"The Emperor does not tell you to destroy the very authority keeping his rule in place! Listen to Him on Terra, but do not destroy us on Hexeril!"
Narpekl put down the amplifier. No great cheer came from the gathered mob; only a slow hiss, as if steam from the rebels' minds was escaping through their mouths.
All in all, this insurgency had the right reasons for rebelling, which was why Narpekl had for a long time supported the movement. Loyalty to the Emperor was never a bad thing. Despite that, the looting and demonstration had gotten out of hand eventually, and when Governor Kramm had tried to restore order, the looting had spread to government buildings.
Now, Narpekl was trying his best to prevent the situation from imploding completely.
"Please," he thought to himself, "let them listen."
But they didn't. Rough hands pushed Narpekl's back, and as the officer tried to find his balance, they knocked him down. Turning around, Narpekl saw a priest.
"Kneel! Your material government is nothing next to the immortal divinity of the Emperor. Your attempts to stop justice will not be tolerated!"
"Don't you see what you're doing?"
"We are doing the Emperor's will."
There was nothing Narpekl could say to stop the madness, and so he said nothing.
For a few minutes he lay there, mildly dazed, as the rally continued. He watched as Kramm's PDF appeared from the surrounding buildings and as the rebels refused to stand down. He saw the battle spill out, quickly turning into a massacre. He heard Kramm himself shouting orders, even as the last protesters were either shot down or running away. He observed the tumultous melee finally ending.
It brought tears to his eyes. Here was a movement, a true wave of faith in the Emperor- and here he was, forced to help in its destruction. There was no other way, though. The events of the last hour had shown that.
"We got lucky."
Narpekl turned to Kramm. "Perhaps."
"Why did you go to these "negotiations" anyway?"
The sub-governor had no answer. Thus, the two leaders of Hexeril walked back to the governor's palace in silence. Only as they entered the back doors did Kramm restart conversation.
"Narpekl, you were a fool. Now that that's over, though, we can focus on actually winning this civil war. Do you have any more ideas on what to do?"
"Kramm, we've talked about this. We need to send for help."
"I already have."
"Really?"
Kramm grinned. "The Astartes were close by, and apparently someone suspects that the uprising is Chaos-linked. We're getting Space Marines in twenty days."
It was "in twenty days".
Narpekl gazed outside his iron-barred window. There, the capital burned. Hymns to the Emperor and Terra were being sung on the ruins of shops and houses.
Civilization was no more.
In many places, the wandering mobs were being held back by dedicated militias. The capital had not been as fortunate. Only the palace still stood, its gold-tipped, force-fielded spire a monument to human failure and divine inaction.
Kramm stood at the room's entrance, no doubt with some important news. Narpekl didn't have to let him in. He could just as easily simply stay locked in, meditating on his failures. But he couldn't- not when there was any hope he could yet right them.
"Come in."
The governor tested the door, found it unlocked, and entered.
"The Astartes have arrived."
"Let's go meet them, then!" Narpekl sprang up with somewhat more excitement than he actually felt. It was necessary that the ambassadors believed themselves to be welcome, after all, no matter how hard it was to welcome someone to a castle after twenty days of siege.
"This way."
Narpekl went, tracing the corridors to the Great Hall. Here, near the collapsed ceremonial entrance, two giants stood. It was immediately obvious something was wrong with their blue-green armor; it was rather more worn than Narpekl would expect, but more importantly, it was anointed with dark and illegible symbols, and the helmets were topped with twin horns.
"Kramm, are you sure these are the Astartes we wanted?"
"These certainly are the Astartes we wanted," said Kramm, though his tone was a worried one. "Narpekl, I hope that you-"
"We have come to deliver your planet to the light of Chaos from the madness of the False Emperor," one of the Space Marines said, "and you will join us or die."
That certainly made it clearer.
"I hope you join," the governor mumbled.
"What have they done to you?"
"Nothing! But this world has had a great impact on me. It's interesting, Narpekl, how little I have truly changed, even with the Legion's help. An assassination here, some fiery demagoguery there, and then the rebellion appears. Yet the result will be completely different from where this planet started." Kramm was far more relaxed now. "I hope that you will remain in this new order, Narpekl."
Kramm. Kramm had orchestrated all this!
"Don't overvalue yourself, "Kramm". We did most of the work, and you know it."
"You are the masters, of course."
Narpekl knew now. He had to tell! Running towards the somewhat cleared exit, the official zigzagged, two lazily fired bolter shells screaming past. Tumbling through the damaged opening, the sub-governor screeched out onto the street. There were no more rallies outside: only the fires, and sanctified criminals running around. One of them appeared, for a second, in the top window of the building across.
The lasbolt from his gun impacted moments after.
As the last drops of Narpekl's blood flowed onto the ground, he saw the governor- now shirtless, abandoning all pretense of formality- follow him out, escorted by the Astartes. Above, the atmosphere burned with what Narpekl guessed to be drop-pod trails.
"Farewell, friend," the traitorous Kramm said, but Narpekl's eyes focused on the hydra symbol tattooed on his shoulder. Then, they closed.