Warhammer 40: Shattered Steel Soul

Chapter 422: The Emperor's Children: Tarot and the Holy Grail
"Oh, my dear Cindy," the mask of the clown suddenly came very close, and put his gilded tricorn hat, the bright red lips under the half-white smile, and the high collar with triangular grooves close to the ear of the Memory Envoy. "I have good news to tell you."

The Memoirist felt half of his face go numb from the Harlequin's breath, perhaps from the memory of the Harlequin knocking him to the ground with a nerve gun when they first met.

At that point, he thought he was done for, but the flowery alien pulled him up from the ground and bowed to him ostentatiously in a ostentatious manner that perhaps only an old Terran noble could appreciate.

"Memoirist of the Emperor of Mankind," said the Harlequin, "you are welcome aboard the Veil of Light. What may I ask of you?"

"Uh..." Cindy's words were stuck in her throat.

While he was grateful that someone - something - whatever - had saved him from that unfortunate little boat, saving it from being destroyed by a collision with some cosmic debris that hadn't shown up in the scanner's sensing range, that didn't mean he wasn't nervous about the sudden appearance of the Eldar.

Like most of the Imperials, he couldn't tell them apart, nor did he understand the Harlequin's half-length black and white checkered domino-style clothing, nor could he understand the pursuits of these creatures. There was only one thing that made him feel a little relieved, although it might still be just a self-deception.

"Why don't you answer me, human?" The Harlequin shrugged.

"I..." Cindy confirmed that the guy was really speaking Gothic and really didn't call him a monkey. He cleared his throat, "This is a secret of the Empire."

"Oh, come on," Harlequin tilted his head back, and Cindy suspected he was rolling his eyes beneath his white mask.

He took out a set of some kind of hard tarot cards from a dark green leather package at his waist, rubbed them casually with his fingers, and unfolded them in a show of skill, presenting the same back side to Cindy.

"Draw one," said the Harlequin. "This is your Empire's own Tarot, though it is supposed to have not yet been created at the end of this glorious 30th Millennium."

With a bad premonition, Cindy pinched a card from the deck, and then, under the gaze of the Clown, turned it over to the front side that looked like flowing liquid crystal.

It was a dynamic character wielding a feather pen, wearing gold-plated sapphire lenses, writing furiously beside a parchment scroll. In short, that was him.

"Creatio, Memoirist." The clown flicked his sleeves and pulled out the second stack of tarot cards.

The second card showed a Space Marine whose armor model Cindy couldn't tell. He was holding a grenade launcher and shooting at a target in the distance.

"Adeptio card, Space Marine. Interested in drawing a third one, Imperial friend?"

This time, without the Joker's interpretation, Cindy recognized the character on the card. It was a half-pearl-red noble profile, with gorgeous eyes of unpredictable color looking straight ahead, and thick red hair tied up by a golden, white and blue crown, hanging down the character's back. In addition, he drew this card upside down.

"Major Arcana, Magister." Harlequin took the tarot card from his hand. "Perhaps I can accompany you to visit the respected Crimson King Magnus and the Memoirist Cindy. By the way, you can call me 'Ruby'."

And now, after drifting restlessly in the Harlequin's boat for a full ten imperial weeks, it seemed that Hongyu's good news had finally reached Cindy's ears.

However, because of her understanding of this clown, Cindy couldn't help but blurt out: "The bad news first."

Hongyu stood up again with a bored look. He was not much taller than Cindy. Perhaps there were also people in the Eldar who were not up to the height standard.

"The bad news is that in the expansion ahead, we will probably encounter more than just Magnus, the Primarch. There is also a... um... demigod that you didn't expect just sent their signal, and I heard that no one in your Empire wants to meet them."

After Cindy was stunned for two seconds, a dark shadow suddenly flashed through her mind. To be precise, it was a group of people.

"The ..." He smoothed his tongue, "The Eighth Legion?"

Hongyu jumped over the table full of toppled divination props and crossed her legs listlessly on the chair.

"Yeah," Ruby muttered gloomily, "Why is the Blood Lord here too? No one really wants to meet him, right? Oh, at least the Scarlet King doesn't want to, his card is not upright. Anyway, wish us good luck."

