Festum Gladius Chapter 24

Novak had always loathed the island continent of Ka Mua. On a world of pristine oceans and idyllic islands this land stood out for being an urban blight. Of the three dwarf continents, Ka Mua was the largest and most densely populated landmass, the others being a radioactive wasteland and a Mechanicus Forge. Ka Mua was in effect a continental transit hub, shipping materials from across the planet to orbit and back. It was the seat of government and industry, home to a billion filthy workers, brutal foremen, wealthy magnates and the political elite. It was ugly, crime-ridden, stinking and polluted and it was here the next trial would commence.

Novak stood in the rear of a Rhino transport and looked out upon the slums of Ka Mua. From here he could see the impoverished masses living out lives of toil and penury, scraping for coinage and food. The buildings were dilapidated and run down, the streets strewn with refuse and dung and his multi-lung itched as he inhaled smogs and chemical effluents. Beyond the convoy of Rhinos crowds gathered, held back by a line of mortal guards with riot shields and shock mauls. Many were looking with awe upon the Astartes' vehicle and their occupants, religious fervour mixed with jealousy of the finery of their gear. Some were even whispering among themselves of gaining the Space Marine's favour and ascending their sons into the ranks. A fool's dream, in Novak's opinion. The Storm Heralds rarely recruited from this benighted conurbation, the frail and sickly youths of the land unsuitable for the rigours of gene-ascension and the criminal gangs lacking any notion of honour and loyalty. Novak himself was an island lad, hardened by a childhood on the ocean wave and a culture endlessly hammered by the Emperor's Storm. Among the islanders one learned the values of strength, obedience and duty. Here one learned only deception and thuggery, useless stock for the Chapter.

Novak leaned back into the shadow of the troop compartment and wondered why they were here. To his astonishment the Feast of Blades was proceeding, forced through all opposition by Cato Sicarius's command. It seemed even murder and treachery was not enough to deter the High Suzerain of Ultramar from his path. It was almost admirable, the force of will required to hold to his task despite the vile uncertainties of tragedy. Or could it be a darker motive that drove the Commander of the Victrix Guard. If Novak's suspicions were correct and Cato Sicarius was working to eliminate the competition then he would not want the Feast to stop, no Astartes would quit the field of battle until the day was won, no matter the cost in blood.

Novak was keenly aware that he was alone and isolated from his Chapter. All the Champions were, scattered across Ka Mua for undisclosed reasons. Lips had been sealed shut as to the purpose of this visitation; whatever trial awaited them was going to be a surprise. Yet surely the murderers would not be so obvious. Novak's location would not be a secret to Phalros and his mysterious disappearance would trigger many alarm bells.

Cautiously Novak tuned his genhanced hearing into the chatter of the mortal attendants. Those not busy holding back the crowds of onlookers were grumbling to each other about the weather, the lack of shade, the smells and the stupidity of their task: in other words typical soldier's bellyaching. Novak heard no hint they were plotting murder but then they wouldn't do such a thing within earshot. For some time he had been ruminating over how he was supposed to probe into the conspiracy surrounding the Feast. He had boasted he would get the heart of the matter but the hard truth was he was trained as a warrior and swordsman, not an interrogator. How was he going to root out the truth, how did one tear secrets from a mortal without holding them up and beating them across the face? Most importantly how did he do this without alerting everybody he was digging into the affair? He had no answers and was at a loss as to how to proceed.

Thankfully then his vox chirped, summoning him to attend the Commander of the Victrix Guard. Novak stepped out of the Rhino and masked his feelings as he strode into a rundown hab-block, where he had seen Cato Sicarius disappear. He stepped into the drab building, noting the flaking paint on the walls where bare Ferrocrete was exposed. Armed guards waved him up a flight of rickety stairs, which creaked alarmingly under his armour's weight. Soon he reached the top floor and stepped through a waiting door, ducking and twisting to fit his bulk through the narrow opening.

