Nareth sat on a large rock, looking up at the night sky.
The orange moon hung high.
He was thoughtful.
'The orange-red light only shines on the land at dusk.
'The "Red Priest's" uniqueness banner also only heats up at that time.'
'The supernatural influence only occurs at dusk.'
He withdrew his gaze, looking at the Vessorines around him.
The men and women seated around him had not touched the Vostroyan Rath vodka.
They tore at their food with swift, precise movements.
They crunched into Attilan Ovjan steaks, swallowing the hot, golden cartilage along with the tender meat.
They ignored the mustard and soy sauce, grabbing the Sea-Cradle salmon together, stuffing it into their mouths.
...
Faced with the delicacies of a Vostroyan noble feast, the Vessorines were like emotionless servitors, simply consuming energy.
Etrich, the Sorbor tribal chieftain , shoved a handful of Rynn's jade-green berries into his mouth.
The jade-colored skins burst. The lychee-like opening notes, the crisp pear middle, and the thick strawberry finish mingled and exploded.
He swallowed berries worth an entire hive factory.
"Nareth, how much will you pay to hire us?"
He addressed him by name. Whether he was a Phuthu god or not, he wanted payment.
He was concerned with his power, and his sons, the Shadows of Order.
There were more than ten black-armored warriors who could match him. He had seen over a hundred, fourteen with the same style of sword.
Nareth and his sons could slaughter the entire Sorbor tribe.
He knew this. Fortunately, Nareth was not using it to drive down the price.
He downed his Red Rath vodka. The hot liquid slid down his throat.
He set down his glass and spoke in Phuthu.
"I need to test you before I can name a price."
Given the huge cost of hiring Vessorines, he decided to stay.
Use the "Red Priest's" uniqueness and his own abilities to make them submit.
He also needed to thoroughly assess their psychic resistance, including the children, potential recruits.
The Imperium's Twenty-Four Psychic Grades system, by measuring and recording an individual's psychic activity and power level, grades psychic talent into positive and negative twenty-four levels.
Negative grades extend to Rho, below Rho.
Vessorines are very slow to react to psychic powers. The entire race are negative-grade psykers.
But their resistance to psychic powers and the Warp varies:
Sigma and Tau grades only ignore Warp fluctuations and psychic phenomena.
Upsilon, Phi, Chi, and Psi grades have varying degrees of resistance.
Omega grade are Blanks. Negative-Omega grade are exclusive to Culexus Assassins.
He hypothesized that only Sigma and Tau grade Vessorines could be successfully converted into Shadows of Order.
Upsilon, Phi, Chi, and Psi grades would have high surgical failure rates. Omega and negative-Omega grades would be completely impossible to convert.
He didn't know the secrets of the Emperor's creation of Astartes, but they clearly involved Warp stuff.
'Unfortunately, I don't know how the Grey Knights are converted into Ferrymen.'
'Astartes with psychic abilities can be acquired afterward and reverse-converted into Blanks. The Emperor is quite impressive!'
He thought of Balsar Kurthuri, the Raven Guard Chief Librarian he had already "corroded." His ambition blazed. An idea formed.
'Perhaps I can get that secret.'
'If Balsar still becomes Origen, one of the founding Grand Masters of the Grey Knights, as in my memory, I can learn the secrets of the Grey Knights and the conversion into Ferrymen at the burial site.'
As he thought of taking, the tribal chieftain was lost in thought.
'I know nothing of the outside world.'
'I don't know our worth. Testing will let me learn, to negotiate a fair price for me and my people.'
"Good." He agreed.
Nareth poured Red Rath vodka into his glass and asked casually.
"I have walked a thousand systems. An orange moon is rare."
"Is there anything special about it?"
Etrich shook his head. "No. It's just a moon."
'Very Vessorine.' He silently commented on their pragmatism. He asked, with some hope.
"At dusk, when the orange light shines, does anything happen?"
Etrich gulped down Terrican soup, made with onions, beets, cabbage, carrots, cream, and more.
"We attack other tribes at dusk."
"tribal chieftain succession ceremonies are held at dusk."
He unexpectedly gained intelligence. He noticed the abnormality in Vessorine culture.
'Though the Death Guard's predecessor, the Dusk Raiders, favored attacking at dusk, the Vessorines are not augmented. They also lack the superhuman night vision of those born on night worlds like Modian.'
'Dawn, when guards are most tired, is the best time for a surprise attack.'
As he thought, his gaze fell on Etrich's belt.
"Your falcon short sword is special. Where did it come from?"
Seeing no response, the "Mentor of Disorder" spoke, his voice deep.
"Relax."
"I won't take it by force. If I wanted it, I would have taken it when I defeated you."
"I'm just curious."
He was familiar with this. The victor taking the loser's spoils, even absorbing their tribe, it was Vessorine tradition.
"My ancestor..."
As the tribal chieftain spoke, the Vessorines heard a legend they had never known.
They learned the origin of the Phuthu language and script. Their eating did not slow.
They had no interest in legends or ancestors. They were no better than a good weapon or a fat beast.
He frowned. Even as a legend, Etrich's ancestor's slaying of the Phuthu god was too brief.
No rough timeline, the Vessorines, living for battle, had no concept of time.
No epic describing the cause or process. Just that the ancestor killed a giant eagle-like bird in four days and four nights.
"The location where the Phuthu fell?" He tried to get more information.
"There." Etrich pointed to his four o'clock. "Eighteen thousand four hundred paces."
"The ancestor carved words and pictures from its remains."
His eyes lit up. He noted the location.
The next day, as heavy transports landed and Apothecaries began testing the Sorbor, he flew towards the indicated location.
....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
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