Author's Note: Seurat, Your guess is not quite correct, allow me to enlighten you. The Cult or Adeptus Mechanicus is an organisation that creates all of the technological devices for the imperium of Man. They have a monopoly because they are the only ones who half understand how technology work. They worship a Machine God or Omnissiah, as far as I remember the terms are interchangeable, which, while it does not strictly adhere to the official religion of Emperor Worship organised by the Ministorum headed by the Ecclesiarch is accepted because they are so vitally important. My thanks also to N. Kage and Lennox RH for taking the time to review.
An Old Friend
The Black Ship sped through the Warp, its navigator taking his bearing from the Atronomican and sening the ship on its way to the Inquisition Fortress Planet of Maskrie.
Tarquinius disembarked to a chorus of howling wind, striding with his red cloak whipping around him, the cold sinking its teeth into his face above his white artificer armour.
The city of Martinus, under the control of the Ordo Xenos, was in the grips of a winter; snow coated the gothic imperial architecture. One Imperial Eagle was buried up to its double neck.
Valorus walked in the direction of the Deathwing Fortress Monastery, he knew the way. An old friend lived there.
The building was massive and imposing, statues of angels holding massive swords and great balls of holy flame, promising protection and vengeance in equal measure, jutted from the apex of every wall.
As Tarquinius approached the outer gates he was met by a squad of Terminators, emblazoned with the symbol of the Chamber Militant of the Ordo Xenos.
The sergeant examined his Inquisitorial Seal and then motioned to him to follow. The Terminators formed a pentagon around him and led him through the central courtyard into the barrack block on the other side. Valorus could hear the sounds of weaponry, the kind of shouting that sergeants excel at, and the battle cries of warriors coming from the training blocks on either side.
The Terminators left him in the Receptorium and returned to guard duty, a scribe came in and was sent to find Valorus' acquaintance of old.
He returned followed by a massive marine wearing artificer armour in the Deathwing colours with the symbol of the Raven Sons chapter on his shoulder but carrying no weapons. The marine's face lit up when he saw Valorus rising to great him.
"Tarquinius," he bellowed, slapping his hand down on Valorus' shoulder, the inquisitor's knees nearly buckled, but he reached up and placed his own hand on the ceramite shoulder pad his friend wore.
"It's good to see you again Matheson."
"What brings you here, I trust you are not here to merely speak with me."
Valorus did not insult the marine whose life he had saved by going through the pleasantries so beloved of the imperial Governors he so often found himself investigating, "You know me to well I fear. You are right of course. I am here to request your assistance on a mission that has been forced upon me by the higher ups, maybe even by the high Lords themselves. Of course, anything with the High Lords involved will have some political infighting stamped on it," Matheson grunted his agreement, "I would personally prefer not to be the victim of some petty grudge, and because I've been assigned a retinue instead of being allowed to keep my own I can't trust them for my protection."
"That's where I come in?" said Matheson raising his eyebrows questioningly.
"Yes."
"Very well," said the marine Chaplain, "I need to know of the nature of the mission of course."
"Of course," replied Valorus. "I am to investigate a highly industrialised planet which has apparently been trading with the Tau, or at least that's the "official" reason for Inquisition interference, with an Adeptus Mechanicus Archmagos. I have decided to pose as the Rogue Trader Menhartes, you, if you do not find it too offensive, will be my bodyguard, in fiction as well as in reality, the massive dumb product of an Adeptus Mechanicus experiment," the Chaplain obviously disapproved, but Valorus was a good friend to whom he owed every part of his life, so disagreement was not an option, "the other political spies who have been assigned to me will pose as a group of renegades with just as much reason to hate the Imperium as your character or mine. I will provide you with the briefing files. We leave in two days. What say you?"
The Chaplain sat silent for a moment, "To aid you in your work for the Emperor, I would fly to the centre of the Eye of Terror and back!"
"Excellent!" exclaimed Valorus, standing and bowing.
The Deathwing Chaplain returned the gesture of respect and they parted back to their separate duties with solemn goodbyes.