- Chapter 1 -
The cathedral hummed with the blessed chants of prayer, consumed by the holy words of faith and protection by the God-Emperor who watches over humanity with a firm hand and a strong will. The organs played with them in song, calming even the grimmest of mind if not for the recent events that the child had undergone. In the seemingly endless empty chairs littering the large cathedral's interior there he sat in blessed loneliness, letting the sweet sound try to suppress his troubled thoughts. Recent events had left him in disarray. No, he didn't want to think of it for too long. He was here to find peace, not remain trapped in a prison of the past.
One of the Imperial Priests, an elderly man who looked as if he was a preacher with his robes adorned with purity seals, walked up to him and quietly sat next to the single child. "I can see it in your eyes that something troubles you. Would it be fair to assume that you are the one the Orphanage is taking in?" The priest spoke with the soothing grace of the praying choir, regarding the child as a father would a son. Yet the youth remained quiet, fixating his eyes on the artistic depictions of the God-Emperor engraved into the cathedrals glass windows. The priests, silent for a brief moment in time, picked on up his lack of words as if coming to accept the realization that he should not expect a response. "What happened was a tragedy, but it was by the God-Emperor's will that you are still alive and still among the faithful. You should consider that a blessing. And when we live in an age and strife, we take such blessings were we can."
The child could almost feel a single tear, of rage and sadness, began to emerge from his right eye. He felt angry at the world, at the universe. He had been told of how justice always won out, that in the end things the universe would be set right as long as we remain pure of heart and faithful in our worship in the blessed God-Emperor. But how was he supposed to believe that when his home would now be forever deserted, with nothing but ruin remaining in its hollow halls. The priest noticed his shift of feeling, the child clinching his fist in anguish and eyes consumed with grief. "Child, we all have lost something over the course of our lives. It is a part of the path the God-Emperor has set for us. It molds us into who we are and what we shall become. To be lost in grief does nothing to bring them back." Putting a restful hand on the child's shoulder, the priest smiled with false security and with eyes that held within a sense of concern. "Your father may be among the dead, but know that the God-Emperor would not have wanted his death to hold you back. Turn that grief into purpose."
The child's tear finally shed itself free and dropped soundly to the stone floor below, the child's mind being lost and confused as to what to feel. He wanted justice, to avenge his parents in some way. But what could he do? He was not old enough to take action, not old enough to extract revenge on an unfair universe. So he held his hatred within, safeguarding it for future use. He made a promise that day, the day he lost everything, one that promised that he would see justice done. If not to those who wronged him, than to all who sought havoc and ruin to humanity. It was all he could promise, and even then the kid didn't know if such a thing could truly be achieved. So he did the only thing he could do now. Be quiet, keep it inside, and wait. The elder picked up on his lacking desire to speak and, making ready to leave, arose from his chair and went on his way just as another man walked up to the child. An Arbite, clad in the armor befitting an Investigator, walked the child's side and knelled down so that his eyes would meet the child's own. "It's time to go, lad." The words were not a question, but a demand. The child waited a moment, as he locked eyes with his armored guardian, silently nodded in acknowledgment. And with that, he accepted his fate.
-Present Day-
Darkness shrouded the dimly lit room as the lone, armored figure sat down in his metallic office chair, scavenging through numerous files and decaying old books within his own personal and elegantly crafted carrying case covered in purity seals and imperial markings. The only light source within the room was a small, slightly burnt candle housed inside an old wooden holder. It was his own personal candle, as he preferred the erring dark and what little natural light the candle produced as it radiated off enlightenment and released a smell of smoothing smoke that calmed the senses. It reminded the mysterious figure so much of his time in the libraries of the Schola Progenium, from where he studied the Lex Imperiali and the Book of Judgement extensively for hours on end in his quest to fully understand the holy laws of the Imperium in its entirety. Thinking back reminded him of the chanting, the peace of the calming organ playing in harmony with the voices of holy prayer. How he wished to return one day, just to hear them play again. But such was wishful thinking, something he had little time to indulge in.
The old papers he scurried through were specific documents of important Imperial court cases with his own notes scribbled onto them with a classical ink pin that has been with his family for millennium. Being the last of his bloodline, the honor and horror of carrying with him the last hallmark of his family's existence was unnerving to say the least. However, he kept it with him and continued to use it in hopes that the legacy of the dead shall guide his hand towards the path of enlightenment just as the candle did the room. The lone figure gently brushed his hand against the files in a flurry of movement, scraping his armored gauntlet against delicate paper until he came upon his single data-slate buried underneath a few documents. Sweeping the papers aside and gripping its firmly in his right hand, the man pulled it out, closed the carrying case shut, and put the slate into a simple leather carrying pouch on his belt just as a knock struck his room door's exterior. It was time to leave.