He straightened up and found himself in a mouldy apartment. The floor was bare wooden boards; the bed was sagging and the cooker bare metal. The smell of a backed-up toilet haunted the place, stinking the room out and under that was a wet, mouldy tang. A glassic pane let in a little light but not much since it was coated in smudges. Nothing in the place spoke of a life of achievement or success, the soul who lived here had amounted to nothing and had no prospect of advancing their lot. It was a place where dreams went to die and life too, evident by the dead body propped up against a wall.

Novak was surprised to see the corpse of a man slumped in a corner, head sunk into an unmoving chest. Yet that was nothing compared to the sight of Cato Sicarius standing sternly in the middle of the room, looming over a gaggle of mortals. Novak cast his eye over them and saw a bald, muscular man with an interesting variety of tattoos standing next to the Ultramarine with a smug expression. Across from them were three emancipated figures, an elderly lady with arthritis in her hands. A gangly youth, twitching and scratching his arms continuously. His pupils were pinpoints and he was sweating profusely, coming down off some drug high no doubt. The last was a small man with rodent like features, huddled into himself as submissiveness oozed from his pores, yet his eyes were steady and watchful. A wretch of little import Novak guessed but one who saw far more than anyone knew and peddled this knowledge for coin.

Cato Sicarius looked at Novak and said, "Welcome to the next trial. What you see before you is the scene of a crime. A murder has been committed here, by one of these mortals. Your task is to determine who did this."

Novak blinked in shock as he exclaimed, "You want me to solve a murder?!"

"The Victrix Guard's purpose is to thwart murder, in battle or by insidious plot. We must be able to spot murderous intent from across a room, see the hidden blades and the truth hiding behind a false smile. You shall use all your wit and cunning to determine who in this room is a killer."

Novak nodded and tried to look confident but internally his mind was churning. Solving a murder was the next trial, it sounded eerily similar to the wider situation bedevilling the Feast. That wasn't a coincidence. Some subtle message Cato Sicarius was trying to convey, a hidden metaphor telling Novak something important. Or maybe it was a snub, rubbing Novak's face in the fact that he was failing to uncover the truth of the conspiracy. Cato Sicarius could be laughing at him even now.

Filled with doubt he turned to the mortal man saying, "Tell me of the victim."

The balding man stepped up and said, "I'm Garm, caretaker of this slum. May I say it's an honour to…"

"I don't need your life story, tell me of the dead man."

Garm swallowed nervously and said, "Guy's name was Tean, been a tenant here for a few years. Worked for anyone who would pay, as a runner and petty thief. Never had the reputation to join a gang, nor the muscle to make his own. A nobody, scraping along in life, trying to keep his head above water."

"Any known enemies?" Novak asked.

"Anybody who realised he was weak enough to push around."

Novak knelt by the body and looked closer. This Tean had lived a hard life, his frame was gaunt and his skin sallow. He hadn't seen much kindness in his life, beyond that which could be bought for a night. He hadn't passed peacefully, his face was bruised and his knuckles skinned where he had tried to fight back. The wall behind him was dented where he had been thrust against it repeatedly and choked to death. The purple marks around his throat attested that he had been strangled to death.

Novak left the body and faced the trio huddled in the corner. He addressed the old woman, "Who are you and what is your relationship to the victim?"

The elderly woman cowered, "Jocye m'lord, live next door. Tean paid me to do his laundry, that's all I swear."

"Where were you when he died?"

"Alone in my apartment when I heard an awful ruckus. Didn't look, know better than to look in this neighbourhood. First I knew was when the constables kicked my door down and dragged me in here."

"No witnesses to confirm your alibi," Novak mused as he turned to the weasel man and said, "And you?"

"Raley," the wretch muttered, "Passed jobs Tean's way on occasions. Sometimes he held stuff for me. Was heading this way when I heard the fight. Tried to run but ran straight into the constables. Tean was already dead. They must have been on their way here before the fight broke out, no way the lawmen would bother to turn up for one dead loser."

