Chapter 267: The Art of the Blade
Beep beep…
In the lavish private residence of some minor noble, an incoming call chimed from Reynaud's personal terminal.
Reynaud was sprawled across a sofa at the time, his head resting on a pair of soft, generously proportioned thighs. The owner of said thighs was an absolutely stunning woman — the full-figured, vibrantly beautiful kind, like a perfectly ripened peach. Not overripe, not past her prime — just hitting that precise sweet spot where everything about her radiated warmth and lush appeal.
The beauty was smiling contentedly, cotton swab in hand, carefully cleaning out Reynaud's ear. Every now and then she'd pluck a grape and pop it into his mouth. Reynaud was enjoying life thoroughly.
"Sweetheart~" she murmured. "Your terminal's ringing. Aren't you going to answer?"
"Mm, go ahead and get it~"
Reynaud drawled lazily. The beauty reached over and accepted the call.
The video connected — and Reynaud did a double-take.
Because on the other end of the screen, Kian Voss was also lying with his head in someone's lap, and a hand was also periodically popping grapes into his mouth.
"Oh damn, look at you living the life!"
"Oh damn, look at you living the life!"
Both men said it simultaneously.
Kian asked: "So who'd you manage to charm? You're absolutely thriving."
Reynaud picked up his terminal and tilted the camera upward — toward his wife, the supremely beautiful woman.
She leaned toward the lens and made a little kiss face, her full lips plump and glossy with purple lipstick.
Kian's entire body gave an involuntary shudder.
"Holy — that type hits the hardest."
The camera swung back to Reynaud's face. The beauty kept feeding him fruit; Reynaud kept fielding the grapes while asking:
"What about you? What's going on over there? Who's the sugar mummy?"
"No sugar mummy."
On screen, Kian's head was pillowed in someone's lap — but the thighs looked oddly angular, and the pair of hands serving him were distinctly rough and weathered.
One of those rough hands reached over and tucked a cigarette between Kian's lips. Then a gold-and-gemstone lighter appeared — the kind that radiated old-money dad energy — and gave him a light.
Kian took a drag and said: "No sugar mummy. Got a sugar uncle, though."
He tilted the camera upward to show Reynaud General Zeppelin's face — hair gone completely, half his skull replaced with a metal plate, skin red and swollen from severe radiation sensitivity. An absolute horror show.
General Zeppelin leaned toward the lens and attempted a smile. The scabbed wounds on his face cracked open from the movement, and black blood began seeping out.
Pfft — Reynaud spat his grape clean across the room. He stared at Kian in disbelief.
"What the hell — I out here charming a rich lady and you're charming a rich old man?! Are you even human?!"
Kian took another drag and blew it at the camera.
"Bro, I had no choice — Uncle's fighter jets are fast, his Spire is tall and proud, and three thousand power-armoured bodyguards? Utterly irresistible. I simply couldn't hold out. Had to acknowledge General Zeppelin as my uncle."
Reynaud let out a slow "ohhhh" and relaxed visibly.
"Uncle, right — I was starting to think—"
Kian's expression shifted immediately.
"Starting to think what?!"
Reynaud shook his head frantically.
"Nothing! Absolutely nothing! Don't read into it!"
"Get out of here. You, with your filthy, vile, wretched, degenerate, low-down, morally reprehensible, anti-everything-decent, opposite-of-righteousness, antithesis-of-all-that-is-good — I am ashamed to know you. That's it. We're done. This friendship is over. Goodbye."
Beep beep…
Kian snapped the terminal shut.
He rolled off the sofa in a clean kip-up, then turned to General Zeppelin.
"Uncle. Now that we're family, I'm not going to dance around it — there's something I want to ask you for."
General Zeppelin — this lonely old widower — wasn't afraid of Kian asking for things. He was afraid of Kian not asking. He jumped in immediately:
"Nephew, ask for whatever you want. Your uncle will give you anything. I'd pull the moon from the sky for you!"
Kian's eyes lit up.
"Really, Uncle? Then I want to be Planetary Governor!!"
The warm smile froze on General Zeppelin's face. That's — wait, that's not quite—
But looking at Kian's hopeful expression, some part of the old general steeled itself. Maybe… maybe we just go for it?
Kilian Cavendish, watching from the side, sensed disaster approaching and hastily intervened:
"Young master, that won't work — the Planetary Governor has his own heirs. The best you can realistically aim for is general."
Kian gave a mildly disappointed "ah," then pressed on:
"If Planetary Governor is off the table, then my fallback — give me one of the Aeldari prisoners. A warrior."
That made General Zeppelin's brow furrow.
"Nephew… maybe let's not go down that road? Look at the state I'm in — this is what happens when you poke the Aeldari. I've got serious psychological scarring around the whole subject. How about we table that and revisit the Planetary Governor situation instead?"
Cavendish immediately broke into a cold sweat. We are currently hiding inside the Planetary Governor's own Spire fortress. Could you two please watch what you say?
"Young master — why do you want an Aeldari prisoner? If it's for that, I really wouldn't bother. Honestly, it's… fine, I suppose, but…"
He clicked his tongue, his expression reading as someone who'd tried an exotic dish and found it neither satisfying nor worth repeating.
Kian stared at him.
You too—
General Zeppelin, you are a man of unexpected depths. Took your own steward along to the feast.
"Ahem. That's not what it's for.
There's an Aeldari warrior running loose in the Hive right now — and whatever else you can say about it, that's a liability that needs to be dealt with. I want to understand how Aeldari warriors fight. The prisoner is for that."
General Zeppelin's expression shifted to one of open admiration.
"That's my nephew — always thinking about the mission. Outstanding. Full marks for initiative. Your uncle will make it happen.
Just be careful — Aeldari prisoners are extremely dangerous. Especially their warriors. Don't let the slender build fool you. Put one on a scale and they hit 170 kilograms."
Kian acknowledged this, and the General went off to work the necessary channels.
The Aeldari prisoner request wasn't purely about intelligence-gathering. Kian had another reason — he needed to get stronger.
The appearance of this Aeldari warrior had hit him like a cold bucket of water.
Not long ago, he'd thought he might be the most formidable individual human on this planet. He'd let himself feel quietly proud about that.
Then the Aeldari warrior showed up and slapped that pride right out of him.
The being was overwhelming in every dimension. In a fair one-on-one duel, she could kill him several times over before he registered what had happened.
And this same being — who had thrown the entire Hive into absolute chaos — barely even counted as someone worth inviting to the table on the galactic stage.
Kian's sense of urgency was now at critical mass. He had to get stronger. He had to get stronger regardless of the cost.
The Aeldari prisoner was the key to that. From her, he intended to obtain one of the things the Aeldari were most renowned for.
The blade arts.
☆☆☆
-> 20 Advanced chapters Now Available on Patreon!!
-> https://www.pat-reon.co-m/c/Inkshaper
(Just remove the hyphen (-) to access patreon normally)
If you like this novel please consider leaving a review that's help the story a lot Thank you