"You don't have to go." Cindy tactfully concealed his nervousness. "I am the one who needs to find out the story and truth of the Legion. Since you saved me, I advise you to do this..."

In fact, if only the usually easy-going Thousand Dust Sun were here, he wouldn't be so worried about being caught by the Primarch for colluding with the aliens.

But the existence of the famous Night Ghost Blood Marquis made Cindy curious about which ships' sails she would be hung on.

Ruby's lips curled into a thin smile. "Unfortunately, I must remind you, my friend the Memoirist, that the man who answered the Eighth Legion's call, spoke, and was asked to stand before the Primarch, is standing before you right now."

-

The liaison was a Nostramo. His pale, malnourished face was recognizable throughout the empire's administrative system, like a weakened shadow of the legendary Night Demon Blood Marquis, exuding a ghostly, non-existent smell.

It is said that their characteristics are closely related to the features of their home planet before the return of the Eighth Primarch. Otherwise, it is hard to imagine that the extremely rich planet of Eternal Night could actually support such a group of half-skeletons with not a pound of flesh on their bodies.

When he got close enough, Cindy's stomach began to twitch for no reason, and a cold feeling of foreboding jumped up and down in his stomach, reminding him that the oatmeal he drank in the morning was about to come out. His fingers handcuffed behind his back began to unconsciously pick at the iron ring on his wrist.

I knew it, Cindy whispered to herself, this is what happens when you're handcuffed to the Primarch's flagship with a xenomorph.

"A memoirist belonging to the 15th Legion?" the liaison said, speaking in a typical Nostramo accent, with a serpent-like hiss and cold, complex consonants.

"Yes," Cindy swallowed the "sir" that followed and forced a little smile from his face. The friendly opening remarks he was about to give to the 15th Legion were blocked back into his throat by the liaison officer in front of him with a look.

"I am from the Terra Memories Court. Thank you for welcoming me... But on the way to the Thousand Dust Sun Legion, my pilgrimage ship encountered..."

"What about you, Zephyro Ruby?" The contact turned his head and reported the Eldar's full name coldly and accurately. "Midnight Gospel Troupe is not on the visitor registration list."

Cindy's stomach began to ache again, and he hoped that the registration list the contact person mentioned was just a bad joke.

"I am just a messenger this time, a respected friend of the Empire, and I am here to provide a little...necessary help to the Human Empire."

Ruby's lips turned down beneath the half-mask, and Cindy bet that this guy could untie his restraints in an instant, and would probably be able to deal with the twenty laser pistols pointed at them within half a minute, but this was the Nightfall, and this crazy guy was not going to make a fool of himself and get killed.

The liaison officer seemed to be hindered by his professional ethics and did not immediately order the suspicious alien to be shot. At least from Cindy's perspective, this was probably the case.

Instead, he turned back to Cindy and asked a strange question.

"My Lord has granted you the privilege of His mercy, Memoirist, but do you have the courage... to witness the coming of night?"

"Uh...yes?" Cindy said uncertainly.

The liaison officer smiled softly, nodded to him, and then retreated into the shadows behind him. The twenty or so mortal guards with guns around them also quietly disappeared into the ubiquitous curtains and shadows of the Nightfall, leaving only the rustling sound of heels and the rustling of fabrics like the fluttering of bat wings.

There was also Cindy, who was standing under the only central light source in the rotunda with her heart beating non-stop, and the clown who was thinking something - Cindy still didn't understand how this guy dared to come to the Nightfall alone.

The Memoirist's arms were shaking, and the handcuffs and chains behind his back were clashing noisily.

If - never mind why, if the nightfall contained some kind of permanent midnight hint, and the Eighth Legion really wanted to peel his skin off as the rumors said, he hoped they would at least wait until he was dead before peeling him off...

Then, two vague outlines gradually emerged from the darkness.

One was a giant, with dark silk ceremonial robes embroidered with hideous bat-winged skulls, which occasionally flashed midnight blue lightning as he moved. His inhuman eyes looked down mercilessly and unstoppably, and a long scar pierced his pale face, like a spider's long leg, twisted and dark.

