915.M41
Officio Prefectus Schola Progenium
[RECORD EXPUNGED]
THOUGHT OF THE DAY
"A mind without purpose will wander in dark places."
'Feudal world - Imperium - This is your home now. Tithed. Whatever life you had - it'sover'
Louise sat in shock, the information she had received from the young man, Ciaphas she had learned his name was before he excused himself causing her brain to almost overload itself.
'It's just a sick, cruel joke. A bad dream, any minute I will wake up in my dormitory in the academy...' she repeats over and over again even as everything she had seen begins to make sense.
The hallways made of strange metals, the echoes of strange unknown hymns and prayers, the ridicule and beatings from the Abbots, in Tristain no one would ever dare to lay so much as a finger on a noble and to make it all worse she had lost her wand.
All could remember of the summoning was the explosion and then searing pain that never seemed to end. And then she awoke, clad in dull grey small clothes and trapped in a small, grey room with only a small desk, footlocker, metal slab and bathroom.
And then the door opened, and as she stepped out into that cold dimly lit hallway her life became one of pain.
Backhanded for not donning the cadets uniform in the locker, kicked for not standing at attention in front of the door, screamed and then kicked again at for attempting to speak over the Abbot.
She lost track of time after a month, with her life becoming a cruel cycle of sleep, exiting out into that hallway with dozens of other young teens and then being led through the hallways of the so called 'Schola', endless punishment and ridicule for failing so called basic information, endless physical labor and punishment for failing at outdoor activity, stings, welts, and cuts for failing at arms practice. The only thing she succeeded in was so called 'marksmanship' earning above average marks in the shooting range after she got the hang of the strange guns. She gave up trying to ask questions after the first week, the Abbots simply ignoring her or delivering a swift smack if they were in a particularly foul mood.
Not even her new 'peers' would associate with her, becoming just like the academy of magic. She remained a failure - a zero. Not understanding why she had to learn or what she was learning didn't help, she didn't question their faith or mention the founder, not after the first class she attended.
"Heresy is the root of all evil. Those that willingly deny the servants or the true majesty of Him on Terra, the God-Emperor of all Mankind are irredeemable in the eyes of Him and His faithful, the only just punishment for the heretic, the witch, the xeno, and the Mutant is death. The arch-enemy is always watching, waiting for a moment of weakness. Your faith must never waiver, not even for a second. For faltering is the first step on the road to damnation of the soul." the Abbotwould preach, the class of grim faced and quiet students muttering quiet prayers in response.
But today there had been a change. Another student had approached her in the cafeteria, the snickers of his peers having no effect as he sat and spoke with her.
And as much asothers may think otherwise Louise was not a stupid girl, she could see the connections. The things that just weren't quite right, and as much as she hated to believe it - the things he said made sense.
She knew there was nothing like the weapons she had seen and even fired on her world, there were no halls made entirely of steel and symbols of a double-headed eagle, one head blind. There was no Imperium.
"The time of the daily meal is over - Remember, heresy flows from idleness." the loudspeaker blares, ripping Louise from her thoughts as the doors to the Cafeteria fly open and two of the Abbots storm in shouting,
"Up, get up you lazy dogs! The Emperor waits for no one, only in your death does duty end!" the lead Abbot bellows, lashing out at any unfortunate cadet to remain seated near him.
"Blast, I've got to scram." Ciaphas says, pulling her attention back to him as he quickly stands.
"Owe some thrones to one of those fellows, don't intend on paying up today though." he says with a grin, giving her a wink before slinking off and vanishing in the crowd of other cadets.
Quickly rising to her own feet she falls into line, lowering her head when one of the Abbot's pass, his disapproving gaze almost burning into the back of her head.
She winces as she hears the Abbot start to shout at some unfortunate cadet, followed by several hefty thuds of a club meeting flesh. There are no cries of pain though, signs of weakness just make the punishment worse.
Swiftly regaining her composure she fixes her posture and prepares to march, chanting 'Rule of Steel' in her head every moment she can. She must not show weakness, she must not stand out anymore than she already does.
