Meanwhile
The Webway
The Heart of the Black Library
For some time after my first mission, I remained within the Black Library.
The Harlequins continued refining every skill and fragment of knowledge I possessed. They had no intention of releasing a fellow performer into the wider galaxy unless he met their exacting standards. Sending out an incompetent Harlequin would only tarnish the reputation of the warrior-comedians.
Not to mention, a Harlequin who couldn't perform a proper play wasn't truly a Harlequin at all.
Certainly not while Cegorach himself had no intention of letting me die before the greatest joke in the history of the universe had finally been played.
So I found myself sitting at the metaphorical school desk once again, listening to the wisdom of those far more experienced than I was.
Learning.
And learning.
And learning...
The years slipped by in that endless cycle so quickly that I barely noticed when I crossed the century mark in this new universe.
A hundred years.
It felt like only yesterday I had been losing my mind over the fact that I had somehow ended up in Warhammer.
And now...
A century had passed.
Apparently, the body, mind, and soul of an Aeldari had influenced me far more than I had expected. Either that, or Cegorach had quietly adjusted my perception of time so I wouldn't end up becoming a grumpy old man after what, by Warhammer standards, amounted to a laughably brief span of existence.
Still...
A hundred years.
Just thinking about it felt surreal.
Then, one glorious day, the Harlequins finally declared me a full-fledged member of their ranks and allowed me to step out into the wider galaxy. As they might have said in another universe, I was finally permitted to walk the great road.
"What do you mean, Necrons?" I nearly choked.
Naturally, that was the exact moment Cegorach chose to contact me again.
"Ordinary Necrons, accustomed to their steel existence." The Laughing God gave what felt like a metaphorical shrug despite being entirely invisible. "Those metallic fellows your Aeldari ancestors fought during the War in Heaven. Though why am I explaining this? You know them just as well as I do, traveler from another version of the Milky Way."
"Isn't it a little early to send me to them? My level isn't high enough yet."
I scratched my fiery red Aeldari hair while instinctively resorting to gaming terminology.
"You are of sufficient level. Comparable to many of your peers."
I could practically hear the grin in Cegorach's voice.
The Laughing God had immediately understood the gaming reference.
"You merely lack experience. Fortunately, you won't need much of it for this assignment. You shall act as my envoy and messenger to a most fascinating Necron, one who differs from his own kind just as greatly as you differ from yours. Or as I differ from mine."
"A Necron waifu?" I instantly realized where this was heading. "Trazyyyyn!"
I deliberately stretched out the name in obvious excitement.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
The nature of my first true mission suddenly became crystal clear.
"Hmm... I've been thinking. Isn't there a chance that unfinished collector might decide a Harlequin carrying one of your artifacts would make a very interesting addition to his collection?"
"No, no." Cegorach sounded thoroughly amused. "Because you shall promise him exhibits far more interesting than yourself. Besides, we've known one another since before the C'tan were shattered into shards. You have no idea how many objects dangerous enough to threaten the entire galaxy I've quietly funneled into his collection. He treasures it above all else, making him one of the finest jailers in existence. At the same time, he strongly dislikes actually using his exhibits, which provides a second guarantee of reliability. You'll be working with him many times in the future, so you'd best get used to it. Hehehehe..."
"Well, as long as I don't end up screaming, 'The daemons have bricked me up!' like some ancient tsar, that's something."
I nodded slowly.
Part of me was already looking forward to the meeting. Another part remained mildly disturbed by how talkative this supposedly divine being was.
"But what exactly is my diplomatic mission? What message am I delivering?"
"I should not leave the Webway at the moment. As you know, a rather dramatic battle is taking place within the Immaterium between She Who Thirsts and my hot-headed brother, Khaine. I'd rather avoid getting caught in the crossfire."
The Laughing God chuckled.
The joke was obvious enough. Khaine's traditional depiction as a blazing warrior made the phrase hot-headed particularly appropriate.
"So I must act through intermediaries. And you, being an exceptionally well-informed individual, are ideal for the role. Remember, cooperation with that delightful little Necron magpie is highly desirable if we wish to achieve our greatest joke. The more often he sees you, the less likely he'll be to turn you into one of his exhibits."
A brief pause followed.
"At least prematurely."
Comforting.
Very comforting.
"After all, you'll be enriching his collection. Peculiar though he may be, he remains a remarkably rational Necron. He'll understand the advantages immediately. As for the mission itself, the exchange is simple. You will give him something, and in return, he will give you something."
"And what exactly are we exchanging?"
"That is something you should not know."
I frowned.
"No mysteries like those favored by a certain Dark God. Merely practicality. Even I cannot guarantee that you won't eventually fall into the hands of our enemies. If that happens, our joke may be ruined before it even begins."
"I understand."
And I truly did.
If the wrong people captured me, they'd pry every secret from my mind without necessarily killing me and returning my soul to Cegorach.
The joke would end.
Even if I died, I wanted it to succeed.
The Laughing God's reasoning was perfectly sound.
"I won't be traveling alone, will I?"
"No, no, no. You'll bring one of my followers. Do you remember Killing Mockery? The one who helped you defend that Craftworld?"
I nodded.
It was difficult to forget someone so unnervingly silent.
"She'll be your partner. Now go. An extraordinarily entertaining performance awaits."
Well.
If Cegorach said so, perhaps it really would.
...
Later...
Silence.
We walked through the corridors at the heart of the Black Library, enveloped by absolute silence. Even our footsteps failed to disturb the stillness. The combination of the world-ship's strange materials, our training, and the specialized fabric wrapped around our feet ensured that not the slightest sound escaped.
It was the silence of a tomb.
Considering our destination, the description felt especially appropriate.
"Killing Mockery, I understand the appeal..."
I finally broke the silence and glanced toward the Harlequin walking beside me.
"But I'm not experienced enough to hold entire conversations without words yet. We should probably figure out how we're going to communicate."
The slender Aeldari woman cast a silent glance in my direction, one of her long ears giving the faintest twitch. By human standards she wasn't particularly thin, but by Aeldari standards she absolutely was.
Her outfit was... revealing in all the right ways. Or perhaps suggestive was the better word.
It left an awful lot to the imagination.
Enough to make me seriously consider openly flirting with her.
What?
Just because I lived in the Warhammer universe now didn't mean I had to give up life's smaller pleasures.
Not a chance.
I also couldn't help noticing that her attire broke from the Harlequins' usual obsession with vibrant colors. Unlike her hair and eyes, her clothing was entirely monochrome.
Black and white.
Honestly, the outfit looked more appropriate for a Death Jester than for an ordinary Harlequin.
Which only made her stand out even more.