Never Give a Yandere a Bolter [A Cliche (Yandere) 40k Romcom] Ch.35 (Patreon)

Octus looked into an eye that was half of his height in diameter and the eye looked back, “That… is one big frakking Dragon.”

Octus blinked and the Dragon blinked back at him. It truly was an enormous beast. Even curled up, it took up the whole back wall of the lodge. It was a wall in itself, one of rippling muscle, scales, and feathers. It was magnificent. Hot breath rushed over Octus’ face as the Dragon turned its head to face him, preening as if it could hear his thoughts.

The Dragonlord chuckled, speaking fluid High and Low Gothic much like the Farseer, “Indeed, Ol’ Bessie has always been rather impressive for her kind. Welcome to our home, Humans. You have my eternal gratitude for taking in young Elodia during her time of need. I shall always welcome you here.”

Octus glanced between the Dragonlord and Elodia, noting the familial resemblance and the shared red hair, “Does a strange naming sense run in yer family or something? First Spiffy and now Ol’ Bessie? Seems the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, huh?”

“It does not,” the Dragonlord said with an amused smile on his face. “Though it does seem that my many-times-removed Granddaughter takes after me in that regard.

“Allow me to introduce myself properly. My true name has been lost to time but you may call me the Dragonlord. I understand I am to mediate an interaction between you and the Craftworld, correct?”

“Yeah, something like that,” Octus nodded. “It’s an honor to meet ya, Dragonlord. Xenos or not, anyone who can live to yer age in a galaxy like this is someone to be respected.”

A knowing look and a twitch of the lips from the Dragonlord were directed at Elodia, making her ears wiggle and flush slightly, “It seems that some descendant of mine has loose lips. Perhaps she wished to impress someone~…? No matter, I’m sure you have questions you wish to ask me. I suppose I could indulge you with a story or two of my youth…”

Octus nodded, “That’d be mighty kind of ya. Maybe I’ll take ya up on that after we finish dealing with business. Y’all have wine or something? I’ve been dying to share a drink with ya since Elodia mentioned ya might’ve known the Emperor Himself…”

“Of course,” the Dragonlord agreed. “Leisure can wait until after business is completed.”

It hadn’t taken the Human party (plus Elodia and Spiffy) long at all to travel to the Exodite village. The entire trek was marred with paranoia and unease though. There was a very good chance they were constantly being watched by the Craftworld Eldar after all.

The timing of the Craftworld fleet’s arrival was just too convenient. It was right when the Human exploratory party found something useful. IV-20 had confirmed to the best of his knowledge that the massive spherical device he had plugged himself into was an STC Database. And then the Eldar Farseer had immediately swept in, taken the STC Database, and was currently holding it hostage to further whatever complex scheme the Farseer was running.

And as much as Octus was willing to give the Exodites the benefit of the doubt, he was not willing to do the same for the Craftworld Eldar. The Exodites were simple people, content to live their lives isolated from the rest of the galaxy. The Craftworld Eldar were the exact opposite. They were constantly caught up in their own plots, schemes, and gambits to keep their dying race alive.

The fact that a Farseer had taken an interest in Octus specifically was… concerning. The fact they had felt it necessary to create an elaborate trap containing an STC Database was just par for the course.

Octus was even coming to terms with the fact that he was a ‘fulcrum of fate’ as the Farseer had so elegantly put it. It made sense. His Perpetual nature, the blessing of the Emperor Himself and one of his Custodes, and the ‘interesting’ events that plagued his life since he left his home planet were all evidence of the Farseer’s claim.

But that didn’t mean Octus would trust the Farseer any farther than he could throw them. Even the Farseer telling Octus about his importance to fate was bound to be some manipulation or another. Octus was only tentatively negotiating with them because he didn’t really have any other choice at the moment.

If he didn’t, they’d be stranded on this planet for the rest of their lives or killed outright. The Eldar fleet in orbit outnumbered them by more than ten to one. There was only so much a single Imperial Heavy Frigate could do. And that wasn’t even mentioning the technological or psychic advantage of the Eldar. So it was either deal with them diplomatically or accept impossible odds. And Octus would rather save his luck for an even more dire situation…

When the party arrived at the village, they were greeted by wary looks, open fear, and discrimination. Even Elodia was looked at with suspicion by association or as if the Exodites could somehow sense what she’d done. It seemed that most of the Exodites were more similar to Ilioch than Elodia, even if they weren’t anywhere near as radical.