"FORWARD, MARCH!" the lead Abbot bellows.
At once twenty pairs of boot clad feet begin to move, the sound generated echoing through the halls as they are marched towards the final instructive class of the day.
Louise wouldn't admit it to anyone, but the act of marching had started to become routine, almost relaxing. Only having to focus on yourself and the person in front of you as you settle into the steady rhythm. It was one of the few times she had to actually think, at the end of the day usually being too exhausted or in pain to do anything other than pass out.
Even the hallways of the Schola were oppressive, light coming from dim flickering overhead sources or candles spread throughout the halls. The Aquila dominating every room and dozens of mechanical horrors prowling the ground, like so mad necromancers sick dream. Skulls augmented with machinery to float on their own prowl the grounds, aggressively blaring at anything that gets in their path and blaring hymns and warning from a machine installed in their mouths. Half man, half machine abominations roll around on treads or legs similar to that of a spider lifeless and vacant eyes staring straight ahead as they pursue some unknown task in the name of their red cloaked masters.
It made her sick.
Once, many years ago as a small girl Louise had gazed upon the stars with a sense of wonder, wondering what could be out there in the vast beyond. In one of the few times in memory her mothers mask of steel has broken, she had a telescope custom made for Louise. It had made her so happy to be able to gaze out at the stars and it had made her feel so small in comparison, like an ant against a never ending sea.
Did her mother know? She wonders. Was Ciaphas right and she had merely been selected to be sent off as sacrifice to the never ending war machine of the Imperium of Man. Was her 'summoning' all an elaborate rouse to get rid of her and her failures, to remove the black mark off the de Vallière family? Did the Princess know, the Pope? Was it some grand secret, hidden from the people of Halkeginia by the highest of nobility, that their lives meant nothing in the grand scheme of a galaxy in a state of never ending war. Where millions of men and women are slaughtered everyday, sent to their deaths by stone faced commanders and officers.
Her mind continued down that line for the rest of the march, losing herself in her thoughts until a sharp voice barks out the order to halt.
As the Officio Prefectus cadets filed into the room she headed towards her assigned seat, head held high. In the side of her eye she sees Ciaphas taking a seat, scowling as he winks at her a smug grin on his face that he quickly wipes off as Abbott Sevor enters from a side door.
The man was positively ancient, his face and arms covered in dozens of scars from hundreds of battles, his head completely bald with a golden Aquila tattoo encompassing much of his bare scalp. One hard grey eye glares out at the cadets, the other a blazing and hateful augment, constantly moving and watching for any sign of disobedience. Dressed in the grey robes of all other Drill Abbots he was the peak of intimidation, his right hand also an augment while his left had the nails that earned him his nickname among the cadet populace.
Setting his staff against the wall and turning towards the students he began to speak, his voice quiet and yet carrying to every student in the room. Abbot Sevor never shouts, and yet all listen to what he has to say either way.
"Today, my students. We will be covering one of the greatest wastes of potential to come out of this Schola. Commissar Lumon Perrel. His marks were perfect, his skill matched by no one in his cadre. In theory he should have accomplished great things, he should still be out smiting the enemies of Him with righteous wrath and inspiring equal vigor in the men with him. And yet, he is not. For Commissar Lumon was killed on his first deployment."
The class remained silent, waiting for the Abbot to continue, though Sevor seemed content to sit in silence for several more moments, taking a sip from the mug on his desk before he continues,
"Lumon was not killed by a stray shell, he was not killed by the enemy in a glorious melee, he was killed by a young guardsman, around your age. Now you may ask, how could this be? How could this treachery have come about? And the answer is simple. Lumon had executed the guardsman's friend the other day. Now you may say, surely a tragedy, but for an execution a truly great infraction must have taken place - you would be incorrect. Sergeant Pierre of the Cadian 91st was shot for allowing his men to go out of for a day of relaxation after a hard won victory, a few troopers got drunk and roughed up a local bar. Lumon was of course, furious - the men had sullied the name of the guard and so had them flogged, a just punishment for their infraction. When their Sergeant found out he approached Commissar Lumon, pleading for a more lenient punishment or for him to be punished in their stead. The Sergeant saw that had he been more attentive he could've prevented the situation all together - however Lumon wanted to make an example out of someone and had let his anger get ahold of him. He executed Sergeant Pierre in front of his men, his men that had served with for seven years and who loved him dearly."
