppose that I can say that I have only recently had enough time to myself to contemplate personal development for a short while." I stabbed a cut of fatty— though cold— meat onto my golden fork and savored the taste for a few moments before I continued. "However, I can see that such an answer would be unsatisfying for you. So while I do not have anything professional on hand, such as an action plan and risk assessment, I suppose I could tell you that I plan on acquiring a number of active businesses to learn from."
I sipped at the dregs of my coffee and held it out for a maid to refill, which a beautiful young woman stepped forward from the far wall and did promptly.
"I wish to purchase a mine, a refinery on one of the lower floors, and then I'll build a manufactorum here on my personal floor. Perhaps even a refinery of higher quality and throughput, provided I can earn the assistance of the Mechanicus in orbit." I turned my head and nodded to the Archmagos, who had been busy fiddling with a pad after he stuffed his meal into a set of polymer bags; I guessed he wanted to eat alone.
"Ah? The Heir wishes to build closer ties with the Cult Mechanicus?" The Mechanicus member turned his head and regarded me closely, and his synthesized voice was laced with what I could only guess was surprise. "How fortuitous, for the Mechanicus has been in talks with Lord Vulpes to expand the breadth and scope of our operations here. For far too long we have been constrained by our current methods, and we have been seeking avenues to increase our productivity."
He leaned forward, the taller man almost looming over me as his mechadendrites clicked and swayed behind him. "However, as we are a mere outpost, the number of Holy STCs that we have access to is limited. We will need to prove to the Lathe Worlds that we are growing enough to warrant further investment; the Ramilles-class Star Fort above us was a rather large expenditure. While useful and practical, that particular concession to the realm has put us lower in priority in other areas."
I ignored the way the hairs on the back of my neck stood up as we locked eyes. "Completely understandable, which is why exploring the Hive and expanding our efforts to uncover this city's lost secrets will be a top priority going forward. We will need more exploration teams, which means that the Explorator Corps might be asked to provide the necessary training to said teams. It might slow down the current efforts to fulfill the Mechanicus' Divine Mandate to recover sacred archeotech, but if we can double or even triple the size of our mortal exploration corps, then that would be of much greater value in the long term, no?"
"Hmmm..." The Archmagos let a mechadendrite, one of the ones that had done unspeakable things to me earlier, slither over his shoulder and rub at his chin. "Such a thing would be expensive. We have had numerous debates within the conclave as to how to proceed, but while we can supply the instructors, finding qualified mortal assistance requires thrones to pay them."
I tilted my head and squinted my eyes at the table as I dredged up the memories of Silenius's currently existing bank account; I'd be raking in 100,000 Thrones per day from the money bag alone, and I had almost 50 million just sitting around since the 'me' of before hadn't been much of a spender.
Such a large amount was merely the leftovers from the allowance my father provided for me after I'd paid for the upkeep and staff.
"And how much would it cost to triple the mortal assistance of the Exploration corps— specifically for the Hive?"
I understood that there was a rather large Mechanicus team at the Ecliptic-9 station in the Red Autumn system, but for now, I would focus my efforts on the Vulpes Spire. The lack of training requirements for Zero-G and Vacuum would drastically cut down on the funds necessary to expand it, and we could use that exploration time to evaluate the expanded crop. Those who performed well and kept a cool head could find themselves with an offer to get additional training to serve the Mechancius on the station.
"To double the number of mortals, equipment, training, and all... would cost 3,344,991 Thrones. To triple it? We haven't had the Logis run the numbers on that yet, but I could ask a few compatriots if they would be willing to do so." Archmagos Vul-Phi-Ceti nodded his head slowly as he tapped a finger on the table... and after a few moments, he perked up. "Ah, done. Magos Logis Rho-1158 has stated that tripling the mortal assistance would cost 5,821,598 Thrones; a small discount due to economies of scale in procurement and more efficient mass training."
"Excellent, very good. Then inform the Archmagos Explorator that I would be willing to fund this expansion. However, instead of that exact amount, I will disburse an even 7 million thrones." I tapped my plate with my fork with a small smile. "For 'good performance' bonuses, and to ensure that they are properly armed and equipped; none of the bottom-shelf equipment if we can help it."
