Editing Parchments and Bolters (section)

=== The Primarchs === 

Among the primarchs there was always one mischievous child, Number Nineteen. It became a game for the infant. 5552 would spend equal amount of time with each of the children, an hour for each of the primarchs to be held in her arms. Then before bed 5552 would kiss each of them on their forehead but one night, she panicked.

“Nineteen?”

Nineteen was missing. Corvus was missing. The only reason she had yet to use those names was due to the custodes. They were the Emperor’s eyes and ears, their loyalty was for their Emperor.

“Nineteen?” 5552 said again with a raspy whisper, as to not wake the other infants.

5552 looked around the room, there was no way that the child could escape, not even Magnus could! Under the pods, corners, even with brightly lit lights, she could not find her son.

“Corvus? Corvus!”

Then a bubbly coo caught 5552’s attention. Corvus was right below her feet, tugging at the hem of her plain dress and apron. A long breath of relief escaped her lips as she picked up Corvus.

“You worried me for a moment.” 5552 nuzzled Corvus’s cheek with hers warmly, she spoke with a gentle whisper. “My little Corvus.”


It has been few weeks since 5552 arrived in the new facility. By now the infants did not need to stay in the incubation pod for majority of the day, and after much discussion with the Emperor 5552 managed not only to let them crawl in a more spacious room, but also to be named. It was difficult at first, having all twenty of her children was certainly a terrible idea. And much to the Emperor’s ire, 5552 chose to ignore his warning to forbid Erda to be with her children.

5552 refused to be cruel as the Emperor. From that point on 5552 and Erda became amicable acquaintences. 5552 knelt on the carpet, watching Magnus moving the blocks with precise control, she wondered how Magnus was going to be once he grew up.

“All this time you have been living and you never met a psyker.” Erda said. “That is some luck.”

5552 shrugged.
“I suppose, or perhaps I’ve forgotten.”

“Didn’t the Emperor unlock your potential, yet you still don’t remember all of your life?” Erda said. “You must’ve lived very long. What was your first memory?”

“I was sharpening a stone ax for my father, then got in trouble making grass crowns.” 5552 said fondly. “It wasn’t as if I was going to just play with the others.”

“Stone tools, you were making stone tools.” Erda said disbelievingly. “You… you must be older than the Emperor. You’re older than I am.”

“I am not that old.” 5552 said. “When was he born then?”

Erda shrugged.

“Not during the stone age I’m certain of that. But it does make me wonder, how does a man become so powerful? Even I do not know how the Primarchs are fully made. He must be hiding much more than he let on.”

Erda had Number Four in her arms though she did not pay much attention. 5552 watched Magnus lifting a wooden cube in air with his psychic ability.

“Yes… I suppose he does.”

The low hum of the facility by now well accustomed to 5552. The cold floor, the unwelcoming silence of the custodes, and even the darkness during the night cycle. It had become home. 5552 sat across Erda and as always she had a mug of recaf in her hand. The glimmering golden armor of the custodes later became a background piece for the two women. The “Greatest Warriors Genetically Made” looses its awe after a week. After all, the two perpetuals saw stranger things.

“So that’s all you did? Hunt and gather?” Erda said curiously.

“It is in the name.” 5552 shrugged. “It was a simpler time. I miss those days.”

“Yes, back when the world was ripe to be explored and the hills were green.” Erda said wistfully. “My life used to be so peaceful before I met Emperor. Even among us perpetuals he was a pariah.”

The custodes remained silent, but both knew he was listening. Erda knew that, and in a way, this was her way to bite back at the Emperor.

“What do you mean?”

“There are more of us you know. Not just the Emperor and I.” Erda said. “We all flocked to the Emperor, aided in his quest for humanity’s greatness. But all of us eventually left.”

‘Aided,’ that did not go unnoticed for 5552.

“What made them leave?”

Erda smirked, an older perpetual she may be, but she was naive as a young maiden.

“His plan was radical to some of us. Accelerating humanity.” Erda said with a scoffing huff. “As perpetual he should know how stubborn humanity can be.”

“What did he try to do?”

“Oh I would tell you, but with your friend there I’m not sure if I should. Dogs are always loyal to only one master you see.” Erda said with a venomous pompous. “I have some studies that need to be attended. I’ll take my leave first.”

“Wait you can’t just say that and not-

The custodes did not move at the obvious provocation even as Erda walked past. When 5552 tried to reach Erda, the stout gauntlet stopped her.

