Conqueror from the stars in Warhammer

I took a deep breath as my mind drifted away from the Warp. In the palm of my hand, a coin floated effortlessly. It slid between my fingers by the force of my will, snaking up my wrist until it stopped at the tip of my index finger. With a sigh, I let it float back to the palm of my left hand before tucking it into my pocket.

I had done it. At last, I could say I had mastered the principles of telekinesis. It hadn't been an easy task, especially given that I had to remain as discreet as possible. My heart often skipped a beat whenever a servant entered my chambers. It was a wise decision to have instructed them to always announce their entry, even if I wasn't present.

Perhaps they found my behavior odd, but it didn't matter. Raised from childhood to serve my family, none of them would dare voice such thoughts, even among their peers.

"The benefits of a true tyranny," I thought, as I accepted my clothing.

In my vision, I could see the translucent blue panel of my system. It displayed countless static data streams, akin to a Matrix-like database.

Letters formed, summarizing the abilities, stats, and dynamics of my new body:

- **Species:** Human

- **Name:** William Wimbledon

- **Class:** Noble

**Abilities:**

- **Telekinesis (Level 4):** Can lift up to three times your current weight. Requires better control for more complex tasks.

- **Psychic Bolt (Level 1):** Can envelop your hand in electricity, though it's not yet strong enough to cause significant damage.

- **Concealment (Level 9):** Your ability to mask psychic powers is excellent for a self-taught practitioner. Can evade detection by low- and mid-level psykers.

By now, I had grown accustomed to the system, though it was merely a measuring tool. It offered no stores, no overpowered abilities, nor dazzling weapons. In the end, I wasn't special—just another human lucky enough to be born into wealth, at least in this life.

But none of that mattered. Not now. A decade had passed since my birth, and it was time for action—or more precisely, my introduction to the royal family and the noble houses allied with us.

Part of me felt happy, almost exhilarated, to have someone around besides tutors and the occasional appearance of my "dear" mother, who showed up every few solar cycles.

"It took an uncomfortably and embarrassingly long time to figure out this world's solar cycles," I thought.

"Well, let's begin. Servants!" I called out as I rose from my bed.

The household staff appeared in practiced unison, their movements too perfect for the untrained eye. They quickly prepared me for the presentation.

The planet's nighttime period was approaching, but unlike a simple night and day cycle, Kronvar experienced nocturnal periods lasting up to two Terran months every one to two years. This was a two-year cycle, and I had just turned ten Terran standard years—roughly five Kronvar standard years.

"Young Lord," the soft, almost melodic voice of the head maid interrupted my thoughts.

My crimson eyes met the elegant form clad in immaculate servant attire. Her face was an idealized reconstruction of the Imperial nobility's finest tastes. Her jet-black hair, common among our people, contrasted sharply with her pale skin—a rarity among the elite, who were predominantly dark-skinned.

"Thank you, Mila," I said, acknowledging her by name—a courtesy I extended only to the heads of staff responsible for my care.

A gesture acceptable enough for any noble smart enough to remember that even servants might one day turn against you.

"At the very least, treating them more humanely might prevent a dagger to the back if the reward isn't worth it," I mused. Foolish, perhaps, but it was all I could think of, given I was still just an adult trapped in a child's body—a child nearly as tall as I'd been at twenty-four.

Standing at 168 cm, I walked through the labyrinthine corridors, their gothic architecture adorned with ancient murals. The structure itself seemed as old as history.

The walk was relatively long but not enough to justify using the sleek, train-like travel devices scattered throughout the estate.

"Young Lord!" The two towering guards snapped to attention, their laser weapons and heavy armor resembling the Imperial Guard I remembered from my previous life.

I offered a brief nod, my expression unyielding as stone. They opened the grand doors before me.

Entering with my head held high as noble etiquette demanded, I found myself before a banquet table filled with familiar and unfamiliar faces.

At the head sat my father, his expression disinterested as he gestured for me to sit. Beside him, my mother wore garments as pristine and opulent as her face—a beauty to inspire envy in a thousand models.

