Warhammer: The 11th Primarch - The Black Emperor

The Aeldar seer had just begun to recover from the searing pain in his soul when he felt a powerful hand clamp tightly around his throat, his right arm severed.

The agony caused his left arm to tremble slightly, and before he could retaliate, the "Interrogator's" eyes flashed. The psychic backlash hit the xeno like a mental spear, causing his brain to feel like it was exploding, and blood sprayed from his mouth and nose.

Arbiter Lord Howard landed with the unconscious Aeldar seer in tow, just as Aeldar forces charged in from all directions.

Windrider jetbikers fell from their mounts every second, but none of the Aeldar hesitated; they had to retrieve their captured seer from the hands of the "mon-keigh."

The two fastest Aeldar formed a pincer attack as they lunged at Howard.

Fearing harm to the seer, they refrained from using their shuriken catapults. Instead, they grabbed Shining Spears from their mount.

Just a few meters from Howard, they twisted their jetbikes in a graceful arc, and with practiced precision, both Aeldar lunged with their spears.

The "Interrogator" stepped forward, weaving through the blinding attacks with unnatural speed.

Startled, the two Aeldar warriors realized this black-armored "mon-keigh" was terrifyingly fast. They tried to turn their jetbikes to evade.

But the "Interrogator" struck with his power sword, using the Otsberg-vaya Form No. 16, six thrusts executed in an instant.

The Aeldar had no time to react. The blue energy field ripped them to pieces, their bodies tumbling from their speeding jetbikes.

Moments later, all Sam-Hann Aeldar who had trespassed into the "Interrogator's" domain lay dead, except for six captured Windriders.

Howard carried the unconscious seer into the interrogation room, where techmarines fastened him into restraints designed specifically for Aeldar, barbed manacles piercing through his limbs like thorns.

Even unconscious, the seer's body shuddered at the stabbing pain.

A member of Howard's Honor Guard, still furious over fallen battle-brothers, yanked off the xenos's helmet roughly. The seer's pale face slammed into the chair, blood dripping to the floor.

After injecting a serum synthesized from prior Aeldar captives, the seer slowly awoke.

His sharp senses still registered the soul-searing pain, and he found his psychic powers completely suppressed.

The manacles were forged from anti-psyker materials that severed his connection to the Warp.

In his dazed state, he suddenly heard mangled, crude Aeldar language.

"Sam-Hann... Seer..."

Howard had picked up some Aeldar tongue recently. Once he drew the xenos' attention, he switched to High Gothic.

"I believe you understand Gothic."

The "Interrogator" smiled as the seer raised his head defiantly, glaring with contempt.

"Good. I like that rebellious attitude."

Lightning flickered in the Interrogator's eyes, and the next moment, the seer felt electrical lashes whip through his soul.

It was as if barbed whips were scourging his very spirit.

The agony caused him to frown deeply. As he writhed under the torment of the "Whip of Agony," a cold voice echoed again in Gothic:

"Do you speak High Gothic?"

Theseer didn't want to dignify the mon-keigh's question with an answer, but the torment was too great. Arcs of electric pain lashed his mind, his soul spasming uncontrollably. He trembled, knees going weak.

This was a deeper agony than the thorns piercing his flesh or the anti-psyker torture; this pain was spiritual.

Finally, the Aeldar seer reluctantly muttered, "The mon-keigh's tongue... is no challenge to me." His mocking tone was a deflection, a hope to goad his captor into ending his suffering.

"Your language is as crude and bland as your incomplete evolution."

But the "Interrogator" only smiled, feeling something inside him digest this spiritual resistance more clearly than ever before. He pressed on:

"Your name?"

The seer sensed the lashes coiling again, warning him.

Still, he refused to answer.

The "Interrogator" unleashed the whip once more, tearing into the alien's soul.

"Your name?"

"Shaokross..." the seer gasped, spitting out part of his name for a momentary reprieve.

Howard grinned mockingly. "I thought the proud Aeldar were stronger than this. You're no tougher than a mon-keigh."

"Don't... get cocky," Shaokross gasped. "You'll get nothing useful from me."

"Nothing useful?" Howard laughed and struck with the whip again.

"What did you foresee? What prophecy brought you to this cluster?"

Despite the pain, Shaokross's heart sank. His fellow Aeldar had broken under interrogation and revealed everything.

He was furious at their weakness, but he also understood why.

No Aeldari had ever recorded these mon-keighs wielding such psychic torture.

"How... how can you do that? How can you scourge my soul?"

"You don't get to ask questions, xeno," the "Interrogator" replied coldly.

Another lash of agony tore through Shaokross.

"Answer me. What was your prophecy?"

"You... crude mon-keighs... like your tyrant... you're Sam-Hann's enemies. You must die!"

But the "Interrogator" felt something unlock again inside him, another piece of the puzzle falling into place.

'Their Farseer must have foresaw that Sam-Hann, their craftworld, would face my lord and all of the 11th legion.'

"Tell me, where is the Vigilus System?"

Shaokross said nothing, shocked and afraid.

He knew the mon-keigh called that critical planet "Vigilus." It was vital to Sam-Hann.

'So the mon-keighs do know of that world. The prophecy was right. Nareth and his sons are our enemies. That world must never fall into their hands.'

"You won't say?" the Interrogator sneered. "That's fine. We have plenty of time to play."

"Believe me, you'll tell me everything I want to know."

"In your dreams," Shaokross growled. "Nareth and your kind will be destroyed. Death..."

A crack of soul-scourging pain silenced him.

Howard's black eyes glowed with fury.

"Xeno, you're a prisoner. You don't get to speak the Primarch's name."

...

Meanwhile, on Terra, Nareth was in the palace's ground floor hall, listening to a report from Arsena.

"My lord, I found ancient mural rubbings from the Achaemenid Empire in the Librarium. They offered valuable insight."

"In addition, I also...."

Nareth nodded with satisfaction after hearing the Reader's briefing.

"Well done. Continue your work."

"My lord, one more matter requires your attention."

"Many noble families have approached me today; they all seek your support."

Nareth tapped the back of his chair thoughtfully. These nobles didn't understand the Emperor's true vision. Primarchs and Astartes were weapons of war.

No Primarch, neither he nor the famed Warmaster, nor even Guilliman with his political genius, would have a seat in Terra's future.

'Still... no harm in meeting them. I do need eyes and voices on Terra.'

.....

If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.

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