A/N: Chapter 18, alright, alright, alright!
Book Two: Corruption's End
-Chapter 18: In the Hall of the Scholar-King-
"It is with a measure of irony that I have collected my works here, volumes upon volumes of knowledge stored below a city of primitive warriors. It is my life's work, and though I will live to see it to completion, perhaps another will. My life has run its course after all, and the God-Emperor is calling these wizened bones to his side. There, perhaps, the Chariot of Redemption will find me." – Saint Totha, in his sacred memoirs.
The storm arrived three hours after their arrival in Shao-la. The ration crates still had thousands of packets left, which were disappearing at a slackening pace. Most of the citizens that welcomed them scattered before the encroaching clouds, newly acquired food tucked away in their skinny arms. Having no further orders from The Lady Inquisitor, the Woadians milled about in the town square, chatting and commenting on the earlier excitement.
"It's gonna pour." Caolin said, his scarred lips splitting into a wide smile.
"I had no idea." Ros said, slurping on a spare protein meal. Yang watched them bicker for a while, grinning. It was good to see them at it again, as they'd kept to themselves for most of the trip here. When the rain came, it hit hard, pouring giant droplets of water that lashed against the city. While the natives dove for cover, the Woadians' reaction was something else entirely.
Thousands of voices cheered, and began stripping off their flak armor, shedding it like black leaves in autumn. After almost five months away from Woadia, trapped within stale starships and desert planets, they could once more taste rainwater, feel the caress of the cool water that had fed their crops.
The frolicking began soon after, the Inquisitorial Guardsmen dancing traditional Woadian jigs while the rain washed away their sweat and grime. Yang laughed as Caolin swept Ros away, their legs kicking and pumping away in the downpour.
"It's like Goethi Festival!" Caolin bellowed, while Ros tried very hard not to smile. She failed. "Come on, join us!" He cried, hand extended towards Yang. She was too busy laughing. The Ranshu natives crawled out from their hiding places, braving the torrent to smile at their saviors' antics. Many of the officers attempted to stem the sudden festivities, but stopped once the troopers hefted Major Hrakksson on his shoulders, where he bellowed a song in Woadian, his face flush with glee.
"Agri-worlders." Jorvis grumbled. Theni, resting his injured leg, hooted and clapped in time to the major's music. Soon enough, half the regiment joined in.
"Something wrong sir?" Yang asked. Like her sergeant, neither were native to Woadia, and remained bemused by their comrades' antics. Unlike Jorvis, however, Yang enjoyed dancing.
"If they want to hop around like jackasses, that's their business." He said, stomping off to find somewhere dry. Yang shrugged, wrapping her weapons in her armor and tunic before joining the frivolity. There hadn't been enough of it after Jala Prime. Asgeg pulled her into the fray with her shiny new prosthetic limb, courtesy of the Lady Inquisitor's stable of techpriests. The limb shook droplets of water as she caught Yang's arm.
"Come on, Yang!" She cried. So, soaking wet from her tank-top to her fatigues, she joined the dancing. She'd always had a talent for footwork, and picked up the steps after a few minutes of stepping on Asgeg's toes.
A few brave locals joined in, where giddy Woadians welcomed them warmly. Mael scooped up a thin-framed Ranshan woman wearing a bloodied apron. She shrieked with laughter. Local instruments blared reedy tunes, adding to the madness.
The whirling dancers switched partners, and Yang found herself arm in arm with Caolin. His clothes clung to him like a second skin, soaking, sopping wet.
"Fear the Inquisition!" He cried, almost inaudible over the crash of rain and whining bagpipes. "We bring food and festivities!" Yang laughed, tasting the bitter blue war paint as the rain washed it over her lips.
Mael spun his new friend in air, her knee-length skirt swirling despite the rain that clung to it. She was beaming. And why wouldn't she be? Her belly was full for the first time in weeks, and a legion of soldiers had chased the specter of death away, if only for a time.
The dance continued for ten glorious minutes before Major Hrakksson regained his composure and called a halt to the brief and rain-slicked festivities. Disappointed but weary, the Woadians acquiesced, scooping up their equipment. Each bore a dazed and dorky grin, Yang's the largest of all. Gamma platoon found shelter under a ragged awning, crowding each other to escape the oppressive rainfall.