"Better equipment can lead to higher survival rates, and I once read a treatise by Archmagos Efficient-A111 on the measurable effects that 'positive reinforcement' and 'incentives' can do to motivate a new workforce." His eyes crinkled, "How quaint. But also likely not the best use of a young Heir's personal funds."
"Thrones I have in abundance, but time and experienced Delvers are a constraint that can be rectified through the use of those funds." I shook my head slightly as I picked up a slice of bread that likely cost more money than— I killed that train of thought. "Besides, if I am to push for improvements and reforms, then it would behoove me to put my Thrones where my desires lie. If I dip my hands into the treasury for every little project, it would be not only irresponsible, but I also don't have any true authority to do so. If it proves to be a waste, then it was my own money and not that which was entrusted to the dynasty by the taxpayers."
Besides, delving for Archeotech, especially in a hive city still so unexplored like the Vulpes Spire, I was more than likely to earn an order of magnitude more Thrones than I invested. Probably even more than that. And if I used my personal funds for this project, then no one could raise a stink about it when I became obscenely wealthy selling that tech to the Mechanicus.
"I will contact the Archmagos Explorator later this evening when she is free, and I will have an answer for you at the start of the next cycle."
"And speaking of improvements..." I turned my head toward the High General, but the severe-looking young general shook his head while holding up a hand.
"Allow me to stop you before you get it into your head that your personal funds could meaningfully improve the equipment or training of the PDF, Lord Heir. I mean no disrespect, but the budgets of the Guard are far larger than your Thrones could meaningfully impact."
"However," Lady Navige took that moment to interject, with a small smile on her lips. "If you wished to spend your funds to procure for the Navy an additional vessel, then I wouldn't turn it down. Perhaps a new frigate? Or maybe a corvette?"
The old woman seemed to weather the High General's withering glare with aplomb.
I narrowed my eyes, "I have a feeling that you might be toying with me, but I will confess that I do not know just how expensive it would be to purchase a frigate or a corvette."
"The last I remember us being quoted for a Claymore-class escort, a corvette, a new one that just slipped the moorings at a Mechanicus ship yard would only cost around 200 million Thrones. A trifle for such a versatile Warp-capable ship." She grinned wickedly as she framed her jaw with her thumb and forefinger. "The Imperial Navy looks down upon that class, but I find its versatility is worth the price. We have quite a few of them."
"I'm afraid that you have me at a disadvantage in the realms of naval vessels and their capabilities, at least at this moment. I will take some time for self-study, and we can return to this topic at a later time."
After I learned more about the current stable of ships from accurate, in-universe sources, and when I actually had the Thrones to throw around for such a purchase. I had a feeling that my mine, refinery, and manufactorum would be eating the majority of my funds, and while the 100k per day was substantial, it would be a long time before I could even contemplate buying a ship if I had to rely on that income alone. Better to make some quick money with exploration and use that to secure positive capital, which I could then reinvest into making more money.
Buying a ship at this juncture, even if I had the money, would be a vanity purchase if there ever was one. I knew that my father would leave me four vessels for my use as the new Rogue Trader, but expansion without a stable foundation would be ruinous. The people at this table knew this as well, of that I was certain, and it was likely all just another test.
It would be especially stupid considering I hadn't yet gone through any formalized naval training, or even the PDF's training for that matter.
"Returning to where I was," I directed my attention back to the High General, "How fares the PDF? Its readiness and equipment? Do please be candid, I would hate to have an inaccurate view of the men and women who defend my father's realm."
The High General glanced at my father from the corner of his eye before he leaned forward and pushed his plate away from him. "You wish to know the state of the Vulpes forces?"
"Indeed." I arched an eyebrow as I nodded. "I might not be the Lord Governor yet, but I cannot begin to make plans when I don't know the current state of affairs."
Besides, after almost an hour of getting drilled into by these three, the least they could do is answer my questions; I may be the not-quite-designated Heir right now, but in time, I will be the Lord.
Best to get them acquainted with the idea now so that they and their replacements don't believe they can walk all over me when I take up the mantle.
