Disclaimer(s):
First of all, for those loyal Kane followers that are tearing your hair out in frustration at my posting a new 40k story while being so slow with updating Purified by Cold-Fire, I apologize. This story has been bouncing through my head for months and I just had to sit down and start playing with it to see where it goes. It is again Inquisition-centric (because heresy is so much fun), but going to be more of a dramatic piece than an action one. The first couple chapters will be chock full of violence and righteous smackdown, however the overall story is going to be more person-oriented. I had actually planned for this to be a Kane story, but I couldn't reconcile the plot to his character, so I decided to create a whole new cast. Though you may or may not catch a subtle reference to Kane's stories every now and again.

Second, this is going to be another somewhat experimental piece because I am still woefully unlearned in 40k non-Guard lore. I've been chugging through Gaunt's Ghost series for a few months but quite frankly I keep having to put the books down every time a character dies. I don't have this problem with other books/stories/movies, etc... but for some reason I just go ballistic when 40k writers kill (or otherwise horribly screw over) characters. It seriously drives me nuts, which I admit is contradictory because my characters have the life expectancy of a grox in a 'Nid invasion.

Third, I think I should give Advicepuppy some recognition for his story Suffer not the Xenos to Live. I'm pretty sure I read the first chapter or so of Suffer when he posted it back in 2011. That may or may not have planted the seed of this story in my head (I honestly can't remember). Either way, it's a great story and I am more than willing to give credit to him for this concept.

If you have questions, comments, concerns, or ideas, leave them in a review.

Iora, Tenea

The sun cast its last golden rays over the Kylin mountains, bathing the city of Iora in fiery light. Humming solar generators filled the low streets with a pleasant buzz. Two hours from now they would all be silent, unable to glean more light from the set sun. But for now it was a soothing hymn that helped him rest in his chair on the porch. He could not remember the first time he sat here. It seemed like ages.

Louk Shannegh was an old man. His bone were frail, his body scarred from years of service in the Imperium's various institutions. Nothing organic remained below his left knee; thirty years before it had been replaced by a simple prosthetic after the bionic replacement failed to meld. Three of the fingers on his right hand had similar replacements, as did half of the organs in his chest. Synthetic lungs, synthetic kidneys, rubber intestines… he was more machine than man now. Service to the Emperor was not kind.

His weary eyes gazed past the bustling city below him, past the tall marble walls of Tenea's jewel city, and past the empty fields that had once known the horrors of war. The Kylin mountains drew his eyes as surely as heresy drew the Church. His time on those mountains had been short, mere days that seemed utterly inconsequential to his lifespan, but so very powerful. It was in those mountains that he had learned so much about himself, about the Imperium.

Every night he came to this chair, stared at the mountains, and remembered. It was a quiet place, high above the distractions of the world, where he could be free of his life-guard and the stares of Ioran's elite. He knew how they whispered about him, how they looked down on the hive-born scoundrel that now stood equal with them. More than equal, truly, because his was a rank that superseded planetary boundaries. They feared him. They loathed him. They revered him.

How odd it must have seemed to them, he mused, to have a man of his history seeking to come back to the very place that had nearly been his undoing. To dwell on the mistakes of his past and the crimes he had committed for and against the Emperor's name. He knew enough of their culture to understand they strove to hide their sins, to bury them and cast them as far as possible. That was not his way. He knew the value of the past, what it taught and how it shaped the future.

A soft knock on the patio door alerted him to the presence of his life-guard. Jaycel Gunferth eased the creaky wooden door inwards and stuck his head out. He was a serious young man, would have been handsome if not for the constant grimace that had been permanently chiseled into his features. His brooding hazel eyes and educated manners set many a young lass's hearts fluttering in their chests on those few occasions when Shannegh deigned to visit the entertain the Ioran's courts. He managed to effect an air of aloofness in the presence of both kings and paupers, always appearing to have a plan and often knowing more than he let on. He was a devious man, wiser and more ferocious than even Louk himself.

He might have been mistaken for a noble-born were it not for the dozens of tattoos that covered his upper body and arms. As far as Louk could tell, Jaycel recorded his entire life in tattoos. The single-headed aquila over his heart for his one parent. The snarling hydra for the Purge of Persephonus IV.

"Visitor" he stated, his voice flat and uninterested. When Jaycel did have to communicate, he used as few words as possible.

