My Life as A Death Guard
Chapter 499: Trazyn Demonstrates the Art of Survival
Rapid footsteps echoed down the corridor.
The Khan strode forward with long steps. Following behind him were the envoys accompanying this mission: dispatchers and captains from the White Scar fleet, several Space Marines, and...
A Mechanicus Magos.
Trazyn.
The person whom Malcador had specifically requested to meet, even going so far as to send a psychic message.
After his brief clash with Horus, the Khan had led the remnants of his fleet into a star system near Cadia, ready at any moment either to flee or to fight.
Yet, surprisingly, the Warmaster's fleet had made no significant moves since then. The ships drifted quietly along Cadia's equatorial orbit, showing no activity beyond that.
Of course, new vessels continued to arrive from distant regions, steadily reinforcing Horus's forces.
What was Horus waiting for?
According to the Stormseers, the Warp had recently descended into chaos. It might be related to some massive ritual sacrifice or struggle. Could this have something to do with Horus's unusual behavior?
The Khan pondered the matter. They could not leave Cadia. The disparity in strength between the two sides was too great, and they could not launch a reckless attack.
Thus, the Khan had ordered the entire force to remain still and avoid unnecessary action.
Fortunately, the first wave of reinforcements had arrived. Their speed exceeded the Khan's expectations; the Warp turbulence seemed to have no effect on them whatsoever.
Without hesitation, the Khan carefully avoided Horus's surveillance within the Eye of Terror and immediately moved to rendezvous with the reinforcements.
A servitor opened the door for him.
Inside the conference room, the two long-awaited reinforcements were already waiting.
The Khan swept his gaze over them, his expression unchanged.
At the solid wooden table, Malcador sat naturally at the head. His hood was gone now, and the staff resting beside him looked more like a symbol of imperial authority than a weapon.
Mortarion sat to Malcador's left, head lowered. Behind his gas mask, he seemed to be muttering something to himself while mist continuously curled around his body.
When the Khan entered, neither man made any effort to stand.
Malcador merely raised his eyes and gestured for the Khan to take a seat.
Mortarion, meanwhile, acted as though he hadn't noticed anyone enter at all. Yet after the Khan's group sat down, the Pale King's sharp gaze flicked out from beneath his hood and settled on someone behind the Khan.
...Was he looking at Trazyn?
The Khan remained silent.
Malcador cleared his throat and began the meeting, briefing the Khan on the objectives of their upcoming operation.
Seven minutes later, Mortarion rose from his seat and interrupted the conversation.
"I already know all this," Mortarion spoke bluntly.
"I'm going to investigate the Warp disturbances. Continue without me."
Malcador glanced at him indifferently and waved a hand, signaling him to leave.
Mortarion turned and walked away.
But when he reached the seats occupied by the mortals, he suddenly stopped.
"You."
The Khan watched as the heavily augmented Magos twitched as if struck by an electrical surge.
Mortarion slowly bent down.
His towering, corpse-like frame loomed behind Trazyn's chair. One enormous pale hand rested upon the backrest.
Leaning down, he brought his eyes level with Trazyn and stared directly into the Magos's optical sensors.
"Are you the acting administrator of the Silent Sisterhood?"
Trazyn, the Archaeovist of the Solemnace Galleries, swore that he had not felt this close to death in a very, very long time.
"...Y-yes."
Upon hearing the answer, Mortarion casually looked him up and down.
The Primarch's gaze lingered for a moment on the Death Guard cloak Trazyn had stuffed into his disguise.
If Trazyn still possessed lungs, he would have hyperventilated himself unconscious by now.
His mechanical body was practically trembling.
He should never have gotten greedy and tried to witness Malcador and the Primarchs arguing firsthand!
And besides, he had been told Mortarion wouldn't even be attending this meeting!
Both were Primarchs, yet Corax's thought patterns were relatively approachable.
Mortarion, on the other hand—
What kind of lunatic was this?!
At worst, he could abandon this body entirely. Granted, it had granted him a certain degree of authority, but he could live without it!
Just as Trazyn was considering whether to transmit his consciousness data back home and flee immediately, Mortarion finally withdrew his gaze.
"Thank you for your service to the Silent Sisterhood." Mortarion said.
"Would you mind answering a few questions about the organization? The Death Guard maintained contact with the Sisterhood for quite some time..."
"We need to verify certain records."
Could he refuse?
Trazyn knew he had definitely been exposed—the only question was how much.
Did the other side know he was a Necron? Or did they merely know he had been "borrowing" a little Death Guard marine?
Or worse yet—
Had Mortarion figured out everything?
Trazyn pondered briefly. They were in the Eye of Terror. Within ten hours, he could access a total of thirty-two spare bodies stationed around Cadia. If things truly went south, he could simply abandon this current shell.
He would regret losing it, of course. This body had given him a connection to Corax. But Corax had already departed for the Imperium Nihilus, and Trazyn's other spare vessels were already making their way toward the Primarch's vicinity.
Besides...
Trazyn reflected that negotiation was still an option.
