A moment later, a small green flash illuminated Trazyn's free hand.
Resting upon his metallic palm was a tiny black pyramid etched with glowing emerald lines.
The thing radiated something...
Cold.
Something deeply unsettling.
Brrr...
Goosebumps marched across my skin in entire legions.
Nevertheless, a few moments later the object, apparently the Tesseract Labyrinth itself, had been transferred into my hand.
"I acknowledge receipt of the purchase."
I answered with the same formal courtesy before slipping the pyramid into the hidden compartment where the amulet had previously rested.
"In the name of our god, Cegorach, this transaction is concluded, O Infinite One. We must now take our leave of your magnificent museum, for the designs of the Great Fool permit no delay."
"Yes, yes. Off with you."
Completely absorbed by the newest addition to his collection, Trazyn dismissed us with a casual wave.
We wasted no time.
Retracing our steps, we quickly returned to the grav-bike without encountering a single obstacle. The ruler of Solemnace knew perfectly well that we had no intention of damaging his collection. After all, sixty million years of cooperation with Cegorach had taught even Trazyn to place a measure of trust in the Laughing God's servants. The benefits of maintaining that partnership far outweighed any temptation to acquire a few Harlequins through open aggression.
Even if he undoubtedly wanted exactly that.
Preferably without damaging his relationship with Cegorach in the process.
Emperor preserve me.
All these schemes and layers of intrigue were starting to give me a headache.
But I wasn't a servant of Tzeentch.
Trying to untangle the private dealings of beings who had spent millions of years plotting against one another lay far beyond my current experience, age, and perhaps even my level of insanity.
Soon enough, our vessel slipped back into the Webway, vanishing from the material universe.
...
Naturally, everything immediately went wrong.
That was simply how this universe worked.
Any ordinary event inevitably mutated into utter chaos accompanied by an excessive amount of violence.
One of the Webway routes we had used only hours earlier had been destroyed during our visit to Solemnace.
Destroyed.
In the short time we had spent speaking with Trazyn.
Perhaps we’ve lingered too long, despite no such warning appearing in Cegorach's instructions.
Or perhaps the opposite was true.
Perhaps we had been lucky.
Had we followed the Laughing God's timetable precisely, we might have arrived just in time to be caught in the collapse.
And that would have created so many problems that even my perpetually calm companion looked uneasy.
Killing Mockery stared suspiciously through the viewport at the chaotic scene beyond the ship.
Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.
A tangled mass of shattered Webway structures, rivers of impossible colors, and ruptures that opened directly onto patches of star-filled space stretched before us.
"Yeah... I don't like this either."
I nodded slowly while rocking back and forth on my heels.
"It practically screams trap."
Had someone predicted Cegorach's plans and deliberately engineered this collapse?
The timing felt suspiciously convenient.
Or was I simply becoming paranoid?
Unfortunately, I wasn't given enough time to think it through.
The patience of our would-be ambushers proved far shorter than that of two Aeldari.
Before our eyes, cultists of Slaanesh poured through the ruptured section of the Webway. Judging by their unfamiliar appearance, they belonged to one of the countless minor xenos species scattered throughout the galaxy.
Warhammer was full of them.
Most were so insignificant that even the T'au looked like a major galactic empire by comparison.
Many had also been exterminated by humanity over the millennia, as human xenophobia gradually surpassed even the Aeldari's attitude toward mankind.
The irony was magnificent.
"So... how exactly are they planning to reach us?"
I tilted my head.
We were aboard a rather large cargo vessel.
Meanwhile, the cultists stood on the ground.
Or rather, on whatever passed for ground inside the Webway.
What that actually consisted of remained unclear.
Only the Old Ones and Cegorach truly knew.
Perhaps the highest-ranking Harlequins did as well.
Certainly not me.
Even in canon, the Webway remained one of the greatest mysteries in existence despite constantly shaping the course of galactic history.
A faint psychic nudge drew my attention toward another section of the bridge.
Moments later, alarms erupted throughout the ship.
Intruder warnings flashed across the displays.
Approximately three hundred enemy signatures had boarded the vessel.
"Question answered."
I nodded thoughtfully.
"And that's probably the part of the ambush designed to stop us from simply abandoning the ship."
My fingers danced across the controls as I issued subtle psychic commands, redirecting the vessel toward another Webway route.
No.
This ambush had been assembled too quickly.
Too hastily.
Too sloppily.
And that was our salvation.
Three hundred cultists might threaten me.
If I chose to stand and fight.
Against Killing Mockery?
Ha.
Three times over, ha.
"Well then."
A grin spread across my face.
"Shall we go carve them all into pieces?"
The Harlequiness threw both hands into the air, her mask displaying unmistakable delight.
Look at that.
She was genuinely excited.
"Then let's get moving."
After setting the ship to autopilot, we sprinted toward the breach. As the tiny figures of the intruders came into view at the far end of the immense cargo hold, I glanced sideways at my companion.
A strange surge of confidence settled over me before the coming battle.
"Killing Mockery, if we survive today and make it back to the Black Library, would you like to visit a theater belonging to one of the younger races?"
I flashed her a grin.
"We've already had a museum date."
The look of utter shock that appeared on her mask was immediate.
Still, since fate had spared me from becoming a Space Marine or, Cegorach forbid, a Primarch, I had absolutely no intention of embracing their sacred Path of Eternal Virginity.
Honestly, I had expected rejection.
We hadn't known each other for very long.
The suggestion was outrageously bold.
But why not ask?
Killing Mockery was beautiful.
By Aeldari standards, I wasn't exactly hideous myself.
I wasn't stupid.
I wasn't timid.
So why not?
Unfortunately, she never had the chance to answer.
Unlike Slaanesh's daemonettes, these cultists possessed ranged weapons.
Spears.
Actual spears.
Their tips dripped with a bubbling pink liquid.
According to my mask's analysis, the substance closely resembled a potent aphrodisiac.
Right.
Of course it did.
Several spears hurtled toward us with surprising speed and force.
A heartbeat later, they scraped harmlessly across the psycho-plastic floor and continued onward.
The figures they had targeted dissolved into shimmering distortions.
Our holo-suits had projected false images.
The real us had already stepped aside.
The xenos invaders themselves resembled humanoid horned goats.
Naturally, they wore armor that could only be described as pure fan service, at least by the standards of this universe, paired with masks that leaned heavily toward the sadomasochistic aesthetic favored by the Hedonites.
Symbols of She Who Thirsts adorned patches of exposed violet skin.
At their head stood the most corrupted of them all.
A powerful cult leader whose connection to Slaanesh was unmistakable.
He pointed a saber-like blade toward us.
The weapon appeared to be permanently fused to his right arm. A daemonic sword rested in his left hand.
After a single glance, I reached a simple conclusion.
That bastard was more dangerous than all the rest of his followers combined.
So neither of us hesitated.
We exchanged a brief look, ignored the charging horde entirely, and activated both our anti-gravity belts and holo-suits.
The combination of those magnificent technologies, created during the height of the fallen Aeldari Empire's scientific mastery, launched us into the air.
We soared over the front ranks of the cultists.
Then we literally ran across their heads.
Within seconds, we reached the leader standing behind them.
Judging by his expression, he had not anticipated that development.
My fusion pistol fired.
Both of his horns vanished into vaporized plasma.
His head survived.
Barely.
Before he could recover, Killing Mockery descended upon him.
Her mask displayed a smug, infuriating grin.
The sort of grin that existed for the sole purpose of provoking someone into a blind rage.
And somehow...
She looked entirely too pleased with herself.