Yellow Fruit, chapter One

It was all classic story, told countless times in history and all across the blessed Imperium.
They knew each other since they were children and since that early age the both knew they were meant to be together forever.
Destiny or something more, when the day has come, they were not allowed to be together. Her parents were rich, influental people with strong ties in off-world trading guilds and Ecclesiarchy and one of the rulling families in their town. His parents were ordinary people, not too rich but also not poor yet still considered as lower class. So, the day when he, higly educated young man and his father, beloved weapon craftsman, asked her parents for her hand, they were rejected and loughed upon. They dared to aks for a hand of a young, rich lady, blue-blood in its finest, her parents and cousins loughed, mocking them. Nobody asked that young, rich lady about what she desired for her role in family affairs was long ago settled. She was to marry much older man, very rich and powerfull patriarch of one of the rulling families of the whole planet, important trading station for the whole subsector. She was born with a purpose to make her family more powerfull and secure them place in higher tiers of aristocratic society of their world and beyond. Nobody cared for her feelings or the feelings of that stupid young man she used to play with when they were children. Nobody cared when that young man and his father, well respected citizens, were thrown outside, ashamed and hurt.
Nobody cared when the heart of the young girl broke, her soul crushed when her one life desire, love and dream was torn away, mocked upon. Part of her soul simply died that day, refusing to accept life she was forced to live. She fell, never to get up again.
Months passed without her ever gaining back her consciousness. She just laid there, slowly vanishing. At first, her family tried to help her. Countless doctors came,  Cardinal of Imperial Ecclesiarchy, monks, hermits,






even Adeptus Mechanicus priest from a powerfull vessel that docked the planetary trading stations for a refill. Nobody was able to help her. Her body was healthy but her mind was simply dead, they said. Rich old mand who she was suposed to marry soon lost his interest and after that, her family folowed. They left her alone in her room to simply fade away, only maids visited her regulary to force feed and clean her.

Young man she loved suffered too. Everybody tried to comfort him for they understood. It was not the first time that something similar happened. Their city and the whole world was a world divided by a classes, rich people mixed with other reach people and ordinary people were meant to know their place. As time passed everybody expected that he will simply accept his destiny and find another girl. He was young man from a well respected family, educated and handsome. Many girls desired him but he refused them all, not willing to accept that she, the one he loved, was gone. Every time he tried to visit her he was rejected, yet he hoped that one day she will wake up, simply to live, even with another man. He was aware that they will never be together but he also could not continue his life until she lived too.

Time passed and many simply forgot about what happened. Life went further so nobody really noticed rumours that she woke up. Her family did not care either for she was not able to move her body since life came back to her only that much so she could faintly speak. Her beloved one did not forgot. Bribing guards and maids je managed to get to her, to see her onca again, to hear her voice maybe for the last time. When he got in her room she smiled to him, life sparking in her eyes, beautiful as ever. They both cried upon their destiny, whispering. When time came for him to go, he asked her if she wish for something, anything that may ease her days in lonelines, anything that might give her some joy. She asked hom to come closer and whispered something to his ear.





A fruit was what she wanted. Rare, mythic fruit they both read about in some book long time ago when they were just children, fruit that grew only one one single world in vastness of Imperium. They dreamed that one day they will go there together and see it with their own eyes, try its yellow flesh, sweet like honey as described. Bring me fruits so I can die happy, she said. Bring me that one piece of our mutual dream that I can have, now that I have lost you, she said.
He bowed his haid, crying, and gave a word. No mather how, no mather what it may cost, I will bring what your heart desire. He gave an oath, oath so strong that its words trembled trough the fabric of reality although they were only whispered. An oath that fused their souls like no simple love, loyalty, marriage, children or anything else  could have fused. It was honest and blind like small childs love for its mother, a chain ubreakable. A chain that punctured trough time and space and aether and reality, both physical and the other one, unknown and dark where leviathans of thought recoiled, blinded by a string of light that conected two souls, one of them almost in their claws, other still distant.
He promised, kissed her cheek and left her alone in her dark room in hell.
Early next morning a lone figure with nothing but a small bag on his shoulders left the town, heading south towards equatorial landing grounds where giant shuttles came to bring cargo and take ores, wood and other materials.
Knowing that there is not much strength left in her, he hurried. World where Dunja grew was far, very far. He cluthced his bag, full of his years worth of savings. He knew that it will be enough to pay for trip there and back, the fastest way and voidships available. Only time mattered. He cared not for money, his safety or his life, he will bring her that one piece of their dream, knowing that there was nothing else he could. Three monts will surely be enough, if only warp would cooperate, he calculated. His education gave him a lot of knowlege about warp travell so he was certain in his calculations.