After all, one of his objectives in coming here had always been Mortarion. He simply hadn't been able to resist and had acquired a little Death Guard marine ahead of schedule.
Just one.
A Primarch wouldn't get angry over something so minor, right?
"Of course, my lord."
Under the watchful gazes of Malcador and the Khan, Trazyn rose shakily from his seat and followed a guiding servitor toward a private meeting room.
He caught Malcador's eye.
The old man seemed to be trying to convey something. His gaze lingered meaningfully on both Trazyn and Mortarion, as though he wanted to speak but couldn't.
In that instant, Trazyn knew he was going to be fine.
Malcador was backing him.
This hand was won.
After all, they were both veterans of ten thousand years of political maneuvering. Trazyn had once been a Remembrancer of the Necrontyr.
Though why wasn't Malcador handling this personally?
Trazyn considered the matter.
Was sending Mortarion meant to demonstrate sincerity? Had the Imperium somehow become aware of his intentions?
The thought crossed his mind, but it wasn't important.
What is important was that Trazyn had decided to try capturing another little Death Guard marine afterward.
. . .
The servitor silently closed the door behind them.
The room was modest in size, furnished with two armchairs facing each other.
Entering first, Trazyn deliberately chose the smaller chair.
Then he turned and looked at Mortarion.
The Primarch appeared momentarily surprised by the gesture. He stood by the doorway, his expression hidden beneath his hood.
"...Not even pretending anymore?"
A hissing voice emerged from the fog.
Trazyn accepted a cup of tea from a servitor. A slit opened in his metallic face, and he took a sip.
"I don't understand what you mean, my lord."
His tone was calm.
Sure enough, he heard Mortarion's wheezing breath.
"I hate aliens."
The Primarch's voice dripped with profound hatred as it spread through the mist.
Yet despite those words, Mortarion moved to the chair opposite Trazyn and sat down.
"If you hate me that much, I can leave right now."
Trazyn reasoned that Mortarion held an overwhelming advantage in physical force against this body.
But in a battle of words?
Assuming there would be no later retaliation...
This could actually be rather entertaining.
As expected, Mortarion paused.
After a moment of silence, the Primarch finally spoke.
"You are friends with the Head of the Silent Sisterhood."
It wasn't a question.
Trazyn nodded.
"Yes. He entrusted me with certain matters, and it was only proper that I assist him."
Mortarion fell silent again.
It was almost as if he had only recently learned how to speak.
The Primarch's frustration had become nearly tangible. Like a trapped beast, he paced the room.
"If you would permit my curiosity..." Mortarion finally said, "What did the Head of the Silent Sisterhood promise you?"
Now that was a topic Trazyn could stay awake for.
He leisurely sampled his tea—or rather, poured the liquid into an internal waste reservoir.
"Himself."
At that moment, Trazyn was certain that one of his internal alarms briefly activated.
Mortarion sat hunched awkwardly in the undersized chair, staring at Trazyn with murderous intensity.
The killing intent and the cold radiating from him seemed almost physically real.
Unhurriedly, Trazyn took another sip of tea.
"I assume that since we're sitting here having a conversation, my lord isn't seeking revenge against me."
He paused.
"If revenge is truly your intention, perhaps Lord Malcador would be a more appropriate person to send."
The moment those words were spoken, the chill surrounding Mortarion rapidly faded.
Trazyn waited patiently.
He counted seven wheezing breaths.
Then the Primarch rubbed both hands across his face.
After that, a faint voice emerged—one tinged with exhaustion.
"...My apologies."
"I accept your apology, my lord," Trazyn replied smoothly. He was being generous, really. Had it been another Overlord sitting here, they probably would have started fighting already.
Realizing he could not continue like this, Mortarion straightened up and removed his hood.
The Primarch extended a hand.
"Primarch of the Death Guard, of the Imperium of Man—Mortarion."
"Former Necrontyr, Overlord of the Nihilakh Dynasty—Trazyn."
Trazyn extended a mechanical auxiliary limb and shook Mortarion's hand.
This time, however, Mortarion was as calm as a corpse.
The Primarch released his grip.
"Thank you for being willing to accept the Head of the Silent Sisterhood's commission," Mortarion spoke without the slightest emotional fluctuation.
"I believe that any... being whom the Head of the Silent Sisterhood is willing to entrust with such matters must be someone worthy of his trust."
"Of course."
Trazyn waved a hand dismissively.
"That kid has taken quite a lot from me."
He noticed Mortarion stiffen again for a moment, but the Primarch continued regardless.
"As his comrade-in-arms, and in the name of Mortarion..."
His face was pale as death.
"Trazyn, I wish to alter the terms of that commission."
"In the years to come, I hope you will protect the Head of the Silent Sisterhood. Take him beyond the galaxy, and keep him safe until the day he can control himself."
Trazyn fell silent, appearing to consider the proposal.
Across from him, Mortarion stared back and felt certain he had gone insane.
Yet if the information Malcador had provided was correct...
Until He truly awakened—until he gained genuine control over himself—the Imperium had no place capable of containing him.
