Ser Ciaphas of House Cain

AMBERLEY II: INITIAL UPLIFT

“I’ve been named a heretic by oppressive and stagnant powers that be. And for what? Wishing to innovate, to advance, to better humanity? I am faithful to the God-Emperor, to the Omnissiah, to Humanity itself. I wish only to spread His progress and His design. If that will see me personally damned, so be it. My sacrifice will be a worthy herald for the advent of Truth.”

— Logis Magos Pree Yith in a private testimony, since sealed and censored by the Adeptus Mechanicus.

— Lady Amberley Vail —

Her eye twitched.

“-Of course, my mentor, Maester Petyr, is quite insistent that traditions must be upheld. He is an intelligent man, but blindingly so. I don’t quite agree with his reasoning here. Your elevation is Tradition Restored, is it not? Alas, he still wished for eyes on you and your house, my lady. Strings were pulled, favors exchanged, and I ended up here. I will endeavor to serve you and your house to the best of my abilities. Why, I’m even quite excited for this posting-!”

The young, overly eager fool rambled without an inkling of the secrecy and scheming within a supposedly apolitical institution he was so freely revealing. That mentor of his couldn’t have meant for this to happen. He likely wanted a quiet and controllable agent who wouldn’t seem like too much of a slight on the surface. But, it seemed, the learned man had made a mistake in sending House Vail the young maester they got.

Barely more than a child. Amberley’s eyes closed in exasperation, but also some small amount of relief. This ‘Citadel’ must’ve meant their nominated maester to be a veiled slight and a spy. Thankfully, they’d chosen very poorly for that task. That didn’t mean they escaped the attention of her shit-list, of course, but it did mean their attempt at styming House Vail’s growth would be rather ineffective.

Maester Byn was a young, fresh-faced, and somewhat hyperfixated man. 20 years old, at the most. He made for a terrible spy. Unabashed geniuses usually did. Because there was a rather brilliant mind in that sometimes absent head of his, held back only by the local standards of education and learning, she could already tell. If he were Admech, Amberley thought he would’ve risen through the ranks quickly.

As it was, he claimed to have studied at the Citadel since childhood and been hailed as a prodigy. By the local standards, he was proficient in ravenry, history, construction, mathematics, and medicine.

Thankfully, he claimed no talent in the ‘higher mysteries’. That would’ve been rather problematic by Amberley’s standards. She didn’t need a primitive sorcerer running around in her new lands. Especially not when those lands were already apparently filled with ‘old magicks’…

That whole field of study from the Citadel was problematic, actually, just inviting Chaos and Warp consequences. It could be worse than it sounded, or better. She didn’t know enough to tell. But either way, there wasn’t much she could do about it just yet. She only prayed that the God-Emperor would protect this lost world against its own ignorance and prevent some unlucky, too-curious latent psyker from stumbling upon Daemons…

“I can already see that there is much to be done to better your new lands, my lady,” Byn continued, blissfully oblivious to Amberley’s thoughts. “The previous steward was incompetent. Incompetent, indeed! Mostly in his laxity and contentment to rest on old, old laurels. As far as I can tell from a brief perusal of Dawnsgrace’s records, he collected taxes, maintained the current state of repair, and did absolutely nothing else!”

“I’ve noticed the same,” Amberley nodded. “Things around here won’t continue like that. Stagnacy might usher in a twisted sort of stability, but if we can do better, I believe it is our duty to do so.”

The Admech’s concerns for innovation and invention didn’t apply in her current situation, Amberley found. For one, they’d hardly be introducing unexplored and untested concepts. Everything Amberley had in mind for this lost world’s uplift was tried and proven throughout the Imperium. They weren’t inventing anything new so much as they were reintroducing factors lost to the Age of Strife and the millennia since.

Not even the most traditional techpriest could dispute that truth. It wasn’t like they were single-handedly reviving Abominable Intelligences from the Dark Age of Technology. Amberley didn’t have plans for anything more complex than even the humble lasgun. All she needed to do was raise the local standard of living and prepare for the Imperium’s inevitable arrival to herald this world’s reintegration, not attempt to rival even the smallest sliver of the Admech’s knowledge and production.