Even though he was not wearing armor, the Memoirist knew that this must be a certain terrible Night Ghost. Commonly known as the Eighth Legion Astartes...

As for the strange man next to him, covered in robes, spikes and decorative chains, with an iron mask on his face, he is probably the "Son of Muse", a strange auxiliary army of the Night Demon King's Court.

Even though the dome of the Night Veil was too high to reach, the thick darkness compressed the space infinitely and was further occupied by the Astartes. They were just standing in front of the Memoirist, and the fear in Cindy's heart began to rise continuously, strangling his throat fiercely. Every time the wrinkles of the Night Ghost's clothes trembled the slightest, Cindy felt like he was hit hard in the chest.

"You, go with him." The Night Ghost glanced at the Harlequin. Every word he said sounded like a preview of a killing with little interest.

Hongyu had somehow moved his handcuffs from behind to the front of his body, and the Son of Muse grabbed the chains between his wrists and led him away roughly. Cindy couldn't imagine what would happen over there next.

Now, only Astartes and the Memoirist are left.

"Hello," Night Ghost lowered his voice, even though it could not alleviate Cindy's fear that was about to overflow. "I am Yago Sevitarion. Since you have the courage to face the night with your own eyes... I will lead the way for you, the Emperor's messenger."

"I..." Cindy's teeth chattered. He regretted it. He only came to find the Thousand Dust Sun. He didn't want to witness the midnight of the Eighth Legion. Even if he joined the Terra Memories Court with the purpose of pursuing more truths in the dust, he still had some attachment to his life... probably.

"Hmm?" Sevitarion snorted softly and walked around behind him.

"I...praise...the Lord of the Night..." Cindy squeezed out the rest of the words desperately.

Click.

His handcuffs were removed.

-

Besides removing his handcuffs, the second thing Severtarion did was to give him an injection.

At first Cindy thought this marked the beginning of torture, but then he silently praised the Space Marine's unexpected kindness with gratitude - because it was this injection of chemical that stopped Memories's churning stomach.

"Don't say thank you, Memoirist," the Space Marine said with absurd calmness, walking slowly. His fingers gently stroked a snow-white skull embedded in the wall, and the gesture was almost affectionate.

"Yes, sir..." Cindy said stiffly.

"Why don't you just call me 'Sevatar'?" Sevatarion turned his head and stared at his face. "I am not your boss, nor your lord."

"Yes..." Cindy found herself having to choose between looking into the darkness ahead and looking into the pale outline of Sevatar's face.

He didn't want to be forced to guess how much soft leather was hidden in the dark curtain that was about to suddenly fall on his head, nor did he want to stare at the Space Marine and eventually anger him.

He had been waiting for an opportunity to clear himself of any suspicion of being in cahoots with the aliens, but Sevatar didn't seem to care about the matter at all, so much so that he was reluctant to even ask a question.

"Excuse me, where are we going now?" Cindy trotted to catch up with the Space Marine. Something under his feet rolled like broken stones, and then quickly transitioned to some elastic surface, like a piece of pulled apart cloth... He didn't want to know what that was at all, let alone join in.

"I'll take you to complete your work, Memoirist." The Space Marine said softly, his voice gently touching the silence in the narrow tunnel, "Or else?"

"But..." Cindy swallowed a mouthful of bitter saliva, "I'm here to see the fifteenth Primarch, Sevatar..."

When he successfully said the other person's name, Cindy was not sure whether Sevatar really laughed out loud, but the vague sense of urgency suddenly relaxed a little, giving Cindy a chance to catch his breath.

"That's exactly where I'm taking you, Cindy," Sevatar said.

"What's that here..." Cindy held back a scream as the rough cross-section of a broken bone scraped across his arm.

"Your reward for daring to face the night." Sevatar shrugged slightly, stopped, and used a knife to pick the candle wicks on the sidewalk. "The Nightfall is not open to mortals, but today, the Blood Lord is in a bad mood."

Conrad Curze is in a bad mood, why should mortals be allowed to look directly upon the unique art of the Eighth Legion!
Cindy heard herself screaming inside.

Then, Sevatar patted his shoulder just right, and a chill almost froze half of Cindy's shoulder.

