A/N: Holy God-Emperor, everyone! The 50th chapter! A big thank you to everyone who's been with me so far... I really appreciate it!
Book II: Corruption's End
Chapter 50: The Lady Highest
"Trust is for the bold." - The Hallowed Inquisitor
"Any advice?" Amat asked, looking over at Yang. She shrugged.
"You know them better than I do," she replied. Beyond the bulkhead lay Darron and Chera, as well as the rest of their small task force, all gathered in the Warp Observation Deck. Outside of brief (unfriendly) stares and a few barked threats, Yang wasn't too familiar with the kasrkin.
She rapped her knuckles against the door before kicking it open. The bulkhead gave way, revealing her newest set of… friends. Yeah, let's go with that. Their heads swivelled to fix the intruder with purple stares. It was almost like looking into a mirror. Creepy.
"Trooper Yang," their leader growled. He was a big man, approaching middle age, by the look of it. It was the first time she'd seen him out of his armor and grimm-mask. Muscle-bound and heavily scarred, Yang noted with distaste that he was pretty good looking. Didn't make up for the fact that it looked like they were determined to be assholes about everything, but still.
There were five of them, seated in the couches that sat within the Empyrean Observatory. Only fluorescent light shone in the room, as the shutters remained fastened shut.
"Sergeant Yang now, actually," Yang said, pointing at the beret sitting atop her head. Before arriving at the Observation Deck, she'd made a quick pit-stop at the barracks, only to find a set of promotion papers waiting for her on her bunk. 'Congratulations', they read. Captain Lyrasson signed them, said she was in charge of Gamma now… but it didn't feel like a promotion, or anything worthy of congratulations. It felt like command was plugging a hole on a leaky boat. She'd do her best to keep them alive, just as always… but it felt weird being in charge of them… especially when they looked at her like that.
"But let's not do formalities," Yang continued. "I'm pretty shit at them." At least that got a faint twitching smile from the babe with the undercut. "I know you guys aren't my biggest fans, if what the Lady Inquisitor says is true." Silence. Clearing her throat, Yang continued. "But if we're going on an extended mission together, let's try and get along. We're here to do the Inquisitor's work. Let's not get into a dick-measuring contest."
Amat blinked.
"Sergeant Yang," their leader said, leaning forward, hands clasped. A meaty autopistol hung from his hip. "We were told you'd be accompanying us, along with a newcomer. This is him?" He asked, eyes parsing Amat.
"Correct," Yang said, clapping a hand to her friend's shoulder. "Everyone, this is Amat. He knows you a little better than you know him."
Amat saluted crisply. "Vindicare Assassin, at your command, sir." His words drew out long whistles of appreciation from the Cadians.
"Vindicare," Undercut breathed, elbowing their leader. "I knew we were being watched."
"I apologize for the delay in our introduction," Amat said diplomatically. "Our Lady thought it prudent that I remain a hidden asset."
Yang very desperately wished to add a punny 'ass' comment, but had the good sense to bite it down. The leader considered his words in silence before nodding.
"Very well, Assassin. You know our names then?" He asked. Amat nodded. "Sergeant Yang?"
"No clue… sir."
Sighing, he gestured to himself. "Captain Darron Marius. Lieutenant Chera Marius," he said gesturing to Undercut. "Over there, that's Trooper Janos Gata, Trooper Casser Moribald, and Trooper Suriel Williams. We are among the Lady Inquisitors most trusted soldiers."
"Fair enough," Yang said. "So, are you guys like brother and sister," she asked the Captain, leaning on her hip. They don't look related. Her comments made the kasrkin crack a few smiles, though their commanders paled. "What'd I say?"
"We're married," Darron hissed through clenched teeth. Yang couldn't stop a snort of laughter from escaping.
"Oops," she said, rubbing the back of her head. "What a wonderful foot we've started off on."
"Who are you?" Chera asked, and the mirth died instantly, sucked away as if a hole had opened up in the hull of the Ascendant Dawn. Her voice was like a chainsword edged in adamantium. "You appear out of nowhere, in a regiment full of pissant hicks that look nothing like you. You're suspected of being a witch, yet the Inquisitor names you her Representative. You slay a traitor marine, but no one sees you do it."
"Not technically correct Lieutenant," Amat interrupted, head bowing mechanically as a quick apology. "I saw her do it. And she killed three of them."
"It woulda been four if someone hadn't been premature," Yang grinned, punching his shoulder. Amat smiled. Well, she pictured him smiling, since he still wore his mask. "Son of a bitch stole my kill."
