Contrary to my expectations, and despite my growing tension, the approaching Necron vessels did not attack.
Instead, they formed what amounted to both an honor guard and a precaution. After all, if I suddenly decided to ram Solemnace, someone would need to stop me. Necrodermis was incredibly durable, but it wasn't indestructible, and Trazyn valued his infinite collection far too highly to leave such matters to chance.
Regardless, our vessel soon came to a halt several kilometers above the surface.
The illusion of a normal world vanished entirely.
Below us stretched a landscape crisscrossed with glowing green energy lines that pulsed rhythmically across the metallic crust of the artificial planet.
Moments later, a single skimmer detached from our craft.
A Skyweaver.
A two-seater anti-gravitic jetbike.
Within seconds, it carried us down to the surface, and my boots touched solid necrodermis. For a brief moment, neither of us spoke. Instead, our gazes swept across the dark horizon of the utterly silent world.
A dead world.
An artificial world.
A monument to a civilization older than most stars.
We did not wait long for our host.
Barely ten meters away, a section of the metallic surface silently slid aside. Then, with the calm dignity of someone ascending an ordinary staircase, he emerged.
The Collector.
Overlord of Solemnace.
Archaeovist Trazyn the Infinite.
The unofficial "Primarch" of the Blood Ravens, the greatest magpie in the galaxy, and perhaps the closest thing the Necrons possessed to a trickster.
"Aeldari. Two specimens."
His half-mechanical voice echoed across the stillness as metallic fingers thoughtfully stroked his metal chin.
"Harlequins. One of the masks is unusual. It will occupy a worthy place..."
He paused.
"...someday in the future, regrettably."
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Without making the slightest effort to conceal his collector's instincts, he continued examining us.
"Aeldari are long-lived beings. I hope you remain alive by the time I can place you within one of my galleries, Aeldari."
The green glow of eyes that had witnessed more than sixty million years settled upon me.
"I have no intention of dying within the next ten thousand years."
I shrugged casually.
After all, I knew one particular truth about the Webway.
Prolonged exposure to it slowed cellular aging. Given enough time, the process could nearly reverse it altogether, and not just for the Aeldari.
"When I accomplish everything I set out to do and eventually grow tired of life, I'll come to you myself, O Infinite One. I trust waiting a few hundred thousand years won't be a problem?"
"Of course not."
The ancient collector slowly shook his metallic head.
"Though such a span is considerable by non-Necron standards, I possess sufficient patience. Furthermore, let it be known that I appreciate your awareness regarding the preservation of the galaxy's rarest objects and events, Aeldari."
There was something suspiciously close to genuine respect in his voice.
"It is exceedingly rare to encounter, even among my own people, individuals capable of appreciating my work. Thus, receiving such understanding from a representative of an ancient enemy race has proven... enlightening."
The difficult part was determining whether Trazyn was mocking me or being completely sincere.
With him, both possibilities were equally plausible.
This was Trazyn, after all.
"Our God appreciates your work as well. Otherwise, He would never have provided so many opportunities to expand your collection, O Infinite One."
A smile spread beneath my mask as I opened my hands.
"But as you understand, I have come here on His behalf."
"Harlequins rarely visit my museum for any other reason."
Trazyn released what could only be described as a mildly annoyed huff.
Honestly, I understood both sides.
My fellow Harlequins knew perfectly well that, despite the ongoing cooperation between Cegorach and Trazyn, the Necron Overlord would be delighted to acquire any specimen he didn't already possess.
Harlequins were valuable additions to any collection.
Cegorach, naturally, had no intention of sharing us, even with a situational ally.
"Since circumstances have granted us this opportunity," Trazyn continued, "you shall remain as my guests and visitors before carrying out your assignment. In addition, you will deliver a message to your god regarding several exhibits I wish to acquire."
For the first time, he sounded genuinely concerned.
"He does not intend to terminate our cooperation because of this unfortunate development, this fourth entity within the Immaterium?"
"No, O Infinite One."
I answered using the formal wording I had memorized beforehand, punctuating it with a playful bow.
"As an authorized envoy, I assure you, Lord Trazyn, that the jokes shall continue, the plays shall proceed, and all shall eventually be immortalized within your galleries..."
I paused for dramatic effect.
"...including every actor involved in them."
"Excellent!"
His voice immediately brightened.
"Then come. I recently acquired several exhibits connected to the Fall of your people. I would appreciate having their historical accuracy and cultural significance verified by actual representatives of the species in question."
There it was.
The man, or rather the Necron, genuinely felt no need to hide anything.
He openly admitted to collecting Aeldari for his exhibitions.
Then he casually discussed the matter with other Aeldari.
And somehow, despite how utterly absurd that should have been, Trazyn's eccentricity remained genuinely entertaining.
Which was precisely why Cegorach enjoyed his company.
And what pleased the Laughing God usually pleased His followers as well.
The Harlequins followed after the Infinite, stepping into the greatest museum in the galaxy.
A museum where history itself had been stolen, preserved, and carefully placed behind glass.