Chapter 310: The Eldar: Marking Four Big Daddies and Initiating Diplomatic Contact
"Don't give me more work."
Arthur was speechless. Holding the leashes of two chaotic demigods was tiring enough.
Drakus's eyes lit up as he watched the King of Knights in profile, hoping he could dissuade the Lord Regent.
"I thought we agreed? You were going with Ramesses."
Facing his partner's question, Romulus produced a beacon.
Arthur's eyes narrowed as he examined the intricate patterns and craftsmanship.
It was Craftworld Eldar in origin.
"We found the planet," Romulus explained. "Idris. An Eldar colony world, now located deep within the Eye of Terror."
It was the world where Fulgrim had used a treacherous ritual to drain Perturabo's power, sacrificing it to fuel his own ascension to daemonhood.
In realspace, the Eye of Terror was located near the Cadian Gate, a bleeding wound in reality spewing warp energy. But inside the Eye, and in the anomalous zones surrounding it where time and space were distorted by the warp, there were countless systems hidden from conventional augurs and utterly hostile to human life.
For most of history, these systems had served as temporary havens for Chaos renegades and xenos raiders, who used their tenuous connection to realspace to launch raids into other sectors via short warp jumps. Furthermore, since the Eye of Terror was the epicenter of the ancient Aeldari Empire's fall, these systems were likely once part of their dominion.
Romulus was also responsible for the Dawnbreakers' diplomacy. And recently, a Craftworld had approached him.
At the mention of xenos, even Drakus's mouth tightened in tension. The Primarchs were relatively indifferent to xenos, viewing them with apathy rather than active hatred—unless they were Drukhari, or stood in the way of their objectives, in which case annihilation was the standard response. But for an Astartes, whose very gene-seed was encoded with a hatred for the alien, maintaining restraint in a conversation with a xenos was a difficult feat. Thus, Astartes always treated interactions with aliens with extreme caution, careful not to leave any room for accusations of heresy.
"Huh?" Arthur looked confused, but not because Romulus was talking to Eldar. As Drakus had boasted to Garro about the unbreakable bond between the Primarchs, such diplomatic trifles were routine for them.
What he didn't understand was: Why didn't they go to Ramesses?
After all, the title of "The Formless Lord" was practically a golden brand in the warp these days, with a reputation terrifying enough to silence daemons.
Or was it that the Ultramarines, from top to bottom, just had a weird knack for attracting Eldar?
First, there was the old Farseer Eldrad pushing Yvraine, the Emissary of Ynnead, to cooperate with Guilliman. Then there was Calgar, who had fought alongside Eldar forces on multiple occasions.
"They have to be able to find him first," Romulus shrugged. That simple gesture explained everything.
Fair enough.
"It was Craftworld Ulthwé that approached us."
Mentioning this famous Craftworld from 40k lore, Romulus's tone was businesslike and flat. After years of dealing with legendary figures, even special entities failed to elicit much emotion.
"Their seers caught glimpses of our objectives through prophecy. They want to trade a set of coordinates for… cooperation."
"What kind of cooperation?" Arthur's expression turned serious.
"They want us to periodically purge some Eldar to free up space in their Spirit Stones."
Speaking of this, Romulus looked visibly strained.
When Slaanesh awoke, Ulthwé had been slow to flee. Though not slow enough to be instantly devoured like others, they were trapped near the Eye of Terror, forced to deal with the horrors spewing from it for millennia. This had forged Ulthwé into a Craftworld with a large and reliable Seer Council, a unique martial culture, and a pragmatism that set them apart from their kin.
It also meant their mortality rate was high. The Spirit Stones used to house individual souls, and the Infinity Circuit that held the spirits of their ancestors, were under a load far exceeding that of other Craftworlds.
And Spirit Stones were mined from the Crone Worlds—ancient Eldar planets blessed by Isha, the Goddess of Life—which were now deep inside the Eye of Terror.
The farther you were from the Eye, the fewer Spirit Stones you had, and the closer Slaanesh felt.
The closer you were to the Eye, the more of you died, and the closer Slaanesh felt.
It was a lose-lose situation.
But they couldn't ignore it. No matter how the Eldar struggled, death usually meant eternal torment at the hands of She Who Thirsts.
During the warp tides stirred by Khorne, Ulthwé had naturally come under attack from Chaos warbands. In the process, their gaze turned to the human realm. No matter how proud the Eldar were, they had to admit that the galaxy now belonged to humanity. Even the portion that had turned to Chaos was overwhelming for a dying race to withstand.
And then, they discovered a serious anomaly.
As a Craftworld accustomed to dealing with daemons and possessing psychic technology far superior to the rest of the galaxy, Ulthwé's Farseers couldn't permanently kill daemons, but they could banish them or track them via their True Names.
During their surveillance, they noticed something impossible.
The Great Enemy's daemons, after being slain in battle with the so-called "Primarchs," did not return to the warp.
They were dead. Permanently.
It was common knowledge that the only way to truly destroy a warp entity was for it to be consumed by another in the warp, or to be shattered into pure emotional fragments by esoteric means.
This discovery piqued the Farseers' interest, and they launched a cautious investigation.
As they dug deeper, they pieced together the truth about the four Primarchs:
One was the "Formless Lord," already infamous in the warp for his deeds, whispered of by daemons in fear.
One possessed supreme information processing capabilities and could create matter from nothing—a mysterious entity the Mechanicum viewed as an avatar of the Prime Mover.
One could influence the emotions of sentient beings on a massive scale, draining negative emotions and converting them into pure, righteous fury, an angel spreading his light across the battlefield.
And one who, by his mere presence, could seal minor warp rifts and annihilate lesser daemons instantly. A knight around whom the warp receded, creating a zone of stability indistinguishable from an ideal material realm.
The Seers smiled, a look of enlightened resignation on their faces.
Well, if They insist on calling themselves "Primarchs," then let us call Them that.
While shocked by the complex composition of the Emperor's "I am human, saving humanity" gang this time around, and muttering about whether these gods had lost their minds, and complaining about humanity's sheer dumb luck…
Craftworld Ulthwé, with mixed emotions, formally initiated diplomatic contact with Romulus.
"They are willing to provide coordinates within the Eye of Terror known to their Craftworld, and to offer intelligence support to the Dawnbreakers," Romulus said, sounding like he was telling a bad joke.
"In exchange, they want the Primarchs to grant… release… to the souls that have died over the last millennium."
I pay you to kill my people.
It sounded abstract and absurd, yet for the Eldar, it was perfectly logical. They probably felt they should be thanking us.
These Farseers were impressive. Unable to lock onto these four unique anomalies through prophecy, they had deduced their objectives simply by tracking the movements of their forces.
And so, this bizarre deal was struck.
"Ah, I see." Arthur nodded, his face betraying no emotion.
Then, he asked the most critical question:
"So what does this have to do with you insisting on going to Cadia?"
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