“Precisely!” The young dreamer grinned and gushed. “I’m very glad you see the good sense of systemic improvement in you, my lady! We can have this castle running more efficiently and these lands producing more with ease, I suspect!”

Amberley knew it wouldn’t be as easy as Byn hoped. These things never were. Complications would arise, people would resist change, and outside factors might interfere, too. But his optimism would be useful while it lasted, so Amberley wouldn’t trample all over his dreams before they’d even begun.

“Good maester,” Amberley said, her voice taking on a hint of sternness. “I hope you realize that all of this will be at my discretion. It will come from my coin. And it will be my house that carries the weight of failure. While ideas and constructive criticism are welcome, so long as you’re in my service, my word is law. Am I understood?”

Finally, that brought Byn’s youthful energy up short. He worried at his lip in thought, “I-… I’ll still be heard, though? Considered? You won’t dismiss objectively excellent ideas and observations because of my youth?”

“I will not,” Amberley reassured before her expression shifted into a wry smirk. “But I have some ‘objectively excellent ideas and observations’ of my own, too. Ciaphas and I are very well-traveled. You might just find yourself learning more here than you did in the Citadel.”

Byn, skeptical but still curious as only the young could be, nodded slowly, “As… you say, my lady. At the very least, I shall learn to apply my knowledge in practice rather than just theory.”

Amberley didn’t push, simply nodding, “Yes, you shall. House Vail will be relying on you, Maester Byn. Do us proud.”

With that, she dismissed him. Only time would tell if he’d be as useful as she suspected he could be. Dawnsgrace and its new lands would be busy in the coming days. Thankfully, they already had a few advantages at their disposal. Not a lot, by her Imperium-tinted standards, but more than enough for the smaller, local scale of operation.

House Vail now had a formidable seat of power to their name. Dawnsgrace might’ve been mostly forgotten by the present-day realm, but it’d clearly once been a place of much prestige and power.

The castle town beside it of the same name already boasted a population of 3-or-so-thousand souls. Barely enough for an Imperial battalion, but then, they weren’t looking to wage war anytime soon, just improve their internal situation to start.

The population of the rest of their lands was less concrete. According to House Strong’s estimations, it could’ve been anything from 25 to 50 thousand souls. Amberley was already looking into a proper Imperial census, but such endeavors took time.

For certain, they knew the actual land was fertile and plentiful. It spanned from the lakeshore of the God’s Eye to the forested, almost swampy border with House Mooton. Much of it in between was dominated by rolling hills and small carving streams — good for both farming and livestock grazing, but not many areas for dedicated mining. Still, running mostly west to east, House Vail now commanded some 7500 square miles of territory, and Amberley certainly couldn’t complain about that.

To start, however, she needed more detailed knowledge of the land and local practices. Thus, for all of her skepticism of the Citadel, Amberley had to admit that they’d been prompt in supplying the expected maester to her ‘restored’ house. Byn arrived only a few weeks after she and Ciaphas came to Dawnsgrace. He’d be a great help going forward, but even by then, things were already changing in the forgotten bastion.

Much of Amberley’s time in Dawnsgrace was spent establishing herself and House Vail. Getting her household in order, so to speak. For that, she needed competent personnel: staff, guards, and even agents for more clandestine tasks. In a way, it was much like rebuilding her Inquisitorial retinue from scratch — just on a much, much smaller scale.

As useful and dependable as they were, she couldn’t rely on Ciaphas and Jurgen for everything. To run a castle like Dawnsgrace, she needed a more mundane host. Some were already in place within the castle. Others, she hired from nearby or as far afield as Maidenpool.

Dawnsgrace’s septon — a gentle and genial older man named Radag — was more than up for the task of giving spiritual advice that Amberley would never fully listen to. He was no priest devoted to the God-Emperor, but he was wise enough, respected enough, for her purposes. And best of all, he was no hardcore fanatic. In fact, he was almost a twofold holy man, honoring the local fealty to the Old Gods as much as he honored the Seven’s grace.