Louk eased his ancient body around until he could see Jaycel standing in the doorway. The younger man had a bored look on his face, but there was a tingle of energy about him that drew Louk's attention. He did not receive many visitors. In fact, in his ten years living in Iora he could still count them on his hands. Well, could have counted them on his hands were it not for his lack of fingers. It should have been a greater occasion than how they treated it. As if it were business as usual.

"Who?"

His life-guard shrugged. "Remembrancer."

"They still have those?" Louk wheezed out a chuckle. The simple effort made his back tense, and the laughter fizzled into a fit of coughing. Jaycel raised an eyebrow in silent question. "No, no, I am fine. Please, let him in. And bring another chair."

The man nodded and disappeared into the house. Content to wait, Louk returned his attention to the mountains. His mind was not as fast as it had once been, but he still retained the acute ability to filter and process information at blazing speeds. It was one of the only talents her still retained at this age.

A remembrancer? What could they want with him? His records, like all those who walked his path, were sealed. Perhaps it was from another of his kind, seeking information but not willing to spend the time to visit an aged and shunned man. Or was it a student of the Forums seeking to discover the truth behind the many rumors about him. He weighed each possibility on the likelihoods and the potentials. At his age he doubted he would live long enough to have regrets. Maybe it was time to reveal the things he had been forced to keep for so long.

The door opened again and Jaycel came out, carrying a chair in one hand and gesturing with the other. He set it down beside Louk and stood back, one hand resting on the butt of the Mark IV pattern laspistol he always wore on his hip. There was no sign of danger in his posture, or any more suspicion than that which he held against all those who were not Louk. A more loyal man he could not have asked for, and he owed Jaycel a great deal. It sometimes pained him, knowing that Jaycel's potential was being wasted guarding a decrepit old man in his final years.

The remembrancer stepped out onto the patio with some hesitation. It was a woman, though it took him a moment to tell because of her heavy robes. She wore her hood low and had a thick cloth wrap over her face. It hid everything but her eyes, which were covered by a reflectionless visor. Thick cotton gloves covered her hands. Every part of her was covered. Did she fear he carried a plague?

"You are a remembrancer" Louk said. She stood silent for a moment, gazing down at him with her hands tucked into the sleeves of her robe. The silence lasted for more than a minute. Confused, Louk glanced past her to Jaycel. The man shrugged.

"Miss?"

"I am sorry" she said, speaking at last. Her voice was sweeter than fine wine, a captivating alto that was both young and ancient at the same time. Louk shivered as the musical tone of her words washed over him. They stirred a host of memories from long ago. "I was… I have heard much about you. It is important that I have an accurate first impression of you."

"I don't think anyone's ever had an accurate first impression of me" Louk cackled. He motioned for her to sit and dismissed Jaycel. His life-guard's grimace deepened at the thought of leaving him alone with this stranger, but he bowed his head and returned inside. Louk had no doubt he would pull up a chair on the other side and sit there with his laspistol on his lap, waiting in case something should go wrong.

When the door closed and the remembrancer was seated he gave her a long and piercing look. "So what can I do for you, Miss…"

"You may call me Seeker."

"Miss Seeker" he repeated, an amused grin crossing his lips. He stared at her visor, wishing he could see the color of her eyes. They must have been far more attractive than the olive-grey shapeless robes she wore. "Where are you from?"

"I… have traveled for many years." She shifted in her chair, hands reappeared with an old-fashioned stylus and notepad. "My home is in the stars."

"A traveler, eh?" Louk nodded. "That can be a good life, especially for one of your kind."

"Yes, it can be." Her voice quavered a little, and she fell silent. He had the vague feeling that she was staring at him again. Her stylus hung over the notepad, waiting to write.

"I'm sorry, please forgive my manners." Louk reached back and rapped the door. "Would you care for refreshments? I would have offered earlier but we do not receive many guests. It is easy to forget our hospitality."

"Your man offered when I first arrived" she said quickly, words spilling out of her mouth. The door opened and Jaycel stuck his head out. He glanced over at Louk, who held up a single finger, and shut the door again.

"Did he now? That's unusually forward of him." Louk eased back against his chair and settled his hands on his lap. "Usually you have to drag that kind of thing out of him. Oh, he's a right gentleman and all, but he doesn't talk much."

