His wrists now bound behind his back as well as his ankles with pairs of strong wrist binders Attelus couldn't help believe made from adamantium he knelt on the floor. They'd restored the lights, and he was surrounded by a dozen Sons who him covered with their autoguns, as though their lives depended on it. They sure weren't taking any chances with him, and Attelus couldn't blame them. The autoguns they wielded were, indeed, Armageddon Patterns; At the same time, they didn't fire as many rounds as a standard autogun; they more than made up for it with stopping power and reliability.

Inquisitor Draven paced back and forth, his attention to the floor seeming lost in thought. They were in the cavernous main counting hall where all the prisoners knelt in shaking terror hands on their heads. The stink of old body odour mixed new body odour was thick in Attelus' nostrils so bad it made his eyes water.

Attelus knew of Draven but, until now, had never met him. Jelcine Enandra had informed Attelus of him. Draven had been another of Inquisitor Devan Torathe's students a long time ago before Enandra. From what Attelus understood, Draven had left the Calixis Sector not long after his ascendency from Interrogator to work in the Askellon Sector, far to the galactic east of the Calixis Sector. Attelus couldn't blame him for wanting to escape the corrupt and accursed Calixis Sector. Enandra and had Draven never got along; Draven was a highly religious Amalathian and Enandra, well, wasn't. Attelus had a good idea why Draven was here. The conditions of the death of his former master and the destruction of Omnartus was highly, highly classified even inside the Inquisition; only Enandra and Lord-Inquisitor Caidin of the Ordos Calixis and the three heads of the Ordo Hereticus, Ordo Malleus and Ordo Xenos knew. Well, them and Inquisitor Tybalt, their ally of convenience during the Omnartus Incident who had travelled all the frigging way from Segmentum Pacificus chasing leads which led him to Omnartus. As far as Attelus knew Brutis "Bones" Tybalt had gone back. So, had Draven travelled here to find answers? Did he know of Inquisitor Enandra's more radical tendencies and come to bring her down? Why was he after Attelus and his people here on Iocanthos? Attelus could guess that, too, Draven wanted to use him and his people as hostages to leverage Enandra. Not just that, but Enandra had what could be described as an incredibly skilled and disciplined private army, and the Calixis Sector was her own home-ground, so to speak if he began an Inquisition civil war with her. Which wouldn't be the first time, nor the last time the Inquisition went to war with itself over the millennia.

In all honesty, that Draven showing up now was suspicious as all hell. Was he being manipulated by Etuarq? Etuarq has manipulated many Inquisitors over the years; Edracian, Torathe, and their current quarry Soloston were the only ones they knew of. By the Emperor, they didn't need this now and where the frig was Kalakor? Did they know about him? Knowing Kalakor, he was just watching to gather data on this and might just intervene only when really needing to. The Sons of Dispater were good, damned good. But there was no way in the warp they'd be able to find him.

The doors swung open, and a withered, short man in a beige overcoat. His head was shaven, and pipes ran from the back of his skull. He carried a wooden staff with an Aquila at its head which he grasped with both gloved hands. This was obviously Draven's pet psyker; he seemed perhaps, primaris, specialised Imperial Battle-Psyker, no wonder the astropath died such a messy death.

Draven turned and stomped over to the psyker.

As Attelus watched the Inquisitor, he caught Kolmoroff's unreadable gaze. She was shaking, staring at him, and Attelus managed what he hoped was an encouraging smile and nod. She didn't smile, but she did nod back.

The psyker and Draven met near the entrance; Attelus felt the psychic connection between them, and he frowned. He was hoping to eavesdrop, but even if they didn't speak psychically, they'd have some super complicated cant he had no hope to decode.

Draven and the psyker seemed to speak for about half a minute before Draven, and the psyker began to storm towards Attelus. Draven then tossed Attelus' micro-bead; it hit Attelus on the chest before falling on the floor.

