"…Wait, you know?" Old One-Eye looked at Zhou Yun in surprise.
That look seemed to say: I've been waiting all day to show off, and you just stole it?
He shook his head. "The Emperor teaches us humility. I guess I haven't learned enough."
Zhou Yun's mouth twitched slightly.
What he wondered was where Old One-Eye had even heard of that name.
Ignace Karkasy—a poet of the Great Crusade, sent by Malcador himself as a remembrancer to record the history of Mankind's great expedition. He sailed with the 63rd Expedition Fleet.
To a poet, following a Great Crusade fleet, chronicling the Astartes' glorious conquests, was the highest honor imaginable.
Even greater honor: the fleet was led by the Luna Wolves, later known as the Sons of Horus.
And even greater than that: their commander was none other than the Emperor's favored son, the pinnacle of the Primarchs, the beloved Horus Lupercal.
Recently made Warmaster, leader of the entire Great Crusade.
For a poet, what more could you wish for?
…If not for Erebus.
Before launching his grand betrayal against Terra, Horus slaughtered nearly all the remembrancers on the 63rd Fleet. Ignace Karkasy was among the first to die.
If Zhou Yun had to describe him, he'd say: the "Little Yang Xiu" of 30K.
Karkasy had a razor-sharp insight—too sharp.
He was known for three famous lines:
"The empire we've built will topple in an instant. Mark my words. It's inevitable!"
"Not even Lady Hegig, gifted as she is, could match the sublime performance Erebus put on today."
"First Captain Abaddon, when you met Erebus, what was that silver coin you gave him?"
Those three lines captured both his sharp insight… and his near-suicidal recklessness.
If you notice something, fine—but why say it out loud?
Those three lines managed to offend both loyalists and traitors alike.
The last one he even said right to Abaddon's face—nearly got his neck snapped on the spot by the First Captain of the Sons of Horus.
Later he wrote a pamphlet called We Have Only the Truth, denouncing the hypocrisy of the Sons of Horus and their contempt for mortals.
That earned him a visit from the Warmaster's assassins.
"In those days, there were still words of loyalty and truth in our ears. Pity we closed them in pride."
The winged figure in the white light sighed.
"If he'd been assigned to the Blood Angels' fleet, he'd have written We Have Only Red Thirst and Ghouls." Zhou Yun muttered under his breath.
Ignace Karkasy wasn't loyal per se. He wrote and spoke as he did simply because he believed it was true.
Throw him to any legion, he'd have died the same way.
The air fell into a dead silence.
"…If you'd been a remembrancer, you'd probably not have lived even as long as he did," the winged figure quivered.
Zhou Yun glanced at the white figure still pretending to be Saint Gilles.
He remembered that on the day of the Siege of Terra, when Saint Gilles fell, the Blood Angels saw his soul torn apart and devoured by the Four.
Unless the Four had spit him back out and the Emperor had painstakingly reassembled his fragments, there was no way Saint Gilles still existed whole and sane in M41.
A whole, intact Saint Gilles in 40K? Highly unlikely.
Whether this was some scheme of Tzeentch, a Chaos vision, or a man-made warp entity… Zhou Yun wasn't sure.
"Doesn't feel like the real Archangel anyway…" Zhou Yun muttered.
"What?" Old One-Eye blinked at him.
"Nothing—so what about Ignace Karkasy?" Zhou Yun waved it off.
"One of his notebooks might be in Sector Eight. Someone's paying a lot for it," Old One-Eye said low.
Zhou Yun almost laughed. "Alright. Lag asking me to dig out PDF gear is one thing…"
"And now you want me to find a little notebook? In a whole collapsed district? Probably dust by now."
"It's not without clues. This job's from the upper hive, you know."
"Upper hive gentry love their curios. The intel's solid."
Old One-Eye pointed upward.
"They say it's a fifty-page quarto notebook, bound in black lambskin. Made on Terra ten thousand years ago. Last seen in good condition."
"It was kept in a special ancient-book preservation unit—independent power, stasis inside, ceramite shell. Should still work for centuries."
"The last owner was from the Mortuary Guild. Likely in their Sector Eight branch."
Zhou Yun raised a brow and gave Old One-Eye a once-over.
Upper hive? Mid-hive folks wouldn't even know that much, let alone afford a ten-millennia-old relic from Terra.
This job must have come down from the spire. Probably not just any noble either.
Old One-Eye, able to handle spire business?
Zhou Yun gave him another long look.
There were plenty of wild stories about the tavern owner.
Some said he was a gang legend who once led a raid into the upper hive. Others said he was a rebel fugitive hiding here. Some even claimed he was ex-PDF.
Take your pick.
"Payout's big. I know you need money. And I figure you're the only one who can pull it off."
Old One-Eye lowered his voice.
"I won't even take much—just ten percent. More than enough for me."
Zhou Yun thought a moment. He was going there anyway. Might as well check.
He nodded. "Fine. I'll look for it at the Mortuary Guild."
"Thanks. I'll have a ride for you tomorrow." Old One-Eye poured him another drink.
"On me. Bring back that notebook. We'll both get rich."
Scarlet liquor fizzed in his cup. Zhou Yun smiled and downed it in one go.
(End of Chapter)
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