WARHAMMER 40K ELBOCH VON VALANCIUS: A ROGUE TRADER STORY

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Elboch von Valancius walked with his father, boots trudging through the mud, guardsmen fighting in the distance. A hab-block painted the backdrop, Imperial ships landing and taking off, readying for a war controlled by Inquisitor Ravenbrood. He had always terrified Elboch ever since he seized control of his home planet, Techoron, to wage war against a local—but not too local—Tyranid hive fleet. Its presence disgusted Elboch to his core, but despite his efforts, he still felt an immense fear knowing that one day, he would have to fight against them. He was able-bodied, and thus, he was able to fight.

“Keep up, boy, we’re almost to the commissar,” Elboch ’s father said. “I hope you haven’t gotten cold feet. They’ll know.”

“Yes, I know. I won’t run.”

“Good. Having my son as a coward would put me in the grave for good.”

Elboch’s father was a hard man, with scars running up and down his body. One eye was missing, one arm too, and he walked with a stiff limp that wasn’t as noticeable from a distance.

They arrived at the guardsmen encampment, one of the smaller recruiting spots across the planet. Elboch ’s father limped ahead, observing.

“Listen boy, let’s go over this again. I know your mother was soft on you, but I never will be. One day, I’ll be a commissar, and when I am, I’ll have a lot of leeway in what privileges we get. You’re young, fit, and healthy. Therefore, I don’t see why you can’t earn your stripes. Who knows, if you survive your time serving the Imperium, you may just be back when I kick the bucket.”

“Yes sir.”

“One last thing, boy. If you so much as breathe a word of what you heard last night, I will not hesitate to inform Davron that you are not to be trusted in the Imperial Guard. I don’t know about you,” he got closer, enough for Elboch to smell his boozed breath, “but I would rather fight and die for humanity than work and rot in an industrial world.”

“Yes sir, I understand.”

“Good. Erron and Phillis and Raley all made the same decision to disobey me, and where are they now?”

“Dead, sir.”

“Correct. They were dead the moment they crossed me, boy. There is no escape from Techoron. I don’t know how many times I have to keep telling you spawns. You are not special.”

Elboch nodded.

“Come on then.”

Elboch trailed behind his father like a lost dog. He felt like a lost dog, even more than his brothers, who were stronger and smarter than Elboch ever hoped to be, but who had been put down like he would soon be if he didn’t pull any tricks. One wrong move, and he would die.

Elboch’s father stood tall behind the commissar, wobbling slightly on his bad leg. He saluted. “Commissar Davron, I bring you a recruit. I’m sure you’ll be happy with my son, Elboch. He’s keen and ready to fight for the Emperor. The Emperor protects.” He bowed.

“The Emperor protects,” the commissar said, turning. “But who is Davron? You are speaking to Commissar Petar Ovantus.”

The commissar was a black-haired man with a playful expression, aloof and seemingly unaware of the combat in the sky.

“Um . . . Commissar Ovantus, my apologies, I was unaware of your arrival. I am looking for Commissar Davron. He’s a friend of mine.”

“A friend of yours? Does the Imperium sanction friendly relationships with civilians? Let alone those who would send their offspring off to die with a smile on their face.”

“I am not smiling, Ovantus.”

“Commissar Ovantus,” he corrected.

“My son is overjoyed with the prospect of serving the Imperium. If he is able and happy to, then who am I to take that away from him?”

“Ah, yes, we are all so overjoyed to die. I myself am so eager to jump into the jaws of a Haruspex. Their maws are ever so warm, I have heard.”

“I do not take the war lightly,” Elboch’s father said.

“And neither does he,” Ovantus said, pointing skyward. “Ravenbrood is hard at work protecting this system, and as you can imagine, is particularly busy dispelling an alien threat so massive that it leaves a pit in my stomach whenever I think about it. Luckily for you, we are not in his shoes, and thus, do not have to think about it all hours of the day.”

“Look, Ovantus—”

“My title is Commissar Ovantus. Get that correct, and the next words from your mouth may be considered.”

“Commissar Ovantus,” Elboch ’s father said begrudgingly, “I would just like to speak to Davron.”

“Unfortunately for you, Davron is dead.”

Elboch ’s father looked shocked. “I thought you had no idea who he was,” he said.

Ovantus shrugged. “I don’t know what else to tell you.”

“Commissar Ovantus, I need to pass Elboch here over to you to begin his training. And since Davron is not here to handle him, you will need to step in. We will always need soldiers, and here I have your solution. Take him.”

Ovantus smiled and stepped aside. He approached Elboch. His heart skipped a beat, and he imagined him being shot there and then, put out of his misery before deployment. Then he imagined his father being shot, and he laughed internally.