Without much effort, he used his gloved fingers in a successful effort to snuff out the lone candle's defiant flame as it hissed out of existence and into a final breath of smoke. As he made to stride out of his quarters, a low metallic growl emerged from the shadows of the doorway. The man let out a loud hissing sound from his lips, and the growling subsided. As if nothing had happened, the man pressed open the door's control panel as to unleash the locked door from the confines of the wall and let free the light from the hallway as to bath him in blinding illumination. The Cyber-Mastiff whimpered at the sudden change of lighting and backed away into the dark corners of the room as the Investigator of the Adeptus Arbites ventured forth to see that the Imperium remains protected by the injustice of an unfair universe.
As the door to his quarters closed once more, Lysander Cariaso turned to face one of the Inquisitorial Stormtroppers standing firmly at attention nearby. "I assume my presence has been requested?" His up-front and get-to-the-point vocal tone was very calm yet subtly demanding in vocal intensity, something that complemented the authority of his bodily presence and badge of office. The Stormtroopers, whose helmet hid their identities, simply nodded and gestured for him to follow.
It was a silent trip to their targeted destination. He knew what was likely about to happen, what he was likely needed to do. Did he have second thoughts? Any questions? Perhaps, but he wasn't inclined to share such thoughts with anyone else. Not at the Arbite station before boarding the Valkyrie nor during the long flight to the designated landing zone. Not a word.
The artificial lighting inside the Valkyrie now radiated a crimson red, often serving as a foreboding reminder of an approaching bloodbath. At least it did for Lysander, anyway. One got used to it, made comparisons to the reality that one was likely about to be dropped straight into the middle of a warzone. Even with such grim feelings towards the ship, the loud engines of their transport acted like soothing war drums beating proudly in defiance to those who would dare challenge its dominance of the skies. In truth, the Valkyrie was the closest thing a many within the Astra Militarum have to a home, given the amount of time they spend inside of them. Something about the transport made them feel secure, as much as the weapon in their hands did. The Schola Progenium forced him and other orphans to undergo combat training as if it were real, preparing them for a universe that knew only war. In some ways, he missed those training drills. But he couldn't turn his back on his past, no matter how hard he tried. Being an Arbite was the only call he could answer, a call he still does.
After what felt like a brief period of time, the Valkyrie began to slow in speed. The pilot could be heard over the intercoms just as the lights changed from blood red to emerald green. "Approaching LZ. Prep for landing and exit. ETA 60 seconds." The words were hard to make out over the slight static of the intercoms as a result of the majority of the transport's power shifting over to the Valkyrie's landing gear. His armored gauntlets gripped firmly onto his safety harness as the ship shook about mildly with the sounds of metal clanged against each other. After a few moments of destabilization, the transport came to a halt and the Valkyrie's doors unlocked and automatically opened so that the passengers inside could quickly depart.
The stars shined weakly in the cloudy night sky, the full moon offering a glimmer of its holy radiance on the planet's surface below as light pellets of snow bombarded the landscape, coating the ground with a bright white shine, as Lysander unstrapped the Valkyrie's safety harness that kept him secure in his seat and made his way out of the hollowed insides of the Valkyrie. It wasn't a long trip, as it felt as if only an hour had passed since he had taken leave from the city of Arboreal towards the planetary capital of Fidem, the center of trade and prosperity for Principium. The landing was quick and smooth, surprising considering the slight blizzard. The fresh air assaulted the sense made for the exit, and Lysander breathed it in with as much vigor as he would ale before taking a step off the metallic flooring of the aircraft and into the stone ground on the pavement below. His thick, unbuttoned trench coat covered much of his Carapace Armor and kept him protected from the cold winds that chilled his exposed, aging face. He wished silently to himself that he had brought his helmet, as it often safeguarded against such annoyances, but a selfish hate of its uncomfortable nature and the sight imperilment of his field of view made it a hindrance rather than a benefit. For now his short, dark brown hair and the stubble that remained from his morning shave was all that could help him fight against the cool winter breeze.
Imperial Stormtroopers stood at attention nearby before another Arbite, a Judge given his more pronounced attire with a golden trim along the edges and a Judge's insignia at the center of his breastplate, made a stride from the Administratum build's exit just behind him as to approach the new arrival. The soothing sound of the Valkyrie's engines echoed across the winter sky, making it hard to make out the words of the Judge's words. Lysander could only assume it was a greeting, given the wave gesture that was exchanged between them. Once he was close enough to make out his what he was saying, the man finally spoke with a sense of clarity. "Investigator Lysander! Good to see you make it with such swiftness." The voice was calm and level-headed, one that Lysander knew in an instant. He'd have guessed it sooner, if not for the helm hiding the iconic scar that looked like an "X" that resided over the Judge's noise and right eye, but now he knew for sure.