As if to prove his point, Jaycel returned with an opened bottle of wine and two glasses on a tray. He set them on the small handtable beside Louk's chair before disappearing again. Louk gave the second glass a pointed look and glanced up at Seeker, but she shook her head.

"More for me then. Hope you don't mind." He poured himself a glass and took a sip, relishing the fiery sensation that tickled his throat on the way down. "So, what can I do for you? Are you hear to see if the rumors are true?"

"Rumors, sir?"

"Take your pick." He stretched out his free hand to encompass the city. "Surely you've heard them if you have come this far. Louk Shannegh the Ork-Hunter, the Prince of the Hive-Born, the Forsaken Inquisitor, Purger of Heresy, Vilest of Sinners…"

"They say you loved an Eldar woman" the remembrancer blurted out, cutting him off midstream. Her voice was rushed, hopeful, fearful, uncertain. Louk blinked slowly, turning back to regard her with surprise.

"Now where" he asked carefully, warning bells sounding in his mind. A slight shift of his leg uncovered the holdout stub pistol tucked between the chair's cushion and its armrest. Jaycel could be on the patio inside of three seconds, about the same amount of time it would take him to reach and draw the weapon. "Did you hear that?"

"I…" Seeker's words trailed off. Her hands remained where they were, clutching the stylus and the notepad. He could have sworn her eyes widened behind the visor at the sudden and unexpected change of attitude.

"That is a very serious accusation to make" Louk growled. "And I know of only a few still living that would know of it."

"Please, sir, I mean you no harm." She set her notepad on her lap and clasped her hands over it. Not a trace of fear in her voice. Nor of subterfuge. "I am simply seeking memories."

"Why that one?"

"Times are changing" she offered. "The Eldar are not held in the same light as they once were. I thought that, perhaps having a tale that... humanizes them, can serve as a lesson to all of mankind. Not all of us see them as the enemy. I hoped that you would be willing to lend your tale, sir."

"Lend my tale…" Louk grimaced and looked back at the mountains. "You are asking a lot. The Inquisition would burn me if I released such information, assuming the rumor is even true."

"The Louk Shannegh that I know would not care what the Inquisition would do."

She spoke the words with such conviction that he chuckled. "And how do you know me, Miss Seeker?"

Again, the remembrancer paused. "I have studied you from afar for some time," was all she said.

"Inquisitor Jadus sent you," Louk guessed. He received silence in reply. "Guess not."

"Please, sir." Her words were filled with hope. "It is not something to be ashamed of."

"Who said I was ashamed?" Louk chuckled. "I don't know the meaning of the word."

"Then will you tell me? Do I have your permission to record the story?"

Louk's laughter faded and he stared at Seeker's visor. Sadness crept through his veins and he gave a bitter smile. "Why would my story be so important?"

"Love conquers all" Seeker replied. There seemed a reflection of his bitter smile in her voice. "Or so they say."

"Yes, well, love couldn't conquer this story." Louk felt a tear threatening to form in his eyes and looked away, back to the mountains. "As you can see by my lack of a companion, it didn't last."

"Just because it did not last does not mean it failed" Seeker persisted. "Few things last, and some of the sweetest are the shortest."

"Five months" Louk said. His throat was tight and he took a deep breath to calm his nerves. "That was how long I knew her."

He did not look back, but he heard the scratching of her stylus on the notepad. Why not, he thought to himself. After all, he had kept it bottled inside for so long. It would be good to let it all out.

"You know this story will take time." He tapped the armrest of his chair absently.

"I am in no hurry" she promised. "As long as you need."

"Do you have lodgings here in the city?"

"Not yet."

"Then I must impose on you to remain my guest. I must admit," he risked a looked back at her covered face. "It fills me with pride to have a remembrancer come to my door. And I would be an ungrateful host to force you to seek dwelling at your own expense."

"No, that is entirely…"

"I insist" he said. "Come, there is a spare bedroom on the first floor. Neither Jaycel or I will bother you, and you will have full access to that which is mine."

"I… if you insist." Seeker bowed her head. "You honor me, sir."

"It is you who honor me." He drained his glass and set it on the tray. The liquid courage worked wonders on loosening his throat. "Well then, I think I have wasted enough of your time. So you want to know about the Eldar woman. It started here, on Tenea, just out on those plains you see by the mountains…"