+++ In Orbit of Hive-World Narsi-Cola +++
The soul of an Inquisitor is a thing of beauty and grace, forged from the greatest of mankind's virtues: arrogance, hatred, belligerence, and, most importantly of all, faith in the God Emperor of Mankind.
Arch Ecclesiarch of Shrine World Hetepus, M35
The old woman sitting at the desk of polished Tanith wood at the end of the long, vaulted chamber pressed a hidden stud beneath her workspace; on the opposite side of the chamber, a pair of brass doors four men high hushed open. The woman inked the final touches on an assassination warrant for a troublesome Rogue Trader before slowly raising her hooded eyes. She observed the man that entered her sanctum: she noticed the awkwardness in his gait, which suggested a bionic left leg with a faulty hip connection; the chain sword and bolt pistol on his belt lacked any gilding or decoration, and bespoke of a utilitarian outlook that made the old woman nod slightly in approval. It took the man several minutes to make it to the seated crone, his gaze wandering amongst the tapestries and holopicts that hung and glowed respectively on the walls between massive armaglass windows. Apocalyptic scenes of alien nightmares being broken on the hammer of Imperial forces was a common theme, and the man appreciated that were it not for the Inquisitorial Rosarius around his neck he would be killed for knowing the events recorded had ever transpired. He had been taken off off the path of comfortable ignorance a lifetime ago, as it was his grim burden to intimately understand the horrors mankind faced.
"I am Inquisitor Salvarius Ilsk, and I have come here to answer your summons, Lord Inquisitor," boomed Salvarius when he stopped a good fifty feet from the woman's desk. His lack of a bow or suitable display of fealty to his superior would have made the Lord Inquisitor's hair stand on end, but over her career she had come to appreciate the self-righteous nature of her direct subordinates and peers left little room in their personality for politeness. "What could be so important as to call me away from my work in the Sub-Sector Mamam, right as my acolytes were about to excise a hive of the Genestealer strain!" The old woman narrowed her augmetic eyes, but otherwise remained stoic.
"I would first remind you of the personage you are addressing, Salvarius, and that it is at best unbecoming to bark at your superiors like a common mongrel," said the Lord Inquisitor with a tone that lacked any menace, but nevertheless promised unknowable cruelty if the advice was not taken. Salvarius remained unflagging, with a righteous anger simmering just below the surface of his gruff but statuesque features. A pause was born and stretched out as both individuals waited for the other to back down; neither so much as blinked. The Lord Inquisitor sniffed derisively, "Your mentor was right about you: always the first to speak his mind, and the last to back down."
"You have spoken with Inquisitor Vladimir?" asked Salvarius with a hint of shock.
"Yes. Vladimir resurfaced briefly after his sixteen-year long mission in the Arcadian Reaches. Two weeks prior, when I summoned you via astropathic communique, he stood in this very chamber and delivered some disturbing revelations to the Inquisition." Salvarius' indignation at being summoned from his duties was long forgotten, and he was subconsciously leaning forward with keen interest. "What he said is only known to me and my closest peers and is of such critical strategic value that the information in its entirety cannot be trusted to anyone else. Know then that what your mentor revealed has forced me to redeploy you immediately to the Arcadian Reaches." Salvarius was silent for a moment.
"Will I be joining my mentor in the Reaches?" he finally asked, "And will I be able to call my acolytes away from their current assignment in Mamam?
"Yes and no. Your acolytes will remain in Mamam and finish the xeno threat their before it metastasizes to other worlds, but you will be joining with Vladimir and doubtlessly be able to utilize his resources." The younger Inquisitor was about to ask a question when the ancient woman held up her hand, "and no, I cannot tell you what your mentor has discovered. The risk of the information reaching the wrong parties is too great, but Vladimir will fill you in when you arrive at your rendezvous point." The light in the room temporarily bloomed as, outside, a passing void ship ignited its plasma engines and rocketed out of view. Beyond the armaglass windows one could watch all the void traffic that passed through Port Anvil and the star scape of mankind's galactic dominion that lay beyond.
"You can not be serious," said Salvarius in disbelief, "an Inquisitor is only as effective as his retinue, and you cannot expect me to deal with an obvious threat to the Imperium without all the resources of my position!" Salvarius was fuming at the absurdity of leaving his trusted agents behind, but he was especially furious he had to beg his old mentor for aids like some failed apprentice.
"I am serious, and do not sell yourself short," the Lord Inquisitor theatrically picked up and scanned an open velum folder who's contents she had memorized days ago. "You have bested an Aeldari pirate's scheme to cart off an entire world's population, killing him and shattering his fleet in the process, put a coven of Necron worshipping hereteks to the torch, and single handedly cut down the Ork Warlord Spine Krumpa'." She gave Salvarius a long and evaluative look, "You'll manage just fine." Salvarius' knuckles were white as he nodded his reluctant admission. While he had technically been complimented, he could not shake the impression he had just been chided like a troublesome scholum brat.
"You have made your point, Lord Inquisitor. I only have one question then before I begin preparing: how has the last decade and a half treated my mentor?" The Lord Inquisitor's face, for the first time since he had arrived, showed emotion as it slowly contorted into a mask that lay somewhere between melancholy and grim resignation.
"Not well."