#serenitatis

[askjenetiakrole]

💔- A memory that leaves them feeling lonely

For the Future

The Mistress of the Black Fleet stood in the gallery overlooking the highest and largest of the Somnus Citadel’s docks. Below, a column of Silent Sisters marched in a solemn procession to board Serenitatis, the foreboding behemoth of black iron that served as the fleet’s flagship. It would be the last to depart, abandoning the citadel to the inevitability of the Warmaster’s arrival.  With a pneumatic hiss, the door leading onto the gallery slid open to admit a towering figure in silver armour, followed by a girl rapidly closing the gap in height as she hit the early stages of puberty. Varonika Sulath bowed to the Knight-Commander, and acknowledged her Proloquor with a brief glance.  Jenetia Krole cast an imperious gaze across the dock before turning her full attention to Sulath. Is all in readiness?  Sulath nodded, flicking a pointed look at Melpomanei. Krole nodded in return. Reaching to her belt, she unclipped a silver disc set with a ruby that filled the palm of her hand. She gave the gem, which contained the signet that unlocked the command throne of Serenitatis, to Sulath.  To your station then.  Krole made a brief gesture that served as both farewell and dismissal. With a bow, Sulath turned on her heel, disappearing through the doorway Krole had entered by, voidsheen cloak billowing in her wake.  Krole turned to Melpomanei. I thank you for your loyal service.  Melpomanei’s brow furrowed slightly, before realisation dawned.  Do not send me from your side, Commander.  Krole smiled. She had always admired the girl’s spirit. If I could spare the entire Sisterhood to man the walls, I would. A few hundred Knights of the Chamber of Oblivion were all that would stand beside her on the throneworld. The Warmaster will unleash a war the likes of which Terra has never seen. Yet even if he is turned back, it will not matter if the beacon fails.  The undercroft of the Forbidden Fortress is filled with soulfuel as never before. Enough to keep the Astronomican burning for a few months, perhaps. Long enough for Guilliman to reach us, if we hold firm. But to do this, every anchorage, collection-node, and outpost in the Segmentum has been emptied.  The Great Tithe must continue. Victory on Terra only matters if the Imperium survives. Do you understand?  Melpomanei looked uncertain for a moment. Then her face set in a hard look out of place on her youthful features, and she gave a shallow bow. Yes, Commander.  Good. Krole drew the Sword of Oblivion from her shoulder and planted its blade before her. Will you give me your vow, Sister Melpomanei?  Melpomanei fell to her knees, placing her hand on the blade. She gave voice for the last time, swearing the Vow of Tranquillity as a fully-fledged Sister of the Great Tithe.  Arise, my sister, Krole marked.  Melpomanei stood and bowed before departing to join the column of Silent Sisters making their way aboard Serenitatis. She paused at the top of the embarkation ramp and looked back. There were tears in her eyes as she flashed a last gesture of farewell. Goodbye, my sister, it could be read, though the form she chose was open to interpretation. It might have been my commander, or my queen.  The Soulless Queen gave no reply. She stood alone and watched the last Black Ship begin its long journey out into the dark.

(Peer into my muse’s memories: ❤️ 💛 💚 💜 💔 ❣ 💕 💞 💓 💗 💖 💝 💘 💟)

[askjenetiakrole]

💟- Wildcard!!! (Peering into the memories of Jenetia Krole, left hand of the King on High)