A likewise older and experienced matron named Priscila was responsible for the day-to-day running of Dawnsgrace, and Amberley kept her in that position. Priscila organized the castle’s maids and servants with a stern but familiar hand. She was more than competent in her post, so long as nothing more was asked of her. Most importantly, however, she was relieved to finally have a noble house to serve, and that could very well lead to a rather robust form of loyalty if Amberley continued valuing her as she deserved.

Dawnsgrace’s Captain of the Guards was one Ser Cole Eastwood. He was a man of middling age, a local, and someone who’d earned his knighthood against ‘bandits, brigands, and other bastards, my lady’. He was… acceptable. Not exceptional in martial skill or noble background, but he hardly needed to be when he was also pragmatic enough to accept his limits.

Dawnsgrace’s Steward was of a somewhat similar make to Ser Cole Eastwood. Except, where Ser Eastwood was content with his lot in life, the Steward — one Arron Hogg — still harbored ambitions that his capabilities couldn’t match. Arron claimed to have studied at the Citadel in his youth, but if he did, he clearly didn’t make the cut for maesterhood. That failure led him to the formerly irrelevant position at Dawnsgrace, where he collected steady pay, but still dreamed of more.

Amberley had suspicions that he’d been in bed with the now disgraced Ser Marten Vance of Atranta. Both men likely lined their pockets in their forgotten posts, and they couldn’t have done so without the other knowing. Those suspicions and the fact that Arron Hogg simply wasn’t very good at his job made Amberley take action.

It wasn’t often remarked upon, but Jurgen was a very, very good quartermaster for the Imperial Guard. Those logistical skills naturally translated to the local duties of a castle’s steward, so Amberley assigned him to audit Dawnsgrace. Arron Hogg quit his post after only a week of working beside the much more competent Blank.

After that, of course, Amberley simply had to assign Jurgen to the now-vacant stewardship. ‘Such a shame,’ she tutted to herself, ‘to have to rely on a man of such simple-minded devotion, unshakable loyalty, and proven capability for the essential logistics of my house.’

To fill less meaningful positions, smallfolk were hired from the castle town and surrounding area. And while she hadn’t seen much progress just yet, Amberley was keeping her eyes open for those with the potential to act as her agents abroad. She’d need ambassadors, informants, merchants, saboteurs, and much more — clever minds, sharp eyes, and valuable connections — if she wanted to thrive as she was used to doing in the Imperium.

Ciaphas, meanwhile, hadn’t been given a concrete position in Dawnsgrace. He was ‘the Lady Vail’s Man’ — nothing less and so much more. Amberley knew he’d be at his most useful when intrinsically and directly tied to her. When anyone mentioned his glorious, glorious deeds and inevitably exaggerated reputation, her name would come to mind as well.

And there, Ciaphas was already off to a flying start. ‘True to form for the Hero of the Imperium,’ Amberley thought. They’d left the capital with their names still on everyone’s lips. And immediately upon arriving in their new seat of power, Ciaphas… quite literally saved a baby from a burning building.

It couldn’t have happened more perfectly if Amberley had planned it all. Better still, Elaena and Mateo — both noble scions — witnessed it all. Participated, even, in Mateo’s case. They’d since continued on to Maidenpool. Undoubtedly, they’d tell the story of Ciaphas’s fire-fighting heroism there, and it would snowball and spread to the rest of the realm.

She knew Ciaphas hated the ‘undeserved’ attention he seemed to gather everywhere he went. He cursed his luck constantly (in private with her, at least). But personally? Amberley loved how Ciaphas always seemed to ‘unintentionally’ set himself up for ‘undue’ success.

‘It was always ‘undue, unintentional, undeserved’ with him,’ Amberley fondly rolled her eyes. He might groan, complain, put on a grin, and eventually bear it with some ‘false’ dignity, but that was just how he coped. Amberley needed more. And since a reputation like Ciaphas’s was now so essential to their survival, she would eagerly exploit that (un)luck of his for all it was worth.

IIIII

Amberley let a blissful sigh escape her lips. Something deliciously tense unwound inside her with a twinge as she did.

“They’re already idolizing you, you know?” She stated more than asked.

Ciaphas flinched and met her eyes, “Now? Really? This conversation can’t wait for a better time?”