"He had you pinned, Yang," Amat reminded her. "Don't be boastful."
"Shut up," Darron said. Chera eyes flicked to her husband, and she squeezed his knee as a show of support. "You may be Vindicare, assassin, but even you must realize this woman is dangerous," he said, his violet eyes boring into Yang's. "You're on good terms with her, and today is the first time we're meeting you. The Lieutenant is right. Who are you, Yang Xiao Long?"
Oof. "Kind of a big question to drop on someone, you know?" She said. Silence. No takers. Dammit. Alright, time to switch tactics. Readjusting the strap on her satchel, Yang elbowed Amat. Peering at his sanguine red visor, she gave him her best 'play along' look. He remained motionless. "Alright… tough crowd," Yang said. "So how's this gonna go down, Amat? Should I let him shoot me, or should I do the hair thing?"
"Let's start with the hair thing," Amat allowed. Grinning at the now thoroughly confused kasrkin, Yang's fist met her waiting palm. The Observation Deck saw a new dawn, born in a blaze of flickering golden hair. Weiss' bodyguards collided in their haste to back away from the pair, scrambling over the couches and barking in surprise.
"Psyker!" Darron roared from behind his impromptu cover, autopistol drawn and pointed at Yang's forehead. "You're a warp-damned psyker!"
"Yeah, the Lady Inquisitor has some kinda plan for me," Yang said. "Didn't want me to expose myself just yet." She shrugged. "Considering how my friends would react if they found out, I guess I'm just happy to play along."
"Vindicare?" Darron growled. Amat nodded in affirmation.
"What she says is true. I've seen her use her witchcraft before. She's quite… potent," he added.
"Darron, look," Chera said. "Look at her shoulder."
Hm? Oh yeah. Turning to give her new friends a better look, she showed them her glyphs, which smoldered a burnt yellow.
"Golden Throne," the Captain hissed. "What witchcraft is this?"
"W- the Lady Inquisitor's," Yang answered, hands on her hips. "She's been training me as her adept these past few months."
"Makes sense," Casser said. "In a way. Our Lady's just the type to snatch an untrained psyker for herself, before the Telepahtica can."
Janos huffed. "Just wish she'd told us," he said. "We're supposed to protect her, you know," he added, resting his arms on the meltagun slung around his neck. "Tough to do when she doesn't tell us everything."
Snorting in agreement, Darron reached into the front of his jacket, retrieving a pack of lho sticks. "Most ridiculous psyker I've ever seen," he said, lighting up a smoke. He waved it at Yang's hair, words failing him for a second. "I was wondering why you were so damned special." Taking a long drag, his wife flicked her eyes towards him before returning them to Yang.
"We almost lost Arken getting her to Prexius," Suriel said. The others clucked their tongues at that, and Casser's face screwed up at the mention of the... atypical Magos.
"Yeah," Yang said, grimacing. "Sorry about that." She let her hair extinguish, the flaxen locks setting around her shoulders. "I don't know what this mission is, but I'll carry my own weight." She paused, letting that sink in. "I know you don't trust me, and I'm not gonna ask that of you. I do ask that you trust Amat though," she said, resting a hand on her friend's shoulder. "He's my leash, so to speak. If I go all… psyker-y," she trailed off before pressing her fingers to her skull. "Boom."
Flicking his ashes away, Darron nodded. "Fair enough," he said. "You're more cavalier about it than other psykers I've met."
"That's because I know it isn't gonna happen."
The Captain and Lieutenant shared a look. No doubt readying their red stamp of approval. Yang forced herself to suppress a dark chuckle. As if they'd actually disobey Weiss. She'd actually done pretty well though… they weren't pointing guns at her anymore.
"Very well," Darron said, kicking the couch back into its original position. "We'll speak more thoroughly before planetfall, but the mission is fairly simple. We're acting as the Lady Inquisitor's liaisons," he said, gesturing for Yang to sit. She did so, kicking her feet up on the end table. The Lieutenant rolled her eyes. "We're going to a small out-of-the-way planet called Gartenwald. Civilized world," he continued. "Nothing too noteworthy about it… though they do kick out some excellent Armored Regiments every couple decades for the Tithe. All we have to do is camp out in a secure location and wait for another Inquisitor's party."
Yang frowned. This didn't seem like her type of mission. Is Weiss putting me on a trial period? Is this her way of punishing me? If that's the case, why is she sending her guards along?