“What about you. Would you die for the Emperor?”

“Of course, Commissar Ovantus. I would.”

“Of course. And your father, is he a coward who pawns his children off to avoid his responsibilities?”

“Sir?” Elboch said as his father bridled from behind the commissar.

“Now listen here, I will not be spoken to like a common peasant. I will have you know that the von Valancius family is a rich dynasty, dating back to the pleasure worlds of old.”

“You are nothing but a bastard and a conman,” Ovantus said. “The von Valancius family is no more important than Grox shit on my boot when it comes to Illus. Perhaps Theodora’s side of the family would be impressive. But you, sir, are the bottom of the bottom. Have you even seen a pleasure world in your life?”

“I . . .” Elboch ’s father couldn’t talk.

Ovantus smirked and turned back to Elboch. “Now, before I was interrupted, I asked you a question. Is your father a coward?”

Elboch’s father eyed him. The eye contact made him uncomfortable, as if the pupils were lasguns firing upon him. “No.”

“Hmm, I think he is.”

“Have you seen the scars I bear? Do I look fit for combat anymore? You should be grateful I am able to provide my sons to the war effort.”

“I do not doubt that you were once a great soldier who fought great horrors,” Ovantus said, not turning, “but now you are nothing but a leech. I do not blame you for using tools at your disposal to avoid more horrors, but there is something that rubs me the wrong way.” He now turned. “I heard from Davron how your little scheme worked. You gave him young recruits, he checked a box, and you stayed far away from any Tyranid that might gobble you up. Clever really. However, something made me think all day and all night that I could not evacuate from my head. The files that I read showed the number of new recruits you provided him, and pardon me for saying, but I don’t think your poor wife was able to handle fifteen children within a three-month window, sixteen years prior to the boy standing before you.”

Elboch felt his stomach churn when he realized what had been said.

“I . . . do not understand what you are implying,” his father said.

“I don’t think you want me to elaborate on what I am implying. I don’t think your son would either, but maybe he should hear it.”

“Father?” Elboch said.

“Shut up, boy! You are not to address me until given permission!”

“The boy,” Ovantus said with acidic emphasis, “should know if you are his father.”

“Of course I am!” he said. “Do you think I would want to call that my son? I do because it is the truth, not because I enjoy his company.”

As Ovantus turned back to Elboch, he winced and gave what looked like a kind glance to the young boy. Elboch felt useless and demolished as a human, underneath the very lowest of the low. Then, the feeling soured into rage, and he felt himself gain some level of power. Between him and Ovantus, his father looked small and weak.

“How many mothers have you created?” Elboch said. “How many boys have you made to serve?”

“None of your business, boy. Get out of my sight while I speak with Ovantus, the fool.”

Ovantus’s lip raised at the edge daringly. “Now, listen to me, Elboch, ignore your father and look at me. Good. Despite your eagerness to join the Astra Militarum, would you say your father is a decent man?”

Elboch mulled the question over as his father shouted and screamed obscenities. Elboch blocked them out and thought instead.

Then, he said, “No . . .” And before he could stop himself, he said. “He has paid the rogue trader to take him off-world. He plans to leave next solar eclipse. I have proof.”

His father went pale and stuttered.

“Is that so?” Ovantus said.

“It is true.”

“You are a liar!” his father said.

Elboch was unaware until now that guardsmen had been crowding around them, gawking at the fascinating spectacle.

“Soldiers!” Ovantus shouted to the guardsmen. “Take this rancid filth away from me. He is to be publicly executed at dawn.”

“No!” Elboch’s father shouted as he was apprehended speedily. “You can’t do this! I am not a common grunt to be thrown away! I am a von Valancius!”

“You are a von Valancius, and you are sentenced to death. Take him. Unless Elboch here has any objections.”

Elboch shook his head.

“I didn’t quite hear you,” Ovantus said.

“No, I have no objections. Kill him.”

*

Later, Elboch and Ovantus sat overlooking a battlefield. They shared food, which surprised the young boy. Commissars had no obligation to interact with commoners, let alone share lunch with them. Ovantus seemed different, as if he wasn’t used to authority.

“So, was that true? Was your father aiming to escape this planet?” Ovantus said.

“Yes, it was true.”

“I don’t blame him. But I can blame him for many other things, and I can blame Davron for letting it happen.”

“Is it true that he is dead?” Elboch said.

“It is. In fact, I killed him myself.”

“Truly?”

“Indeed. He was a problem, as if we don’t have enough of those in the Imperium. He was imperative to no one, just like your father.”