"If you had chosen to refuse at that time--" Sevastater said slowly, a false smile climbing up his slightly curled lips.

"I understand, Sevatar." Cindy nodded with self-awareness, gave up the horrific decorations around her, and began to stare directly at the deep black clothes of the Space Marine. Then he would definitely be finished.

"——You will lose this precious opportunity. We will blindfold you, plug your ears, and carry you into the reception room of the Blood Lords. Put you in a bag and wait for the Primarchs to finish their family gathering." Sevatar blinked, "After that, you will meet the Crimson King you have always dreamed of, so that you can complete your work."

"In addition, if you choose to give up the gift in your hand now, it is not too late." Sevastata said, his hand moved closer to Cindy's neck. With just the right amount of pressure for a long time, Cindy would fall down peacefully, waiting for the Night Ghost's further arrangements.

As long as the memoir agrees.

I heard that in Nostramo, this short sleep is called "night kiss".

——This is not what the Memory Envoy of the Eighth Legion said. In fact, no one in the Terra Memory Court has ever heard of the existence of the corresponding Memory Envoy of the Eighth Legion, even though the particularly gorgeous legion records of the Night Demon King's Court are being stuffed into the archives recently.

Perhaps the person who wrote that record has become a meal on the plate of Sevitarion or Conrad Kurtz, or the latest decoration in a dark room.

"What?" Sevatar asked leisurely.

"If..." Cindy hesitated, "If I go now... will I have the honor of hearing what the Primarchs are arguing about?"

"Debate?" Night Ghost tilted his head, and the fake smile disappeared from his face in an instant.

"Yes," Cindy said, not knowing where his courage came from. "The alien's divination hinted at their discord... I want to know the truth, Sevatar. This is why I joined the Court of Memories."

He paused, and then consoled himself: "Anyway, the furnishings on the Nightfall are just static works of art, right?"

"Oh," Sevatar chuckled again, staring into Cindy's eyes, and flicked his other wrist, and a thin rope was thrown straight out, tightly wrapped in the darkness high in the sky. "They are..." he said, "but we are not."

Cindy subconsciously continued to move forward, and suddenly, his feet were empty and he fell down immediately.

He may have screamed, but Sevatar had already grabbed him by the collar, and the sudden gust of wind cut through the Memoirist's wails.

"If we move fast enough," Sevatar murmured, "you can still catch the end of the truth, Memoirist. And you, perhaps, will become the first human to have the honor of recording the story of the Eighth Legion."

Following the ropes in the darkness, they fell rapidly toward the lower deck of the Nightfall.

-

"You can't convince me of the potential it holds. An inaccurate judgment could bring about endless disasters, which is a consequence we cannot afford."

"This is also the only way for the empire to expand its territory. You should understand that we cannot stand still..."

"No! Unnecessary destruction will befall us..."

"Risk and opportunity are two sides of the same coin. Fine wine flows from the bleeding Holy Grail, and my legion will bear the consequences. My brother, the expedition is a journey to open up new frontiers, and the expansion will be transformed into star regions by time... Yes, the stars are foreshadowing the dark disaster. Only by descending to the abyss of Hashiro can we bring the soul and the truth into the world..."

"Listen to your words, what soul, what omen! You have already held too many dangers in your hands, brother. You are walking on the edge of darkness and heresy..."

"When did you become the more cautious one among us, Magnus?"

Konrad Curze chuckled softly, his voice sweeping coldly across the empty and dark reception room and echoing quietly in Magnus' ears.

"When did you become a conservative who resists the truth, a warden who guards knowledge, and a gatekeeper who snatches the keys?"

"It's always the same, the rules are the rules," Magnus stood in front of Konrad, the flowing psychic light floating on the outer layer of his armor under his angry emotions, his eyes fixed at a darker red than his skin color, staring closely at Konrad Curze who was lazily half-lying in the bone chair.

The latter was wearing a clean black silk robe, with a sarcastic smile on his pale face.

"Rules are rules, laws are laws..." Coz chewed on these words, as if he was tasting them over and over with his tongue, "And I, I have my own code of conduct..."

"Is your principle to convince me with psychic divination?"