"What's the other party got?" Yang asked. She scooched over, letting Amat sit down next to her. Yang couldn't be sure, but she had a feeling that this was more people he'd been face-to-face with in… maybe forever. Discomfort seemed to exude from him in the way he moved - it was entirely too mechanical, nothing like his usual grace and fluidity.
"We don't know specifically, which is why we're meeting with them," Darron explained. "Our Lady informed me they have data on the artifact Josephus seeks. Once we get it, we'll wait on Gartenwald for extraction. Simple."
"I don't like it," Yang said immediately. Darron huffed, blowing smoke through his nose.
"She speaks sense," Chera said.
"This doesn't seem like Wei… like the Lady Inquisitor's M.O. either," Yang went on. Damn it, is it really so hard to use her title? "She's too much of a micromanager. And she's sending the best of her best, too."
The few people she still might care about.
"Our Lady's word is law," Chera said. "But I share the same misgivings." Scratching at the stubble above her ear, she stole her husband's lho for a quick drag.
"We can agree about that, at least," Darron allowed.
"Do you trust her?" Chera asked, once the strange pair departed. They'd spent a half-hour going over a few specifics, but Sergeant Xiao Long seemed to have grasped the gist of it.
"Absolutely not," Darron said. He checked his pack of lhos, disappointed to find they were already half gone. That woman causes me an undue amount of stress. "Well… I don't know. Not completely." His life made sense before Yang Xiao Long barged into it. The Lady Inquisitor didn't pace back then. Didn't have those baggy eyes, the ones that looked like six years of mascara melting down her cheeks. Is my resentment clouding my judgement?
"I know, babe," Chera said, pressing her lips to his temple. "I get the same feeling. I want to like her. Something about her is just… magnetic. I mean, did you see her hair? It was like looking at vision of the Emperor Himself."
Darron wanted to disagree. To admonish his wife for comparing the Emperor to a common witch. He couldn't, and it drove him mad. Running his fingers through his hair, he sighed. Yang Xiao Long is no common witch.
"And this Vindicare…" Chera said, shuddering. "I thought Our Lady's visit to Holy Terra seemed off."
"I was… worried," Darron agreed. "Still am. Do we… even know her? Our Lady?"
Chera looked at her husband, then at her feet. She adored their master over all their comrades. Her hands folded together, and she shut her eyes, trying to will the world away. Darron took her hands in his own, squeezing tight.
"I know, babe. I know."
"Do you trust them?" Amat asked as they returned to the weight room. The Ascendant Dawn was silent this late into the night-cycle, and the long, painted hallways stretched out before them, echoing with their footsteps.
"Absolutely not," Yang grumbled, cracking her knuckles. "They seem like decent people, but I've already ruffled their feathers too much. They'll be watching me like a hawk, waiting for an excuse to take me down. The only person I trust with that kinda job is you," she said. Amat shrugged.
"If you say so," he said. "I've spent some time observing them the past few years. They're a tight-knit group. Darron and Chera have known each other since they were six, and their loyalty to the Lady Inquisitor is absolute. As long as you don't stand between either of those things, you should be fine."
"Do you always creep on people before you meet them?" Yang asked, grinning. Amat shrugged again.
"Not unless my Lady orders me to."
Well that's worrying. At this point, Weiss' paranoia would have called down a legion of grimm if she still lived on Remnant. What happened to her to make her like this? Who helped her down this path?
"That doesn't… bother you?" Yang tried.
"I'm an assassin, Yang," Amat answered. "Or… I was. I don't know. Pulling at his mask, he exposed his face to the stale air of the Ascendant Dawn. His lips were pursed, his eyes shrouded over like suns swallowed by storm clouds. "I'm a weapon. In that regard, I'm not much different from a Huntsman," he noted. "It took the approval of all twelve Lords of Terra for me to leave the Temple."
"Wait wait wait," Yang said, throwing her hand up, halting their leisurely march. "You mean like… the guys who run the Imperium? The heads of the Adeptus? Those guys?"
Amat nodded, humbled by the awe in her voice. "The Temple has shaped the Imperium since its inception. Each time we punch through the pages of history, it is a grave affair, written in blood." He stalled, waving his hand as he searched for the words.
"I… didn't know," Yang said. "Dust… working for Weiss must have been an adjustment." That earned her a brief chuckle.
"It has. I wouldn't trade it for anything."
Yang didn't know how to take that. It felt weird. Probably just tired. "Hey Amat, I think it's time for me to hit the hay. I got a lot to think over, you know?"