“I . . . agree. For so long, he has controlled my life. My mother and I were so scared of him. I wanted to get away, but I knew the only way to do that was to kill him. I just didn’t have the stomach for it.”

“That’s the most you’ve said all day. Well, truer words haven’t been spoken. The real question, however, is what now?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, despite my interference, you are likely still destined to be a human shield for a commissar. If you’re lucky, perhaps a Space Marine.”

“A Space Marine . . .” Elboch said, dreamily. “I so badly want to soar through space and take on new adventures. And I dream of meeting a Space Marine one day.”

Ovantus laughed. “You wouldn’t want to meet one. They aren’t exceedingly friendly.”

“That’s untrue.” Elboch was cross. Since he was old enough to remember anything, he was told of the great Adeptus Astartes.

“Look, if you want freedom, you must forge your own path. And unfortunately, ultimate freedom is rare and dangerous when it is acquired. You don’t know what you want.”

“Again, untrue. My great-great-great-grandfather is a rogue trader.”

“Yes, Grandfather Illus. My, my, what a title.”

“Yes. And my mother tells me that he visits my father every year.”

“I see. I’m assuming this was the man who was supposed to get your father off-world,” Ovantus said, staring into the distance.

“I don’t have long to wait before he arrives. I’m sure he will take pity on me and make me a rogue trader instead.”

“I’m not sure it works in that way.”

“We will see.”

“I know quite a bit about your grandfather. He has been a rogue trader for seventy years. In that time, he has also brought terrible misfortune to the galaxies, fathered many children and grandchildren. He has also done nothing of note with his luxury. He is a boring bureaucrat with the power of a king.”

“And how do you know so much about my family?” Elboch’s brows furrowed.

“It doesn’t matter, Elboch.”

“Will you be meeting with my grandfather?”

“No.”

“Then why do—”

Ovantus stood. “I should return to my post. You would make a good rogue trader. But you need to learn before leaving this planet.”

“So you think I could become one, one day?”

“I don’t know about that. I’m saying that you need experience.”

“I have experience. My father trained me to shoot a lasgun that he found. And he would . . . hit me if I missed the targets. In the end, he wanted me to be a good soldier.”

“You would make a good commissar.”

“Truly?”

“No,” Ovantus said and laughed. “You would be too soft on the cannon fodder. You wouldn’t kill them. You do have spirit, I will give you that, but not enough. Without training from the Schola Progenium, it is impossible. You could never really be one. Their training is also grueling. You learn to love the Emperor like nothing else. Your first love does not rival the Emperor.”

“Did you train?”

“Yes, I did.”

“You did? Really?”

“Is that hard to believe?”

“I’m not sure.”

Ovantus laughed and stepped from the hillside, beginning his descent.

You couldn’t be a commissar. But maybe, if you really tried, you could pretend to be one. Pretend until one day, you become good at it. If you had a guardian angel watching over you. Maybe it would save you enough to adjust to this world. Goodbye Elboch,” he said.

Elboch never saw him again.

*

For a few weeks, Elboch ’s mother cried over the death of her husband. Then, she moved about the house, looking numb.

Elboch finally brought up Ovantus’s conversation when she was no longer crying daily.

“He said what?” she shouted.

“He said that I would make a good commissar and a good rogue trader.”

“The man who murdered my husband said that?”

“He was nice,” Elboch said, shrugging away the concern.

“He must be mad!”

“Mother, I didn’t say he offered me anything.”

“Did he offer?”

“No!”

“Good!”

“Yes, because I wouldn’t want to be a commissar. I would rather be the rogue trader.”

“Oh, for the love of the Emperor. I can’t take this. First, you almost join the Imperial Guard, then there are talks of you being a commissar, then you want to be a rogue trader like your great-great-great-grandfather! Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“No, that was father,” Elboch muttered.

His mother looked down and grimaced.

“Mother, everything will be all right. When I see him again, he will give me a warrant of trade. And once I have one in my grasp, I can take us both away.”

“It is a pretty dream, son. Your father was not friends with Illus von Valancius. He was paying him for his service—saving each and every day.”

“With what credits?” Elboch said.

“I don’t know . . .” his mother said, not making eye contact.

“How many more credits did he owe before his death?”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay,” Elboch said. He stood and left the small shack they called home. He sat on the doorstep and watched.

His mother followed. “What are you doing?” she said.

“Waiting.”

“Illus doesn’t usually come for another four or five months. He could be systems away.”

“I don’t care.”

“They will want you to join the Guard soon enough. They will take you.”

“If they do, I will go. If not, I will wait.”

*

The Imperium never visited them. Two months passed before his grandfather visited.