The Abbot pauses to take another sip of his drink, his one organic eye surverying the room.
"A week later while on a combat patrol, they were ambushed by rebels. While moving to engage, Lumos was shot through the heart - from the back. The guardsmen of the squad had been planning his death ever since he had killed their Sergeant and the one to pull the trigger was a young boy. Of course once this was discovered the whole squad was put to death, as was the just punishment for the murder of an official from the Commissariat. But now ten veteran guardsmen and a Commissar were dead, not in glorious battle, but through a series of unfortunate events. Who here can tell me where Lumos went wrong?"
The Abbot asks, eyes scanning as several hands raise into the air.
"You, Cadet Vallière."
Louise freezes, she hadn't raised her hand. All eyes were on her as she composes herself and prepares to respond,
"He... He was too overeager, he let his emotions get the best of him." she says, letting out a quiet sigh of relief as the Abbot hums and then nods,
"That is certainly one part of what caused his death, but not the full reason. Cadet Cain, please continue where Cadet Vallière left off."
"Yes, Abbot Sevor. Commissar Lumos died because the punishment did not fit the crime, sir. While technically within his right to enforce the will of the Commissariat in any way he sees fit, he did not know when to turn a blind eye. Of course discipline infractions must be dealt with, but was trying too hard to be feared, rather than respected and ended up hated. He should have had the men assigned to latrine duty for the month, and given the sergeant a stern talking to, but for the situation flogging or execution was too far, in my opinion, sir."
Abbot Sevor hums again before nodding, "You are correct, Cadet Cain. This is something you must all remember. A commissar must be feared, yes. But a commissar must also be respected. Many guardsmen will hate you the minute they see the red sash, you must find the balance. Overreact and you end up with a grenade tied to your door - or a lasbolt to the back. Be too lenient and you have a regiment of men that will abandon discipline completely. Balance - is - key."
The Abbot turns nearly at the same time as the loudspeakers in the Schola blare,
"All Officio Prefectus cadets are to report to the mustering ground for drill, and remember A day spent struggling to survive will always surpass a lifetime spent cowering in safety."
However despite the announcement all cadets remain seated. Everyone knows that to leave before the Abbott's dismissal was to invite harsh punishment.
Abbot Sevor slowly walks to his desk before turning back to the class, "I want an essay on my desk three days from now, from all of you. Detail two Commissars, one who in your opinion excelled in his duty and one whom did not. Compare them, find what each did right and each did wrong. You are dismissed."
As the class of cadets rose to leave the classroom the Abbot speaks up again, "Cadet Vallière, you will remain."
Louise stiffens a feeling of dread crawling up her spine as she turns and slowly approaches the Abbot's desk, standing at attention as the old priest takes a slow sip from his mug.
"You have potential, cadet Vallière." he finally says, placing his mug down and looking up at her.
"And yet - you are prideful. I see it in the way you walk - in the few times you speak with your peers. But yet you have done nothing to deserve that pride, cadet Vallière. Normally this Schola does not accept students that are above the age of twelve - nor ones who are priorly unschooled. All the others here have earned their place - through fire and blood. You however, are different." he says, somehow making Louise feel tiny even though she was looking down at him.
"You are an exception, delivered to us by someone very important and with a vested interest in seeing you succeed." the Abbot intertwines his fingers and continues, "However - it is not my place to question His will. I have dedicated the rest of my life to teaching the next generation of commissars and officers, and I know when a student needs punishment and when a student needs help."
He stands and places a gnarled hand on her shoulder, causing her to involuntarily tense up as his eye softens.