Nodding, Amat readjusted the strap around his shoulders. "I need to meditate as well."
"Draw some pretty pictures," Yang said, winking. Amat smiled. For real this time.
The barracks was just as still and silent as when she left it. Crawling under the covers of her bunk, she rested.
What could Josephus be chasing? The question taunted her, tortured her until the peak of the night-cycle. When Caolin began to cry in his sleep, Yang threw a pillow over her head and held tight.
True to its masterful construction, the Scythe of Morning took mere weeks to arrive at the Lady Inquisitor's destination: the Inquisitorial Fortress world of Kastile Secundus. Most of that time she spent in a meditative trance, an attempt to center herself, regain her unflappable composure.
Being away from Yang and her most trusted kasrkin helped. Yang radiated psychic power, and being near her was like staring at a sun for hours on end. She wasn't as powerful as the Inquisitor, not yet, but the nature of her power was entirely different. If she learned to channel it effectively, the Lady Inquisitor feared for what her friend would be capable of. As for her kasrkin, they were still loyal, but their guards had been rebuilt, and they relaxed less often. It would take some time to fully regain their trust.
Another source of comfort was the relic she'd liberated from Ezzelino's grasp. It bore no massive psychic signature like the holiest of relics, but she could still feel the Emperor's warmth radiating from it. Over the course of her transit, she found herself praying to it, as if it were a conduit to the Golden Throne itself.
How typically arrogant of Ezzelino to wear it like a piece of jewelry. She decided to instead leave it upon the altar of her personal chapel.
She also spent the time in transit speaking with Ira, making sure he understood what would be expected of him upon their arrival. He was new to the Recongrators, and the Hallowed Inquisitor would be inspecting him closely.
The Lady Inquisitor had no fears that he would fail, but she preferred leaving nothing to chance. Ira was slow to understand some of the aspects of Recongrator philosophy - as a former skitarii, he had trouble conceptualizing fear.
She merely told him to remember the daemon.
"My Lady, two minutes to dust-off," Chung said over her microbead.
"Very well," the Lady Inquisitor replied, her fingers finishing the last strokes on the latest edition of her report. She tucked away the data slate. The Sisters had insisted upon attending her, but they would do little more than circle the Citadel's premises in their Thunderhawks. Too many secrets within.
Ira's fingers rapped against his power sword, and he studied the Valkyrie's door. Ever since Magos Tyrham finished the translation of Josephus' journals, he had grown silent and contemplative. When she was not instructing him, he was often burbling in binary to the Scythe of Morning, working on his augmentics or a new project. Now he sat in total silence, his stare fixed light years away.
The lights within the Valkyrie snapped to a dark red, and their final approach began. The Lady Inquisitor's tongue flickered at her lips. How long had it been since she had laid eyes upon her Master?
With a hiss of steam, the bay doors opened, revealing a small landing pad. Red jet-wash sprayed across the surface, a whirlwind of sand that slapped at her overcoat. Shielding her eyes from the searing blue suns, The Lady Inquisitor paced out her steps.
Twenty paces to the North, eight to the east. She crouched and pressed a single digit to the seamless asphalt. A click sounded out, inaudible over the howling gale and Chung's ascent. Beside her, an elevator arose, sand spilling off its edge.
Ira cocked his head, and she nodded.
Once inside, the lift doors sealed away the howling noise of Kastile Secundus. The lift plummeted, hauling them deeper and deeper into the planet's crust. It had been many years since The Lady Inquisitor had visited the Recongrator's sector Headquarters. She knew there were dozens of such facilities scattered about the Imperium's segmentums, but only this one was familiar to her.
As the lift hummed along, Ira shifted his weight.
"Worry not," The Lady Inquisitor said. "My mentor trusts me implicitly. My judgement is unerring."
"Of course, my Lady," Ira replied.
The lift doors opened, revealing the Headquarters' antechamber... though 'antechamber' was not an adequate enough word to describe its titanic size. Grey-stone pillars six meters wide stretched upwards to the vaulted ceiling, each featureless and unadorned. Artificial sunlight streamed in above them, pure golden beams that lit upon the tile floor. Across the ivy-infested walls hung a collection of portraits, each one depicting a prominent Recongrator.
The sound of the Lady Inquisitor's passing filled the antechamber, servos in her power armor whining with each step. At the end of the antechamber stood a statue of Malcador the Sigillite, adorned with the Recongrator's watchwords - 'Only the Emperor is Infallible'.