“Finish your meal. You cannot leave it unfinished.” The custodes said.

“I need to talk to Erda.”

“She will only plant doubt into you.” The custodes said.

“I think there’s something you don’t understand, custodian.” 5552 said firmly. “I never trusted him in the beginning. So you’re far too late for that.”

“I will not move regardless.” The custodes said. “I will escort you to the incubation room.”

5552 gritted her teeth, but what was she supposed to do? She sighed, and moved back to the incubation room. She would find a way to speak to Erda later.

5552 yawned, but her steady arms did not tire, spiritually that is. Sitting back on her soft recliner chair her darling Number Twelve. She pondered long and hard for the perfect name, she was her son after all. Or a degree, while Erda became friendlier, there was uncertainty in her. No mother could have easily concede to let someone else become a mother of her sons after all. 5552 sighed, keeping her doubt in her as best as she could.

“52.”

5552 looked around the room, yet Erda was not there?”

“What are you looking around for? Haven’t you spoken with the Emperor before?”

5552 blinked, she was so used to speaking with the Emperor psychicially that she did not expect anyone else to do so.

“Erda?” 5552 replied in her thoughts. “What if the Emperor finds out?”

“He is busy with Malcador.” Erda said. “Don’t you want to know what the Emperor’s plan is?”

5552 bit her lower lip, she caressed Number Twelve’s head. Erda continued regardless.

“His plan is to…”

5552 heard all of it. The part that was left out all those years ago. The war, the annhilation, the killings that would take to “perfect” humans. Humanity was not meant to be led this way, not with betrayal and manipulations. How can “Emperor of Mankind” be so inhumane? 5552 stared at her son, tears in her eyes as she wept, for her sons, and the Emperor’s cruelty.

Number Twelve began to cry as well, despite 5552’s struggle to eke out a smile. There was an attempt to be sure. 5552 pulled Number Twelve close to her heart as she continued to weep. It was Number Twelve’s bellowing cry that snapped 5552’s sorrow. 5552 cradled her arm and gently swayed her arm with Number Twelve on her.

“Sssh, hush my little one.” 5552 said. “Don’t cry, mother’s here.”

5552 felt Erda’s presence still, more tepid than sympathizing.

“What will you do now?” Erda said.

“What will I do?” 5552 said hopelessly. “What can I do? I can’t go against the Emperor, I’m not psyker that can go against his will.”

“What if I tell you I can save them?”

“But that would going against the Emperor.”

“Do you wish to leave them to such cruel fate?”

5552 bit the nail of her thumb, gnawing on it as she thought of the offer. Reasoning with the Emperor wouldn’t work, but she also could not trust Erda’s words. The primordial instinct within her told her not to.

“And what do you plan to do with them?”

“I will take them far away from the Emperor’s influence. I can guarantee you that they will be safe. All you need to do is distract him.”

5552 swallowed hard.

“You can’t escape from the Emperor, he isn’t someone you can trifle with. You will fail.” 5552 said.

“I won’t. He is not omnipotent as he thinks he is.”

“Let me reason with him, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

5552 felt Erda’s anger spark, silence followed.

Late into the facility’s night cycle 5552 gently set Horus into his pod, with tired eyes she rubbed her temples and yawned longer than she thought she would. Fatigue bore into her, but she still could not worry about Erda. Betraying the Emperor was simply unthinkable. His plan was cruelly pragmatic, but 5552 knew he was also someone who could be reasoned with should one appeal to his pragmatic side. Erda spoke again.

“You cannot reason with the Emperor. That fool only listens to that shriveled old man Malcador and it is not guaranteed he will listen to him.” Erda said. “All you need to do is distract him.”

“Distract him? Where will you even take them that they cannot be found?”

“I know a place far from Terra. I am their mother, if you truly care for them you will help me.” Erda said pressingly. “

“I’m sorry Erda, I can’t help you.”

Another jolt struck her mind, 5552 clutched her head as she felt the needles piercing her brain. It was short, but the few seconds of pain felt like hours. 5552 gritted her teeth and withheld her scream.

“Apologies, I let my emotion run.” Erda said with an indifferent tone. “Why will you not help me? Is it because you are loyal to him, just what dribble did he sell to have your loyalty?”

“He has my loyalty, for now.” 5552 admitted. “I don’t fear what will happen to me. I fear what will happen to my- your sons.”

“You only fear him because you are weak.” Erda said venomously. “You are a coward.”