"You fall in the latter category, cadet Vallière. Do not think that I am unaware of all that goes on in my Schola. I know where you come from, I know who you are. But that does not matter here, all are equal here under His gaze. You would do well to remember that. There is no shame in asking for help - just remember that there is a fine difference between help and reliance." Sevor says, before sitting down once more and waving her away,
"You are dismissed."
That night Louise ached.
Training had been brutal, more so than usual. It appears that the instructors had decided the cadets were ready for the next level. Upping the difficulty to include everything from obstacle courses, to a 20 mile run and concluded by a two hour training session on marksmanship and close quarters combat. The later being the cause of the worst of the teens pain.
The other cadets fought viciously, using cqc training as an outlet for all of the aggression and spite that accumulated throughout the day of abuse and hard work. And Louise was an easy target.
However today was different.
After getting thoroughly thrashed for the third time she groaned upon seeing the fourth cadet approaching her, an expression of pure malice and contempt on their face. Louise didn't even have the energy to cry anymore, simply preparing to endure another one sided 'spar', but then someone spoke,
"Oi, Fawks. How about a match?" someone calls out, whom she dimly recognizes as the teen who'd spoken with her at the cafeteria earlier. A few seconds later she realizes he was addressing the boy that was heading her way, who pauses in confusion before turning toward Ciaphas.
"Sorry mate, I've already got a match." he says, letting out a malicious chuckle and crossing his arms.
"Oh, have you? Strange I don't remember you calling one out. Unless you're too much of a coward to take me on, of course." Ciaphas says in response, flicking his wrist and twirling his practice blade as he moves to intercept the other teen.
Fawkes scowls and snarls out "You want it to be that way then? Fine." and then he lunges forwards.
The duel if it could be called that is over in seconds, with Louise barely able to keep track of what happened. One second Ciaphas was still and the next he was deflecting Fawkes first two blows before dealing a vicious kick to the other boys unmentionables and sending him to the ground. Pressing the tip of his practice blade against Fawkes neck, Ciaphas says "I think I won, how about another?" As he reaches down to offer his opponent a hand up.
The downed cadet simply snarls and slaps his hand away growling out, "You'll regret this..." before rising to his feet and storming off, shoving past another cadet.
"I'm sure I will, I'm sure I will." Cain mutters to himself before whipping around with his second best smile and approaching the pink haired cadet whom he'd just saved from a complete pummeling.
"You seemed to be in a right pickle there, didn't you?" he says, sheathing his practice blade and crossing his arms.
"I'm fine... I would've been fine." Louise says with a huff.
"I'm sure you would, I'm sure you would." Cain says, nodding along at her before leaning in to whisper,
"Listen, to be quite frank 'my lady' your sword skills worth frak all and I'm surprised you lived through the run. However, you've got determination in bucket loads and that's rare, especially around here. Now listen, Fawkes and his mates are right royal pissants and they'll be after me now to. Like I said earlier though, us outcasts have to stick together. If you want to stand a chance of surviving through your Schola years show up here at eleven. I've got a bit of a deal with Abbot Wilbur, so you won't have any issues getting here."
Before Louise could respond however he was gone, vanishing among the crowd of cadets as the instructors call an end to the day's session and form the cadets back up into a marching column and re-entering the Schola.
Two hours later there Louise was, 10:53 Terran standard time, pacing anxiously in front of her door.
Five minutes later she halts, taking a deep breath to compose herself and opens the door, revealing the dark and empty hallway beyond.
A.N
Cain has always struck me as someone who, no matter how many times he says otherwise tends to usually do the right thing in the end, even if it's just in his own way. And I figure at this age he'd be a bit more impulsive and a bit less well, cautious. Now by no means does this mean that he is going to be intentionally risking his life or taking a bet that he isn't sure he can't win. He's still Ciaphas Cain after all.
I'll go and fix spelling mistakes when I can get my pc.
As always feel free to leave your thoughts in a review.
See you next time.
