The Lone Lamenter
Part Three
Alcor remembered a lesson he had learned from the Chaplain of the Lamenters, Anastolefs Malaar, about his Primarch. He had recently been demoted from Captain of 10th Company and was furious for what he had felt was an injustice committed against his person.
"Welcome to my humble offices, Brother Alcor." Anastolefs said. He gestured at a chair. "Please, have a seat. It seems that you are troubled. If you wish, I can talk with you on that matter."
"Thank you, brother." Alcor said, a little stiffly, as he took the seat. Anastolefs personal serf placed a cup of tea on the table beside him.
"Thank you, Penelope." Alcor said. The chapter serf bowed and wordlessly exited the room.
"I am surprised you knew Penelope." Anastolefs said with a smile.
"I am surprised by your admission, sir." Alcor answered.
"Quite the wit you have, brother. I hope your blade is as sharp." Anastolefs said.
"It is, sir." Alcor said. The two Astartes remained silent for a while. Alcor forced himself to take a sip from the cup the serf had prepared for him. It was a well made brew and if it wasn't for the bitterness on his mind, Alcor would have enjoyed it.
"Permission to speak freely, sir?" Alcor suddenly said.
"Granted." Anastolefs answered, stirring the tea in his cup.
"I believe the Chapter Master was wrong to demote me." Alcor said, setting his cup down with care. "I captured the enemy fortress. I purged it of all the heretics who dared to stray from the light of the Emperor. I bested the warlord of the traitor warband. I won glories for the Chapter and the Imperium. And yet I face such disgrace. I do not understand, Brother Anastolefs."
"True. You have done all of that, no doubt." the Chaplain said. He looked up from his cup, a gentle expression on his face, so uncharacteristic for an Astartes. "It was a band of Night Lords, was it not?"
"And I slew their Warmaster, Drakon Zeruk, in single combat." Alcor said.
"Yes, I believe you killed three of their number by their lonesome." Anastolefs mused.
"Indeed, brother." Alcor said, his breast swelling with pride for being acknowledged. "My accomplishments seem to be flying ahead of my person."
"And how many of your battle brothers were lost in this engagement, brother?" the Chaplain asked.
"Six, brother." Alcor said. He sensed that he had walked into a trap but he couldn't tell what it was.
"And how many civilians were lost in this battle?" the Chaplain asked further.
"I am afraid that I did not tally the butcher's bill, brother." Alcor said.
"Make an estimate, Brother Alcor." Anastolefs said. The smile was still there but all the warmth was gone. Alcor now knew that he was in for a reprimand. But he could not retreat now. It was never an option.
"At least a hundred, sir." Alcor ventured.
"You are correct. By the count of Brother Volturno, the death toll was five hundred and thirty seven civilians, one thousand, three hundred and fifty eight soldiers." Anastolefs said. "Quite a high price for your personal glory, don't you think?"
"I understand, brother." Alcor said.
"Clearly, you understand nothing, Brother Alcor, since you have stepped over blood and bodies for something as worthless as glory." Anastolefs said. The fierceness in his voice was potent enough for Alcor to narrow his eyes but he kept his focus.
"Would our Primarch call glory worthless, brother-chaplain?" Alcor asked.
"Sanguinius would call glory worthless if it resulted in pointless slaughter, brother Alcor." Anastolefs said.
"Sanguinius would never make mistakes, brother-chaplain." Alcor said. Anastolefs frowned.
"I do not see how that is relevant to the current topic, brother, but you are also wrong on that account. The Primarch was truly wondrous but he was not without his mistakes." the battle chaplain said.
"Brother-Chaplain, you forget yourself. Sanguinius was perfection itself." Alcor said.
That was when the brother chaplain had sighed and told him about Imperium Secundus; how the loyal Primarchs of the Emperor had decided to create another Imperium to keep some semblance of order, how Sanguinius had his doubts but allowed himself to be crowned Imperator Regis by his brother Roboute Guilliman and how he considered it one of his worst mistakes since it delayed him from coming to the Emperor's aid. It was a piece of history every battle chaplain knew and was only narrated to the children of Sanguinius when they needed reminding of humility and loyalty.
And after that, he was given the responsibility of overseeing the Fleet's cleaning serfs and servitors and wasn't allowed to see combat for two years.
At the current moment, Alcor Gerakides was at an impasse within himself. These weren't ordinary traitors or heretics; these were simply misguided souls who believed themselves to be the loyal subjects of his Father's Imperium. And behind him were the true loyalists. Alcor came to a quick decision.
"I am Alcor Gerakides of the Lamenters Astartes Chapter, 8th Company. I am a loyal son of Sanguinius and you will listen to me!" he declared.
For a moment, the attackers stood still and stayed silent. Alcor let himself feel some hope for negotiations to be concluded.