Amberley raised an imperious and strictly controlled eyebrow, “It could. But I command all of your attention at the moment, do I not?”

She squeezed to punctuate her rhetorical question. Ciaphas let his head fall back with a pleasured groan.

“… You do.”

She leaned down to pat his cheek and rolled her hips at the same time, cooing, “That’s a good commissar~… Now, be dutiful and listen close while I ride you.”

“If you keep doing that grippy thing, I’ll listen until the Age of Strife comes again,” Ciaphas quipped.

Amberley smirked and flexed her core, “This, you mean~?”

“Saint Celestine’s tits, yes! Yes, Amberley, just like that!” He exclaimed.

Slowly, ‘gripping-ly’, she raised herself up and drew herself back down his length. Ciaphas looked like she was bringing him halfway to nirvana and enlightenment. The expression stoked her ego with a tantalizing tingle within her breast. And the pleasant stretch of taking him to the hilt while gripping wasn’t to be dismissed, either…

Amberley kept her pace languid and loving, just enough to keep Ciaphas’s attention solely on her. It was a slow, building pleasure — utter bliss, but not too distracting. They couldn’t lose themselves to each other right now. There were important matters to discuss, after all.

“As-aAah~!” Amberley moaned but recovered just as quickly, continuing. “A-As I said, they’re already idolizing you, Ciaphas.”

“And only the God-Emperor knows why.” It was almost impressive that Ciaphas could still manage to pout and lament his luck while buried inside her.

“Yes, ‘why’, indeed,” Amberley retorted dryly.

To cut him off from complaining further, she gave another little flex and squeeze. Her inner walls fluttered and clung. His cock flexed within her in turn, a wonderful carnal parry and reposte.

Amberley would never get over just how perfectly they seemed to fit together. Ciaphas always filled her just right with that positively heroic cock of his, sizable enough to stretch her but not enough to push past her limits. And whenever she needed it — anytime, anyplace — Ciaphas Cain’s cock always rose to the call of duty.

She shook her head clear of pleasured wanderings (now she was the one getting distracted…) and got their conversation back on track, “I’m going to need you to be seen doing a few things, Ciaphas.”

He looked wary at that statement, but Amberley couldn’t fathom why. When had she ever requested anything egregious or impossible from him?

“Seen… doing what?” Ciaphas asked.

Amberley said, rotating her hips just so, “Simple things. Keep as clean as you usually do, but make a spectacle of it. And when people inevitably ask about your passion for hygiene, tell them why, so they might imitate you.”

The Imperial Guard, rightly, kept strict standards of hygiene. Those standards could do wonders for this lost world. Germ theory would, of course, be introduced in tandem with Ciaphas setting an example. She’d even support Byn in publishing the ‘findings’ to the Citadel. The learned men of the realm would likely be quicker to accept the well-confirmed theory if it came from within.

Amberley slid her cunt to the base of his cock as she waited for Ciaphas’s answer. Her inner walls gripped. They rippled and fluttered, milking him from root to head. For a brief moment, business was forgotten to pleasure, and they both moaned.

Slowly, Ciaphas blinked his mind back into working order, “… Oh. That’s not nearly as bad as I was expecting.”

Amberley continued, “That’s just the first way we’ll capitalize on our new people’s respect and devotion to you. I’ll also ask that you hold biweekly training days for the smallfolk who might one day be our army, and be seen training amongst the more experienced men the rest of the time. They shall be our swords and shields. I need you to be known and loved by them, even if they won’t be rivaling a proper Guard regiment anytime soon.”

“I… can do that. It’s not so different from integrating myself into a new unit, no?” Ciaphas nodded, recounting ‘past experiences’. “Everyone hates or doesn’t know me. I’ve gotta prove myself half-decent to them, develop a rapport, and not piss anyone off further, or they’ll shoot — stab, in this case — me in the back at the worst moment for my mental and physical health — that being any moment, of course. But overall, nothing I haven’t done before.”

At that, Amberley rolled her eyes so hard that she briefly stopped riding halfway down his cock, “That is absolutely how you see it, isn’t it? I will never, never fully understand you, Ciaphas.”

