Lyre and Calligos’ eyes glaze over as they consider all they have learned. Abbisine sits rigid in her chair, barely breathing. Thalk stands and paces around the room, his hands clasped behind this back. He stops and looks up at the domed ceiling, painted with angels fawning over the Emperor and his nine loyal sons.

The dome and room are lit by wax candles fixed to four, massive gold chandeliers. Their warm flickering light plays over an entire wall of rare alcohols locked behind individual stasis fields.

Opposite the booze are hundreds of severed heads in jars. Most are Human or Ork. There are four Drukhari, a Hive Tyrant, and several other species I do not recognise. Some of the heads look like they are still alive, their eyes rolling around their heads behind their eyelids, which have been sewn shut, their mouths wide open in silent screams.

That’s one way to keep a Drukhari from respawning, I suppose. The other heads are just asking for trouble though. Eventually all that misery will call a demon as I can’t see any wards at all. I can’t tell Thalk that though without giving away that I’m spying on him. I’ll have to get Luan to subtly raise the issue. I don’t think my other two boys could manage the deception.

After ten minutes, Thalk sits down and finally dismisses his servants. Once they have departed he says, “It strikes me, Logis Vakul, that Magos Issengrund’s unusual demeanour, dubious origins, and superlative skills matter little. The key issues are: is he loyal and can we benefit from his resources? We don’t need to worry about the impact of his technology. What matters is if he will sell it to us. What is the value of his word? In what manner does he exercise the power that he has? Trader Winterscale, perhaps you have some insight on this that you can share?”

Calligos frowns, “Magos Issengrund is loyal to his family and to his Fleet, in that order. His power may be great, but his goals are mortal enough. He rarely uses his power, content to play diplomacy. His ploy, an open hand and a mailed fist is blindingly obvious enough that I can’t help but be suspicious of it, recent though my realisation of his tactics may be.

“My Master of Whispers has discovered that Magos Issengrund is well known for keeping his word, even with the lowest of crew members, whom he interacts with as a reward for good service. It would be quite easy to trap him in an unfavourable agreement. The wisdom of doing so is debatable.

“I do not want to discover what a man, who can allegedly turn people into Primarchs, Saints, and Heros, is capable of were I to cross him. Not only that, both himself and his people have given me every reason not to do so. What’s worse is that it is only when I asked High Factotum, Eire Lobhidain for more details on the desired traits of the people I have agreed to gather, that I was truly able to understand the breadth and depth of Magos Issengrund’s goals and influence.”

“You possess additional data?” says Abbisine.

“Indeed, I have had my eyes opened to the glory of the Machine God. Salvation was there, plain for me to see. While I am accustomed to paying a fortune to lie in bed and getting my brains scrambled, enlightenment usually comes in brief spurts, not an everlasting stream of new ideas and ancient knowledge. I paid for an expensive Machine Impulse Unit, a sleeping pod, and a significant portion of the Tech-Apprentice level database to be uploaded to my mind while I sleep.”

Abbisine says, her tone somewhat forceful, “What did you learn that has changed you so completely.”

“Everything!” says Calligos, sounding slightly distressed. “I have always considered myself an educated man. Philosophy, religion, military strategy, trade, administration, and politics. I’ve hired dozens of tutors over the years and studied thousands of tomes and dataslates.

“Warp travel is a long and perilous affair; I always use the time to improve myself in some way, focusing heavily on what a Rogue Trader needs to know the most. I expected little from this so-called ‘basic knowledge’ and wanted a way to increase the value of the people I have contracted to trade with the Stellar Fleet by teaching them in advance. What little harm could come from seeing what these immigrants would be expected to know? I just wanted to know more about what I would be selling, to properly understand its value.

“In some ways I was right, from the subjects I am well versed in, I learned little, yet now I have had my eyes opened to the mysteries of the universe. Physics, Chemistry, Biology, and advanced Mathematics. Engineering, Architecture, Electronics and Medicine.” Calligos laughs, “Health and Safety.” He shakes his head, “There were softer subjects too: Media, Drama. The History of Man covered over forty thousand years! Utterly ridiculous. I was lost in a sea of information, my ignorance stripped away from me. Who, then, would answer my questions?”

Thalk leans forward in his chair and Abbisine’s mechanical eyes zoom in on Calligos. Lyre becomes increasingly tense and his heart rate elevates.

Calligos continues, “None other than a Machine-Spirit taking on the guise of Magos Issengrund, a facsimile with never ending answers, stripping my pride and filling me with wonder. A guide without peer. Read full story at novel·fıre·net

“Sometimes the Machine-Spirit took the visage of other members of Stellar Fleet Command. Owen Broin for religious studies, for example. I am now well versed in rites of both the Imperial Cult and Cult Mechanicus. Brigid Issengrund was there for Economics, Eire Lobhidain for Trade, Ròsìn Paorach for Engineering and so on.

“The implication was clear. All knowledge stems from Magos Issengrund and his trusted people, people whom he has raised and one can join if they excel enough. Paragons of knowledge and skill, one and all.”