"It's damned good to see you again, Thoren. I just wish it was under better circumstances." Lysander let loose a small smile from his lips, a rarity on his part, and was met with a much broader one by his old comrade.
"Aye, that it is. But such is the case when subject to Inquisitional authority. Regardless, we must make haste least we keep the Inquisitor waiting."
Lysander was interrupted in his forthcoming reply by the sound of rapid clanking of metallic moment coming from beside him. Curious to the noise, and its growing intensity, the Investigator stopped in his tracks, the words he wished to speak paused in time, as he turned to see his Cyber-Mastiff growl as it was assaulted by snow. It was not found of rain or snow, a fact that amused him to know end. Perhaps a fear of rust was the cause, but Lysander could never tell. Lysander went to kneel down and raise a hand to his Mastiff, signaling for it to stop. The Mastiff barked once in excitement while the Arbite patted it firmly on the head. "Quiet. Now's not the time", he muttered before getting back on his feet and signaling that it should follow him closely. Now with his trusty companion, Lysander made to gesture that they make for the Administratum building that held within the Inquisitor he currently sought.
Pushing past the previously sealed doorway, the hiss from the building's warm air conditioning assaulting them as the door hissed open upon approach, Lysander walked beside Thoren as they made their way to the office of the Planetary Governor. Or rather the former office of the Planetary Governor, considering what had recently transpired. Murder had a bad habit of coming up on a daily basis on a Hive World like this one, but that of a Governor was another matter? It was heretical to even think of such a thing, but for it to actually transpire was the current reality they now faced. At first, Lysander had expected the news of an Inquisitorial investigation to be put down the worries of many. Unfortunately, the death of an acolyte under said Inquisitor's employ did nothing to help the matter. That much was obvious. What was not obvious was the reasoning behind his being summoned to the capital after having been specifically requested. Regardless of the intention, Lysander was eager, if rather uneasy, to serve in his own way.
"Do you know why you've been brought here in the first place?" The words were quietly muttered by Thoren as they made to stride past the series of decorations of important Imperial figures that adorned the walls of the Administratum building, one that made it feel more like a royal palace instead of an office of law and authority.
Lysander shaked his head slightly in a gesture of confusion. "I don't, actually. The reasoning as to why I am here is a luxury I was not given the right to indulge."
"Bullshit." Thoren froze in place and put up his right arm over Lysander's chest, stopping him in his tracks. "You know damned well why your here, lad. Or are you forgetting that time you helped locate that chaos cult a few years back. Almost had enough sacrifices to bring the whole city on its knees."
"That wasn't just me..." Lysander attempted to answer, frustration clear in his voice, but Thoren had none of it.
"You were at the helm of that case, lad! You had compiled key pieces of evidence and you were there during that final raid. You may not like it, but that put you in the spotlight."
Lysander forcefully shoved Thoren's arm off of his armored chest plate, his aggravation growing at Thoren's attitude. His Mastiff growled in defense of his master, but the Investigator signaled for it to be silent with but a wave of his hand. "A leader is nothing without his followers, Thoren! I was but one man in a case being pursued by dozens of like minded Arbites. But I am not blind to the fact that it has been noticed. Yet regardless of my "achievements", I still fail to see how that one case overshadows the accomplishments of others on this planet. You, for example, have done far more than I have to deserve..."
"I recommended you to the Inquisitor." Thoren's quick interruption came as a surprise to Lysander, his shock apparent on his face. "I'm the one that put your name forward as a replacement for the investigation into the Governor's death. He wanted to see if anyone on the planet was worthy of replacing his lost acolyte, and I told him you'd be a fine candidate." Lysander was at a loss for words, time standing still for the briefest of moments. He didn't know what to feel, or rather he knew not what feeling to embrace in a sea of emotion. What does one say in the face of such praise? To deny it was redundant, to say no when he knew he was needed... heretical.
Thoren, seeing his lack of responsiveness, smiled widely and choose to answer for him. "You'll do fine, lad. Just stay alert and listen to what he tells you, and I'm sure you'll know what to do." The Judge patted the Investigator's shoulder plate, a gesture of reassurance, and waved his hand as for him to follow the elder Judge's lead. Lysander gave a nod of acceptance and, remaining silent, resumed course to the former Governor's office. It was beginning to be an interesting day, that much was certain.
-Author's Notes-
And thus ends our first glimmer into of a series of chapters I plan on writing over the course of... however long it takes me to finish the blasted thing. I hope you enjoy it for what it is, seeing as it is the first fanfic I have ever written in my life. Any feedback is appreciated, and I hope that you'll continue reading it as I update this tale of mystery and suspense over the coming months. (Also note that future chapters are planned to be longer. This chapter was rushed out to generate interest.)