'Your private vox network was impossible to hack into,' said Draven. 'I am impressed, but now we have full access thanks to having your vox-link. I should not be surprised, you do work for Jelcine Enandra, and she only uses the best.'

Attelus shrugged; he wanted to point out that was just one of the many reasons why Draven shouldn't be making her an enemy but wisely bit his tongue.

'Why? Why are you doing this?' Attelus said instead.

Draven shared an exaggerated confused look with the psyker. 'I thought you might have figured that out already.'

Attelus frowned and said nothing that was an interrogation technique to cause him to blurt out his assumptions which may or may not hold a piece of information Draven didn't know.

The Inquisitor raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. 'Worth a try, I suppose. It seems I have underestimated you again. How about I cut straight to it then? Subtlety can be so very overrated. As I am sure you have guessed, I have come all the way to this crap hole of a world for answers and a bargaining chip, I suppose. I think you and I should make a deal.'

It was Attelus' turn to raise an eyebrow. 'A...deal?'

'Yes, indeed.'

Attelus sighed. 'And let me guess, I answer your questions, and you won't have that psyker mind-rape the shit out of me to find them?'

What seemed like a smile crossed behind Draven's beard. 'Not exactly. I was actually going to play a game of "question exchange," you ask me a question, which I will answer, then I get to ask you one back and forth and so on and so on.'

Attelus couldn't hide his surprise.

'And besides, I suspect that if good Kitril here tried to scan your thoughts, it would take God-Emperor only knows how long to breakthrough whatever mind block you have and might burn out your brain in the process. You are too valuable to kill, Attelus Kaltos.'

'"Too valuable to kill," as of now, you mean?'

'A cynical, but an understandable assumption. Now, I answered your question. You answer mine.'

'I didn't agree to your "deal", Draven. And you answered my question in the most vague, unhelpful way imaginable.'

With a sigh, Draven drew his bolt pistol, turned and shot one of the adepts through the chest.

Ignoring the cries and screams of fear, Draven looked back at Attelus. 'You killed that man, you smart mouth to me again or refuse me; I will kill another. You are lucky that I have not brought you up to my ship and placed you on the rack.' Understood.

Clenching his teeth, Attelus nodded. He wanted to tell this idiot he was killing innocent Imperial citizens who had nothing to do with anything that he should be protecting, not murdering them to blackmail information! Jelcine said that Draven was a conservative Amalathian, which meant they worked their hardest to co-operate with Imperial institutions and fight to keep the status quo, no matter how objectively shitty it was. This act was against almost everything an Amalathian would stand for. It seemed over the decades Draven had been radicalised or lost his damn mind.

Or just a hypocrite, an Inquisitor who was a hypocrite? Impossible!?

Draven studied Attelus, his thin fingers stroking through his beard. 'If I ask you a question and I think you are not telling me the truth, well...You will have another death on your conscience; you slaughtered so many Sons of Dispater I doubt they will want me to employ them ever again. Not that it would matter.'

Attelus said nothing, just fixed Draven with a glare. Draven held his gaze, smirking behind his beard. 'So, you now agree to my deal?'

'Yes...'

'Of course you do,' said Draven. 'You might have all the combat skill and inhuman reflexes, but all of that means nothing, nothing when you face me. Especially when you are held back by naive sentiment like you, Throne Agent Kaltos.'

By the Emperor, this shit head sounded just like Attelus' father. 'Can you please just ask your question?'

Sudden rage glazed Draven's eyes, and he aimed his bolt pistol at another adept.

'Alright! Alright! I'm sorry. I won't talk back again. I understand; I'm a naive fool, just please don't kill anyone anymore.'

Draven sneered, and even behind his beard, it was one of the ugliest expressions Attelus had ever seen, but Draven still lowered his pistol. 'Absolutely pathetic, you truly are one of Enandra's lackeys. How did Inquisitor Devan Torathe die?'