Magnus narrowed his eyes, his chest rising and falling.

"Father made many exceptions for you, Conrad. He allowed you to kill, to use your auxiliary troops, to travel through the webway, and to disrupt everything in the empire. But what have you brought to the empire? Only more danger, my brother!"

"Listen to what you say, Magnus. Even though you're so angry, you still call me brother."

"Conrad Curz!"

Magnus waved his hand towards the Harlequin, who was standing at a low table with his hands raised in a sign of submissive surrender. Azak Ahriman stood straight, his staff slightly forward, tilted dangerously in the Harlequin's direction.

"You're going to use a set of divination cards to convince me to support you in expanding the Holy Grail?"

"He used this set of divination cards to find you and me, Magnus." Curze put his hands in front of him and sighed softly. His deep eyes glanced at the location of the Harlequin. "Look at him. His existence... He proves that I know what I am doing."

"What can he prove? Prove that humans can also be clowns?" Magnus almost shouted this sentence.

Zephyrus Ruby licked his lips. "Hi," he said with a smile.

"Shut up your...your man!" Magnus gritted his teeth, his voice vibrating the air in the room, making the darkness gradually warmer. "I don't understand where your confidence comes from, Conrad. I don't understand how you dare to waste the Emperor's grace like this... The Holy Grail Expansion - there is only a dead empire, and countless legendary aliens, ghosts, warp anomalies... all dangers that can cause abnormal souls! And you can't even produce a piece of STC taken from the remains of the great dark empire you mentioned, the 'Holy Grail Expansion'!"

Koz tilted his head.

"Are you listening, Curze!" Magnus roared, his noble face lit up with an unfamiliar rage that made him look less like a docile scholar.

"Of course," Curze came back to his senses, "but you got a lot of things wrong, Magnus. First of all, Zephyr Ruby..." The Blood Marquis sneered coldly, "He shouldn't have been born at this time, and it wasn't my work. No, no..."

He suddenly raised his hand, pulled out a broken bone from the throne of bones, and threw it like a dagger, stabbing it into the clown's chest in an instant.

Zephyro Ruby fell down laughing, gasping and twitching on the ground. The Emperor Tarot slipped out of his unsealed leather bag, and three of them floated to the ground.

"Strip him open, Chief," Curze said, "and look at his heart."

Ahriman stared at the Harlequin and took a step back. "He's still alive..." he said incredulously, amazed at Curze's cruelty.

“If your son is afraid to rip another’s chest, don’t let him stand here,” Curze said to Magnus.

Ahriman had to crouch down, put down his staff, and crack open the human-harlequin's sternum. He stopped in amazement when he saw the contents.

"Take it out." Magnus restrained his temper.

Ahriman bit his lip and took out a heart from Zephyro's chest - a crystal heart that emitted a colorful and complex light, like an exquisite prop on the stage, rather than a flesh and blood organ that enables human survival.

Listening carefully, he seemed to be able to hear a sharp and crazy laugh from that heart, lingering on the edge of hearing, ruthlessly rubbing the listener's fragile nerves. Some extremely high existence was manipulating its puppet and focusing its attention here.

"Okay, put it back," Coates said.

Ahriman quickly stuffed the crystal heart back into Harlequin's chest. Ruby blinked and pulled the skin of his chest up like a piece of clothing. "This hurts," he complained.

"What do you want to say?" Magnus asked.

"I'd say someone made the bet before us - maybe more than one person."

Curze stood up, and his thin, ghost-like body easily approached Magnus.

"Why did Sigal send his actors? Why did a webway map drawn by humans appear in the hands of aliens? The Emperor knows that map. He knows everything."

Curze asked questions one after another, and Magnus retreated step by step under his pressure. "I don't believe in coincidences of fate, Magnus."

Magnus frowned and said in resistance: "You are exploring too many secrets, Konrad Curze. Your psychic power is still harming you, and your prophecies are still misleading you. You are still pursuing the truth of your birth."

"My prophecy? Is this my prophecy? No... This time, I am not that prophet." Koz sneered, "Look into the brilliant light, the real prophet is no longer me. I am here to pursue the clues to the truth."