The following fifteen-minute brief was blissfully short and sweet.
Out of a population of 630 million people, +/- 0.7% due to fluctuations, we had barely 20 million total in the Nebula's PDF forces, with 10 million of that being located within the Vulpes Spire. That was roughly 3% of our total population serving in defense of the realm, and that was frankly abysmally low for how wealthy we were. We could support an army five times that large, even with our current governmental expenditures, before budgets grew tight.
Though that was only because we were light on armor and mechanized infantry regiments. For one regiment with 120 Leman Russ tanks, we could supply fifteen infantry regiments with their kit, pay, and even mobile lascannons. And for a mechanized regiment with Chimera 250 APCs, it was ten infantry regiments.
When given the choice between creating regiments of 2,000 and 5,000— the Armor and Mechanized units, respectively— or 150,000 to 100,000 infantry troops, the Nebula PDF had chosen the most economical option.
Each world had multiple armor and mechanized infantry regiments on their books, but the rest were all bog standard infantry with bog standard infantry kit— Flak Armor, a single grenade each, and the M-G Short Las lasrifle. At the platoon-level, they were afforded some heavy support stubbers, and at the company-level, they had a half-dozen wheeled lascannons that they could emplace along with a single mortar section. The only ones with Flamers, sidearms, and heavy ordnance were the Heavy Infantry Regiments, and those boys had Carapace armor; however, they were few in number, with only 10% of our forces being equipped as such.
We didn't even have the good lasrifles for our boys and girls.
The M36 Kantrel-pattern rifles the Cadian Shock Troopers used were at least lethal out to 300 meters, while our piddly M-G Short-pattern rifles could barely secure a kill out at 200 meters.
And speaking of the Cadian Shock Troopers... the whole regiment of 10,000 Cadian Shock Troopers... that we had split between Redoubt Station— the Ramilles-Class Star Fort in orbit above us— and the Vulpes Spire...
"What do you mean the Cadians have kept to themselves?" I found myself fighting the urge to chew a hole through my lower lip as I stared dumbfounded at the High General.
"It means exactly that, My Lord. The Cadians are an insular bunch at the best of times. They have mostly kept their forces either in the station or in their section of the Iron Bastion. They train, drill, and live among themselves." If the most senior officer of the Nebulas' armed forces was shocked by the outburst, he didn't show it; he'd probably seen far worse from people he respected far more. "They will only reveal themselves when there is action to be had."
I felt a build-up of tension right behind my eyebrows as I clenched my fists underneath the table. "And the Vulpes PDF and the Cadian Shock Troopers don't train together... at all?"
"No."
"Have we even... asked?"
The High General's eyes flickered to my father, as if to question if he even had to answer it.
I felt my ire spike, and I tapped my fingers on the table. "General. I am over here. Answer my question."
His storm-grey eyes zeroed in on me instantly, and I could see his shoulders firm up as he set his jaw. "You do not command me, boy. Not yet, in any case."
"And if my father wished to rein me in, he would give you leave to not answer. Seeing as he has not objected to my rather simple and reasonable question, it would stand to reason that he would expect you to answer it."
The stare-down between the High General and me was long and tense; poor Sable was holding her breath, but the others at the table were content to watch with keen interest.
Who would relent first? The Heir or the High General? In this context, we were both of equal standing beneath the Lord Governor, and if he so wished, he could disengage from the conversation, but that would reflect poorly upon him— especially since I hadn't even asked anything outrageous.
It only took a few moments before my father's voice spoke out to break the contest.
"Silenius. You would do well to not make assumptions as to what I would and would not wish for. However, you are correct that in this instance I could make my will known." His icy-blue eyes, even set deeply within his wrinkled face, held no small amount of authority behind them. "And to you, Kisher, I would say that I, too, would be curious as to the answer. For many years, you've made it known that you were displeased that my other sons expressed little interest in the PDF. A 'lack of initiative toward the defense of the realm', and you would be correct. However, now that my Heir— even if he has decided that he would like to earn that title for himself— has shown interest in the PDF, why do you stonewall?"
"The boy has said it himself, My Lord. He lacks experience. Even Lord Clifton and Lord Jardain have at least been familiarized in full with our capabilities, if only so that they could complain about their precious time that was wasted."