Caolin hummed a Goethi tune, while Mael said goodbye to the local woman. She gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek, which filled his face with a rosy glow. Theni, Caolin, and Yang hooted their approval, welcoming him with sly grins as he squeezed into their shelter.
Ros sighed, her smile dying away. Yang prodded her, but she waved her off.
"You're pretty smooth, big guy." Asgeg said, drying her metal arm with a spare towel. Mael shrugged before scrawling something in the dirt with his finger.
'I have a way with words.' It read. They laughed, clapping him on the back before fighting among themselves for legroom. Jorvis tried to look pissed.
"Fucking agri-worlders." He mumbled into his cigar. The smoke billowed around his head, filling the awning with the rich scent of tobacco before escaping into the downpour. "Buncha animals. You done with your mating dance?" Caolin rolled his eyes.
"Sir, it's for after plant-"
"Shut it, shit-for-brains, I didn't ask, and I don't care." Jorvis said, watching the last of the Ranshan disappear into their homes.
Mael shrugged, wearing a wry grin. Ros was still staring at her knees, which she hugged tight against her chest to avoid crowding the others. Her red-tinged hair was dripping wet and clinging to her scalp. Yang felt her grief, but didn't understand why it came on so suddenly.
A horn sounded in the distance.
"What was that?" Caolin asked. The only answer was its repeated cry, followed by hundreds of its brethren.
Three Hours Earlier
The Lady Inquisitor smiled as the door to her Valkyrie hissed shut, the aperture to the city of Shao-la blocking away her view of the crowd. Even with the roar of the flier's engines, their enthusiasm could not be outdone.
"My Lady?" Ira asked, his eyes still focused on the landing door. "May I ask a question?" She nodded. "Why feed them They certainly needed it, but what was your goal in doing so?" She sighed. Ira was an astute servant, graceful with a sword and unyielding in his investigative abilities, but he was not privy to the sterling necklace that graced a Recongregationalist. She turned to Ira.
"Inquisitors are the first line of defense against the darkness that encroaches upon the Imperium. We ferret out unfathomable dangers and keep the populace blissfully ignorant of the insidious horrors that gnaw at the edges of their perception. Millennia of corruption have made us appear as monsters." She spat. "Inquisitors should be paragons of justice, not agents of shadow." Her armored knuckles rapped against the solid adamantium door. "They cheered us today, because I alleviated their suffering, if only for a time. It was the least I could do. Our stores are immense, and we did little more than skim their surface."
Just one more tenet of the Recongregationalist philosophy. Working to improve the reputation of Inquisition was a critical undertaking, replacing terror and fear with trust and relief. It will not happen quickly, she mused. And I will be long dead before any meaningful change is made. In the Imperium, it can only come slowly, but it is not impossible.
"I… understand, my Lady." Every day, he grew closer to induction. His rosette was still many years away, but when he clasped it, it would be with the hand of someone who deserved it.
"Five minutes until we arrive at the Citadel Grounds." The intercom said. The Lady Inquisitor tightened her fingers around her power sword, refocusing on the task before her.
The flashes she'd gleaned from the traitorous Colonel were illuminating, but shrouded in mystery. Josephus the Corruptor. One of Abaddon's lesser warlords, and sworn to Chaos Undivided. However, his countless cults and seditions led her to suspect he had leanings towards the Changer of Ways. She snarled. The Fate-Spinner, the End-Plotter. His sinister hands were tightly bound in the puppet-twine of this sordid affair. Of that, she was certain.
His pawn in all of this was the confounding part.
"Thirty seconds until dust-off." She retreated from the confines of her mind, ready to make her appearance. The moment her feet touched the earth, her investigation began. The landing door opened with a whine of pneumatic gears, revealing the greeting party she'd arranged. They waited on her with bated breaths, minds tinged with the acrid scent of fear. Prop-wash buffeted them, causing their multi-colored robes to flutter and dance.
Darron was the first one out, leaping several meters to land on the well-kept grass and scanning the immediate area. He caught Chera next, setting her down at his side. As the landing ramp extended to kiss the garden grounds, The Lady Inquisitor pinned her hat to her head and descended. Ira followed her, his red robes snapping in the wind.