"A clue to the truth? What do we have other than rumors of dark prophecies roaming the borders of the empire?"

"If this rumor was born in the same year as the disappearance of the Second Primarch, it would be more than just a rumor..."

"You're simply obsessed!"

"Then treat me as... a pure sailor into darkness, Magnus," Curze said, laughing, "just treat me as expanding the territory and launching expeditions for the Empire. Isn't this the mission he gave us? Hmm? He didn't allow me to slaughter people wantonly, didn't allow me to release my bloody nature, and I listened to him so much! Instead, you have been insisting on bloodbath the border of the Empire, Magnus, this is really upside down."

"What's more..." He turned around and looked at the tarot cards scattered on the ground.

"I guess—you know how to interpret them, right, Memoirist?" he said to the empty darkness.

The memory made Cindy be carried out of the darkness by Sevatar, her face pale. This may not only be due to the complex internal environment of the Nightfall.

"Koz..." Cindy said the word, then immediately stopped talking, looking like she wanted to slap herself. This was the inertial thinking disadvantage brought about by calling the captain Sevatar by his real name all the way.

"My Lord," he cleared his throat, "Yes, Harlequin taught me."

"Do it," Curze said, with Magnus standing beside him.

The Memoirist took a deep breath, mustered his courage, and first picked up the card closest to his feet.

"Discord," he said. "Traitor to the Warp."

"By the throne..." Magnus sighed, "We are actually playing cards..."

Cindy held the tarot cards in her hands, her hands damp with sweat. He squatted down and picked up the second one.

"Major Arcana, High Priest."

Magnus's expression suddenly became full of uncertainty. "What about the last one?" he asked.

Cindy picked up the third card and turned it face up toward the Primarch.

"The Major Arcana," he said, trembling. "The Emperor."

"No," Coz suddenly interrupted anyone who might have spoken: "Don't explain."

He turned immediately, raised his head, and looked Magnus straight in the face.

"You are not the only one who can talk to my father, Magnus. You are not the only one who has seen through all the disasters and dangers of the warp," Curze said, a trace of pain suddenly slipped across his face. "You are still so self-righteous, whether it is out of trust in psychic power or now opposition... But, you see, the throne is watching me."

-

"You have checked the records I was going to hand in." Cindy was depressed and aggrieved, "I didn't mention anything about colluding with aliens, playing with psychic powers, or quarreling with demigods..."

"But your thoughts are very noisy." Sevatar sat calmly opposite Cindy. It was something Cindy could never have imagined that a Space Marine could have such a nonchalant expression and make such a casual joke.

"I……"

"The dark secret cannot be made public yet," Sevatar declared without question.

"Okay, okay," the Memoirist twisted his hands together, "then erase my memory. Really!"

"Hmm..." Sevatar's black eyes began to stare at his head.

"What are you going to do!" The Memoirist hugged his precious head.

"I don't have the right potion, only a knife." Sevatar curled his lips, and the scar on half of his cheek moved. "You can choose to let me destroy your frontal lobe."

"The throne is on top!"

"Or..." he said, "Another way is to ensure that you will no longer have any connection with the people of the Empire."

"Uh..." Cindy shuddered and put her hand across her neck. "What are you talking about?"

"Almost." Sevatar said, rubbing his fingers lightly on the knife. "Specifically, you will never have the chance to return to the Empire in your lifetime."

"I think I understand what you mean." Cindy's eyes lit up a little.

"tell me the story."

"Going with you to the Grail Expanse, eh?" Cindy said hastily, "and stationed there?"

"You actually guessed it right." Sevatar retracted the blade, obviously disappointed. "Where is your fear?"

"Uh... because I wanted more facts, more truth... so I forgot?"

"Even if the truth you obtain will never be made public, or even that you may not discover anything?"

"I enjoyed the whole excavation process." The memoirist shrugged nonchalantly.

Sevatar lowered his head and spoke a few vague words to the communication button on his lapel.

Then he looked up. "Cindy will die of a severe stomach ailment brought on by years of hard work. Give yourself a new name, Clerk."

"Cindy..." He repeated the word over and over again, "Cindy... Cin... Cintila. Cintila."

(End of this chapter)