"If you want to talk about precious time wasted, High General, then look no further than yourself and the Vulpes PDF." I found my frown growing even deeper as our staring contest resumed. "A full decade of having one of the premier Imperial Guard special operations regiments at our disposal, and we have done nothing to learn from them? We have made no attempt to train with them?"
The young man narrowed his eyes before he shook his head and sighed dismissively. "You are young yet, My Lord. You haven't lived long enough, or done enough to understand the meaning of 'Pride'."
"Or maybe I'm young enough, with an impartial view from the outside, to be able to differentiate between 'Pride' and 'Folly'?" I don't know why those words in particular managed to make the High General flinch as if I'd just shanked him with a Power Hammer, but I won't deny that there was some satisfaction to seeing the man recoil.
With that parting shot, a soft clap came from my father, and he eyed us both as he slowly lowered his hands. "Now, now. Instead of speaking at each other and ruining the otherwise delightful morning we've been having—"
Wait, speak for yourself, old man! I've been getting grilled to hell and back! On my first day, no less!
"—How about we move on, shall we?" The Rogue Trader canted his head at me and squinted. "Now then, for what purpose did you ask about the Cadians, my boy?"
I took a moment to recompose myself and order my thoughts before I spoke again.
"I asked because I would have thought that we would have been making the most of the boon that the Astra Militarum provided for us. From what little I know," I turned my attention back to the High General. "The elite forces of the Imperium do not grow on trees, nor are they assigned anywhere that isn't of value. I understand that the Nebula has been in a purely defensive posture, as we've focused on growing the realm over conquest, but that doesn't mean that the Cadians need to sit idle. They are among the most disciplined and hardened troops that mankind has to offer, and if we aren't deploying them for combat sorties, then we should be making use of them in a productive manner."
"And without knowing anything else, with no further information available to you, how exactly would you go about making the Cadians 'productive'?" My father leaned on the arm of his throne and curled his fingers over his mouth. "To expand on that, if I were to make you the Lord Governor today, with all the power that entails, how would you go about it?"
I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned back in my chair. "To be the most efficient with them while still keeping the majority of their unit together and combat effective in case of an emergency deployment?"
My father gave me a half-smile as he shrugged. "Whether they remained whole for deployment or not would be up to you, Lord Rogue Trader."
I squinted back, "But that would depend on how much actual authority I would have over them. They are Astra Militarum, and while assigned to help defend, I do not know how much authority that would afford me."
"Ah, ah, ah." He uncurled a finger from in front of his mouth and waggled it at me. "I said 'with no further information'."
Ah, I see your game, old man.
"Well, there would be two options that I could see going forward. Given the sheer size of the PDF, attempting to re-train the... 1,500 or so Infantry Regiments we have would be impossible. Far too many men who are set in their ways, and with who knows how many that would be short of retirement in the first place." I shook my head as I sat up straight.
"Regardless of which option I went with, the first step would be to have a thorough review of our infantry— Heavy, Mechanized, and Standard. Training, organization, equipment, overall strategy, and small unit tactics. With the senior leadership of the Cadians standing over it as impartial arbiters, if there is anyone who knows the strengths and weaknesses of infantry fighting, it would be them." I uncrossed an arm so that I could make a show of rubbing my chin, as if I were in deep thought. "With that review complete, we could begin working on an action plan to see through the necessary improvements to bring our PDF to at least the Cadian standard."
Seeing as no one was interrupting me, I kept on going.
"The first option would be to take half of the Cadian Shock Troopers and assign them to the basic training facilities for them to take over as cadre. The number of Shock Troopers overseeing the restructured training and equipping would be variable, depending on the throughput of each of these training facilities. Over time, we would phase out the previous regiments and replace them with their newly trained counterparts. Senior leadership, and those who would stay past their service term, would be retrained."
"And the second option?" There was a genuine curiosity in his eyes now.
I suppose that not talking completely out of my ass, along with my six years of experience as an Army National Guardsman, was paying dividends now.
The fact that I spent an absurd amount of time wargaming such things for my stories likely helped as well.