She examined the greeting party, searching for the Lord Governor.
"Where is the Governor?" She asked. They flinched at her voice, bowing low as though it might curry her favor.
"The King is within!" A blue-robed figure said, desperate to be heard over the roar of the departing Valkyrie. "He has been wounded in defense of our mighty city."
"Very well. Take me to him, I must have words." Twenty kasrkin locked into step behind her, swelling her presence well beyond her five-and-a-half-feet. The man swallowed, sweat beading at his forehead. Despite his nervousness, a quick mental scan cleared himself and his entourage of taint.
"Of course, my Lady." The men stood aside, throwing upon the heavy oaken doors that barred their entrance to the black-stoned castle. Candles and torches inside flickered and danced in the gust of air, casting lively shadows across the stone floor. Tapestries writhed as well, hung from the heights of soaring ceilings.
"My Lady, you couldn't have come at a more opportune time." The lead figure said, fat fingers wriggling over each other like worms. "The Great City of Shao-la has been loyal to the Imperium for millennia, and we've kept the archives with exemplary care. Forces of the Dark Gods assault us day and night, and-"
"Enough." She said, silencing him with the wave of her hand. "I have been briefed enough on the situation. What of the Governor?"
"His Radiance is resting now. He has led countless sorties against the enemies at our gates. The Emperor's Warrior Spirit lives within him." A white-robed figured shuffled forward, his face sweating and eyes heavy with fatigue.
"He has been wounded in his latest battle. He slew many of the enemy, but was shot by one of the enemies' thunder-sticks, and has not recovered since." The Lady Inquisitor appraised the man.
"You mean to tell me he's been fighting them with swords and lances, while the traitors have been equipped with projectile weapons?" Troubling. This is a feudal world, and still trapped within a largely benighted state of technology. If the chaos-allied factions had better weapons, it meant someone brought them here. Despite the grim news, she grinned. She was on the right track.
"Y-yes. And worse news… the wound is festering." Now that was troubling.
"All the more reason to see him immediately." Her pace quickened, and the stout, soft men scrambled to keep up with her. The royal chambers were a short march away.
She flung the doors open, the small crowd of her retinue trailing behind. Large windows stood open, and the breeze stirred their gargantuan shades into occasional, languid movement. A large four-poster bed held the center of the room, attended by nurses and ministers of unknown function. Seeing the Lady Inquisitor, they bowed low and scurried away, desperate not to draw her eye.
"Greetings, your Radiance." She said, with a small bow. The King appraised her, wrapped tight in bandages and thick, woolen blankets. He was no older than thirteen standard. Thin black hair clung to his freckled forehead, his breathing ragged and short.
"Inquisitor." He managed. So young… and he's been leading war parties? "You've arrived." His teeth pulled back in a snarl as a tendril of pain lanced through him. He smiled afterwards, a painful, bitter gesture. "I'm not so naïve to believe you came here to save my people. You seek the Archives." She nodded.
"You are correct. I will be able to aid you during the course of my investigation, however. I might even be able to cure your current affliction." The King's eyes burned at this, set alight by her words.
"Splendid." He said, now bearing a real smile. The pile of furs writhed as he attempted to sit up. "I must lead another sortie." A cough wracked him, and blood seeped through the fingers that clutched at his side. "We have been hard-pressed, my Lady." The boy-king said. "The nations of Shur-yan, Zhe-ro and the Ailu League all rose up against us, flying heretical, blasphemous banners. Our allies are few and distant, and have not responded to our cries for aid. The enemy's agents are hiding within my city, as you are well aware. They have even tried to assassinate me here, in The Citadel of Totha's Radiance. My advisers aided me in purging the disloyal." Her frigid eyes passed over the King's adjutants, who cowered under her gaze. "My Regent was found wanting."
"And his fate?" She inquired.
"Execution." Spat the Magister. "Delivered by his majesty four days ago today." The boy nodded, coughing into his blankets.
"You performed the execution?" He shrugged, wincing as he did so.
