Chapter 129: Malcador’s Star Map Divination

Malcador's attendants opened the door, allowing the Primarch to enter the Observatory.

The domed ceiling, lined with bluish-green tiles, reflected the glow of hundreds of flickering candles. Their shifting flames cast shadows that danced over the many arcane patterns on the ceiling, making them seem to shimmer in and out of existence.

Looking up, Nareth noted that the designs were hard to interpret; some appeared to be constellations, others were creatures from ancient Terran myths.

At the apex of the dome was a patch of shadow, an area untouched by candlelight.

Many years ago, a face had been carved into that spot, but its details were now unrecognizable.

Nareth's eyes lingered there. He sensed something unusual; the carving felt almost alive, hiding in darkness, staring down at him with a blank, emotionless gaze.

'Some creature from myth? A lingering spiritual echo? Could that creature be a high-sequence ingredient? Judging by the link between ingredients and mystical paths, it's likely tied to the "Darkness" path.'

"That's just a remnant of an ancient being," Malcador said with a faint, self-deprecating smile, aware of how sharp the Primarch's senses were.

"Ever since the one I serve, your father, departed, I've spent less and less time here, gazing at the stars."

Nareth looked away, sensing Malcador didn't wish to dwell on the subject. Instead, he followed his gaze around the room.

Ancient brass telescopes, sundials, and armillary spheres were neatly arranged. Several mahogany cabinets contained various astrological tools, and the bookshelves were filled with tomes.

Many of the objects radiated spiritual energy.

'Huh, Malcador's stash is deeper than I thought. And all those materials? One's I don't even recognize. That means they're at least mid-sequence-level potion ingredients.'

His gaze shifted to the black-and-white checkerboard floor of polished marble. The gilded walls shimmered faintly, their aged luster showing the room's antiquity.

Twenty pillars supported the dome. Two bore crests, one a black wolf's head beneath a moon, the other a chaotic, almost indecipherable design only visible up close: a mess of black arcs, wings, spikes, and an abstract crown.

Malcador wore a finely crafted but modest robe. His seemingly frail body leaned on a cane that looked like plain steel, though its eagle head was intricately made.

To Nareth's Spirit Vision, the cane wasn't made of steel; it was crafted from a rare psy-reactive material, engraved with hidden runes.

"You've worked hard," Nareth said sincerely. "To bear the burden of the Imperium on your shoulders, even with great power, that's no small weight."

"I've grown used to it. From the day I swore loyalty to him, I expected this," Malcador said, his voice deep and reflective, lost in memory for several seconds.

Eventually, he smiled at himself.

"Apologies. I drifted too long in memories. I'm sure you understand. By any measure, I'm an old man."

Seeing Nareth's respectful nod, Malcador returned to the matter at hand.

"To divine a path, I need more than a name. Aside from Necromunda, do you have anything else?"

Nareth had expected this.

"I saw Necromunda... I saw a creature shaped like an octopus. I saw fish-men kneeling before it in worship."

Looking back up at the dome, he added:

"It felt... like the thing on the ceiling."

"I believe it would be clearest in the Warp."

"I also saw webs surrounding Necromunda, and a spider lurking among them. And I heard countless whispers of fear."

Malcador's tone grew grim.

"Faith..."

He fell silent, realizing there was no use denying what a perceptive Primarch had sensed.

"I imagine the Emperor and Horus have already spoken to you about the Imperial Truth. No need for me to repeat it."

"Your instincts are correct. Faith is just the fragile fantasy of weak humans. That octopus creature is merely a more powerful entity. Like the ones overhead, strong enough to attract ignorant worship."

"But when they encounter something stronger, they will be destroyed, just like the shadow painted on the ceiling."

He turned, retrieving items from a cabinet.

"As for the spider, that's an illusion. Allow me to show you its falsehood."

Soon, he unrolled a massive parchment scroll, nearly as large as a wall.

"I prefer traditional methods over data slates."

This time, Malcador didn't allow himself to be lost in memory. He began the divination.

Nareth watched as Malcador raised his staff. A brilliant stream of psychic energy shot into the shadowed apex of the dome.

Ripples spread outward as the constellations and mythical creatures began to glow. The entire Observatory seemed to sink into the Warp's tides.

Combining his senses with the Aetheric knowledge of the Fra'al, Nareth rapidly deciphered what he saw.

'A psychic array. The stars powering it are stones from across the galaxy, purified in the Warp. The mythical beasts painted on the dome? Their blood was used to fuel the ritual.

What a masterpiece. There are only a handful in the Imperium capable of constructing something like this.'

His awe was fleeting. He quickly turned his attention back to Malcador, whose gaze pierced the material world and peered beyond.

Time seemed to blur. Eventually, Malcador lowered his gaze and began sketching on the parchment.

With each stroke, a star map slowly formed.

Nareth noted that Malcador's expression remained steady, with no fluctuation in his psychic energy. Clearly, this divination had not cost him much.

After a while, Malcador gathered his power, sealed off the psychic field, and turned to Nareth.

"The star map you asked for is complete."

"And I saw your octopus and spider."

"The octopus is dormant. Its faith is limited to the fish-men and a few humans, you need not act."

He paused, then continued solemnly:

'I don't doubt your power. But that creature sleeps deep underground. If it awakens, it will bring disaster upon all of Necromunda. The ground will split open. Countless lives will be lost.'

Nareth nodded slightly, not sharing Malcador's concern for conflict.

'From what I remember, that giant octopus stays asleep until the Great Rift. No need to provoke it now. Fighting it now would devastate Necromunda. Better to wait until I'm strong enough to crush it. Even if it's not a potion ingredient, it'll still have its uses.'

"As for the spider, it's exactly what I said. A product of their delusions."

"It's like a small fish in the sea. A single wave will scatter it."

"Still, once you reclaim Necromunda, you must purge those delusions. Let those foolish people be touched by the light of the Imperium."

Malcador's tone sharpened slightly to stress the point.

"From that spider, I sensed fear, death. Faith rooted in that only breeds ignorant followers. They will be a source of unrest on that world."

Nareth looked at him with admiration. No wonder Malcador was so trusted by the Emperor. He had deduced the hidden danger of Necromunda just from fragments of foresight.

The greatest source of instability on that "cursed jewel" of a world was the Corpse Grinder Cult and its worship of Khorne's Daemon, Lord of Skin and Sinew, deeply tied to local culture.

To Necromundans, spiders symbolized all their fears, including hunger.

Those who died of hunger were believed to be food for the spider.

To overcome that fear, countless workers in the lower hives and underhives resorted to cannibalism, birthing the Corpse Grinder Cult, worshippers of the Lord of Skin and Sinew

"I understand. I'll take care of it."

Satisfied with Nareth's confidence, Malcador did not press further.

"I've heard of your fascination with rare curiosities. I have some private relics of my own."

"You've agreed to take on the burden of supply. That's helped me a great deal. I don't have much to give, but please, choose one item from my personal collection. It's my gift to you."

Malcador had no doubt the Primarch knew he had been politically cornered earlier. Now was the time to repair the relationship.

The divination was a small effort for him. Since Nareth enjoyed such things, this was a perfect way to build goodwill before negotiating supply terms.

Nareth hadn't expected such a pleasant surprise, and naturally didn't refuse.

Though Malcador's treasury didn't rival the Emperor's, it surely held some high-sequence potion materials.

A trace of anticipation crept onto the Primarch's face.

"Then I thank you, Lord Regent."

.....

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