Yet, warp may be a good servant but also a very, very vile master.

Three years later, funeral procession was slowly moving trough the central street. Day was cold and foggy and few hundred pepole attending the funerall were all dressed in black, clutching their coats as they tried to protect themself from the cold. Heavy funeral cart pulled by a pair of large, bull-like indigenuos animals guided by two funneral man was leading the procession, with family and cousins forming a column behind, walking on foot. Ordinary people were standing at the sides of the streets, all in silence. She died and veil of sadness fell upon the town she walked once, beautiful and happy, bringing light to everyone who knew her.

She died and he did not came back. Everyone knew about the story. On of her maids heard them talking, three years ago and rumours circled the town in days to come. She was dying and asked her beloved one for single gift, rare fruit almost  no one ever heard about. Everybody knew that he left and many hoped he will come back in time. His parents cried but understood. Her parents did not care about some foolish young man for they were too bussy with ther affairs. They just wished for her to die and release them from burden once and for all for they considered her to be a disgrace. Many ordinary people noticed that there was no sadness on the faces of her family as they walked behind her funeral cart. They cursed them for what they did, for destroying two young lifes. She, a blossoming flower, was but a pale corpse now and he, her beloved, was lost somewhere, surely dead too, otherwise he would already returned at least to accompany his love to her last resting place.





As the procession was slowly progressed towards the graveyard, a lone figure emerged from a fog. A hermit, his clothes worn out, head covered in a long, greasy hair and face hidden behind a beard, with a heavy bag on his shoulders and small rectangular coffin in his hands. He was standing at the middle of the road. Procession contiuned until just few feet away from him and stopped, funeral man calming the big animals.
Who are you and why do you interfere, one of the funeral man asked. Do you not see that this is funeral, hermit?
Voices behind the cart started to protest about the standstill as the hermit put his arm inside a a bag and took heavy leather pouch. He threw it and it hit the pavement, uncording.  Heap of gold coins spilled across the wet stone and dead silence followed. Everybody, even the most impatient members of her family fell silent for everybody recognized the act. Nobody saw it in many, many years but everybody heard about it. Ancient custom, old like this world itself, was playing in front of them. Wailing it was called, custom that allowed one to see his lost love once again and forbade anyone from interferring. Everyone now realised who that hermit was.
He came back but he came in vain. One single day too late.
One hundred to stop, hermit sad, his voice horase and weary as he slowly approched the cart. He put his right hand on her coffin, lowering his head.
One hundred to set her down, he sad, his voice almost inaudible now, threwing another pouch of cold coins, spilling them near the cart itself.
Silent wailing was heard, murmuring and sobbing. People cried and her family cursed but there was nothing anyone could do now. Ancient custom was blessed even by  Ecclesiarchy, accepted as a last means of saying goodby to beloved ones you were never allowed to love, not to mention that all gold spilled belonged to them. Still, it was very rare to see something like that, sometimes whole generations would pass inbetween two Wailings.



Funeral man were introduced in tradition and knew what has to be done after the words have been given. They removed coverings with family heraldry from the coffin and lowered it down slowly on the cold stone. With hammers and chisels they unpeged the coffin and opened it, then they steped away, lowering their heads in unison, murmuring prayers. Hermit came near the coffin and kneeled down. She was dressed in one of her favourite dresses and he rememberd her dancing in the same dress years ago, his eyes full of tears and with pain tearing his chest. Her face was pale yet beautifull, like carved from marble.
He took small metalic coffin he carried and opened it with a hiss. It was small stasis chamber and inside there were yellow fruits, fresh like it was picked just moments ago. One by one he put them inside coffin, near her hands and head. Then he kissed her cold cheek and stood up, took one last look and slowly closed the coffin. Without a word he turned around and walked in the fog, quiclky dissapearing.
He kept his word but he was late. His heart broken once and for all, soul crushed, mind veiled in burning despair, there was nothing left for him but death and he walked away to find it.
He broought her what she desired. Dunja, fruit more valuable than its weight in pure gold. Not just one as she asked, but more.
Eight.