Konrad's Half-Day

Commorragh

To the benevolent fool.

So spoke Konrad Curze.

The primarch raised his wineglass playfully. The bloody liquid within the glass gleamed alongside the jeweled chain wrapped around it.

The other Dark Eldar around the single sofa where the primarch reclined raised their glasses as well. They offered words either respectful or disdainful toward the Underking, then drank.

Konrad Curze cast an absent-minded glance at the Arena beneath his feet. Same as always: a Soulless with a frenzy device driven into it by slave masters gasped for breath, while on the other side, the little Lion he had just captured was being whipped into the arena.

To make the contest even, the Fallen Angel had been half-stripped of his armor, bound with drug-soaked thorn branches and leather, his wounds bandaged.

"To the benevolent fool."

The sound of boots striking the ground rang out. Konrad lazily spun his cup. The Eldar pursued ultimate agility, so even their males' footsteps were exceptionally light—not the solid impact of Space Marine boot heels hitting the floor.

Vraesk, Archon of The Flayed Skull Haemonculi Coven, approached. Unlike his savage appearance, he held up his wineglass with a fawning smile.

"Have you been well lately?"

Not bad. Konrad looked away and idly fiddled with the pearl bracelet around his wrist. What? Have you already finished the dessert from last time?

"Thank you for the New Noble's gift."

As if recalling something, Vraesk licked his cracked lips. An illusion far more delicious than blood veiled his senses like gauze.

"But..." His gaze gleamed. "You know that isn't what I mean."

You resent having your men used during the last trip to Terra?

Konrad chuckled. The Flayed Skull Haemonculi Coven excelled at aerial combat, so The Emperor had "borrowed" some manpower.

"No, no, no, how could I? It