Beside him, a powered door slid open, spilling out curls of grey mist. The Lady Inquisitor gestured for Ira to stay behind before entering and spreading her arms wide. As the doors slammed shut, the mist sterilized her garments and person while servitors bound to the wall scanned her retinas and weapons.
"Identity Recognized and approved," one of the servitors growled from the vox-box fused to its mouth.
"I bring a guest along today, a new member of our order," she said.
"Request recognized," the servitor said. "Processing... approved. Step forward, Acolyte."
Ira obeyed, stepping through the doors the instant they opened. The servitor pronounced Ira fit to proceed.
Together, the Inquisitor and her acolyte proceeded into the heart of the facility.
Within, the hall was far less grand than the antechamber, but still impressed the sense of age and gravity upon its occupants. Lined with cogitators, humming pipes and, crackling power lines, the Headquarters thrummed with power, information, and untold bytes of data.
She passed the entrance to the Laboratory wing, a colossal steel door behind which a host of adepts slaved away at a multitude of projects. At the center of the door was an embossed clockwork symbol, most likely placed there long ago by allied elements of the Mechanicus. Ira burbled in binary for a moment, a quick and curious burst of static. No doubt the wonders hidden away behind those doors had piqued his interest.
They passed by many such doors, each one hiding their own purpose and kilometers of tunneling. Before long, The Lady Inquisitor reached her destination - the office of the Lord Inquisitor. The door that led to her mentor's chambers was much smaller than the others, its face only bearing a single 'I'.
It opened.
Behind a simple half-moon desk and an unassuming cogitator sat The Hallowed Inquisitor, Grandmaster of the Recongrators and the Lady Inquisitor's mentor of fifteen years. The Lady Inquisitor bowed steeply, bidding her acolyte to do the same.
"Such deference!" The Hallowed Inquisitor boomed, a wide grin on his face. "An unnecessary display, I assure you." He had received a juvenant treatment in the years since they'd last met. His ebony skin, once sallow and lined with wrinkles now shone with renewed youth. Though the crinkles around his almond-shaped eyes had deepened somewhat, the eyes themselves still shone a pale green. On his person, he wore simple vestments - a leather hardsuit and a long black overcoat, no different than what he wore all those years ago.
"Master, such deference is required," the Lady Inquisitor insisted.
The Hallowed Inquisitor shrugged, still wearing a shining grin. "If you insist. Though," he said, turning to appraise Ira, "you'd do well not to terrify our newest members," he added. "What is your name, Brother?"
"Ira Illustein," Ira declared, a fist over his breast. "Ready to serve in the name of a brighter Imperium."
The Hallowed Inquisitor chuckled. "He's certainly your student, Lady."
"I received your summons," she said, meeting his gaze. It was like adamantium. "What is your will?"
Her master stood to his full height, a towering two meters. "While the times are indeed dire," he began, "there is another, slightly more joyous purpose for my summons."
The Lady Inquisitor did not let the shock show on her face.
"Truly? It was my understanding that a summons meant a ruinous tarot or a disaster had taken place," the Lady Inquisitor said. "But you speak of... joy?"
Reaching into his desk, the Hallowed Inquisitor retrieved a large vellum scroll bearing two stamps of elegant red wax. With a dramatic flourish, he handed it to his pupil.
The seals…
A breath hitched in the Lady Inquisitor's throat. Our allied Master Inquisitors from the neighboring Segmentums… One bore the Inquisitorial emblem fashioned into a resolute rook - the sigil of Master Inquisitor Silroth. The other bore a more imposing sight - the symbol of the Inquisition clad in bloodied thorns - the sigil of Master Quora.
The Lady Inquisitor reached for the vellum, but could not reach it.
"Almost forgot," the Hallowed Inquisitor said, retrieving another item from his desk. With a savored relish, he drizzled wax upon the document.
"You cannot mean-" The Lady Inquisitor whispered.
"But I do." With those words, the Hallowed Inquisitor pressed his own seal into the wax. "Take what is yours, my Lady." He smiled.
Trembling fingers retrieved the document. The Hallowed Inquisitor's seal still steamed, wisps of white curling around the engraved 'I' surrounded by skulls. She opened it, confirming her suspicions.
"You stand promoted, Weiss Schnee," her mentor said. "You are now the Lady Highest, a Lord above your peers."
"You honor me with such a gift," The Lady Highest said, removing her hat so that she might bow more deeply.
"It is more than a mere gift, pupil mine," The Hallowed Inquisitor said with a smile, always a smile. "I intend for you to replace me one day. Not only as a Grandmaster Inquisitor in the Segmentum Obscurus, but as the Head of the Recongrators."