Ciaphas almost scoffed, “Are you saying I’m wrong?”

“I’m saying that you’re biased against yourself and somewhat incapable of being fully objective in these situations,” Amberley shot back. “You can admit that about yourself, I know, even if your version of that truth is almost directly opposite from how I see it, from how it actually is…”

To punctuate her statement, she gave her hips a buck, or two, or three. Her clenching cunt took him deep inside in quick succession. Ciaphas groaned and found himself unable to argue. Or unable to articulate an argument, at least.

Amberley spoke again, moving on and taking the victory by underhanded, pleasurable means, “The last thing I need from you is general and unimpeachable support for all of our plans. Our new people need to see that we’re united, that they won’t find any cracks to exploit. Through you, they’ll see me. And through us, they’ll see we have their best interests in mind.

“This era of advancement we’re ushering in can’t be something to fear. It shouldn’t be, anyway, but humans aren’t always rational. We’ll have to show them results, progress, in everything we do, or they might very well turn on us for the changes we bring.”

Ciaphas nodded in understanding, “You’ll always have my complete support here, Amberley. We’re in this together, even if I’m hardly pulling my own weight. You’re the one with the uplift plan, after all.”

Amberley snorted and thrust herself down especially hard at that, “No, you’re not pulling your own weight, Ciaphas. You’re pulling yours, mine, Jurgen’s, and the weight of a hundred more men if given the chance. Why do you think I’m relying on you to set the example here, to pioneer the changes I need to implement?”

Skin slapped against skin. Glorious friction practically stuck their hips together, only somewhat loosened by gushing juices from her sex. Ciaphas’s cock spread her wide, split her deep. Her body eagerly yielded atop his. A mini-orgasm danced across her nerves with a blissful sigh.

Ciaphas forced out a strained chuckle, “T-There’s no need to deceive yourself between us, Amberley. Leave the exaggeration to the masses who can’t seem to get my story straight.”

She bowed her head until her forehead touched his, “… Fool. Ciaphas, you utter fool. Without you, I’d be lost here. Not in direction, but in execution. All of my plans, you make them possible, you complete and utter fool.”

The fool played it cool, not acknowledging her partially bared soul, “Oh? And what will you be doing while I set the examples you direct me to set?”

Amberley bit back a groan, and not just because Ciaphas took the opportunity to shift his hips and grind his cock deep inside her. She’d long accepted that being with Ciaphas could be a fever dream at times, the brilliant and deluded man. There’d be no convincing him otherwise, no convincing him of how essential he was.

She ground her hips right back at him, “I’ll be implementing changes as well. But not by imitation. I am now the lady of these lands, and I intend to utilize that power to its fullest. Laws, decrees, orders, I’ll force our new people to advance and progress and improve.”

Ciaphas grinned, “I do love a woman of power and conviction~… How so, then?”

He grabbed her hips and halted her wholehearted riding then. Instead, he took a measure of control, directing her hips back and forth along his length. The thrusts like that were smaller, but consistent and deeper and more filling~… He made it paradoxically easier and harder for her to think, but Amberley still aimed for the best of both worlds. She relished his grinding thrusts as she pondered.

“… Their systems of agriculture, to start,” Amberley said carefully, thinking through her plans as she articulated them. “Better tools, fertilizers if I can manage them, and more specialized crops if we can find them, but better techniques most of all.

“Some of those fields outside are only half-planted, Ciaphas. A two-field crop rotation? Three at the most, if we’re lucky… No, we’ll need to bring that up to a four-field rotation with ley farming to start. That’s just the lowest baseline I’ll accept, though. We’ll have to keep looking into more specialization and individual field tuning from there.”

“Start with the food supply and you’ll certainly be loved,” Ciaphas nodded with approval. “Of course, starting with something so vital will also lead to certain levels of resistance.”

“I’m aware,” Amberley said, considering. “We’ll need a test plot, somewhere everyone can see the results with their own eyes. And still, it’ll be a long-term project.”