Elodia tried her best to ignore her (former) clan mates. She led the Humans to the Dragonlord’s lodge. Thankfully, no one stood in their way. It was like a collective consciousness decided that they should stay out of the Humans’ way. Something that wasn’t so far-fetched when one considered the psychic sensitivity of the Eldar race.

The party entered the Dragonlord’s lodge, drawing attention with their unfamiliar and strange auras. Those who lingered around the lodge quickly vacated the area after a pointed look from their chieftain. The Dragonlord greeted them amicably. He was the only one other than Elodia who was actively friendly with the Humans. Even Geneva couldn’t bring herself to immediately hate the Dragonlord, such was his wisdom and charisma.

Now they were only waiting for the Farseer to show up and uphold their end of the deal. The light conversation with the Dragonlord had helped to kill some of the tension the Humans were feeling. It also helped Elodia feel more at home, a feeling she knew she’d soon desperately miss.

Suddenly, the Dragonlord rolled his eyes at seemingly nothing, “Oh, don’t even knock, why don’tcha? Arrogant youngsters…”

Before anyone could question his mutterings, there was a flash of light in the lodge. It quickly faded to reveal two figures and a large sphere. Both were androgynous, like all Eldar, but one seemed to be male and the other seemed to be female.

The male Eldar carried himself with importance as he levitated the STC Database along behind him. His armor and the ornate staff he carried marked him as the Farseer. Thankfully, he didn’t come across as openly arrogant, just as someone who was used to being in charge.

The female Eldar’s role was harder to place. As much as she tried to carry herself with the same importance as the male, it was obvious that she wasn’t completely comfortable or confident in this situation. She was young. About the same age as Elodia, though age was nearly impossible to discern from an Eldar’s features alone.

There was a familial resemblance between her and the Farseer, one that was much closer than the one between Elodia and the Dragonlord. If Octus had to guess, she was the Farseer’s daughter. That guess would fit the almost spoiled vibe he was getting from the way she held herself.

She wore form-fitting, flexible Wraithbone armor and a cape-like cloak with an open front and lowered hood. Her features were inhumanly elegant, graceful, and perfect like all Eldar. Long, tapered ears twitched and moved expressively, though her face was set in stone. A bun of hair, pinned up by deceptively dangerous needles, as black as the void matched her dark lipstick and eyeliner.

She didn’t sneer at the Humans like so many of the Eldar they’d encountered so far. The only sign that she was wary of their presence was the slight tension in her stance and the way she followed behind her father as if hiding behind him. While the Farseer smiled at them placidly, the young Eldar woman only stared…

The Farseer greeted Octus with that same placid smile as if he was a painting come to life, “Ah, how fortunate it is to finally meet you, Octus Humblestock. I have been watching for longer than you could possibly realize. I am Tyrian Starseer, Farseer of Craftworld Alaitoc.”

“Mmhmm… I’m sure ya have…” Octus replied, still suitably skeptical of the seer’s schemes. “Well, ya clearly know me and mine. But ya’ve got us at a bit of a disadvantage…”

“Of course,” Tyrian allowed. “Octus, meet my daughter, Lydia Starseer, aspiring Princess of Craftworld Alaitoc. She will be… observing and hopefully learning something from this meeting.”

“Fine with me,” Octus grunted. “Let’s get this show on the road. Ya’ve got something we want and we don’t even know what ya need…”

“I would not put the situation so bluntly…” Tyrian hedged as Lydia bristled imperceptibly. “Besides, there are still formalities to be taken care of. We must greet our gracious hosts.”

“Don’t try to pull that misdirection with me, Farseer,” the Dragonlord interjected with a snort. “I’m older than your whole Craftworld. I held your father in my arms when he was just a babe. The Human boy is just trying to get to the meat of the matter. Something you youngsters could afford to learn. There is a time for manipulation and equally profitable negotiations are not it.”

“My apologies, Honored Elder,” Tyrian’s placid smile wavered for the first time when confronted by the mythical Dragonlord. “My intentions were not to deceive our guests. I simply wished to pay the proper respects to the owner of the hearth we gather around.”

