"Father! These aliens mean us no good. They're definitely planning to harm you. Why don't we wipe them all out?"
"Goff is right. I've heard of these sinister, sly pointy-ears. They look human, but every last one of them is rotten to the core. The Salamanders absolutely despise them."
On the bridge, Atlas's upper echelons were arguing fiercely. In the end, though, they all agreed that these pointy-ears meant trouble and that their entire clan had to be slaughtered!
Only Mordred, seated upon the throne, remained silent. It wasn't for any other reason than that he had remembered the scene of himself being struck by a meteor.
"I want a colorful life. Preferably one in a fairy-tale world with elves, beast ears, and beautiful girls!"
Whenever he thought of how he had sat on the toilet back then, foolishly hugging his chest with both hands while giving an Aquila Salute, Mordred wished he could travel through time and punch his past self into oblivion.
"Stop arguing! You're being too extreme. All you have in your heads is kill, kill, kill. You're making people think I'm some kind of irredeemable lunatic too.
"Since they want to negotiate, we might as well play along and see what they're after. Besides, I've never seen the Aeldari before. Goff!"
"Don't worry, Father."
The Second Company Captain gave him a knowing look, accepted the other side's request to board, and ordered the fleet to disperse and enter Level One Alert. They were to open fire immediately at the slightest sign of trouble.
At this moment, the Atlas fleet had completely emerged from the Warp. There were more than a hundred ships of various sizes in total, including the Abomination Exemplar, a Gloriana-class flagship.
The augur readings showed that the Aeldari fleet opposite them had fewer than thirty ships. They were all small, fast vessels with thin armor and large holds. As for how many ships they had hidden, that remained unknown, but judging by their current forces alone, Goff was confident that one coordinated volley would wipe them all out.
Mordred nodded firmly. He trusted Goff to handle things. As for who should join the delegation, he looked around and spotted the grinning Tom, The Khan secretly drawing lewd pictures, and Joseph coaxing a dog into calling him "Daddy."
And Gawain, who was crouched in a corner teaching arithmetic to a demon brain?
"Fourth Company Captain, what the hell are you doing? I told you your demon brain is no good. Stop teaching it and get to work!"
"And you." Seeing the Rebellious son already sticking his face right in front of him, Mordred kicked him away. "Why are you getting so close?"
"Father, I want to go too! Gawain is Happy. He's definitely not as clever as I am!"
Tom wasn't wrong. He might have been the offspring most similar to Mordred himself, but his lack of reliability had been inherited perfectly as well. Seeing that he refused to leave, Mordred could only let him have his way.
Before long, an Eldar delegation that had been disarmed was escorted onto the bridge by Atlas, where it stood before everyone.
The moment these Pointy-eared sprouts appeared, they put on quite a show for everyone present, opening with a long string of titles:
"Greetings, esteemed Son of the Emperor, Demigod walking the world, Renowned Lord of Serenity, Atlas Leader, mighty Primarch—His Highness Mordred!"
High Gothic rang out like a chant. Despite the slight accent, the voice made all the Terran-descended people present feel an odd sense of familiarity. It was unmistakably the standard old Terra orthodox accent.
But everyone quickly realized something was wrong. How could an Eldar alien with long ears speak the language of Terra?
Kialan secretly laughed at their reaction, inwardly sneering. Monkeys would always be monkeys. Even after gaining immense power, they were still a pack of uncivilized barbarians who knew nothing of etiquette. They could never compare with true Firstborn of God like themselves.
After all, Kialan was a top student who had graduated from Commorragh. Gothic was a simple language that was easy to learn. She had mastered it completely in a single day.
Though she despised them in her heart, she had to maintain appearances. The person before her was a Primarch. Even if he was only a demigod, he was still far beyond someone Kialan could afford to offend.
With that thought, Kialan straightened after bowing and put on a standard, professional smile as she addressed Mordred:
"Your Highness, we have only one request for coming here. We hope that you will return our Soul Circuit. If you agree, I, in my capacity as Ark Leader, promise to offer you a planet as compensation."