“The payoff will be more than worth it,” Ciaphas reassured her, gently grinding into her cunt. “Especially when paired with your other improvements. Eventually, the disbelief will wane, and they’ll begin taking your word as law and nigh-divine revelation. Which, to them, it is. The God-Emperor’s blessing upon this lost world, brought by you, love.”

“Hmm, remind me to get the septon firmly on side before ignorant morons try to come to their own conclusions,” She noted with a pleasurable shudder.

“Hopefully, some of that will be mitigated by the education reforms — or, just forms, considering we’re starting from nothing… — I’ll be introducing. Nothing comparable to a schola, of course, but basic letters and numbers and concepts that they might use in their everyday lives. Three times a week, two half-days for the younger generations and one for the older generations?”

“Having the septon and other local leaders on side will be useful for that, too,” Ciaphas pointed out. “It’ll be a relatively expensive effort no matter what we do, though, both in lost work hours and convincing people to stick around.”

“Then, isn’t it a good thing that a certain someone won 15,000 gold dragons in a certain melee~?” Amberley grinned down at him. “From what I can tell, and since Lyonel Strong only gave us 3,000 to start a noble house, that’s a significant local sum.”

“It’s yours,” Ciaphas gave freely, almost shrugging. “As is everything else at my disposal, Inquisitor Vail.”

Her heart skipped. Amberley would freely admit to that. He tried to play it off as her Inquisitorial right, but with them currently so far removed from the Imperium, it didn’t quite land that way. No, Amberley could’ve been a local peasant, and Ciaphas would’ve still given her everything…

She leaned back down to lay a lingering kiss on his lips, murmuring against them when she pulled back slightly, “Ours. But thank you, Ciaphas~… I’ll use it well. Your victory will facilitate change in our new lands. And invention. I’ll make sure our eager young maester and I don’t squander it on too many prototypes.”

“How much could such primitive inventions cost to produce?” Ciaphas jokingly asked.

“Since I know the start and finish lines? Hopefully, nothing that would beggar us, but likely still more than you’d expect,” Amberley gave a weary sigh.

“It’s sourcing the necessary materials that will be most troublesome. I’ll start simple and effective — a heavy plow, a seed drill, a horse harness, a spinning jenny, a flying shuttle loom, and concrete. Then, branch out to more complex things of less immediate use — a compass, a sextant, hemp paper, good ink, a copper still, and eventually, hopefully, glass, a blast furnace, a printing press, powered mills of all varieties, and infrastructure.”

Looking down, Amberley saw Ciaphas staring back at her with such awe and appreciation in his eyes that it struck her with an almost physical weight. More than him being buried to the hilt inside her, that look made her stomach flutter and her core clench.

“It’s an absolute wonder to watch your mind work,” He said softly. “This castle, these lands, no, this entire world is in good hands with you as our general of advancement.”

She couldn’t help herself. She giggled, actually giggled. Inquisitor Amberley Vail tittered like a maiden, like a lovestruck fool. No matter how hard she tried (not very…), she couldn’t squash the feeling.

“Don’t start, Ciaphas. No ‘General of Advancement’, I forbid it! Unlike you, I’m not looking to collect a hoard of titles to complain about.”

“I hardly give the titles to myself,” Ciaphas bemoaned, the weight of long, long suffering clear in his voice.

“What have the townsfolk been calling you recently~?” Amberley teased. “Ser Fire-Fighter~?”

He winced, “That might be the worst one to date. Just terribly unoriginal…”

“Yet~… It’s quite the literal truth~” Amberley reminded him in a singsong. “You did fight a fire, Ciaphas~. With your chainsword, no less~. And you won~…”

“There’s no need to rub it in…” Ciaphas grumbled.

“Poor, poor Ciaphas Cain~…” She smirked. “Here, put those terrible thoughts of glory and fame out of your head. Your Inquisitor has need of a much more honest part of your person~…”

Around and around, she rolled her hips atop his. That ashamedly heroic cock of his stirred up her insides something fierce and glorious. Ciaphas, as usual, was up to the task, and thankful for the distraction. His hips shifted to meet and match hers. As one, they both let out explosively expressive, shuddering sighs.