Serenity

Serenitatis lived up to her name. Alarms that would have howled on any other ship flashed their mute warnings across heads-up displays. Deck officers hurried to and fro beneath red emergency lighting, attracting attention with alert runes pinged between handheld devices in order to communicate in the silence demanded by the vessel’s captain.  Standing on the edge of the command dais, Jenetia Krole watched the quiet bustle with grim satisfaction. It kept them focused. Prevented them from panicking. And there was much to panic about. Eight minutes ago all sense of motion had suddenly stopped. Three minutes ago the warp engines had died. Twelve seconds ago, the Geller field followed.  Do we have any idea what’s happening out there? Krole asked the mistress of aetherics, responsible for the augur arrays that served as the ship’s eyes and ears.  Instruments are recalibrating, General. All readings dropped to zero when the anomaly occurred.  Get me the Navigator, the Witchseeker General demanded. There were some things that technology could not account for. Moments later, the silence of the bridge was shattered by the Navigator’s screams. The master of vox had the wherewithal to shut the transmission down almost immediately. Krole shot him a brief look of gratitude before turning back to the mistress of aetherics.  It appears we have translated.  Impossible, First Officer D’antès protested. Serenitatis was built from null-psionic materials, layered with warding, and equipped with the finest warp core the Mechanicum was capable of maintaining. Her sailing was uncommonly smooth, but she was still two hundred megatonnes of reality that had to rip her way into another dimension to travel between stars. Translation was rarely an easy process. It was never gentle.  Raise blast shields.  General, I-  Krole shut D’antès down with a hard glare. Impossible or not, she was certain they were no longer in the warp. The Witchseeker General stepped down from the command dais, making her way to the main occulus as the blast shields began to rise. The cold light of distant stars poured in, and the bridge crew breathed a collective sigh of relief. One pale star shone closer and brighter than the others.  They were, Krole judged, well short of the star’s Mandeville point. It would take months of sub-light travel to reach the system. How she knew there was a system, she could not say. She knew, all the same, that a world orbited that star. It exerted an almost magnetic pull on her, a yearning. She didn’t wait to find out whether the rest of the Ninth Expeditionary Fleet was still with them.  All ahead full.

(Peer into my muse’s memories: ❤️ 💛 💚 💜 💔 ❣ 💕 💞 💓 💗 💖 💝 💘 💟)

[askjenetiakrole]

✂

The Queen Conquers

[The Queen Conquers on AO3] [My works on AO3]

“What hit us?” Lotara Sarrin shouted over the blaring sirens on the bridge of the Conqueror. The ship shook with another impact. It felt like a close range broadside, which should have been impossible - even with the Conqueror at the vanguard of Horus’ invasion fleet, an enemy vessel would have to slip through hundreds of overlapping sensor scans to ambush them.  “I’m… not sure, Captain.” Sarrin could hear the frown in the deck officer’s voice. “Hang on, picking up a signal. It’s faint, probably some kind of stealth ship. Wait, no - that’s impossible…”  “Tell me,” Sarrin snapped.  “According to the scans, the vessel is of battleship tonnage. Nothing that size should be able to sneak up on us like this.”  Sarrin brought up the scan data, eyes wide with shock. “Oh no,” she whispered. Then she shouted. “Get Delvarus up here, now!”  “Captain?”  “It’s the bloody Serenitatis.” Sarrin drew her laspistol.  “We’ve lost voids!”  No sooner had the officer made the report than a flash of light filled the bridge. Sarrin fired off three shots before the armoured figures resolved themselves. The shots glanced harmlessly off silver plate decorated with the eagles and thunderbolts of the Emperor’s personal heraldry. The mere presence of the Silent Sisters sent a wave of terror across the bridge. Men and women that had spent their lives at war erupted into panic as they were put to the sword.  Sarrin barely noticed them. Her eyes were fixed on their leader as she advanced on the command throne with slow, deliberate paces. Sarrin felt her hand shake as she raised her pistol again. The shot should have gone through the red aquila tattoo on the Silent Sister’s forehead, but somehow she wasn’t quite where she appeared to be. Another step, and the pistol fell from Sarrin’s nerveless fingers as her heart skipped a beat.  “Commander Krole,” she forced the words out through gritted teeth. A last gesture of defiance. “It’s an honour.”  The Knight-Commander of the Silent Sisterhood didn’t react. There was no hatred or malice in her eyes as she raised her vast, two-handed blade over her head. There was nothing at all.  The Sword of Oblivion descended, and Lotara Sarrin’s head fell from her shoulders, leaving a trail of bright scarlet as it rolled away from the throne. Krole paused only to wipe her blade on the flag captain’s once-white uniform, obliterating the last trace of the bloody handprint that had stood out so prominently only moments ago, before turning to survey the charnel house her Raptor Guard had made of the bridge.  A nod was enough to deliver her order. Find the Twelfth.

(Send me ‘✂’ and my muse will kill yours. Right now. Brutally, horribly, bloody. Just do it.)