40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 833, Part 4: Interlude - The Last Descendant of the Delkunas Family

037.M40, Casidorius Delcunas is twelve years old.

He and his mother live together in the only remaining mansion of the Delkunas family, leading a simple life that is not befitting their status.

There were no servants in the house, not even a groom. Under these circumstances, many parts of the mansion were covered with a thick layer of dust, as if no one lived there at all, except for the areas where the mother and son often frequented, which were still relatively clean.

Every morning, young Cassidolius would wake up to the automatic chimes of the mechanical clock that had been passed down for thousands of years, then wash up, change his clothes, and head to school, not returning home until evening.

He didn't live like a typical aristocratic child. Many young masters and ladies his age had already begun to manipulate servants or commoners, or worse—become acquainted with chemicals. But he was different. His only daily entertainment was playing chess, with his ailing mother as his opponent.

His mother didn't have much time left. Young Cassidolius had heard this from the doctor a year ago. He understood what death was; after all, he had witnessed the deaths of his family members and elders. He had grown up surrounded by death, so how could he not understand what it truly meant?

However, his mother was the last person besides him to realize this, and the fact that she was aware of it saddened him somewhat.
To be precise, I wish I could die with her.

Naturally, the mother was unwilling.

She didn't say it outright, but her actions spoke volumes. She endured the pain and physical torment of her illness, stubbornly prolonging the doctor's predicted death date by a full year.

Her condition did not improve, but it did not worsen either. The terrible things that threatened her life, those things that emanated from the depths of her bones, seemed to have suddenly lost their magic, no longer able to make her scream all night long as before.

Now, she only needs to swallow a dozen pills to get a couple of hours of sleep before waking up in a cold sweat.

She was grateful for this, but also vaguely understood something, so she started playing chess with Cassidolius more and more frequently lately.

The game they played was the most popular board game within the Empire: Kingslayer. From planetary governors to mutants in the Deep Nest, almost everyone knew how to play a few rounds, though the rules varied. There were so many variations of Kingslayer that no scholar or book dared to claim to have included them all, not even the phrase "most of them."

The game of regicide played by Cassidolius the Younger and his mother used the simplest version of the rules—regicide, or rather, killing the emperor.

By eliminating the opponent's emperor, one can ignore any other victory conditions and achieve immediate victory.

“Concentrate,” the mother said softly. “You’ve forgotten that citizens can take a step forward in this situation.”

She pointed to a chess piece on the black and white chessboard; its surface was unadorned and looked quite plain. Little Cassidolius nodded defiantly, then with a flick of his wrist moved a warrior four steps to the left. The warrior, its eyes blazing with fury, raised its blade and felled his mother's priestess.

The white sculpture wobbled and fell over, rolling off the chessboard, where it was gently caught by a slender hand.

The mother smiled and placed it back on the table, then moved her fortress, placing the enormous piece in front of the warrior, the only piece that Little Cassidolius now possessed that could fight.

At this moment, it was unable to move and could only look around in the corner where the priest had been killed.

“I lost again,” little Cassidolius said dejectedly. “I feel like I’ll never beat you, Mom.”

“You just need to beat your classmates,” the mother said with a smile. “You’re number one in school, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but what’s so great about playing chess with them?” complained Cassidolius Jr. “They’re just a bunch of kids!”

Aren't you one too?

"I'll grow up soon!"

"and then?"

"Then." The child's voice gradually faded. He didn't finish his sentence, but how could his mother not know what he wanted to say?
She sighed, gathered her black hair, and spoke silently amidst the ensuing pain.

“My illness is incurable, Casidorius, just like your father, your uncle, and your two sisters. It is an ancient curse passed down in the Delkunas family, and we will all die because of it. Only you are different, my son. You are healthy, a treasure bestowed upon us by the God-Emperor.”

“Since the God-Emperor wants me to be healthy, he certainly won’t hesitate to make you better,” the child stubbornly retorted.

The mother smiled sadly and said nothing more.

Four days later, she died. She was thirty-six years old when she died, one year older than her father, four years older than her uncle, and twenty-nine years older than her sisters.

The mansion's bells still tolled daily, but only young Cassidolius remained; his relatives were now figures in paintings, hanging in the long, dusty hallways. A few days after the funeral, no one dared to visit anymore, avoiding the house for fear that the terrible curse would befall them.

The last descendant of the Delquinas family grew up in this environment until he was fifteen.

He was exceptionally well-developed, tall and muscular, with features combining his father's handsomeness and his mother's beauty. His teachers at school had repeatedly suggested recommending him for officer training. It was common knowledge that reserve officers who were good-looking often rose through the ranks more quickly, but Cassidolius refused, seemingly unwilling to follow the path his mother had laid out for him.

That's why, on his fifteenth birthday, someone actually came to visit him in person.

“I was a friend of your parents,” the elderly man with a full head of white hair said solemnly. “I heard you don’t want to become a military officer?”

“I have no interest in marching and fighting,” Casidorius said. “It’s better to leave a place for someone else than to take it. Besides, even if I were to enter the officer academy, I should get in through the entrance exam.”

The old man frowned, but quickly relaxed his brow: "Your family earned this spot through generations of contributions to the empire, not through coercion with money or power, as you might think."

“I’m not going,” Cassidolius shook his head. “And who exactly are you?”

"Friends of your parents when they were alive."

"I have never seen you before, nor have I ever heard them mention you."