Tears start to stream down Calligos’s face as he loses himself to rapture, his voice rising in volume and fervour, “The only task required of you is to study, to prove you are worthy of the knowledge you have been bestowed. Never in my life have I been so humbled, left trembling in fear. Not at the sight of an opponent’s mighty fleets, but rather the weight of their knowledge. It was only the history lessons I received that let me see and understand the simple beauty of Magos Issengrund’s diplomacy.”

Calligos wipes his tears, “I am far too used to bluster, lies, and violence. Magos Issengrund doesn’t need any of these. Instead he tempts me with the elegance of the universe, stoking the ever burning curiosity of Humanity that resides within us all, so long as I bow my head and ask. The other option is to wallow in ignorance, to refuse his open hand, and miss the mailed strike that will put me out of the misery I never knew I was wallowing in.”

Thalk says, “Surely you are exaggerating, Trader Winterscale.”

“No!” shouts Calligos. “Do you have any idea what it is like? How unfair it all is? Everything I learned? It was not even the bare minimum Magos Issengrund requires to even consider you a functioning Human. I am currently less educated than a wretched pre-teen menial: classes on Fleet doctrine were denied to me. Other skills too, like zero-G manoeuvring, Noosphere security, Cyber Smithing.

“Be they natural or vat born, all Stellar Fleet personnel have this knowledge and more by the time they are sixteen and enter more in depth education and further practical studies. To the Magos and his people, even the most decorated General is little more than a child. That they do not treat us as such is, at best, a courtesy.

“By the time they’re twenty a Stellar Fleet crewman is a post-human cyborg of great skill, strength, and knowledge. One that can take a bolter round to the face and have a moderate chance of survival. They compress a decade of further learning into four years, partially in a simulated environment, putting their implanted skills into practice at almost minimal cost to Magos Issengrund.

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

“Then, and only then, are they considered a well rounded individual and permitted to access the higher mysteries of the Mechanicus. Most remain in education or the Heralds until they are thirty, though some join the crew immediately, having had enough learning. Almost all of them go back to school eventually as the officers and other leaders all have to meet specific criteria, depending on the role.

“I know I’ve gone on a bit, yet my point still stands. How does one oppose such a titan of intellect? You don’t. You listen carefully to what they have to say. If one is ungrateful, you could wait for them to slip and then surplant them. Such an act lacks character. I would much rather rush to save whatever wonders I can and glue them back together.” Calligos snorts, “Disappointing a man who can give me such a gift and with so many loyal followers would be suicide.”

Lyre scowls, “This is exactly what I was worried about. Trader Winterscale, you have been compromised. There must have been loyalty programming mixed into the hypno-indoctrination learning protocols.

Calligos raises an eyebrow, “Do you think me so foolish? It was not a service. I brought the cogitators and data looms. I was given the passwords and encouraged to have my own Tech-Priests look over everything however I wished before I engaged the learning protocols. They found nothing.”

Calligos grips the necklace hanging around his neck, the same one that Ròsìn gave him. He continues, “My Enginseer Prime has built a shrine to the Magos and is scrambling for data and trinkets he can trade for more sleeping pods, dataslates, and lessons.

“He is less impressed by the knowledge. The systematic, individually tailored, and swift impartation of the Machine God’s miracles however were of great interest. Forge Worlds have this technology, but rarely is it so well organised, complete, and easy to access. He is furious that Talliel-Iota-5 has had access to all of this for months already. Did you know that, Inquisitor?”

“That wretched Magos has swiped the loyalty of my crew from beneath me!” says Lyre, his face barred in a snarl. “He has denied me access to his knowledge at every turn! He has subverted my protégé with impossible dreams of sailing the stars, slaying the Enemies of Man like an Emperor blessed Imperial Hero.

“He gave Raphael a blessed rosette of outrageous potency like it was a worthless trinket. He gave one to me as an afterthought so that I wouldn’t feel left out, like I was some naughty babe! Just having it on my ship has stopped my psyker from gibbering in tongues and my astropath hasn’t had a bad dream in months. She actually smiles now!

“I have endlessly goaded him, yet he never bites, throwing off my probes even when they cost him millions of work hours to fix as if my attempts are beneath his notice. He threatened to kill me in front of an entire Imperial delegation and not one of you offered up an objection!”

Lyre’s face turns increasingly red as he continues, “Magos Issengrund has allied himself with a renegade Space Marine Chapter. He has consorted with Eldar and Tau, foolishly treating them with the same open hand, mailed fist diplomacy he shoves in our faces, as if we are no better than xenos dogs!

“He has subsumed two Navigator houses in under twenty years, somehow curing their mutations as if he is a prophet of the Emperor himself. He has done the same for lesser mutants squatting in Humanity’s great vessels. Who the hell tries to befriend the Inquisition and peddles hope and enlightenment like petty goods? Magos Issengrund is a demon of the worst kind and his disgusting chaos spawn of a ‘daughter’ is no better.”

“Inquisitor!” yells Thalk. “That is an Imperial Saint. You had best back up your words or I will shoot you myself!”

