Chapter 147 - Trazyn Comes to Visit
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The remaining three questions were all battlefield intelligence Guilliman wanted.
After finishing the interrogation of the daemonhost, Kaelen returned to his room.
He turned the problem over in his mind. How would Ku'gath Plaguefather handle that soul fragment of Sanguinius? Brew it into an even more virulent god-plague, or use it to animate some twisted monster?
He took out the feather the Great Angel had pressed into his hands before they parted.
Golden light swirled through it. An indescribable peace washed over him all at once, like a pair of gentle wings folding around him. The restlessness quieted. Reason reclaimed its ground.
Calmer now, Kaelen began working through it from the other side.
He put himself in Ku'gath's place. In Mortarion's. If he were either of those two traitors, what would he do?
The answer came quickly.
Mortarion had ascended to Daemon Primarch, yes. But no matter how powerful he'd become, he couldn't hold off three gene-primarchs at once. And Guilliman, Horus, and Curze were all carrying weapons personally bestowed by the Emperor of Mankind. Their combat power was already maxed out.
Mortarion needed an ally of real weight. Someone who could share the pressure on the front line.
Ku'gath wouldn't do.
The fat green corpse's talents ran to plague-brewing, not fighting. In a brawl at the Primarch level, he simply wouldn't count for much.
"So he'll most likely create a twisted monster..."
Kaelen murmured to himself, the shape of it coming clear.
Then someone knocked on the door.
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
"Who is it?"
"Sorry to disturb you, Lord Kaelen. There's a captain who wishes to see you." The attendant's voice was respectful, careful.
A mortal captain?
Kaelen frowned slightly. He was about to turn the man away when the attendant spoke again: "The captain's name is Trazyn. He said that once I gave you that name, my lord, you would understand."
Trazyn?
Kaelen's eyes lit up.
How in the blazes had that Necron gotten aboard the Macragge's Honour? This was the flagship of the Queen of Glory, the pride of the Five Hundred Worlds, and a Necron was wandering through it like he owned the place?
Still. This was good news.
Kaelen had been trying to figure out how to find him.
"Send him in." No hesitation.
A few minutes later, an utterly ordinary mortal captain walked through the door.
His gait, his expression, even the rhythm of his breathing were indistinguishable from a real person. If Kaelen hadn't already known who was wearing that face, he might have been fooled entirely.
The door clicked shut. No one else around.
The mortal captain's face broke into a knowing smile. A green Necron-style staff materialized in his hand from nowhere.
Trazyn the Infinite stood before Kaelen once more.
"Long time no see, Captain Kaelen. Oh — but that's wrong now, isn't it? You're an honored guest of the Human Imperium. I suppose I should be calling you General."
There was a playful edge to his tone.
"Always a pleasure, Grand Collector." Kaelen smiled, letting his gaze travel over him. "This isn't your true body, is it?"
He gestured for Trazyn to sit as he said it.
Kaelen had no particular animosity toward this Necron. Partly because he needed something from him. Partly because, in a galaxy full of lunatics, Trazyn had always maintained his own peculiar brand of dignity. At the very least, he wasn't unhinged.
"Sharp." Trazyn settled into the chair with an unhurried ease. "This is a high-fidelity prosthetic I use to better experience and integrate into the daily life of the Human Imperium. Mechanical at its core, yes, but it perfectly simulates human physiology: heartbeat, body temperature, and it can even digest food..."
He paused and pointed at the wine bottle on the table.
"Oh, and could you pour me a glass? I find myself rather thirsty."
Kaelen gave a soft laugh, stood, and poured.
"I didn't think you particularly missed the old flesh of the Necrontyr," he said, sliding the glass across.
"Mhm." Trazyn lifted the glass. Something almost like wistfulness moved through his voice. "Kaelen, you have to understand — when we still had flesh and blood, life was so short. Sometimes I genuinely envy you. You and the other mortal species. Your bodies are so much better than what we had."
He drained the glass in one swallow.
Then he smacked his lips. His brow furrowed. He shook his head and delivered his verdict without mercy: "I've had better. The wine of the Aeldari, now that is genuine nectar. Compared to theirs, your human vintage is practically an industrial beverage."
"I don't have Aeldari wine to offer you." Kaelen settled back into his seat across the table, hands folded on the surface. "This is what I drink."
"Let's get to business, Mr. Trazyn." The smile left Kaelen's face. His tone shifted to something direct. "More than conversation, what I'd like is to walk away from this meeting with a fine collectible from the Grand Collector himself."
"Oh?" Trazyn's eyes sharpened with immediate interest. He leaned forward slightly, like a hound catching the scent of a deal. "What do you want?"
"Fulgrim's clone."
Kaelen said it plainly.
"Ah..." Trazyn leaned back and shook his head with theatrical regret. "That is an exceedingly precious collectible."
He raised a single metal finger and settled into his stride: "Fabius Bile's proudest work — though one could argue the point, since replicating a figure from the past is its own kind of insult to a madman who dreamed of forging a new age. I paid dearly to acquire it. Pure gene-seed of the Emperor's Children. A fully conscious, living Bonesinger from an Old Crone World. A complete set of Astartes wargear from the Great Crusade era..."
He spread his hands, his expression turning sharp and businesslike. "Trading it away isn't impossible. It's just..."
"You need something of equivalent value. Correct?"
Kaelen finished it for him.
Something changed in Trazyn's whole bearing at that. Even honorifics surfaced: "Do you have a collectible of such worth on hand? Or perhaps... you would consider becoming my possession yourself, in exchange for Fulgrim's clone?"
Kaelen didn't answer. He just smiled.
He rose, crossed to the desk, and pulled open a drawer. He took something out and turned to offer it to Trazyn.
The Infinite accepted it with great care, cradling it in both palms, turning it over and examining it closely.
"This is...?"
"A feather of Sanguinius," Kaelen said. "It carries some psychic resonance. It truly fell from the Angel's wings."
Trazyn studied it for a long moment, murmuring soft sounds of admiration. Then he let out a slow, regretful sigh.
"A perfect collectible. Immensely valuable..." He looked up, and his gaze was intense. "But not enough. Not nearly enough to trade for Fulgrim's clone. Unless you can offer more feathers of Sanguinius."
"That's the down payment, Mr. Trazyn."
Kaelen was completely unruffled. His tone was calm and easy, as though they were discussing the weather.
That got Trazyn's real attention.
"Could it be... you have something even better?"
Kaelen held his gaze and spoke each word with deliberate weight:
"A soul fragment."
The Infinite's mouth opened slightly.
"Whose?" A thread of urgency entered his voice now.
The corner of Kaelen's mouth curved upward.
"Fulgrim's." He let the pause sit there for a moment, watching Trazyn's face. "And not the Fulgrim of this world. It comes from a parallel one."
The room went quiet.
The light burning in Trazyn's eyes was fiercer than Kaelen had ever seen it.
➤ Next: Striking a Deal
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