“This is none of your business,” the old man said sternly, raising his cane slightly before bringing it down heavily, creating a resounding echo in the empty drawing room. “Fine, I’ll only ask you one question: are you really sure you don’t want to go to the officer’s academy?”

"Yes."

The old man changed the subject: "So, what are your plans for the future?" The last descendant of the Delkunas family looked around, leaned back, and smiled in his hastily wiped-clean old armchair.

“I will sell this house, along with the land, property, and other things, and then I will leave.”

"Where?"

"I don't know, I'll just wander around. I heard that Otlam Five Hundred Worlds is currently running a tourism promotion, maybe that's a good place to go?"

"If you're going to go, it's best to only visit the popular tourist spots," the old man advised calmly. "The Five Hundred Worlds haven't been peaceful lately; the Zerg hive fleet's attack is still ongoing."

Upon hearing this, Cassidolius changed his posture, and a hint of youthful energy finally appeared on his face.

“I know, I read the newspaper. It said Terra sent a full twelve warbands to support them!”

"Not twelve, thirteen," the old man corrected. "Which newspaper are you reading?"

"Terra today? What's wrong?"

The old man snorted coldly: "Don't look at this company anymore. In order to get the first information, they often don't do a second confirmation. Many of the messages they send out are wrong, and they keep making the same mistakes."

Cassidolius frowned: "How did you know?"

"As someone who works in journalism, I naturally know these inside stories."

"You?" The boy looked him up and down several times, quite suspicious. "You look old enough to be my great-grandfather!"

“And that’s precisely why I’ve been able to reach such a high position in the industry.” The old man’s lips curled slightly, revealing an extremely sarcastic smile. “The longer you live, the more you see, and the more you see, the less likely you are to misjudge things.”

Cassidolius looked at him strangely but said nothing, while the old man continued, "And after five hundred worlds? Where do you plan to go next?"

"Uh"

Seeing his reaction, the old man shook his head, unsurprised.

"You're just making excuses for me. You haven't even figured out where you're headed. A fifteen-year-old kid with a huge sum of money, wandering the galaxy—do you realize how much trouble that will get you into?"

“I… I can use a gun,” Casidorius retorted, his voice lacking confidence. “I’m first in shooting class, and I’m first in hand-to-hand combat as well.”

"They can do it too, and they're a hundred times more skilled than you. They deal with guns and knives all day long, and they have to check if they're still alive every morning when they wake up. And you, do you think you can beat them?"

“Why not!” Cassidolius roared angrily. “I can riddle them with bullets!”

“Or perhaps you were stabbed in the back by a knife handed to you from the shadows before that,” the old man said calmly. “Ultimately, you just want to leave this place full of sad memories. I understand that the first reaction of people when faced with pain is to escape, just like the instinctive reaction to holding a red-hot iron. No one can blame you for that. But I still want to advise you not to sell this house.”

The boy pursed his lips tightly, his face alternating between anger and embarrassment.

"Of course you can leave and start a new life elsewhere, but don't sell it, lest you regret it someday. As for now, you should think carefully about your future, Cardinalus Delkunas. You are the last of your family, and in good health, unaffected by that strange illness. You can choose to expand your lineage and restore the family's prosperity; this shouldn't be difficult for you. I think that if you're willing to ask, with that wandering merchant's license, you can acquire immense wealth in just a few years. Partners will flock to you, offering countless precious items for a mere nod from you."

“Of course, you can choose another path.” The old man paused. “Have you heard of the Explorers’ Guild?”

The boy shook his head blankly.

"You can look up the information later; your school's library should have it. In short, the Explorers' Guild is an official organization whose founding date is unknown. It was jointly established by the Terra Council and a certain generation of Sealholders, and its purpose is to recruit capable and willing people from all over the galaxy to go to the Broken Terra and excavate the relics of the fallen."

Casidorius's previously dull eyes lit up instantly as the old man took in everything. For some reason, he didn't feel happy; instead, he gripped the cane even tighter.

He continued his story.

"This organization's assessment is extremely rigorous, even surpassing the final assessment of the Storm's Loyalists. And the reward it offers, strictly speaking, is only one: becoming an officially certified explorer and setting foot on Terra—"

"—How can I join?" Cassidolius asked eagerly. "Me, can I?"

“That depends on whether you can pass their assessment,” the old man said. “But if you really want to get in, I suggest you continue your studies at the school and tell your teachers about it; they will adjust your coursework accordingly.”

“Would they really do that?” Casidorius asked with a hint of skepticism.

“They will,” the old man said, then stood up. “I must go now. Good luck, Cardinalus Delcunas, may your future be bright.”

He suddenly sighed, then stepped forward and patted the boy on the shoulder.

He didn't finish his sentence, but simply left, leaving the young man standing bewildered in the drawing room. He didn't walk with the slowness expected of an old man; instead, he moved with remarkable speed. In less than a few minutes, he emerged from the labyrinthine Delkunas mansion and arrived at the gates in the dim night.

However, at this moment, he was completely different from that old man.

His face became younger, his back changed from hunched to upright, and even his cane transformed into a scepter, with a hawk ablaze at its tip.

Some eyes looked at him in the darkness.

“No need to change the plans,” said the Marksman, Macado. “He will go to Terra.”

After he finished speaking, his figure gradually vanished, as if he had never been there at all. The owners of those eyes also disappeared; there were five of them, dressed in eerie midnight blue armor, like ghosts lurking in the darkness.

The last descendants in the mansion knew nothing of this.

(End of this chapter)