Chapter Text
The skirt of purple robes was sliding above the floor. An Eldar Farseer went through a wraithbone corridor followed by Guardians, clad in purple armor and helmets.
Like petals of an enormous flower, snow-white door leaves unfolded before the Eldar, revealing a spacious round hall. Light from an artificial sun passed through the transparent, intricate ceiling. Long rows of seats were placed near the walls, filled with citizens of the Craftworld, and a wraithbone pedestal stood against the newcomer, with the Seer Council, the rulers, atop.
The Farseer visited this hall many times before. Most times as an accuser and one time as an accused. And now, a few Terran millennia later, he had to return to that almost forgotten role.
“My-y Fa-a-arse-e-e-er, the-e i-in-di-icted ha-as a-arri-i-ived!” announced Spiritseer Salaryan in a sing-song voice.
At the center of the hall, a white chair with back looking like a bird’s wings rose up from the floor. The Farseer sat tiredly, regretting that he could not straighten the folds of his robe: his wrists were chained by a transparent energy thread which connected two silver bracelets. Guardians stood on both sides of the chair, holding golden shuriken catapults at the ready.
“Good,” answered High Farseer Temaniele.
She stood on the white, perfectly clean pedestal decorated by a large faceted ruby. Her robes and rune armor were almost like accused Farseer’s, but mostly beige with purple accents. Temaniele was accompanied by several lower-ranking Seers who were also part of the ruling Council.
“The former High Farseer of Craftworld Ermyaris,” she spoke coldly and strictly, like she was reading a text, “the Seer Council is very dissatisfied with your unwise and reckless decisions which brought unrecoverable losses to our people.”
The Farseer looked closely at Temaniele’s face framed by long reddish-brown hair, trying to find at least echoes of respect and compassion towards her former mentor. But there was nothing. Just burning cold and hostility which caused almost physical pain to him.
“A cycle ago, you placed the Craftworld in a way of daemon army to prevent it from attacking a city-planet of mon-keigh,” Temaniele was almost hissing, “you spilled too much priceless Eldar blood and even sacrificed the most precious thing we had: the Avatar of Kaela Mensha Khaine, the Bloody-Handed God of War, just in the name of these lesser and unworthy beings!”
The Farseer frowned. His gaze did not linger for long on Council members whose faces were covered by helmets. Instead he looked at seats hoping to find support and approval. However, all Craftworlders stayed calm, indifferent and somewhat apathetic. Civilians in togas and robes, followers of different Paths. Young Autarch Xaniele. Aspect Warriors in colorful armor. And even Exarch Eyla who was sitting between an orange Fire Dragon and a green Striking Scorpion. The Howling Banshee in milky white armor and helmet with black artificial hair did not express any emotions, did not show any signs…
“Then you went against all the rules and instead of commanding the defense, as the duty of High Farseer orders, volunteered to control a Wraithknight along with the soul of your deceased sister who is not even your twin,” continued Temaniele, “our Craftworld does have twins so you made a reckless decision that destroyed the construct and almost cost your life.”
The Farseer nodded, smiling bitterly.
“And finally, you invited here, to our homeland, to our holy of holies, a despicable Inquisitor of mon-keigh and his dirty retinue. Johann Donner,” Temaniele said this name with all contempt available to her, “and did it twice. As for now, we can easily understand that you repeatedly acted in a dishonest and selfish way, not considering the wellness and prosperity of your Craftworld and your race. And by the unanimous decision of the Council, you will be exiled from Ermyaris.
The Farseer could predict this even without his psychic gifts. But why now, not after the victory over daemons? And why did Temaniele suddenly hate him? What has changed?
“Wait!” the Farseer made a step towards the Council.
The Guardians took alarm but did nothing. The accused, though did it harshly, exercised his inalienable right.
“Please, listen to me!” the Farseer spoke firmly and confidently, “High Farseer, the Council, the Warriors and the citizens of the Craftworld! Heed the voice of reason, not prejudice that we carried through the storm of the Fall! Yes, I have made many decisions, unorthodox and misunderstood by many of you! But I did this not for personal reasons, but for survival and salvation in following times!”