Soft pink petals and fluttering walls yielded to many inches of engorged, upthrusting steel. They set a beating, pounding, clinging rhythm like that, steadily seeking each other’s pleasure. The time for business had thankfully passed. Only passion remained between them.

Connected by liquid strands of arousal and hard, throbbing flesh, they let go with only the other to catch them. Amberley moaned and moaned and moaned every time he struck that familiar, perfect spot inside her without fail. Ciaphas raised himself up, hugging her in his lap with each rise and fall and burying his face in her tits.

The rest of the world fell away. For precious moments, Amberley could forget her Inquisitorial duties and Ciaphas could forget his ‘unearned’ fame. They could both forget that they were stranded on a lost world outside the Emperor’s Light.

It was just him. And her. The responsibilities of uplifting that lost world, preparing it for the Imperium’s arrival, and staving off Emperor-knows-what threats in between could very well wait until they’d cum and come back down.

Then, however… Well, there was little rest for an Inquisitor and the Hero of the Imperium.

[Editorial Note:

I very much wish I could strike the previous section from the record. It was a beautifully intimate moment between myself and Cain. Quite frankly, it should be left that way. But unfortunately, the discussion within is too important to completely ignore or obscure. Thus, all I can do is ask future readers of these memoirs to… Mind. Their. Own. Business… and leave it at that.

Thank you for your consideration,

Amberley Vail, Ordo Xenos.]

IIIII

Time passed around her. Days turned to weeks turned to months that they were stranded on that lost feudal world. Knowing the Imperium, nearing the six-month mark was just about the earliest their absence would’ve been noticed. Earliest, but unlikely still. Even an Inquisitor’s distress signal had to go through channel upon channel, layer upon layer of systems, checks and balances, bureaucracy, and anywhere from one to two dozen astropaths.

Realistically, their absence hadn’t been noticed, and her distress signal hadn’t been seen. Certainly not by anyone of note, like one of her Inquisitorial colleagues. They still had a long wait ahead of them. So, Amberley and Ciaphas both decided it was best to focus on the present.

In the here and now, Dawnsgrace had settled into a comfortably busy routine. Innovation and improvement were blooming, as planned, but it’d only been so long. Amberley had seen good progress, so far, but there was still a way to go.

She’d been working well beside Maester Byn (he found himself following her lead more often than not, to his obvious surprise, but he still gave valuable insight at times) to prototype the initial inventions her uplift plan called for.

They worked with others, too — mainly Dawnsgrace’s carpenters and blacksmith — and had successfully demonstrated the heavy plow, seed drill, and horse harness to prepare and plant a plot of land Amberley had commandeered for ‘testing’. Now, that test plot boasted four bountiful fields, nearing harvest and already turning heads. The undeniable results and the interest they gathered would serve as fertile soil for bold imitators when she began heavily encouraging (perhaps even subsidizing) other farmers to adopt her four-field-rotation system.

Other than agriculture, Amberley and her new maester had only seen similar success with a compass and hemp paper. The compass prototype was easy enough to create with a natural lodestone as the needle, and the creation of hemp paper was only limited by scalability. She was holding off on the latter and other ventures into textiles until those issues of scale were solved.

The most frustrating failures Amberley experienced came from her attempts at concrete. As she expected, the sourcing of the necessary materials in the necessary qualities and quantities was her biggest complication. She was half-tempted to single-handedly invent the periodic table and standardize chemistry here if that would solve it… But perhaps that was a discovery best left to Maester Byn when she needed to keep his youthful enthusiasm out of her hair…

Meanwhile, Ciaphas was gathering local support as easily as he breathed and pioneering better hygiene as she’d asked of him. Dawnsgrace’s smallfolk and men-at-arms loved him. Just for his heroics, at first, but that love quickly became more personal as he spent much of his time amongst them. They would’ve followed that charming, charming fool into war without hesitation, which meant following his lead in peace was even more guaranteed.

In all, things were going well six months into Dawnsgrace. Too well, by Ciaphas’s reckoning… So it was hardly much of a real surprise when dragons were spotted on the horizon. Three of them. The Princess had finally come to visit as she’d declared, and she’d brought her royal cousins along for the flight.

IIIII

Bonus Pics (sauce below)