"I had just been wounded, so it was difficult… but I managed." He took a deep breath. You may think us barbarous, but we are a society ruled by war. Shao-la is the strongest of the city-states that dot our world, thanks to our cooperation with the Imperium. They built this castle and the city walls, all to keep the Saint's archives safe. But that is not all that keeps our heads off the butcher's block." He paused, his breaths laborious, complexion pallid. "I have been trained in the arts of war since I was three. When my father died two years ago, this city, its wars, and its administration have fallen to me. My Regent was a heretic and a wasteful glutton." He hissed. Chera chuckled at the King's words.
"Your Radiance, your upbringing is hardly barbaric. We are from Cadia," she said, "where we learned to field-strip a lasgun before we could walk." This brought a smile to the King's thin and bluish lips.
"I learned my sword work when I was four." An invisible phantom of pain wracked him, and his face screwed up in agony. True to his rearing, he made no noises of discomfort.
"Your Radiance!" The blue-robed magister cried.
"Darron, see to the King." The Lady Inquisitor said, nodding her Captain forward. The grizzled kasrkin was her most skilled field medic. The nurses attempted to slow his approach, but he batted them away like flies.
"Let's see that wound." He said to the boy-King. The Lady Inquisitor's hand tightened around her inferno pistol. If the rot that infected him was tainted by the warp, she would do whatever necessary to keep it from spreading. When Darron peeled back the bindings, only the smell of bacterial infection filled the room. Not wonderful news, but better than the alternative.
"It's still in here!" Darron cried in disbelief. "The daft bastards left the bullet in the wound!" She groaned. Feudal world shamed her. It didn't do to leave citizens of the Imperium wallowing in ignorance.
"Can you take care of it?" The unspoken: will he live? The boy was capable for his age. And his people seemed to adore him. Losing him would impede her progress immensely.
"Yeah. You're a tough little bastard, aren't you, your Radiance?" A few of the advisors gave an indignant squawk, but the Lady Inquisitor only chuckled. Darron was never possessed with tact, but he knew what he was doing. The disrespect set alight a fire in the king's weary eyes.
"Don't patronize me." He said, grimacing as the kasrkin poked at the wound. "I've met the enemy, felt their blood on my arms as I closed with cold steel." Darron paused his work long enough to chuckle. In another life, another world, this kid would be on a fast track to Beacon Academy. She slipped into his mind, and was surprised by what she found. Swelling within him was sense of duty and obligation so powerful, it conjured up images of Ruby. The boy was strong, just like Her.
"Of course, your Radiance. You have my thanks for your tenacity and leal service." She said, her voice soft and gentle.
"It is my Len-wu. My role, my sacred duty." He said, his voice rising to fill the spacious chamber. "I wouldn't dare shirk from it."
After a few short hours spent discussing Shao-la's defenses, the Lady Inquisitor took her leave of the King. The Archives called to her. The Magister – Magister Kung, as she learned from a short burst of telepathy – led her through the royal castle, the masonry sheer and elegant, the work of Imperial craftsmen. The world was barbaric and crude, but it housed the Archives of Saint Totha, and served as a sturdy protector of the knowledge it contained. The Lady Inquisitor ignored Kung as he prattled on about the history of the castle, his didactic musings on the storied tapestries that covered the walls wholly ignored. They were very nice, to be sure, but she had more important things to worry about. Darron and Chera stayed with the King, and the rest of her retinue struggled to keep up with her long strides. Her duster flapped behind her in her haste.
A worm of unease burrowed in her gut, and she had learned -after fifty years in the Imperium- to trust such feelings. The local royalty had been clean of any taint, a welcome change from her usual investigations. Her power sword remained bloodless. For now.
The ceiling swelled upwards as they approached the Citadel's chapel, a monstrous work of metal framing and blackened stone. A soft chanting wrapped itself around her as she threw the engraved metal doors aside. A choir dressed in cloth-of-gold sung their hymns, ignorant of the Lady Inquisitor's procession. Candles by the thousands lined the stained glass windows, which streamed light through vibrant depictions of the Emperor's might, some of the grander works reaching three stories tall.
Her eyes swept across the stone pews, which the architect had arranged in a peculiar fashion – stacked, pyramidal rows that offered excellent defilades against attackers. The locals kissed the steps before ascending the main pulpit. The Lady Inquisitor and her retinue made no such obeisance.