“I am weak, that is why I will do what I can to protect them.” 5552 said determinedly. “It is best for both of us to noy defy the Emperor. If you truly care for them Erda, you would try to reason with the Emperor as I will.”

The psychic link shattered in a fit of rage. 5552 rubbed the bridge of her nose, she kissed all of her sons a good night’s kiss and begin the walk return to her quarters, hoping that tomorrow will be a better day.

Number Seven, secretly named Rogal, was a peculiar infant. He was quiet, rarely cried, and always played with blocks or materials that could be built. Primarchs were strange, they acted like infants, crying and babbling, and at times they were just intelligent. And just like Rogal, Perturabo was the same. Both began to stack blocks with eager glee. To 5552’s innocent thought, she thought it would be perfectly fine to have Perturabo and Rogal together.

5552 set Rogal and Perturabo in the pen, once the box of blocks was placed the infants began to take the blocks out. Perturabo built a small circular tower, 5552 gently stroked Perturabo’s head with a proud smile.

“My little artificer.” 5552 said proudly.

Perturabo prattle with a smile and bouncing with his arms flailing, 5552 swore her heart would stop at such endearing smile. Then she saw Rogal’s creation… a big wall of blocks.

“And what a fine wall you have made Rogal!” 5552 said. “You will become a great architect I’m sure of it.”

Then, a stray wooden block flew across, and crumbled the wall. 5552’s eyes widened, Perturabo begin to giggle.

“Perturabo!” 5552 said chidingly. “What do you think you’re doing? No! Bad!”

Another block flew and destroyed the constructed tower. Rogal, neither crying nor angry glared at Perturabo across. Then a war began. That day, 5552 decided to never put the two brothers together. 


'''After the first thread, Parchment Anon was banned for two weeks. Continuing after the ban:'''


Leman, he was quite the rebellious one. 5552 cradled young Leman in her arms, gently placing the bottle close to his lips. Leman turned his head away, then to the right, then to the left. With puffed cheeks Leman hit the bottle out of her hand.

“Come on Leman, everyone ate except you~” 5552 cooed.

5552, groaned, she quickly went to the pantry for sugar syrup then dipped the bottle. Leman was stubborn as well, almost refusing play with others. Magnus for now was engrossed in a book, 5552 was unsure if Magnus actually reading the text or just liked the pictures.

“Must you indulge the Primarch?” The escorting custodes said. “They are to be generals, they should not be coddled.”

“The ‘primarch’ is a baby, I’m sure he’ll grow out of it.” 5552 said.

The cusotdes merely nodded and continued on. There was a loud crash, without a moment of hesitation 5552 rushed in. The bellowing cries of all the Primarchs thunderously filled the air, almost deafening her. 5552 handed the bottle and quickly placed Magnus in her arms.

“There there, mother’s here don’t you wo-”

Then the blanket hit her face full force, luckily Magnus was unharmed. 5552 lifted the blanket to see Leman in his pod, pouting. The blanket floated up in the, surrounded by shimmer purple light, then in an instant, Leman was struck by the blanket. Thus, began the second rivalry between the primarchs.

It’s been days since she saw Erda after her anger. She has been silent, and absent in the facility. Large as the facility may be, it should have been impossible to not see one another. Inside the empty mess hall, 5552 idly chewed on the nutrient block baked to a terrifically average texture. The custodes was there as well, the same custodes, at least 5552 thought. They all looked the same to her.

“Hey custodes, where is Erda?” 5552 said.

“I do not know.”

The nutrient paste was an ugly beige, with small specks of black like crushes sesame seeds. 5552 stuck the fork into the meal and shivered as the paste block made a squelching sound once she took another portion from her fork. She wanted meat, bread, anything that looked like food.

“You must finish your meal.” The custodes said.

“Yes yes, I know.” 5552 said, she rolled her eyes. “You know I never got your name.”

“My name is irrelevant.” The custodes said.

“Will you at least tell me?”

“Longinus.” The custodes said.

“Like the spear?”

“I do not know.” The custodes said.

The silence was there again, save for the hum of the ventilation systems. 5552 forced herself to finish the rest of the meal. At least the water washed the terrible aftertaste away. 5552 placed the plate into the washer and strolled happily to the incubation room.

Inside there was an unexpected guest. An old man, draped in a black cloak like the night. In one hand he held a staff in hand bearing the mark of the aquila. The bony arms held Horus, a hand so wrinkled like dried-up leather that’s been stretched to its limits, the old man placed Horus back into his pod.