“My guests, boy, not ‘ours’,” the Dragonlord corrected, strangely seeming to be on the Human’s side with how he was reprimanding the Farseer. “You are just as much a guest here as they are. Perhaps more. You have not promised to take in and safeguard my favorite granddaughter during a turbulent time in her life, after all…”

Elodia blushed as the Dragonlord’s words brought attention to her current situation. Lydia, the one closest to Elodia in age and circumstances, looked at her with something that could have been mistaken for pity. The comforting and subtle psychic embrace of the Dragonlord helped calm Elodia before she could grow flustered.

“I’m much too old for the games you and your peers like to play, Tyrian…” the Dragonlord continued. “At my age, I find myself quite appreciating Humanity’s bluntness. I’m sure your cause is just but I am not willing to read your mind to piece it together. Drop the pretenses and manipulations and you may just find this negotiation actually profitable instead of it ending with suspicion and misguided tension from both sides.”

“This guy fucking rocks…” Lady whispered to Octus. Octus could only nod in agreement, ignorant of the way all of the Eldars’ ears twitched at the whisper.

Tyrian let out a deep, exaggerated breath, “… Very well. I shall dispense with the pleasantries. We will help you open this device and decypher the wonders inside… In exchange, all we ask is a favor.”

Octus hesitated, stopping himself from immediately agreeing, and thought about the Farseer’s proposal. He knew how important even an incomplete STC Database was to Humanity. And this STC Database looked to be in pretty good condition. Octus was no Tech-priest but IV-20 said this STC was essential. Even now, the stoner Tech-priest was barely holding himself back from leaping onto the sphere.

A complete or near-complete STC Database wasn’t something Octus could just pass up. It meant wealth and profit enough to buy entire systems. It meant status and a rock-solid start to his rise as a Rogue Trader. And Octus was pretty sure IV-20 would literally try to kill him in his sleep if he didn’t try his hardest to get the STC Database.

But was all of that worth owing a favor to the Eldar, a race infamous for their plots and schemes?

“What’s the favor?” Octus asked eventually.

“Aside from establishing a semi-friendly relationship between your future realm and our Craftworld?” Tyrian asked rhetorically, shrugging. “A simple merger of our genetics.”

It took a moment but Octus reached the unbelievably preposterous conclusion Tyrian’s words led to, “… You want to turn me into a breeding stud…?”

Lydia squawked in indignation and embarrassment at Octus’ crass clarification. The Humans behind Octus weren’t much better, almost taking up arms then and there. Elodia was less offended and more embarrassed than Lydia, suddenly eying Octus with the interest as a seed of possibility was planted in her mind and sprouted into lewd mental images. The Dragonlord just chuckled, amused at the misunderstanding.

Tyrian sighed, “Isha give me strength… No, we want your genes, not your seed.”

“Ain’t that the same thing?” Octus asked with confusion written on his face.

“One is a primal, base instinct and the other is science!” Lydia spat, speaking for the first time and almost snarling to hide her embarrassment.

“How ‘bout ya just start again and try and explain this time?” Octus snarked right back at her.

Tyrian held up a hand to silence his daughter before she got into a verbal slap fight with Octus, “We are not after your offspring. We need only a single gene sequence from you… The sequence that makes you Perpetual…”

The Farseer’s half-answer only confused Octus more, “Why though? Eldar are already long-lived as hell. The proof is right there. Why do ya need Perpetual genes?”

“Because we do not want them for their longevity. We want them for their historic resilience to Chaos. As far as I have Seen, no Perpetual has ever fallen to Chaos. Some of the most powerful Perpetuals even naturally resist its taint to the point of burning Chaos itself. With your genes, we could save millions from the ever-hungering jaws of She-Who-Thirsts…” Tyrian explained and the final piece fell into place.

“Oh, that makes sense then,” Octus said, nodding amicably. “Why didn’t ya start with that? I’m all for fucking over the Archenemy, even if it means there’ll be more Eldar runnin’ around.”

All of the Humans seemed to agree with him. Even the most wary and outright hostile of them — Ashe and Geneva respectively — couldn’t help but nod. An Eldar was a Xenos and should be fought or begrudgingly cooperated with for the good of Humanity — whichever was necessary at the time. But Chaos was Chaos… It wasn’t even a competition.