The abrupt bluntness of the question caught Attelus off guard, but that was the point. The vision Faleaseen showed him of the literal blood-soaked bridge of Torathe's vessel, which Attelus had long ago forgotten the name of, and the dozens of corpses lying everywhere, Torathe among them. His glazed eyes staring at the ceiling, his throat rendered open.

'I...I don't know, in all honesty.'

Drevan's eye twitched, and he then his pistol at a guard.

'Wait. Wait, by the Emperor, just wait. I...I think his throat had been cut, but I wasn't there when he was killed. I have never been told who did it or how I swear.'

Drevan sneered and lowered his pistol. 'Half-truths do not work on me, boy.'

'I-I wasn't trying-'

'Just shut it! Now, you ask your question.'

Attelus' swallowed as it finally dawned on him how out of his depth he was; Inquisitor Draven could read him like Torris would read the average person. His earlier boast of: "'You might have all the combat skill and inhuman reflexes, but all of that means nothing, nothing when you face me" wasn't an idle one. But ironically, Attelus was telling the truth initially, as he didn't truly know how Torathe died. If he'd learned anything from working with Faleaseen over the years was that the future was a fluid thing no matter how skilled one was at far sight. This was shown in the vision Faleaseen had shown him just after Omnartus' destruction of a glimpse of blood-soaked war-torn Sarkeath. What she showed didn't even happen, and she claimed the person he spoke to in the vision changed each time she looked. Attelus had talked to Adelana in the vision, but sometimes it was Torris or even Arlathan Karkin who hadn't even come with them to Sarkeath. Torathe had died, but he might not have died by his throat being cut; it could've been hundreds or thousands of other ways. Attelus wouldn't know until either Arlathan or Inquisitor Enandra or one of the others who had come upon that scene told him.

'H-how are you here on Iocanthos?'

Drevan shared a look with the psyker again and seemed to begin to answer, but his micro-bead beeped, and he took it.

He answered with an: 'Mhmm,' and an "Uh-huh," then a "Yes, understood." Before he switched off his link and looked back to Attelus, smirking almost from ear to ear. 'The Refectory has been secured by my men, and your people have surrendered. Although, I do have a few questions about certain members of your entourage.'

Attelus grimaced, hoping like hell he wasn't referring to Kalakor and rather how the Elbyran Contingent and Sovrithian soldiers were there.

Drevan studied Attelus for a few seconds before shaking his head. 'Now, back on the subject at hand. You wish to know how we are here? We had arrived in orbit of Scintilla a few days after you and your team had gone; we had found this via my acolyte's scoring over lead after lead. Eventually, we found that you, under an alias, had bought passage on The Calamandastron. The intended destination was not recorded, but my extremely skilled Navigator managed to calculate its intended destination. So, using our powerful warp drive, we managed to catch the Calamandastron. But actually, we overtook it and had to wait a day for its arrival at the Hredrin Star System. When captain Durpount and his ship emerged from warp space, we intercepted him, and we found no sign of you and your team on board. So, after some convincing, Durpount informed me that, despite the fact you originally were going to travel with him all the way to the Canopus but you had him take a detour to the Iocanthos system where you and your Guncutter left his ship, then went and disappeared. So we came here. I sent down agents to the surface in secret to try to locate you, but they found nothing. Nothing at all, so I guessed that you had left the system by taking a ride with another star-ship. One that has no official record of being here. But, yet, something in my gut said you would come back to Iocanthos, so I waited and lo and behold, you and your people just happen to walk up to the gates of Port Suffering waving your icon. So, now, here we are. Does that answer your question?'

Attelus stared up at Drevan with wide eyes, surprised the Inquisitor would give him such a candid answer, but eventually he managed to nod and went to ask why he'd gone to so much trouble, but Drevan hushed him with a raised hand. 'That was my answer to your one question, Attelus Kaltos, I might be a ruthless bastard, but I keep to my word. You, I know, do not. Now it is my turn.'

A frown crossed Attelus' face; Drevan was probably telling him this because he would kill him; too bad Drevan didn't know he was a perpetual.

So far as Attelus knew, anyway.