Novak turned to the last and said, "And you?"

"Whaaa…" the man slurred, "I'm Fundi, didn't see nothing."

"Don't give us that!" Garm spat, "You were here when I let the Constables in!"

"Silence," Novak growled.

"Don't trust a word he says, he's a drug addict. They'd kill a man for a hit without a pause."

"I said silence!" Novak spat, "You speak."

Fundi grumbled, "I was sleep, yeah. Didn't see anything. Slept the whole time, can't see, won't see. I know better than to see."

Novak glanced at the man's arms and saw the track marks, recent signs of drug use and repeated abuse of potent substances. The man was probably telling the truth when he said he hadn't seen anything, he'd been blind to the universe for hours. Though drug addicts could be violent too, if he was taking Slaught or Frenzon his aggression would be stoked to levels madmen could only dream of. He could have killed and not even remember it.

Novak straightened up and said, "I know who did this."

Cato Sicarius said, "Then tell me."

Novak glanced over the room and then lifted a finger to point at Garm and said, "He did it."

"What?!" Garm spluttered in shock.

Cato Sicarius didn't bat an eyelid as he stated, "Explain your reasoning."

Novak elaborated, "Smell the room, under the stink of crap. Drugs, flushed down the toilet. The dead man was trying to dispose of something, before the Constables turned up. This man killed him, trying to steal the drugs or punishing the man for not giving them up. How he knew they were here… I guess he saw Raley handing off the drugs and wanted them for himself, to sell or to use. Maybe he was planning to sneak in and steal them in the night but the Constables' raid forced him to move fast."

The man looked back and forth between the towering Space Marines, fear growing in his eyes as he spluttered, "It ain't true!"

But Cato Sicarius calmly stated, "You are ascribing motives and creating narratives out of nothing when you should be following the evidence. What facts do you have?"

Novak replied confidently, "The door is unmarked, it wasn't broken so whoever committed the murder had a key. The victim was held up against the wall and throttled to death. He was gaunt but fully grown, it takes strength to do that. None of these people has the heft to lift the victim, an old woman with arthritis, a man half his size and a wasted junkie. Only the caretaker has the size and strength required. Plus there is fresh scarring on his arms, the victim fought back. A clinical examination of the body will find skin cells under the fingernails, a simple genic trace will prove if I am right."

Cato Sicarius eyed him for a moment then said, "That will not be necessary, you are correct. Garm is the killer, I knew it the second I entered the room."

Garm's eyes widened as he pleaded, "It isn't true, he's lying! Don't take me to the Constables, I won't go to prison!"

"There is no need to waste the court's time with you," Cato Sicarius stated firmly as he reached out and placed a gauntlet on Garm's head, then with one twist rotated the skull sharply, snapping the man's neck. The sound of snapping vertebrae filled the room as the body fell lifelessly to the floor and Novak sniffed, "Doesn't Ultramar have some laws regarding Due Process?"

Cato Sicarius replied, "Ultramar has not grown to be the finest human dominion within the Imperium by allowing lawless thugs to proliferate freely. Macragge believes firmly in swift justice and the power of setting examples. You three, depart and make sure all hear of the Emperor's Judgement upon this place."

The mortals fled in a panic as Novak asked, "So have I passed this trial?"

"Yes," Cato Sicarius affirmed, "And I hope you learn the lesson."

"Lesson?"

"Stop indulging wild fantasies and start looking at what is right before you," Cato Sicarius answered before he swept out the door and departed.

Novak was left alone in the apartment with a pair of corpses as he pondered the cryptic message. The Ultramarine was trying to tell him something, to warn him off or lead him to an answer. It could be a threat, revealing he was aware of Novak's suspicions or a hint towards a deeper understanding. It could even be a misleading trail, intended to throw him off the scent entirely. The only thing Novak was sure of was that he was more confused than ever.