Farseer’s voice echoed throughout the hall, reflecting from the round dome. Some Craftworlders shuddered, looking at their previous leader with apprehension and distrust.
“The Path of the Seer guides in the sea of destiny, and I followed my visions and runes to bring Ermyaris to the best of possible futures!” continued the Farseer, “I will respond to your complaints in order. I brought Inquisitor Johann Donner and his retinue here only to make a quicker path through the Webway and stop the Necrons and the servants of Great Enemy. We defeated the Anubarakh Dynasty and apostate Inquisitor Samuel Krüger, but did it only with the aid of those brave and noble humans!”
The Farseer caught scornful glances and heard worried whispers. Where were these disgruntled Eldar when the majority of populace agreed to fight the daemonic hordes? Were they really afraid to object him and now felt the wind of change in the council?
“You could call not only Autarch Erestril and Howling Banshees back then,” parried Temaniele, “and especially going to a mon-keigh world alone, like you did the last time, was completely unnecessary.”
+And you created an illusion that distorted our beautiful visage,+ the Farseer almost heard her thoughts in his head.
“I had no reasons to not trust Inquisitor Donner”, he answered, “he is one of that rare breed of humans we can rely on. The runes also confirmed that neither he nor his retinue would not harm us. And they were correct.”
He looked again at Exarch Eyla, but the Banshee remained unflappable. Even her thoughts were closed from him.
“This calls your loyalty into question,” Temaniele started to get angry, “and these doubts were proven correct after daemons, by your grace, have filled the Craftworld!”
“But it stood!” her mentor interrupted her, “neither the Infinity Circuit nor the Webway did not suffer, and the Bonesingers quickly restored the destroyed cities and gardens!”
“But it would be impossible to bring back the Avatar and two hundred of Eldar lives,” strained Temaniele, “If you hoped to save the mon-keigh planet, you failed. Even now fierce fights between minions of the Corpse God and the Great Enemy are happening there. Our ancient maiden world turned by them into a polluted… junkyard with their so-called “hive cities” now is still mired in war.”
“But due to my actions, the inhabitants of Burton Primaris got hope!” objected the Farseer, “the Imperium still has a chance to defend this planet and its system. And what would happen if Daemon Prince Belthazor and Samuel Krüger who summoned him did not perish? The daemons would not stop and would go to conquer other human colonies, and the traitor Inquisitor would continue to use Chaos for goal that he thought was right. And nobody knows which horrors of Sha’eil Krüger would release the next time if our Craftworld did not stop him.”
“Why do you care…” Temaniele raised her eyebrow.
“Are you really that naïve, High Farseer?” the Farseer looked into the eyes of his apprentice, “are you so confident that the Great Enemy will only affect humans and not us? Our Craftworlds have existed for so many thousands of cycles after the Fall only because the servants of the Emperor stood between us and Chaos! By protecting Burton Primaris, I only expressed gratitude to humans and paid off our long-standing debt for them!”
“You may make excuses as much as you like, but you still pursued your personal interest.”
“I was ready to sacrifice them, Temaniele,” answered the Farseer after a short pause, “for the Craftworld. For the future. I got into the Wraithknight and faced Belthazor in battle alone to take responsibility for my decisions. I was prepared to side effects of incomplete synchronization. I did not rule out that I would die or my consciousness would be forever trapped.”
“How… noble,” grinned Temaniele, “You may be right as many times as you want, but the Craftworld will never allow this to repeat. In the name of safety and survival of the Eldar race.”
+Tem, listen to me,+ the Farseer reached the mind of his apprentice, +do not make a mistake, I ask you+
“You. Are. Exiled,” ultimately confirmed Temaniele, “You will have time to pack your belongings and say farewell. Guardians, take him out of the hall!”
They obeyed and came closer to the Farseer, hinting that he had to leave.
“My teacher believes in humans, and I believe,” said the condemned Farseer before he left, “and you act like the last Biel-Tani.”
Temaniele remained silent, only frowning more deeply.