The commander, his bronzed skin gleaming under the sun, dared not meet Nimrod's gaze, fixing his eyes instead upon the giant's chest, where specks of deep purple ichor stained his armor.
"I am… Vieri Barela, leader of the Trani warriors… Our chieftain was slain by the vile xenos during parley, and I now stand as acting chieftain."
Vieri, a high-ranking figure among the Trani, had dealt with Vostonian emissaries, mastering a halting command of Vostonian Low Gothic.
As he spoke, memories stirred within him, piecing together fragments of his people's lore.
Nimrod, having perused the annals of the Cradle of the Sea, knew the natives called themselves Sicilians, honoring their ancient Terran homeland.
The Trani, the mightiest of the Sicilian tribes, held sway over Castello Island, forging a modest kingdom comprising one great city and nineteen lesser towns.
"Your intervention has saved us," Vieri declared with fervent gratitude. "Without your arrival, we would have perished beneath the xenos' blades."
Nimrod's voice, resonant with authority, carried the weight of cosmic truths.
"The invaders are called Fra'ow, a nomadic empire among the stars—more bluntly, pirates of the void."
"I warn you: a Fra'ow capital ship and five escorts have fled. They know the path to this world and will return."
"Beyond them, the cosmos teems with horrors—xenos and malevolent entities—that will plague this verdant world."
Vieri froze, his mind conjuring the Fra'ow—warriors surpassing his tribe's might, led by wicked sorcerers. Without Marlena, Trani would already be ash. Could they endure another invasion?
His anxious gaze sought solace in the statuesque shaman, yearning for her prophetic comfort.
Marlena's tea-brown eyes grew unfathomable, her voice ethereal, as if echoing from a distant plane of existence.
"He speaks true. I see flames devouring… oceans of blood rising…"
Nimrod's keen perception discerned a radiant aura enveloping Marlena, threaded with faint, gossamer strands, wavering between presence and absence.
[A familiar sensation—the Immaterium, the strings of fate. She is prophesying.]
He noted a peculiar glint within her prismatic aura, but as he sought to grasp it, the colors dissolved.
Reflecting briefly, Nimrod unraveled the vision's import.
[Marlena is a psychic, divining the future. The Emperor imbued this body with acute perception—supernatural, beyond flesh, touching the Immaterium itself.
Yet, the Emperor disdained psychic powers, omitting such knowledge from my gene-memory, expecting instinctual mastery.
With effort, I could swiftly cultivate Immaterium perception, integrating it with my Primarch's might and Beyonder abilities.]
He recalled Guilliman's future words to Felix: "In every soul's depths lies a shard of the Immaterium."
[I must temperately hone this faculty, melding it with my gene-primarch prowess and Beyonder gifts.]
As his mind wandered, Marlena's crimson lips parted, her voice reverting to a majestic, magnetic cadence.
"In the shadowed future, I glimpsed a broken fragment, veiled in dark mists, yet I believe it is bound to you."
Nimrod, impatient with cryptic dalliance, fixed Marlena with a direct stare and spoke plainly.
"I am Nimrod, lord of Vostonia, ruler of four hive-cities."
"I shall unite Vostonia and ascend as its sovereign."
Vieri's brow furrowed. He knew Vostonia's tapestry of noble houses and the Omnissiah's servants, the Mechanicus of Mars.
Instinct urged him to decry such audacity, yet Nimrod's confidence and unwavering conviction carried a prophetic force, distinct yet akin to Marlena's visions.
"Swear fealty to me, Sicilians, and I shall grant you my aegis."
Nimrod's hand rested lightly on his power halberd. Should Vieri refuse, he resolved to impose his will until the Trani bowed to reality.
The Cradle of the Sea's bounty was vital to Vostonia and the empire he would forge. Without sustenance, rebellion's embers could ignite.
This agrarian world must be his dominion.
Sweat beaded on Vieri's brow, the giant's presence a mountain of pressure. Having witnessed Nimrod's godlike prowess, he knew refusal meant death—not even Marlena could save him.
Yet duty to his people weighed heavier.
[Refusal spells our tribe's immediate doom.
Acceptance averts this peril, yet risks a fate worse than extinction—enslavement.]
As Vieri wrestled within, Marlena's voice broke through.
"Vieri, swear fealty. I believe he brings the hope glimpsed through the dark mists."
The shaman's words shattered his last reservations.
"Shaman Marlena, I trust your prophecy."
"On behalf of Trani, I pledge loyalty to you."
"A wise choice," Nimrod intoned gravely, sealing his vow. "You will not regret this day."
He issued commands with stern resolve.
"Rally Trani's warriors. We shall scour this world of Fra'ow raiders."
Food requisitions were unnecessary; the Fra'ow's plundered spoils, yet to be shipped, remained. From his earlier survey, Nimrod estimated that, with other major islands' potential loot, would fill his fleet's holds.
Wojciech, under his orders, had already mobilized pilots and crew for transport.
As Vieri carried out his directives, Nimrod turned his gaze to Marlena.
"You are a shaman?"
"Yes, my lord."
"What deity do you worship?"
Marlena's face broke into a radiant smile, her hand gesturing seaward.
"Follow me."
Maria and her two companions eyed Marlena warily, gripping their weapons. Shamans were witches, and witches, to Vostonians, were perilous and profane.
Nimrod trailed Marlena, striding toward the shore.
The shaman gazed ahead. "The Trani revere the Coral Sea itself, though not all sense Its presence. I believe you will."
Nimrod stood at the water's edge, his eyes piercing the azure expanse.
His vision plumbed the depths, beholding the nearshore sands adorned with corals of myriad forms and hues.
Some twisted like staghorns, others swelled like mushrooms, while tree-like corals stood resolute, a submarine rainforest.
In the deep blue, reefs blazed pink, emerald, and ivory, nature's most exquisite palette.
Nimrod understood why this sea bore its name, yet sensed deeper meaning in Marlena's tone.
He refrained from questioning, his black eyes fixed on the sea, his spirit vision revealing nothing extraordinary.
Employing meditative calm, Nimrod stilled his mind, seeking the elusive sensation he had felt in Marlena's prophetic aura.