Among the new faces was a young man in his twenties, tall and muscular, clad in richly adorned attire. Beside him sat a woman with jet-black hair, red eyes, and skin as dark as night. Her slender frame carried an elegance accentuated by her finely tailored dress.

These were likely my last remaining siblings, the others having married into vassal houses or formed alliances with ancient rivals.

Still, I couldn't help but feel uneasy under the scrutiny of people who could easily become my undoing.

The fear of death was instinctive for all sapient life, but in this universe, death might not be the end. I dreaded for my soul, which would surely be a feast for the entities beyond.

"I see you've arrived. Sit, boy. I'd like to introduce you to your brother and heir, Gael Wimbledon, and your sister, Elendora Wimbledon," my father announced, rising to gesture toward the gathered family members.

They offered polite nods, raising their red glasses in unison.

"Today, we welcome another member of our house. May our name endure for another thousand years!" My father led the toast, echoed by all.

For the first time, I saw my mother smile. It was beautiful, though I remained cautious. Neither my father nor mother had shown much emotion during my childhood, even in those cursed days when I was trapped in an infant's body.

Her rare appearances, no more than once or twice a year, shaped my understanding of this society—so alien compared to my previous world.

Such detachment was unthinkable in my former life, even in humanity's most ancient eras. But this universe, where even newborns could be turned into grotesque cherub-like machines, knew no bounds to its madness.

"It's good to finally meet you, little brother," Elendora said, her voice sweet as honey, her High Gothic flawless.

I returned a faint smile and nodded. "It's a pleasure to meet my family."

"You're taller than the reports suggested. It seems the blood of our ancestors runs strong in your veins," my brother remarked.

"I believe Sir Mandrick's training has helped significantly," I replied.

He smiled, his eyes gleaming with something unspoken.

"Father says you're an excellent duelist. Would you care to test your skills against some members of my cohort?"

I paused, considering his offer. It seemed my brother wasn't one to waste words. Among nobles, conversations often carried hidden meanings. It was up to the listener to decipher them, as no noble was obligated to explain their intentions.

"He wants to assess me, learn more about me—possibly away from our parents' watchful eyes. But why?"

Smiling childishly, like a kid receiving a new toy, I responded with just the right touch of excitement appropriate for a child still learning about the world and their place within the hierarchy.

"Really? Then I accept your invitation, brother."

"Careful, young one. This might be too much for you," Elendora commented dryly, her gaze fixed on the ever-smiling Gael.

"Oh, it's nothing serious—just a friendly duel. I can't allow my brother to be found wanting when he meets some of our vassals," he replied, his tone light but purposeful.

"There's no need for a duel to decide that," she countered, her voice carrying a faint note of protectiveness. But considering I'd never met her before, I might have been overly optimistic in interpreting her intentions.

"You two, quiet," my father's voice cut through their exchange like a blade, silencing the room instantly.

He turned his disinterested gaze toward me, as cold and detached as ever.

"Sir Mandrick has taught you much, but the coming days will be demanding. I've summoned Sargath to send some of his children around your age. It's time for you to mingle with the nobility, William."

"Yes, Father. I look forward to it," I replied humbly, bowing my head slightly.

"Hmph! Don't get your hopes up. When it was my turn, it was just a group of half-witted idiots," Gael scoffed dismissively.

"Just because your experience was poor doesn't mean our brother's will be the same," Elendora countered, her voice calm but pointed.

Gael merely shrugged, his nonchalant demeanor unwavering, while my mother continued eating delicately, as if the sharp exchanges between her children were entirely ordinary.

I found myself wondering if all family dinners were like this, but I had no way of knowing.

*"It seems I'm more scrutinized than I realized if even my siblings have detailed reports on me."*

The thought sent a cold shiver through my gut. If my secret were discovered—my *gift* or *curse*—I doubted I'd live to see the end of the next solar cycle.