After she finished speaking, Kialan gazed at the Primarch with complete sincerity and had someone present the basic information on the planet.
She had done her homework before coming. According to those humans, His Highness Mordred was an exceptionally kind man who especially cherished life. He had even earned the title of World-shaking giant who loved life. The Dog-men sleeping lazily all around them were proof enough of that.
She had also had someone cast a prophecy. According to it, this negotiation would be both Kialan's rebirth and the beginning of a legend. In short, the future was bright.
That was the fundamental reason she had dared to come negotiate. After all, following prophecy was the foundation upon which the Aeldari survived.
But Kialan waited and waited, yet never heard a reply. Instead, she saw undisguised disappointment in the Primarch's eyes, which made her feel a chill run through her.
"Your Highness, this is a perfectly habitable planet. Once you have it, the entire star system it belongs to will be yours. If that isn't enough, I can add a Resource world as well, so long as you return our Soul Circuit."
Kialan believed that the price she had offered was sincere enough. If it still could not buy back the World Tree, then there truly was nothing left to discuss.
But before she could continue persuading him, the Primarch asked a completely unrelated question:
"You're Kialan, right? Let's put the negotiations aside for now. I'm curious—how did all of you end up together?"
The question left every member of Atlas confused. They had no idea why Father would ask that. Only Mordred himself knew just how abnormal the few sprouts in front of him were.
"You call yourselves Ark Eldar, so that makes you White sprouts. Yet your subordinates are Wild sprouts. That wouldn't be a problem either, since both kinds of sprouts are white.
"But why are there Black sprouts among your people, along with you, a Flower sprout? You're all sorts of colors. Do you really think I know nothing about the Aeldari?"
The instant he finished speaking, Atlas, which had long since found these aliens displeasing, surged forward. They looked ready to dismember the Pointy-ears on the spot.
Seeing the atmosphere turn tense, Kialan hurriedly explained, "Your Highness, you misunderstand! We're all proper Eldar! They didn't have this skin color before. They were injured—that's all bruising!"
Mordred stood up and leaned closer for a look. Sure enough, just as she had said, every one of the Eldar had been coated in a thick layer of foundation. Combined with all those colorful pigments, it made them look like ghosts.
And that wasn't all. The equipment on these Eldar was a complete hodgepodge, as though it had been manufactured by a hundred different nations. Who knew which faction they actually belonged to?
"Ah, I see! Fine. But now that we're on the subject, this Golden Tree is my spoils of war. How can you prove that it's your Ancestral Core?"
"But Your Highness, the Golden Tree you mentioned contains the souls of our people!"
"What a fool. The treasures of this world belong to the virtuous, and I am that virtuous person. Besides, what right did you have to put your souls into my Golden Tree and then bring my planet here to negotiate?
"If I kill all of you, all of it will be mine!"
???
Kialan finally understood. The Mordred before her was just like the Dwarf demigod who had slaughtered them before them—an uncivilized barbarian with whom communication was impossible.
Once she had figured that out, Kialan prepared to sacrifice this puppet and fight to the death. Yet reality turned out to be completely different from what she had expected.
Mordred stepped down from the throne and approached the puppet. This was also the first time Kialan realized just how tall the man before her was—so tall that he could crush her skull with one hand. Her plan to fight to the death was nothing but a joke.
But Mordred did not display his signature technique, Knight's Flying Head Punch. Instead, he crouched down and addressed Kialan with a slick smile:
"You know how precious this Golden Tree is. Even if I don't use it myself, I could sell it to other factions in exchange for an astronomical amount of supplies. Trading with a nameless little faction like yours would be worse than doing business with the Yanden Ark."
"So, Your Highness, are you saying there's no room for negotiation?"
"No, no. I'm saying you need to pay more!"
"Huh?"
Before you continue