The Golden Aquila
This story, part of the community effort on the Emperor's Nightmare chapter, tells the tale of a passing Rogue Trader who finds something very precious near the Icelus Prime Underhive. (By SC Guy)
They called Icelus the golden crown of the sector. Tyriel strode through the murky streets, his azure greatcoat open at the front to reveal a slab of off-white carapace armour. His hands were in his pockets in a deceptively casual manner; in truth these pockets had no bottom, and the Rogue Trader's hands were rested upon the grip of his faithful dueling pistols. It payed to be prepared, even upon the deck of his own ship, The Starlit Maiden, and this was doubly true when he was here, so close to Icelus' infamous Underhive.
He did not like the middle-hives. Even more than the Underhive, where at least the denizens had a rebellious, independent spark which he found himself quietly admiring, the middle hives were home to nothing but indentured, neutered cattle, working from day to day, their dull acceptance boiled his blood, their passive self-congratulation infuriated him, only when necessary would he deign to soil himself in such rot. The place was a mess, practically a shanty town, entire families living on planks jury-rigged to soot-stained tenements. Not a bright soul here, and not a throne to be made except in the information market. And even that was-
A flash of yellow, hitting his retinas like a bucket of sugar, leapt at him through the monotonous grey of the expanse. His senses as an entrepreneur sparked in his head as he shifted to get a better look at the ray of sunlight he had witnessed. A woman, looking to be in her late thirties, sat huddled in a doorway dressed in tarnished black robes. She looked thin and drawn, as though she hadn't eaten a proper meal in weeks. Clasped to her breast she held a golden statuette, the symbol of the Imperial aquila, a superbly-wrought work of art which would fetch a high price in any upper-spire collection. Nodding to himself, Tyriel approached the woman.
"Ma'am, if I may have a word." The woman glanced up at the broad Rogue Trader, looking frightened as she pressed the aquila closer to herself. Tyriel rolled his eyes before cracking a million throne smile. "That aquila you're holding. I do not know where you got it from, and I won't ask any questions, but I'm prepared to buy it off of you for a high price." Tyriel had gone through these kinds of negotiation before, most of these beggar types would inflate the value of their trinkets in order to sell higher. His thoughts were already running along arguments for its lack of such when the woman scowled and tried to hide the device in her robes.
"It's not for sale. I don't care who you are, or what you're offering, there's nothing in the breadth of the Imperium which would convince me to part with this." She stated, a proud defiance in her eyes. Tyriel raised an eyebrow, bringing his hands out of his pockets to fold his arms.
"I think you misunderstand, ma'am. I am willing to ensure that you never go hungry or wear rags again." He stated, slowly and carefully so the woman would understand. The beggar gritted her teeth, stroking the aquila with care.
"I'm telling you, no. You can offer me Icelus and I wouldn't part with this aquila. It means more to me than any amount of riches or titles." She snapped. Tyriel sighed, raising his hands in rising frustration.
"Then if you don't mind my asking, where did you get such a supremely important bauble?" The trader demanded through gritted teeth. The woman's anger melted, and she began to smile peacefully.
"They gave it to me... The angels of Icelus... They took him..." The woman teared up as she spoke, continuing to pet the golden slab. "My Fionnel... He did it... they took him... I'm the luckiest girl on Icelus, my son is one of them now..." Tyriel raised an eyebrow. There was a story behind this, and this woman was clearly quite a strong person. The Rogue Trader liked strong-willed individuals.
"...Come with me, friend. We have much to discuss."