'Why did Torathe die?'

Attelus' eyes fell to the floor, unable to handle the intensity in Drevan's watering eyes. 'He...he had fallen. Fallen into radicalism, not into dealing with daemons but the opposite way, he'd lost his sanity and became an extremist Libricar.'

Drevan's eyes narrowed.

'He had ordered the destruction of Omnartus. So you see, we had to take him down before he could do more damage.'

'I am not sure I believe you.'

'You seem like you know everything about me and know when I'm lying. Do I seem to like I'm lying now?'

Drevan smirked, and it was then Attelus realised his mistake. 'No, you do not seem to be lying, or at least you believe you are not lying. That is your question.'

Attelus glanced at the Primaris psyker who had been watching Attelus most of the time with his grey, dead eyes. Attelus had already forgotten his name and didn't care to try to remember it.

'Eyes on me, Attelus Kaltos,' snarled Draven. 'Hredrin, get to the Refectory and confirm or deny Attelus' story.'

Attelus looked back to Draven, he couldn't sense any psychic activity from the psyker, but perhaps he was trying to do something to Attelus' mind so subtle he couldn't feel it. Although Attelus doubted it, he wouldn't be able to pry any truth no matter how subtly, as Karmen Kons couldn't even read his surface thoughts unless Attelus allowed it. That and Primaris psykers weren't known for their subtlety, but there were always exceptions to the rule, and this powerful bastard was unlikely the only psyker working in Draven's Warband.

Draven seemed to tower over Attelus even more now, like one of the mile-high saint statues on Scintilla.

'Why?' said Draven. 'Why did my former master order the death of Omnartus?'

Attelus dropped his head into a sigh. 'That-that, Inquisitor, is one frigging long, long story. I'll try to give you the abridged version. He received an astropathic communication from an old ally of his, an Inquisitor Edracian, baring an image of Torathe's long-dead daughter and Interrogator at the time, Amanda Heartsa and saying something I still don't know. Whatever it was caused Torathe to lose his mind, take control of an entire Space Marine chapter, then have Omnartus and all of its twenty billion innocent people to die...Burning.'

The Inquisitor grinned. 'And I can tell that you played a part in that...incident a part you deeply, deeply regret. Traumatised by it, maybe.'

Fighting back tears, Attelus nodded. 'Yes, I do. I truly do.'

Draven's grin twisted into something even more ugly than his earlier sneer. 'Oh, I am afraid your "Abridged" version is not enough. Not even close. You are going to tell me all of it and in that relive your trauma, and I am going to enjoy every second of it. And do not worry about how long it will take; as you can see, I have complete control of the situation, so I have all the time in this God-Emperor forsaken galaxy.'

Attelus fought back a smile; excellent, yes, you keep on believing that.

Karmen had gathered everyone into the banquet room, including dozen or so house staff, and everyone had left their weapons in the corridor outside before the mercs burst through the door and screamed at them to "get down!". Now everyone was all on their knees, hands on their heads as the twenty or so mercenaries watched on. Adelana frowned, trying to ignore the aching in her legs. Great, frigging great, she was on her way to escape this crap but now being forced back into it.

Karmen knelt only a few metres away from Adelana, a psy jammer collar around her neck, and Adelana wondered if it was nearly strong enough to hold back her power, or at least she hoped so.

Even with her psychic power gone, Karmen still noticed Adelana looking at her as her large, strange eyes shot to Adelana. Adelana didn't avert her gaze and gave Karmen a small nod which the psyker returned.

Adelana looked away and back to the doors, imagining Attelus bursting in, his power sword flashing as it slaughtered the guards.

But of course, it didn't happen; from what Karmen said, he'd got himself captured...again. Went off alone to check an astropathic communique at the Counting House; how frigging typical he even had an inkling it was a trap. Although to be fair to him, no one expected something on this scale.

Something else seemed off to her, in a good way, though. She knew Kalakor wasn't here, but someone else was...was.

