Chapter 2:

Chapter 2: The Bonds between Siblings are made of Glass


Morning came with little announcement and even less joy. I was now the man of the house, if only in name as Father did not manage to relinquish his duties to anyone before his death.

The Maton are I believe, the greatest creation of the Eldar, for even as the Empire crumbles it is them that keep it into something resembling order. They maintain the supply lines keeping the bellies of the madmen calling themselves my kin filled, they clean after their stupidity by treating their excesses no differently than they would treat particularly bad weather and its damages with undying loyalty and an inability of ever harming an Eldar. I do not think we would survive as a species if the Maton were capable of even thinking of harming an Eldar, for our species has proven itself to be so repugnant that even the kindest of individuals would be brought to nearly unimaginable heights of murderous hatred.

I have heard the results of such alien individuals being brought so low, as my kin considered such a hatred a most beautiful spice. Their hateful cries hunt my dreams sometimes as they speak in languages I could not name yet all can understand the fact that they hate. They hate my people, they hate our cults, they hate our worlds, they hate our gods, they hate our people and they hate me.

This left me pondering the loyalty of our Machine creations and its unbreakable nature.

Fortunately or perhaps unfortunately depending on one's situation said loyalty comes with rules attached, chief among them being the laws of property. The three Maton serving the orphanage do not belong to the world they reside in, they do not belong to any wider authority in the Empire or to any given individual, they belong to the Orphanage, the orphanage that is left now with no Eldar to look over it or take over.

When the last of its staff died, the only ones left were a child and 4 Nameless, neither of which could look after themselves, meaning they were not given the rights to give any meaningful orders to the Maton nor would we, even upon turning 50 and becoming adults, for we would need to be given such by existing staff, none of which yet remains.

Thus by the laws governing property in the Eldar Empire, upon the triplets turning 50 the orphanage will close, our Maton caretakers will be returned into general service and the Orphanage will close and be abandoned.

This is the conclusion I have come to after spending the entire night asking my Maton caretakers for details on their presence and what it means now that father is dead. The Maton only answered questions, they did not offer information.

I went towards the dining room after leaving my bed and room. I had only experienced an hour of sleep, for I did not have the time or the will to sleep for more than that.

The dining room was just as I left it, light grey walls with black murals depicting our Mother Isha teaching her children various crafts and to hunt, a testament to the importance of ones' parents and the holy task taken upon the workers of the Orphanage.

Three of them still stood in the dining room, their crystalline bodies resting in a testament to their dedication and willingness to look after those abandoned by their families.

At the far end of the Oval table stood a woman whose name I have never learned. Her hair still kept its red color in death, the normally uniform light blue color of the death crystals refusing to stick to her hair. Her face was flawless unlike my fathers' scarred and wrinkled one, but unlike his, which was locked in prayer, hers was held in the eternally condescending look my father said could make priests of Khaine cower in fear and had lead to many pissing themselves in fear as they died.

She was, my father said, his own caretaker before he joined the Murderships of Khaine to find meaning beyond the pleasure cults more than one hundred thousand years ago.

The other was a woman father had never met or seen when growing up here, her corpse at the other end of the long table. She was far less intimidating than her predecessor, her death crystal uniform in color and her face blank.

I looked at father's corpse, his own the same color as the other corpses of the Matrons that came before him with the exception of his chest, where the Mark of Khaine yet persisted even in death, its black mark imprinting itself upon my father's remains.

"That was not there yesterday." I said to an empty room.

My siblings have not yet been brought by the Maton and I considered if I should move my father and his predecessors from their resting place. It is sacrilege to move the dead from the place they have chosen to crystallize in, but the current situation still made me think if it was possible or at least forgivable.

In a galaxy where reincarnation is available to all Eldar on demand, the places one stood to defend until their natural deaths are sacred, for they represent a purpose one took upon themselves to serve beyond their own pleasure and whims as they suffered Centuries if not Millennia of pain as their bodies turned to crystal. All that pain and service given for a purpose greater than their own life had earned them the right to rest where they fell.

To move them from their duty was sacrilege, to let them here to be desecrated in the future by any pleasure cults that stumbled upon the building once we left even more so, for it would mean that they have been abandoned, their legacy left to others to mock and bring low. I would not allow it if I could help it.

I was left struggling with the weight of sacrilege upon my soul. To disrespect my home, my family and its legacy or to leave them here for others to do so once I leave. Their sacrifice deserved at least that much from me.

'I'm sure I could find or make some cave then cover it up and allow them to stand there to avoid desecration.' I thought as I planned on what to do in this conundrum.

I could not order the Maton to do so. They would not obey if I did anyway, sacrilege being considered harm to an Eldar, so they would not follow the order to do so even if my father were alive to order it.

A soft chime came from the Maton announcing themselves as they came with both my siblings and our food.

We ate in silence under the silent watch of the sacrifice of those that came before. Once we were done my mind bloomed once more as I connected with my three younger siblings.

"Have you come to a decision?" I asked, my thoughts devoid of emotion.

I did not have the energy to color them in grief, or the will to fill them with any other emotion.

"Yes brother, we have decided to not be separated and hope that the next life is better." My siblings replied, conviction filling them as they spoke as one.

The link between twins and triplets was strong, especially among new souls so it wasn't that much of a surprise that they would decide to stay together.

The minds of Eldar are not the minds of my old race. While they could mature slowly, they could also be forced to gain the awareness of adulthood by their caretakers. My former sisters' mind needed no such treatment, and neither did mine, but father decided to do so for the triplets to ensure that he would not have to deal with children minds that would push and prod where they shouldn't and doom themselves. He told us of the times when young 30 years old children decided they knew best and that father lied to them about the cults. They were returned by the Maton in body bags and in pieces, their bodies still alive and still begging for father to save them as their souls had long since departed.

This stopped after he left seeking vengeance and returned, his clothes bloody from hunting the orgy that turned his charges into screaming flesh and he awakened the minds of all under his care as soon as he could.

"Good, thank you for not leaving me alone." I sent back after a short pause.

I truly appreciated it and sent said appreciation and affection to them.

They received it but did not return it. I chose to assume they did not know how to do so properly yet and refused to make a laughingstock out of them. The pride synonymous to the name of our people made this a reasonable assumption.

"What is next older brother?" They asked, the bond between us filled with their worry and a cacophony of fears mixed with fragmented memories of the doom and damnation that father showed us awaits outside the bounds of our home.

"The wards father made continue to be filled with his energy, the cults will not bother us until the three of you turn 50 and the orphanage closes. We will use that time to continue the tradition of the Orphanage.

We will learn, we will grow, we will take arms from the Armory once we leave and head towards the Webway." I replied evenly, sending my conviction through our bond.

My words were simple and direct. Even if I had managed to think of anything else there was nothing else we could do that had any chance of succeeding. There was no other orphanage to take us in on this world, no cause beyond that of the cults we know of that we could join. All we had was the temporary protection of our home and the lessons and tools left behind by those who came before. We would have to make do and not end up like the last generation that tried it and ended up as collateral damage in some Webway War between fleet princes.

We had no other choice.

"Now eat, we will try and see what we can learn together to maximize our time."

Those were my last words to my Nameless siblings as I started to eat and the bloom of my mind receded. The Maton started feeding them as well, the red nutripaste they received from their bottles the only thing they could eat. I am thankful it is not the white one they first tried to feed me when father found and brought me in. The damage my screams made that day took four days to fix.

We had long days ahead of us.