"This… this is why you summoned me," The Lady Highest realized. Impossible… does he truly hold me in such high regard?
"This, and so much more," he replied. Tapping a few runes on his cogitator, a holographic map flickered into existence above them. It bathed the office in a dark green hue. Under the light, her master's eyes glowed. He gestured to a few runes that flitted about frequently traveled warp-routes. "There is to a meeting here, within the next week. There, we will decide the fate of the Recongrators, and the Imperium as well. The Thirteenth Black Crusade is not the only grim tidings I have received," he said, face darkening. "Many of our brothers and sisters have been silenced as of late. Some of their acolytes were able to recoup the losses, but it is still an alarming trend."
"That is troubling," the Lady Highest said. "I myself was attacked by a Dark Eldar raiding party… I wonder if such events are connected."
The Hallowed Inquisitor growled. "I would not be surprised. It would be just like our enemies to resort to what they despise, just for the slightest advantage."
"There are other things we should discuss as well," the Lady Highest said, hand hovering over her satchel. "I have happened upon an unprecedented windfall regarding Josephu-"
Her mentor held his hand up, and her words died on her lips. "In time. We have a week before the others arrive. Before that, there are some rites that need attending."
"Rites?" The Lady Highest asked.
"Regarding your promotion. Not for the eyes of the uninitiated, I'm afraid," he added, glancing at Ira.
"Understood my Lord," Ira said.
"I have summoned a servitor," the Hallowed Inquisitor said. "It will show you to the dormitories. I assure you they will suit your every need."
After bowing once more, Ira departed. Once the door had slammed shut with a hiss of steam, pale green eyes found the Lady Highest, boring into her like blades of Dust. Under them, she began to feel like the weakling Weiss Schnee once more.
"What rites are required of me?" She asked. I cannot pretend to know what rites would be more important than information regarding Josephus.
"Follow," he said simply. Tapping a few more runes on his cogitator, a wall panel slid aside, revealing a steep staircase that burrowed ever lower in the earth. "Tell me what you recall of our history… the Recongrators," he clarified, as if he had to.
"Several thousand years ago," the Lady Highest recited, "we were but a scattered handful of idealists, lacking a coherent purpose or methodology. The Imperium stood well enough without us, though the seeds of corruption and decay began to grow fruit."
They descended into the dark. The Hallowed Inquisitor plucked a spear of steel from the wall. Once his hand encircled it, a bright pulse of emerald flame burst forth from its end. The Lady Highest swallowed. That color flame unnerved her more than she would care to admit. It meant dark things. Secrets.
The torch-staff clanked upon each step, the Hallowed Inquisitor unwilling to let it rest.
"And what changed, Lady Highest," he asked. "What transformed us from an idea to what we are today?"
"The council," the Lady Highest answered, her eyes parsing the darkness. "Four Inquisitors who set down a code of ethics for all Recongrators to obey… a list of objectives that must be obtained for the Imperium to redeem itself in the eyes of the Emperor."
"The council, yes." the Hallowed Inquisitor said. "Though they are something of a myth."
The Lady Highest arched an eyebrow. I figured the Recongrators were hiding something, and it seems that now is when it shall be revealed...
"I'm afraid the truth is something rather more... ludicrous," her mentor said. "There was but one man, and he alone built the foundations that we stand upon."
They reached the bottom if the stairs, a full ten stories by the Lady Highest's estimation. Extending the torch, the Hallowed Inquisitor touched it to the wall. Twin trails of green flame burst into existence, running the length of the hall she found herself in. Torches topped in caged braziers ignited, each bearing the same all-too-familiar fire.
At the end of the hall, the twin flame trails connected, illuminating a solitary statue of a bespectacled man wrought in onyx and platinum, seated in an imposing throne of gilded clockwork.
The word 'impossible' passed Weiss Schnee's lips, but there was no wind to give them voice. Unconsciously, her thoughts slipped to the relic aboard the Scythe of Morning.
Emperor protect me.
"Behold, Lady Highest... our founder: the Clockwork Inquisitor, known to his pupils by the simple name of Ozpin."
A/N: DUN DUN DUUUUUUUUUUUUUN!
For all of you familiar with 40k lore, you were probably wondering (or at least noticed) why the Recongrators are a much more clearly defined force in AWoBE than they are in canon. Now... now you have the beginnings of an answer!
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and I'll see you next time! Only have about one more chapter of set-up before the shit hits the fan again!