The pulpit, clothed in black carpets trimmed in gold, held a glass case that bore a single lever, wrought in onyx metal. Murmuring a prayer, she heaved the case open, pulling the lever.
An earth-shaking rumble groaned below her, and the pulpit split apart to reveal a staircase. Waving her retinue forward, she descended. Electronic torches, long since hidden away, sprung to life, sparks of light igniting as she rushed down the steps.
Far above their heads, rain crashed against the chapel ceiling, distant and droning. As the pulpit sealed itself, the sound disappeared. Now, the only sounds were the clatter of boots and the faint chanting of the choir, which echoed into the depths.
Five minutes of crawling through the thinning tunnels brought them before the doors of Saint Totha's Archive. A small party of Archive Keepers awaited them, hooded in robes as white as parchment. Embossed upon the wrought-adamantium doors they attended was a golden skull that bore a single, shining eye, surrounded by scrolls and cherubim. The icon of Totha, and the symbol that she'd deciphered from the maddened, racing thoughts of the traitorous colonel. His rotted, fetid mind had borne some inkling of his master's intentions, but nothing beyond the symbol that towered over them.
What does Josephus seek within these halls? Has he already infiltrated them? Why does a man who conspires to drown the kasrs in a tide of converts seek the knowledge contained within these doors?
She nodded to the Archive Keepers, who pulled a set of levers and opened the great door. The sight that greeted her was a daunting one. Shelves the size of Baneblades were legion, attended by cherubim that fluttered between them, shuffling and stocking tomes by the thousands. Their chittering, clattering machine-speak filled the colossal space, ringing softly against the immense repertoire of knowledge.
"Holy shit." Nicolas breathed. She smiled at her kasrkin's reaction. She enjoyed the sight as well. The archives were just one more wonder that the Imperium had squirreled away. A servo-skull approached them, red eye scanning the intruders into its sacred space.
"STATE YOUR NAME, VISITOR." It bellowed from an unmoving mouth. A quill worked on a stretch of parchment a few dozen yards in length.
"I am The Lady Inquisitor, accompanied by my guard." she said, displaying her rosette. Its clockwork brains clanked and hummed as it scanned her emblem, processing the new data.
"ACKNOWLEDGED. WELCOME, INQUISITOR, TO THE ARCHIVES OF SAINT TOTHA. I AM THIRTY-TWO SCHOLAR INTENDANT. HOW MAY I ASSIST YOU?"
"Please, show me the records of every recent visitor to the Archives."
"COMPLYING." It said, floating away on its cushion of anti-gravity, beckoning them forward with metal appendages that curled like spider legs. The party set off, plunging the depths of knowledge that swallowed them whole. The Archive Keepers trailed them, silent under their hoods.
A squawking discharge of static disrupted the atmosphere of the archives. Her microbead. It crackled again, its signal muffled by the weight of earth above them. It was Longinus, his voiced seized by panic.
"My Lady, we-" Static corroded his words, degrading them into unintelligible mumblings. "The rest of-"
"Colonel!" She cried as he cut out again, startling her retinue.
"-here! –under attack! Hundreds of thous-" His voice was drowned in an ocean of interference.
"Hold firm!" The Lady Inquisitor ordered, not caring if he heard her. Her teeth ground against each other, frustration reaching a fever pitch. The arch-foe had returned with their legions. Now, a clock hung over her head, its ticking pounding against her eardrums in a silent, rhythmic beat. Unless Longinus had a penchant for exaggeration, it would only be a matter of time before Shao-la was overrun, and the Archives plundered.
"My Lady?" Ira asked. The servo-skull was waiting on her as well, hovering near and prodding at her kasrkin, who shrugged it off.
"Ira, go and lead the defenses in my stead." She appraised the uncountable tomes before her, the endless rows and alcoves that stored scrolls unending. "I need every second possible for my investigation. Observe the enemy. Look for signs of Josephus. And sell this city dearly." She growled.
He bowed deeply. Synthetic, flesh-colored arms grasped his power sword, sheathed within thin mecha-dendrites that unraveled and uncoiled, the clawed appendages dancing around his figure. Muscle and metal alike adorned her acolyte, the augmentations bestowed upon him during his days in the skitarii framing his well-built torso in sturdy adamantium. Her purity glyphs sat over his heart, images tailored to his life spent in the service of the Mechanicus. His sword point plunged into the polished stone, and he sank to one knee. His cherry-red hair, once bound in the folds of his cloak, fell about his face.
