Editing The Tales of the Emperasque: Part Nine (section)

==5-032-001-M42==
Vulkan leaned back against the pillows at the top of his bed, and let the relaxing breeze from the open window blow over him. The salty winds felt as soothing as a massage on his bare skin, and was infinitely better than the foul air of the unnamed Daemon World on which he had been trapped for so long. The moment he had awoken in the Sororitas convent, he had been bewildered by the sights around him, unfamiliar as he was with extent to which the Imperium had changed in his absence. The Cardinal had explained the situation in the galaxy at length, and skilled orator as he was, Vulkan was able to pierce through the religious folderol to learn that the Imperium had essentially fallen to pieces in the last nine millennia.

The realization that the Imperium had resorted to religion, of all things, to keep the masses under control had been like a hammerblow. Had not the will of the Emperor been that there was to be no worship of deity? The garbage the Cardinal had been spouting smacked of Lorgar, every word.
 
Vulkan had impressed upon the Cardinal that his recovery would be best spent on the pleasure world below, to the Cardinal’s infinite disappointment. He had insisted, however, so what could the old man do but obey? He had relented and called in a favor with a friend on the surface below, who had been utterly overjoyed at the prospect of the Primarch staying at his resort for a few days. The next few days had been a blur, as Vulkan’s weary mind and body had swam in and out of a nightmare for time. On one occasion, upon waking up, he had found that his beloved iron chisel had been left behind, and he nearly tore out a bulkhead of his shuttle in a blind panic before a Sororitas who had accompanied him pointed out that it was still safely in the cargo hold.

He had landed on Sedris’s Fortune in a deep sleep, and had awoken to find that the Sororitas guard had left him in a guest apartment with a single Sister to keep an eye on him while he slept. She had immediately offered whatever service she could to keep him comfortable during his rehabilitation, but he had found simple human company to be more pleasant than any medicine or workout. She had been entirely overawed to find herself in his company, and he had learned to his surprise that she was a mere twenty years old; he would have guessed half that again from the wicked scars on her back and arms.

The other guards had cycled out, keeping a tight but discreet guard over the estate grounds during Vulkan’s rest. The owner had been on the other side of the planet at the time, and so had granted Vulkan run of the estate until his return. He had been intimidated as hell by the power-armored Sisters, but, being an old friend of the Cardinal, hadn’t objected to their presence. The first few days had been spent simply enjoying the opportunity to sleep without being eaten, and when the owner returned, he had happily granted Vulkan and his ersatz bodyguard a master key to the grounds, which included, to Vulkan’s pleasant surprise, a very well-appointed gymnasium.

The Sororitas guards around the place kept the fences surrounding the mansion secure, so for the first time in nine thousand years, Vulkan could truly feel safe. He was under no impressions of its permanence, however, since he was sure that he would have to return to command of the Salamanders eventually.

Until then, the company of the young Sister had been a treasure in itself to the contact-starved Primarch. Her name was Julia, of the Order of the Eternal Gate, and she was as reliable a source of information about the Imperium as any Astropath Vulkan had ever met. The two of them had made a habit of jogging with whichever Sororitas happened to be off-duty that day, though it had had to wait until Vulkan found clothes that would fit his gigantic body. The workout – unharried by flocks of gargoyles and warp sprites – was a pleasure to him, and after two days of rest, and two days of exercise and conversation, he could finally feel the horrors of the warp fading from his mind.

Julia, once she had been convinced not to genuflect every time he opened his mouth, had been delighted to act as his guide to the new Imperium, and had, upon his request, sent an astropathic message to Nocturne, telling the Salamanders that his return would be soon. She had further gone out of her way to provide him with her own personal preferences of local foods, which their host in turn had provided.

All in all, it was about the most relaxing period of Vulkan’s life, and he savored it, knowing that he would have to return to service soon enough.