The ship could be seen in orbit. Each time his grandfather had visited, Elboch had looked at the ship and thought it bigger than the last time.

After it landed, Illus von Valancius approached their shack. He greeted Elboch’s mother, but showed no real compassion to her, merely patting her shoulder and walking on. Behind him walked a group of misfits, all different in race and regiment. They stayed back.

Illus approached Elboch. “You must be the son,” he said. He was gray and withered, with a wrinkled face and white beard and bald head.

“I am,” he said.

“I attempted to find Commissar Petar Ovantus. He was apparently last seen with him and you. Is this correct?” He sounded bored, inconvenienced.

“I don’t know.”

“You will be of no use to me.” He went to walk away.

“Wait!”

“What?” He turned back.

“You are a rogue trader.”

“What of it?”

“Well, I want to be one.”

“And why are you telling me?”

“I . . . How much more did my father owe?”

“What?”

“My father wanted to leave this planet. He paid you credits to get out. How much more did he owe?”

Illus smirked. “He did not owe me credits.”

“Then what did he owe?”

“You are an ignorant boy who knows nothing of the universe. There is no reason to visit this planet with your father dead. I am here to kill Commissar Ovantus and nothing more. Once that is done, I will leave your mother and you alone.”

Illus took seven steps away, back to his group.

“You are a coward!” Elboch said.

Illus turned again. “Your father was good for nothing but providing me with goods. Since you are not him, I have no use for you, and thus, you are nothing to me. You are not even worth anything as a corpse beneath my feet. Goodbye.”

Illus left, and like Ovantus, Elboch never saw him again.

*

Elboch stayed with his mother for a further four years. They survived on scraps and moved location twice. The military presence increased, and so, they were driven from their homes. However, Elboch was never enlisted, and so, he only dreamed of better things. In that time, Elboch found firearms to train with. He trained every day, even fighting off local deserters in whatever zones they moved to. In the fifth year, his mother died. She began to bleed from her nose every day, and became too weak to move. After that, there was no saving her.

After Elboch was on his own, he stayed in his home, guarding it from bandits and deserters. A man with strange mannerisms visited him on a special day. He notified Elboch von Valancius that he was now officially a commissar. He looked quizzically at the paper and at the man. The man left in a hurry. He was not a guardsman.

And so, as quickly as that, Elboch was ordered to join the Astra Militarum. It was not an invitation; it was a direct threat of death if he did not arrive on a certain date at a certain time.

Elboch thought of Ovantus, whom he’d met so long ago.

*

The barrel of the bolt pistol erupted with smoke.

The man without a head rested in the mud beneath Elboch’s feet.

“Do you all want this? Perhaps the imperium would be better without cowardly animals like you!”

The men and women of the Astra Militarum quivered before the next wave of xenos descended upon them. Commissar Elboch revved up his chainsword and hacked and slashed through any alien scum he could find.

When the battle was over, he regrouped with his formation and counted the amount he’d lost. Over fifty had perished within the fifteen-minute fight. It would be three hours before they were to fight again.

After thirty years of being a commissar, Elboch had climbed the ranks, surviving mostly on willpower and luck. Not all his years had been spent in combat, and he had enjoyed some luxuries within the Imperium. But now, his life was finite, fighting a new threat on a new planet. However, he had become a notorious figure amongst the people. He was feared and respected as a qualified tactician, ruthless enemy, and a jovial spirit when in safety, cracking the odd joke or two.

In his private room, he spotted a mysteriously placed letter on his desk.

The letter informed him that his great-great-great-grandfather, Illus von Valancius, had perished while aboard his voidship. After spending many, many years being dull and inactive, Elboch had heard that he had finally left the system he had spent his whole life in. The reason for leaving was to visit his closest relation, Theodora von Valancius, with whom he had (reportedly) had a pleasant interaction. Many were baffled at the decision to leave now, after such a long time. And now, after fifty-plus years, he had returned only to die in his sleep. Elboch felt no resentment or anger, only mild surprise at his leaving, his return, and his death. His hope of becoming a rogue trader had fled long ago. And now that the rogue trader was dead, he knew he would die on his currently inhabited planet, amongst death and destruction. He preferred it to his squalid life, but he still dreamed of starting again.

A slip of paper fell from the letter. He picked it up and couldn’t believe what he saw. It was a warrant of trade, passed down in the event of his grandfather’s death, recently altered to include Elboch in the signed contract.

Elboch von Valancius was now officially a rogue trader. A smile split his face, and he held the contract tightly, careful not to crumple it.

He looked again and reread it.

It was signed by one person: Petar Ovantus.