Dellenger, Dellenger hadn't come with them into the dining room.

Adelana couldn't help smile. If anyone could save them, it'd be him.

Kneeling in the rain on the roof of one of the jury-rigged shacks hidden beneath his cameleoline cloak, Dellenger watched through his scope the enemy guards patrolling the Refectories and east of that, the Counting House. They were good, frigging good, but compared to him; they were green Velrosian troopers who had were naturally talented and had the ambition to join the scout-corps, but not the skill. In truth, he'd been secretly listening into the vox traffic the whole time and had caught the call from this Inquisitor Drevan ordering Karmen Kons to surrender; he'd managed to record most of it too. This had allowed Dellenger to make up his bed and slip out just out a window and dodge the enemies closing on the compound.

Dellenger frowned; if he could slip in there and free Karmen and the others, they might be able to take out the guards without alerting the ship targeting the Refectories in orbit, but damn, that'd be a long shot. He didn't bother with switching the scope to low-light vision as the enemies were wearing syn skin, but he didn't need to; Dellenger could make out their shimmering silhouettes being beaten on by the rain; fifty of them patrolled around the walls and almost everywhere, even the roof. They were professional, to say the least, and weren't taking any chances, but they were employed by an Inquisitor, after all.

But did they want to die along with their enemies? That'd take one hell of a fanatical mindset; a Chaos Cultist would do it willingly, but.

Again, Dellenger had to remind himself these were Throne Agents, not "normal" warriors or even "normal" humans. But neither was he.

He looked over to the Counting House and found that the same way, crawling with frigging enemies. Dellenger then raised his attention to the sky and the camouflaged ship hovering over the Counting House. Dellenger could only thank his luck; he hadn't been detected by it, but he supposed he'd be just one heat signature among thousands, but if he approached...

A shiver coursed through Dellenger; it was a familiar feeling, a rush of adrenaline when his instinct screamed someone or something was approaching his back, even if he couldn't hear it and it'd never been wrong once in his long life.

Dellenger spun, lasgun raised, and he found he faced a giant almost indefinable figure only a metre away whose cloaking was far better than the enemies.

'I am impressed you managed to detect my presence,' said Kalakor.

Dellenger lowered his lasgun, however good it'd do against a Space Marine. It'd been a long, long time since anyone had managed to sneak up on him so close. 'I didn't hear a frigging thing; it was just an instinct. By the Emperor, how do you manage such silence?'

Especially while walking over frigging iron roofing.

'I...cheat,' said Kalakor.

Dellenger raised an eyebrow. 'Okay...'

Kalakor looked at the sky, or at least Dellenger thought he did. 'You and I could storm the Refectory, but with that ship in orbit, it is too much of a risk.'

'Agreed.'

'I...have another plan, though. One I am not sure you would approve of, but we are engulfed in desperate times.'

Before Dellenger could reply, another instinct made him spin and watch the main entrance into the Counting House through his scope.

The doors were opening, and a thin, hunched man in a beige overcoat who was being escorted by ten grim-faced men in black armoured bodygloves and carrying hellguns emerged into view—Primaris psyker.

'I see it too,' said Kalakor. 'Psyker.'

Dellenger hunkered down behind the handrail and turned to Kalakor, who now had his invisibility off, which was interesting, as he knelt low.

'This just keeps getting shittier and shittier,' hissed Dellenger. 'What's your plan?'

Kalakor's red visors bore into Dellenger's face. 'We have not much time. I have a way to get to the enemy ship in orbit.'

'What? How?'

'The details of the how do not matter, but what you need to know is that enemy psyker might find me.'

'So it's psychic, then? No one said you were a psyker. That's how you "cheat," then?'

'Indeed, and not just that but that psyker might read one of the other's minds and learn of your absence and of me.'

'So, what do we do?' said Dellenger, although he already had a good idea what Kalakor was planning.

'You and I kill that psyker,' said the Space Marine as if it was the easiest endeavour in the 'verse.