The fact that Octus agreed so readily once the Farseer’s plan was revealed had Tyrian and Lydia as dumbfounded as an Eldar could be. And the rest of the Humans were backing Octus up! It went against all of their expectations. Not even Tyrian’s prodigious psychic might could have predicted this outcome.

The father-daughter pair had expected to have to argue their case and even make further concessions to get the Humans on board. For nearly two decades, since the idea came to him in a sudden burst of psychic inspiration that coincided with Octus’ birth, Tyrian had been told his plan was hopeless.

It had stressed his relationship with the Craftworld and the council. He was ostracized and told to give up. Some of his peers thought working with the Mon-keigh was impossible. Others questioned how he would even find a Human Perpetual among the trillions of Mon-keigh. But one thing didn’t change… No matter where Tyrian turned, he found no support for his plan to save his species.

But now, at the first real hurdle his plan would have to overcome, Tyrian found support from the most unlikely of sources. A group of Mon-… Humans… were willing to put aside lives of prejudice and xenophobia to aid an enemy. All to strike a major blow to She-Who-Thirsts.

The Dragonlord had a certain, knowing twinkle in his eyes as if he was the only one who could have predicted something like this, “Humans know the true face of the Archenemy as well, Tyrian. Never underestimate the lengths good men will go to in the face of evil.”

“I can’t promise anything from the rest of Humanity though,” Octus clarified. “I ain’t quite a big player yet and I might never be. Even Ashe here wouldn’t be able to promise ya cooperation like that. But I’m willin’ to let ya take my genes and do yer experiments or whatever.”

Tyrian barely recovered from the ease at which this was moving forward, “T-That is fine. I cannot promise the same either. This plan is rather radical and unpopular amongst my kin. In fact… If I may, I would ask another favor of you, Octus Humblestock… This one as a simple father instead of as an almost-disgraced Farseer…”

Octus thought for a moment but agreed, nodding. This request was much easier to stomach. It obviously wasn’t some scheme or plot, evidenced by the humbleness and humility that took over Tyrian as he prefaced the favor. Something that was an anathema to most Eldar and Tyrian as well from what Octus had seen of the Farseer so far.

Tyrian turned to lock eyes with his daughter. Some spiritual conversation seemed to take place between them. Tyrian was deadly serious, soberly staring at Lydia as he wordlessly conveyed the reality of his situation upon returning to the Craftworld. Then he proposed his solution, which had Lydia shaking her head emphatically, utterly rejecting it for multiple reasons.

But Tyrian’s mind was made up, “Octus, I would ask you to take in my daughter as a ward. Much as you are with young Elodia. My return to the Craftworld and the coming years will be fraught with danger. Many will not approve of my mission and methods for saving my species. It would greatly ease the burden on my shoulders if my only daughter was not in harm’s way because of my actions…”

Lydia, of course, protested, “Father! I will not! I will not submit myself to a Mon-… A-A Human… You are being paranoid and irrational! Surely, no one of the Craftworld would stoop so low as to harm me, or even you for that matter!”

“Lydia, dearest…” Tyrian said soberly. “This was not a request. If Lord Octus agrees, this will happen. You are yet young. You do not understand the lows of jealousy and prejudice that even our illustrious species can fall to. Even if you are not harmed, you will be shunned for your relation to me. That is no place for a young woman to finish her formative decades.”

Lydia looked everywhere for support, finding that the Humans avoided her eyes sheepishly and her fellow Aeldari just nodded sadly. Elodia had just experienced the lows their species could fall to and the Dragonlord knew them well after millennia upon millennia of life.

“This is for the best, my child,” the Dragonlord said sagely. “My advice is to not think of this as a punishment, for it is not. It is a father trying to keep his daughter safe. It is a learning experience. It is a boon, shield, and mercy so that you may grow into yourself without undue obstacles.”

“B-But-… But-…” Lydia sputtered before settling into an expression that could only be described as a typical teenage pout. “Ugh, fiiiiiiiiinnnnneee…”

With Lydia’s ‘agreement’, the final decision was left up to Octus, “Uh… I mean, I ain’t against it. I’m already takin’ in Elodia. Another girl her species and age will probably be good for her.”

And with that, a deal was struck between Perpetual and Farseer, one that may very well change the fate of the dying Aeldari race…