"Your will be done, my Lady." She cupped his chin, staring into his augmented eyes, which under cursory inspection appeared organic.
"It will. The fate of billions rests on our shoulders. Go now, and be vigilant. Remember: only the Emperor is infallible."
"My Lady," he said, faltering. "This is wisdom you bestow upon me often. I… would like to know why."
"Fight well, Ira. Return alive, and I shall tell you." He bowed once more before returning from whence they came. The Lady Inquisitor watched him go, wishing him luck as he left. Turning to the servo-skull and her kasrkin, she nodded towards the depths of the Archives.
"Lead on." The time allotted for her investigation was ticking away, as the siege of Shao-la had begun in earnest.
A/N: Another set-up chapter! (Sorry!) Some quick notes: Ira is (as many of you probably guessed) associated with the Mechanicus, as an upper-leveled Skitarii. I also like this chapter a lot for a few separate reasons. Primary among them is that it highlights one of the coolest aspects of the lore for me: the sheer diversity of cultures in the Imperium. While the Black Library always mentions different planets, I think its cool to see the more domestic side of their lives!
Also, hope you like the King! When I was writing him, I tried much make him an anti-Joffrey. (I.e. he's just as young, but a badass instead of a whiny little bitch).
Oh, and 34-Scholar Intendant isn't an AI or anything, in case you were wondering. It just serves as an interface for the archives. Think of VIs from Mass Effect.
Please, let me know what you think! I'm always so thrilled to hear what you have to say!
Review Replies:
reality deviant:
the metaphysical god of heroes: You're thinking of the Tau! :D And I guess we'll have to wait and see, huh?
The Walrus of Eden: Ooh, interesting theory! Maion'll be back in due time. :)
Wolfund: That's pretty much my opinion about them verbatim. Why can't we cut them some slack, you know? They're almost extinct!
giodan: Um... no?
Galm: I'm glad you're a fan! It only gets crazier from here on out!
DanAbnettFan1997: Yeah, there's a few more aspects that need exploring! And that was my reasoning as well. :)
Mintskittle: Yeah, Grey Knights might work, but they're not exactly at the beck-and-call of every single Inquisitor. Plus, can you imagine what would happen if the experiment went awry? D: Also, I agree with your opinion on the Eldar. Couldn't tell if you were serious or not (the internet tends to do that!)
dksamuri: Blake is, and always will be, a faunus!
Dom380: Glad you're liking the OCs! And cool, Eldar fan! You guys are like unicorns! (Although their new codex might reel a few more in!) Cool theories! :D
Magisking: I guess we'll just have to wait and see.
SoleimonBerserker: Nice! Their hate does seem a little memetic in origin...
Champion of the Hive: Alright! I think you'll be surprised!
OBSERVER 01: Maion is Pyrrha, noted! :D
Charmcaster the Mad: Why would it be weird?
shadow2777: Considering how powerful Weiss is, being so near a Blank would probably kill her. :/
Nemris: Aww! I'm glad you're enjoying it so much!
redolph: As noted in the A/N, I totally agree with you! I'm also really happy you're enjoying the OCs! I've grown quite fond of a few of them!
All American Autor: SOYLENT GREEN IS PEOPLE! (it's not tho, just nutrient paste... mmm... nutrient paste.)
Hypothetical Spiritual Entity: Glad you like it! And I can't say anything about Jaune, or anyone that's not Weiss or Yang... sorry! Although the image of Heretic!Jaune is incredibly jarring.
Skepsis Forever: I'm so happy you're liking it!
Gafgar: As this chapter probably clarified, Shao-la is the city, Ranshu is the planet. :) I'm really happy you're liking the OCs too. I've come to really enjoy writing them!
RED Roman Pyro: They're not 'looking into the warp', just using it like regular psykers. You're right though, only navigators can make sense of the Warp's eddies.
LuckyBlackCat777: Aw, thank you so much!
Gammaman: I suppose it's possible... shit would go down!
Alright guys, thank you so much for all your love and support! You guys make my day! :D