"The second option is predicated upon the presumption that I do not have any authority over them, and instead I would have to rely on diplomacy and goodwill from the Cadian's Regimental Flag officer." I held up a hand and ticked up a single finger. "In that instance, we would select the best officers and sergeants from each of our infantry regiments, and send them to live with the Cadians. To work among them, take in the culture, train with them, and perhaps even find some pirate outpost for them to spill blood together with. It would be a 'Train the Trainers' sort of situation, and those officers and NCOs would take that training and reformulate the basic training programs— the same as the first option."
The dining room table was uncomfortably silent for a few moments.
"And you would do this for the infantry, but not the armor?"
"Well, um, given how the Astra Militarum is structured, I don't know if even the Cadian Shock Troopers could adequately give advice as to how armored combat would be conducted." I cleared my throat and scratched at the side of my head. "I would utilize the Cadian elites as best I could for the time allotted until they are rotated out, and then I would ask the Militarum to send forth an elite armor unit to take their place. Then repeat the process as many times as needed until our military forces are in as high demand as any elite fighting force."
"I see." That was all my father said as he closed his eyes in contemplation.
To my surprise, High General Kisher was no longer glaring at me, though I could see there was still some lingering venom in his gaze; likely at the idea of subordinating his PDF to a foreign regiment. Lady Navige was glancing between the General and me as if this was the most entertaining thing she'd seen all week, and there was a calculating gleam in the void-black eyes of the betatted Seneschal of House Umbrian.
Lastly, my poor sweet sister was all but dead to the world; her eyes were fluttering and head bobbing as she tried to stay awake.
"The Cadians have strict standards to adhere to, my boy. They are a harsh people from a hard place." My father's brow crinkled as he hummed. "Is that the sort of life you would want for our people?"
It didn't take much thought from me to formulate an immediate response.
"It's not about what I want, Father. It is about what might be necessary." I didn't need to hide the grimace that slipped across my face. "While we have a small slice of tranquility, I would say that the Koronus Expanse is nearly as harsh for a given measure. We are far from the God Emperor's light, in a sector of space that is as dangerous as it is untamed."
"We have numerous Xenos threats, from Orks to Eldar and more, and we also have brigands in spades. Not to mention the ever-present threat of the rebellion and heresy. Even if we were somehow able to get a message to Port Wander in a timely fashion, their response from the Calixis Sector could be months away... if they even decided to make the journey through the Maw in the first place."
I let out a soft sigh as I shook my head sadly.
"In any case, we are for all intents and purposes on our own out here. Should an Ork Waaaaagghhh! manage to pierce the Vulpes Malestrom, there will be no Battlefleet Gothic, or Astartes Chapter to save us. We can only rely on ourselves until such time as we have built up the Expanse enough to make it worth the Imperium's time to see us properly garrisoned. And that means that we will need to dig deep and find our resolve, just as the Cadians have done for the past 10,000 years."
The look the Lord Governor gave me was as calculating as it was elusive. "Very well then, I just wanted to know if you truly understood the gravity of that which you are proposing."
I let that settle onto my shoulders.
We had a pretty damn good life here in the Nebula. Even the poor of our Hive were considered wealthy beyond measure compared to the rest of humanity. Our worlds were plenty, close enough for mutual defense, and bountiful in both raw materials and arable land for crops. Hell, even our middle-class families could afford to buy real fruits, vegetables, and genuine meats on occasion. No protein or carbohydrate gruels except for the poorest of the poor, who relied on the Sustenance Lines of the state, and certainly no corpse starch.
And if we didn't export over 90% of our crops and meat products to other wealthy systems in the Calixis Sector, then everyone could eat real food.
However, a lot of that was tithed, so I couldn't really touch it if I wanted to.
Expensive silks, perfumes, and other luxury items weren't all we exported.
We had so much free space inside the Spire that no one would have to sleep without a roof over their heads if they didn't want to; there were hundreds of millions of single-occupant efficiency apartments that had been built long before the Vulpes dynasty ever set foot in the Nebula. Only those who were fugitives of the law, or those who were mutants, or outcasts, decided to live in the lower, unexplored bowels of the Hive city. And even if we had no room in the Hive, we still had eleven planets where we could put people up so that they wouldn't be stacked on top of each other like cord wood.