No one could even approach him.
Necron technology, however, could help him. And their soulless nature rendered them completely immune to the Black Domain.
Among all the Necrons of the stars, the one capable of negotiating such a deal...
"Why should I agree?" Trazyn asked.
In truth, he had come here intending to shelter and protect Hades from the very beginning.
Whether he would ever let Hades back out afterward...
Well, that would depend on Hades's mood when the time came.
Mortarion stared at Trazyn.
For a moment, his eyes seemed to cloud over like those of a cold-blooded predator.
"What do you want?"
Trazyn laughed.
The electronic distortion of his voice was particularly grating.
The Necron waved his hand casually.
"I simply happen to get along well with Hades. Helping a friend is only natural."
"As for speaking with you, I'm only doing so out of consideration for my friendship with him."
Faced with Trazyn's deliberate mockery, Mortarion said nothing.
The Pale King sat motionless and silent.
This negotiation would succeed.
Malcador had personally assured him of that.
When both sides stood to gain sufficient benefits, ideology ceased to matter.
The Emperor and Malcador had speculated that Mortarion might be able to tempt the Necrons with a grand promise:
The restoration of their souls. The rebirth of their species.
Mortarion had already succeeded in claiming the authority of Death from Nurgle.
There was no reason he could not obtain others as well.
And judging from this particular Necron's behavior, he seemed interested in exactly that possibility.
Originally, Mortarion had wanted Malcador to conduct the negotiations.
The old man had refused.
Instead, Malcador had looked directly at Mortarion and told him:
From now on, this is your path to walk.
Or don't walk it, Malcador had said.
Keep swinging your scythe at aliens if you like.
In that case, I'll send Guilliman instead.
Mortarion drew a deep breath.
"I am negotiating with you for the sake of the Head of the Silent Sisterhood's life."
Irritation welled within him.
He could not say the words.
No matter what.
He simply could not.
All Trazyn needed to do was name a price.
Yet the alien deliberately kept circling around the subject of mutual benefit.
He was obviously toying with Mortarion.
How, exactly, had He become friends with an alien like this?
Mortarion closed his eyes.
Then opened them again.
When he spoke, his tone had become noticeably more casual.
"I know you've always been dissatisfied with how much He took from you back then..."
Mortarion let out a soft chuckle.
"For that, I apologize."
"The Death Guard can compensate you. Even if you have no interest in what the Death Guard possess right now, in the future..."
"You may name your price."
Mortarion stared at Trazyn as he spoke.
His eyes clouded over for an instant.
Looking at the soulless shell before him, he continued,
"Perhaps... I know what you want."
"Even if I cannot provide it now, that doesn't mean—"
"—Thirteen miniature Death Guards."
Mortarion's train of thought came to an abrupt halt.
"...What?"
The Primarch had only just steeled himself to make his offer, and now his entire line of reasoning had collapsed.
"Thirteen miniature Death Guards," Trazyn repeated firmly.
"You don't desire... something else? For example, a Warp projection?"
Trazyn laughed.
"You mean a soul?"
Mortarion nodded.
Trazyn's optical sensors turned toward him, though no emotion could be discerned within them.
"I have considered it."
Then his tone shifted.
"But..."
The alien waved a hand dismissively.
"This is hardly any effort at all. It's simply helping a friend."
"If you're still worried," Trazyn continued, "your Emperor will undoubtedly place restrictions on me anyway. And I possess technologies of my own to ensure agreements aren't broken."
He leaned back.
"Besides, I'm curious to see just how far Hades can go."
Seeing Mortarion's expression darken once more—
"You intended to do this from the very beginning?"
Trazyn nodded and leisurely picked up his teacup.
"I was the first to arrive at Cadia, human."
"Then why did you—"
Why did you deliberately make things difficult for me?
Mortarion cut himself off before the words escaped.
The Necron glanced at him.
"I believe humans have a saying."
His voice carried unmistakable amusement.
"One should be responsible for one's own words."
Mortarion fell silent again.
"I apologized."
Trazyn laughed once more.
His artificial voice became especially mocking.
"Indeed. That must have been quite difficult for you."
For a long while, Mortarion said nothing.
Then, at last, the Primarch swept aside his cloak.
From beneath the rolling white mist emerged thirteen round little figures, gently shoving one another forward.
"I offer my apologies once again, Trazyn."
Mortarion's voice was steady.
"I am sorry that I offended the friend of my friend."
"And, in the name of the Pale King, should I make new discoveries in the future, I will seek you out."
He paused.
"This is my sincerity."
"It has nothing to do with the Imperium or with humanity."
Mortarion lifted his gaze to meet Trazyn's.
At his feet, the miniature Death Guards hesitantly shuffled toward the Necron.
"I hope you will treat my friend well."
He hated aliens.
Yet even so, he entrusted his friend to one.
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Tn: I updated the story once every 2 days, but if you want to see more chapter of this story ahead of time, please go to my Patreon.
Latest Chapter: Chapter 525: The Erasure[1]
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