As much as I wanted to shout at the injustice of it all, I couldn't. After all, I hadn't asked for these powers. Yet, I couldn't entirely blame the absolute terror that psykers inspired in the Imperial populace.

*"Any mistake, and such an individual could be possessed, controlled, or worse, open a portal to the horrors of the Warp."*

I sighed inwardly and forced myself to eat. If discovered, there wouldn't be much to do—either I'd die, or I'd escape to the lowest levels of the hive city, where the enslaved masses toiled.

I could even attempt my luck outside the city, in the eternal night's arid mountains or the blood-red valleys.

Unfortunately, my chances of survival in such places were virtually nonexistent.

There was a reason this planet hosted only a single mega-city, and it wasn't due to a lack of population. It was simply that beyond its borders, death was all that awaited.

By the time the dinner concluded and weariness began to creep over my still-developing body, I found myself wondering when I'd finally be allowed to leave the table.

Looking toward my father, engaged in hushed conversation with my mother, my gaze met my siblings'. I couldn't help but ponder how this family dynamic truly functioned.

We didn't seem like a group of close relatives—more like business partners with shared goals, cautiously avoiding stepping on one another's toes. If that were the case, I'd be content staying on the sidelines of any potential political intrigue.

Intrigue and schemes weren't in my true nature. I wasn't drawn to the complexities of power plays or the machinations of ambitious minds.

I was a simple man who had once been on the rise, only to die in an unfortunate accident. Here, I was a noble with more power than ancient kings or modern dictators, living amidst the utmost luxury.

The silver lining was that even if I chose to live a life of pure hedonism, no one would likely question it. Such was the nature of the Imperial nobility.

But who cared? Happiness and pleasure were the things most of the Imperial nobility had indulged in for centuries, oblivious to the concept of war.

*"Perhaps, in the end, I can simply live in peace. That would be paradise—if it weren't impossible."*

With this thought, I drank and ate, engaging in a bit more conversation with everyone.

My mother and sister seemed engrossed in a holographic display of data, showcasing what I could only assume was fashion or something similar.

*"There were humanoid figures and dresses on the display—dresses, perhaps."*

"Then it's settled, brother. My vassal will pick you up tomorrow. I don't think skipping your lessons for a day will be an issue," Gael said, glancing at Father, who gave a slight nod of approval.

A part of me felt a surge of excitement at the prospect of witnessing other fighters' combat styles. After all, I'd fallen in love with swordsmanship ever since I first wielded a blade.

"I appreciate it, brother," I said politely, as I had been taught. He acknowledged me with an indifferent nod while Father's gaze lingered on me.

"William, as you know, you've reached an appropriate age to have your own vassal. Do you understand the term?" Father asked.

Straightening up, I recited what little I knew, trying not to be caught off guard.

"Vassals are members of vassal houses sworn to serve us by right of the major houses that rule this world," I replied, my explanation pulled from the implanted knowledge provided by the Table of Knowledge.

"Correct. This one was created to serve you from the moment of your birth. He is ready and will be delivered to you at the appropriate time. There's nothing for you to worry about; all necessary knowledge has been perfectly implanted, and he will develop as expected," Father said, his tone devoid of any emotion, as though creating a life solely for servitude was routine.

Even so, I swallowed the bile of revulsion rising in my throat and nodded.

"I appreciate the information, Father," I managed, keeping my voice even.

Gael quickly shifted the conversation, talking about some fighting club he enjoyed with his "friends."

"Tomorrow will be fun, brother. Unfortunately, I must excuse myself. Some of my servants will be upset if I don't spend time with them," he said with a laugh as Father gestured for him to leave.

*"Does this man control everything?"* I couldn't help but notice the subtle nuances of his command.

As dinner wound down and I was finally dismissed to my quarters, my thoughts returned to the family dynamic.

*"Mother seemed indifferent to me, as though she considered her duty fulfilled after my birth. My sister is distant, and my brother is strangely the most open. And Father... always in control."*

These thoughts lingered as exhaustion finally dragged me into the realm of dreams, where I hoped not to awaken to another nightmare.