And because we were a wealthy and prosperous sector, in a pocket of relatively secure space, our people could afford to live their own lives. They could get training to be almost anything they could pay for. They could be street musicians, artists, carpenters, sculptors, metalworkers, writers, miners, masons, lumberjacks, hunters, merchants, and businessmen.
Besides anything the Mechanicus laid claim to, a man or woman could be what they wished to be.
Joining the Nebula's navy or PDF was a point of pride for the people, and not an obligation.
"Do I truly understand?" I asked the question out loud, mainly to myself. "The answer is no. I do not. I have an idea. I can conceive of it in my mind's eye, what it is I would propose. It would be a radical departure from the great freedoms that the people of the Nebula has enjoyed thus far..."
I worked my jaw for a moment as I considered my next words carefully.
"A life where mothers and fathers would be forced to give up their children at an early age to a program like the Cadian Whiteshields is not something I would ever wish upon anyone. However, the galaxy cares very little about our wishes. It only deals in truth, and it is up to us on whether or not we can accept the grim... dark reality that we live in." I straightened up my back and gave my father the most serious expression I could muster. "As the leader of my people, it is up to me to ensure that they hear that truth, for it is the realm of the ruinous to speak in sweet, reassuring lies. Such a path is one of aversion, of hiding, of cowardice. Any leader who would turn a blind eye, to pretend that all is well, or that what is happening across the galaxy every day would 'never happen here'... is one who strays farther from the God Emperor's grace and leads his people down a path toward damnation."
What good would a blissful, idyllic lifestyle for my people be if we were exterminated in the first serious Chaos Incursion or Ork Waaaggghhhh! that made landfall? What sort of leader would I be if I put short-term comfort over what I knew was needed for survival? This wasn't the sort of galaxy where I could just let the ship sail itself, because if I did that then I would be a ruler of a kingdom of corpses.
My fists clenched so hard I felt the knuckles pop, and for the briefest of moments, I was surprised at just how real this all felt.
"You crafted me to be the leader our people need, father, for the darkest times where I am needed the most. And as your son, I will not fail you. Or them."
[Lord Governor Archimedes Vulpes]
It took a good bit of travel to go from the private floor of his son's estate to his own, but the Rogue Trader used that time to contemplate all that he had learned.
Truth be told, he had very little influence in Silenius' life while he was growing up as a boy, with only a handful or two personal interactions each year. He was a man many pulled in many directions, and as much as he loved his other sons, no small share of that workload was spent cleaning up after their messes, cajoling them into performing the barest of tasks, or reminding them that even if they were malformed, he still cared for them. His geneforged son, however, was always focused and well put together, even from a young age; despite the distance, he seemed more than content to carry out his studies under the tutelage of numerous instructors.
Even if it meant that he only saw his father every few months, the boy seemed happy with that, and because of that, it allowed Archimedes to focus far more on his daughter. It was she whom he poured most of his paternal love and affection, as she lived within his manse, and he saw her every day. His other sons were fully grown men and shouldn't have required as much of his attention as they did, and because of their neediness, he found that Silenius more often than not slipped his thoughts.
It was a blessing that the boy was as well adjusted as he was, and it made him all the more displeased that his other sons were so far his lesser.
It had been a bit of a risk to put Silenius 'to the question' in such a fashion, with his three closest confidants peppering him with invasive questions on their very first meeting, but he had to admit that it showed him far more than if he had done so with just the two of them.
The boy had comported himself well, barring his tiff with the High General over the Cadians, and while he didn't have detailed plans going forward, he had ideas and a general direction he wished to go.
Which was far more than he could say of Clifton or Jardain.
He was pleased that his son had chosen to follow the Path of Experience, to seek out the realms that he would one day wade through and learn it all first-hand— Commerce, politics, exploration, and the military. All were absolutely necessary for a Rogue Trader to know, and while most specialized in a single area and were passable in others, Archimedes had a feeling that Silenius would at the very least attempt to excel in all of them.