“Then open your ears and close your mouths. This does not go beyond this room. When my loyal navigators, Fyona and Silas Ortelius met Magos Issengrund for the first time, they fell to their knees in worship at the sight of him, thinking him the Emperor himself. For over twenty years, the Astronomicon has burned brighter and stronger than ever recorded, its power waxing and waning with significant flux as if the Emperor is fighting off an intrusion, or some other pestilence.

“When my navigators saw Magos Issengrund, they recognised that it was his soul that burns in the Astronomicon, or so they believe. Malcador the Sigilitte, greatest psyker known to Humanity below the Emperor, died within hours of fueling the Astronomicon. However, this random Novator can somehow fuel the Astronomicon from the otherside of the galaxy for decades? Impossible.

“Even if it is Magos Issengrund interfering with the Astronomicon, the only way he could sustain that amount of power is if he were feeding on souls and only Warp entities gather power in such a manner. Everything Magos offers is too good to be true. His daughter, a Saint? If Magos Issengrund can occlude the Astronomicon, he can certainly fake an Imperial Saint, but like all demons, he has grown greedy.”

Lyre takes a few calming breaths and continues, “A Saint of both the Imperial Cult and the Cult Mechanicus? Unprecedented. Not only that, Alipa, as Logis Vakul pointed out, is the first recorded Saint of the Adeptus Mechanicus in ten thousand years. This is so improbable I can only conclude that Magos Issengrund is trying to subvert our brothers and sisters in red in the most sinister manner possible.

“Trader Winterscale is not even a member of the Cult Mechanicus yet he has been brought to tears by the barest scraps of knowledge and considers himself an apprentice in name. Magos Issengrund already has the Ministorum, Space Marines, and Navigators on his side. How many more will fall to the poison of hope before you all realise it was a trap?” Lyre’s tone turns sharp, Well? What do fools have to say for yourselves?”

I bury my face in my hands and groan, I am impressed and horrified at how close to the truth Lyre has come from the smallest of clues. I even find myself sympathising with him somewhat. In his experience, with what he knows, he has every reason to think I am a demon. He also has a private vendetta against me though and he’s deliberately letting his opinion of me taint his logic, ignoring any information that won’t get him what he wants: my death or suppression and, I suspect, my wealth in his hands.

Thalk gives Lyre a stern look, “Inquisitor Hamiz, that is utter rubbish. You claim that the Barghest are a renegade chapter yet it was you who issued the all clear! A Custodes followed Aldrich Issengrund around for weeks after he met with Chapter Master Lir Bracken and even co-signed his chapter’s trade treaty with the Stellar Fleet.

“Not only that, but Magos Issengrund has on multiple occasions sought out the Enemies of Man, including the Ruinous Powers, and destroyed them with extreme prejudice. He’s surrounded by many wards, ones using schemes known to repel evil forces and keep the Warp at bay. He even implants them into himself and his people at mind boggling expense and replaces their blood with a substitute that’s anathema to corruption. You don’t even know for sure if it is his soul that powers the Astronomicon. At best, you have statements from two navigators and a lot of conjecture.”

Abbisine barely raises her hand and says, “The Inquisitor’s claims have merit. Magos Issengrund’s fleet has an unusual number of psykers and none of them show signs of corruption or mental instability. My readings of Saint Alpia put her right at the limits of a Beta class psyker, possibly early Alpha.

“Such subjects are always utterly insane yet she behaves like a young, inexperienced woman whom one can find wherever they look in the galaxy. She has stepped into her role as Saint with little hesitation and significant support. While her choices have been rather short sighted and naive, I do not fault her enthusiasm and devotion to the two Imperial Gods.

“Additionally, the psykers on the Blackship have the lowest rate of accidents ever recorded. There is no doubt that either Saint Alpia, Magos Issengrund, or perhaps both of them have a stabilizing effect on psykers. There is no evidence that implies this calming effect is beneficent or hostile, only that it occurs. However, claiming that either of them is a powerful Warp entity does not match the surrounding evidence in the slightest.”

“I agree,” says Calligos. “Inquisitor, at this point your suspicions are irrelevant. We would be ripped apart by division were you to move against the Saint. By your own admission, your people would refuse such an order. I am, however, willing to concede that there is far more going on here that we are aware of, secrets that are directly linked to the Emperor and Magos Issengrund is well tangled in its web of intrigue.

“With your words you are demanding that we dismiss all that we have personally witnessed and felt in Ardent Bane’s ballroom, that we place our faith and people into your hands rather than follow the guidance of the Adepta Sororitas, the Adeptus Astartes, and the Aquilian Shield, the Emperor’s own voice abroad.

“None of us have all the pieces to discern the truth and we have every reason to acquire whatever we can while the Emperor’s fortune graces us. Digging into the plans of the Emperor is beyond my Warrant, beyond all of our authority. If He needs us, He will call. I will not be found lacking because I squandered my resources on an outrageously risky play. That it is Rogue Trader Calligos Winterscale telling you that should be all that is required to put this madness to rest.”