The archeologist's commission

Dearest Zarathustra, 

I trust this finds you well? I realise that it has been sometime since I had need of your unique skills and for this I can only apologise. Thanks to Slaanesh’s boundless generosity my circumstances have changed. We both have heard rumours of a great empire that had fallen to barbarians after reaching commendable heights in terms of raw sensation and most remarkably of all without the inspiration that the servants of the Youngest God can provide, due to its remote and mysterious location. Until now all efforts to discover the ruins of this place have been stymied. I say until now because a map has come into my possession, a copy of which I have enclosed. It appears that the civilization in question is the Sinian Empire, which is located in the region now known as the Tallowlands.

You can only imagine my excitement, for while as you know I possess arguably the greatest library of erotic literature in the eight realms and our blessed Cathedral of the Endless Consummation boasts five wings each devoted to a different collection of God-pleasing artefacts, in truth I fear we are becoming lax in our devotions. While my beloved Mineko continues to recite the classics with the perfect diction I and my congregation require, I fear repetition is causing her words to fall upon deaf ears. In short, we require novel sensation and I am looking to you, my dearest Zarathustra, to procure it for us. 

Seek out the ruins of lost Sinia, spare no expense and return to us all the works that have survived. Know that in doing so, you do the God’s work. But beware, if word has reached me, then it has surely reached less devote ears and I shudder to think of the few delicate wonders that remain being trampled on by the ignorant and unworthy. 

There is one more thing, you may have heard rumours of the God’s imminent return — I believe them with all my heart to be true. Each night I see glimpses of his divine countenance and I wake with my cushions stained with bloody tears. He will return and when he does it is vital that we celebrate my Darling Lord’s return with excesses the like of which the realms have never seen. For he will be thirsty for all that he has missed since his imprisonment. Of course, this necessitates complete knowledge of the revelries and debaucheries of the past and while we will of course fall short of this goal, we are far more likely to be able to offer up new and pleasing sensations to our lord if we know of those experienced in lost Sinia. 

Your loving patron,

Cardinal Xel’liath  

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Dearest Cardinal,

It gave me great joy to hear from you and I delight in renewing our correspondence. Rest assured that I will make all haste to the Tallowlands and will not return until I am certain that no more can be recovered from the remains of lost Sinia. I am pleased to hear that Mineko is still providing you with good service — I will remember her reading of The Essence of Wrong until my dying day. I attach my list of expenses — I realise that they are already considerable, but it was difficult to find a Kharadron Sky-Captain willing to travel so far from established trade-routes and I had to take additional measures to ensure his absolute discretion in this matter. 

I can only hope that the Sinian Empire was not as fond of snakes as the defenders of the Temple of Sanguinary Splendour. As you know, I can’t abide such creatures and all those who mirror their forms. Similarly, it would be pleasing if the food of the Tallowlands is more agreeable to my constitution than that of Aqshy — you may recall the time I was forced to terminate a duel through the judicious use of my pistol due to a particularly potent meal of desert rat marinated in fire-chilli sauce. 

On a more positive note, my initial research indicates that I can expect minimal Sigmarite interference and I will provide a complimentary summary of my findings regarding the Tallowlands and their suitability for conversion along with the items that you require (assuming of course that they have not already perished to time’s embrace). 

Yours in rapturous debasement, 

Zarathustra d’Jons