However, earning mastery in any single pillar was the work of decades, and two a century or more; at best, a highly skilled Rogue Trader could claim three. Archimedes himself believed that he could be a master of all but the political, and he was halfway to his fifth century. If the God Emperor willed it, he might just gain that final mastery; he figured he was getting pretty good at it by now.
He walked the walk. Could talk the talk. And he even wore the silly fashions that the nobles so favored in the Nebula.
Now if only he could master how to double-speak and veil insults in honeyed words... but alas, he was far too direct for such a thing.
"Ah, and here we are." The old Lord Governor slowed his walk through the vast halls of his private estate to stop in front of the private wing of the palace, which his daughter had ownership of. "Home, sweet home, my dear Sable."
Their party was small, consisting just of himself, his daughter, Kisher, Gertrude, Kalista, and two of his loyal Commandos; the large party had been whittled down as their large guard escort was trimmed down by every checkpoint they passed— the men returning to their stations now that their Lord was safely within his home.
The teen let out a loud sigh as she hung her head. "Ugh. Finally. I'm glad that you brought me, Father, but you didn't tell me that travel would be so draining. So much walking."
"I'm glad that you came as well. Your brother was delighted to meet you." Archimedes gave her a crooked smile as he wrapped an arm over her shoulder and pulled her in close. "What did you think?"
"He was... well? Intense, kind of broody, and looking like someone who had a lot of weight on their shoulders?" Sable leaned into the hug. "Also sort of lonely. I mean, he's big and strong, even I can see that, but I could tell that he was missing something."
"Hmmm... then perhaps he could do with some company?" Archimedes pulled away and rested his hands on her shoulders. "As much as I have loved keeping you all to myself, my dear daughter, perhaps it is time you start to experience other places as well?"
Dark eyebrows rose up as pink lips parted. "Are you saying...?"
"Yes. I think that it would be good for you to move down there with him. Your studies will continue as normal, but you'll at the very least be able to spend more time with him. Just as I have you." The Rogue Trader gave his genforged daughter a peck on her forehead. "Perhaps you can drag him away from whatever learning or projects he has from time to time?"
"He does seem like someone who could use a little fun from time to time."
"Well then, think on it for now, and we'll revisit this at a later time."
"Alright, Father. I will." She gave him one last hug before she strode toward the entrance to the wing where a pair of her faithful maids were waiting for her.
Once she was out of sight, the Rogue Trader tapped his cane on the marble flooring and set off toward his Solar once more.
When they arrived, the two Commandos split off to head toward their ready room down the hall, the guardsmen completing the handoff to their two fellows standing outside the Lord Governor's personal office.
The fineries of the room were all well and good, with lots of iconography and various trophies that he'd taken over the years, but the masterpiece of the room was the large ferroglass window that overlooked the back half of his estate. It wasn't remotely close enough to the walls of the Spire tower to see the sun, but the large solar channels that carried light in from outside did the job well enough. Far below, he could see thousands of men and women milling about, in groups or single individuals keen on completing whatever task they had been given.
The old man grabbed a decanter of the finest, true whiskey his realm produced, and turned around to present it. "Chandrick Reserve, anyone?"
The three other occupants in the room had long gotten used to their Lord's generosity, and they had retrieved some tumbler glasses from one of the cabinets near the wall. He took no small bit of pleasure in being able to walk around and pour for them each a thumb, for who knows for how much longer he could still do so? With everyone served, the old man poured a glass for himself and settled into a very expensive chair that he had imported from Holy Terra itself.
"Now then, ladies and my lone gentleman, your thoughts?"
"Well, the boy has a spine at least." Lady Navige hid a smirk behind the rim of her tumbler, "I thought he was about to leap across the table at poor Kisher when he heard about the Cadians—"
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A/N: I have a nice AI Generated picture for Silenius... somewhere. I can't remember where I put it though. So once I find it, I'll add it to an image hosting website for you all.
I was going to add the next section, wherein MC talks with Vul-Phi-Ceti to hand over some of the tech he had, but I think that I found a much better way to go about doing that without it feeling arbitrary. Also, this chapter was running on way longer than I anticipated, but I didn't want to just leave it too short either and gloss over some things.