The moment did not last.
"Kill him!" one of the attackers screamed. Alcor was covered in a volley of musket fire and other manner of primitive bullets and ordnance. Most of the bullets bounced off his body, being too slow and weak to do much damage. Some managed to burrow into his flesh but they were not worth mentioning. The true damage done was the breakdown of communication between the Secundus soldiers and the Loyalist caravan. Alcor sighed and made a second decision. He lumbered forward, his gait as ungraceful as unbecoming of a Son of Sanguinius, and started to knock out the Secundus soldiers with his bare hands. Several of them had blades and bayonets, weapons that Alcor didn't even bother to dodge. He let the soldiers stab and slash at him as a sort of penance for his rashness, while he systematically knocked unconscious the biggest and toughest seeming mortal soldiers.
After a few of them were on the ground, the rest of the soldiers wised up and stopped trying to attack him.
"What do you want?" one of them asked, the slightest tremor in his voice betraying the fear he felt. Alcor felt a spark of admiration at the man's courage. Truly, even in a forsaken and forgotten place such as this, humanity produced marvelous specimen. To face certain death and still stand your ground was an admirable trait only found in humanity.
"I want you to retreat and not bother this caravan." Alcor said. Perhaps he should add more restrictions and demands but he couldn't think of any at the moment. "You will do that, soldier, and you will keep silent about this whole affair. Do you understand?" The soldier nodded and as one, the Secundus soldiers picked up their unconscious comrades and retreated. Alcor knew that they wouldn't keep silent but that could not be helped. He turned to face the caravan where the travelers were aiming their weapons at him. SOme of them even trembled.
"What in the name of the Emperor are you lunks doing? Put down your weapons!" Helena yelled. She seemed to have some command over them since a few of them reluctantly lowered their muskets and crossbows. "That man just saved your lives and this is how you thank him? Shame on all of you." Helena said. The remaining lowered their weapons as well but still looked at him askance. Alcor ignored their suspicion. He felt a little frustrated but he did not let his emotions come to the surface. He rejoined the caravan and without a word, they began moving once again.
"So you really are not from this world." Helena said. Alcor remained silent as Etro. He knew she was awake and only lying on her back. "Somehow, I expected the Emperor's Angels to look more fierce and wonderful. You are lacking."
"I am not the best Son of Sanguinius, I confess. And I am much more imposing inside my armor." Alcor said.
"Oh you are imposing, no doubt about that. I said fierce." Helena said. She turned to look at him. "Why did you spare those soldiers?"
"Their massacre would have been pointless." Alcor said.
"What do you mean pointless? They are"traitors to the Imperium!"Helena said.
"No, they are simply misguided. I am certain that we can negotiate a settlement." Alcor said.
"Lord Myiagros would have never tolerated this."One of the travelers suddenly spoke up, his harsh whisper carrying faith and fury.
"Hush, Symmachus. We need not go there." Helena said.
"Who made you the leader of the caravan? We all are entitled to speak our piece." the man retorted, feeling emboldened by Alcor's lack of interjections. "I speak the truth. Lord Myiagros always warned us about such treasonous thoughts. And here we are, parleying with a Son of Sanguinius as if all is right in the world."
"Who is this Lord Myiagros?" Alcor said.
"No one important." Helena said.
"How dare you!" Symmachus sputtered. The other travelers also joined him in their anger.
"He sounds quite important." Alcor said.
"He was also fond of flaying war captives alive and crucifying them in public for all to see." Helena said. Alcor's hearts skipped a beat.
"The traitors deserved much worse!" another traveler yelled. The caravan was moving at the slowest pace and Alcor was beginning to feel impatient.
"Was this Lord Myiagros as tall as me?" Alcor asked.
"No, he was taller." Helena said. Alcor blinked.
"I take it that he is no longer alive." Alcor said.
"Yes." Helena answered.
"How did he die?" Alcor asked.
"He was assassinated by the enemy. They couldn't take him properly so they killed him like cowards." Symmachus said.
"And ever since then, the False Imperium has grown ever bolder." another traveler said.
"Hush, save such foul talk for later. We approach Mercy's Keep." Helena said.
The dawn broke at the moment and Alcor saw a fortress-city in the distance. But more impressive than the fortress was the statue at the gates. Grey and cold-looking stood a statue of a Night Lord Astartes, his lightning claw raised to the heavens.
"That is our lord and saviour, Dikastis Myiagros, founder of Mercy's Keep, defender of the people, flayer of his enemies, Lord Commander of the true people." Symmachus said proudly.
Alcor felt his hearts sink.
~O~
Gumeshka Urvosh swirled the wine in his goblet pensively. In front of him, the wych thrashed on the ground, struggling to rip off her skin but to no avail. The torture his haemunculus had inflicted on her was amusing but pointless. He already knew the answers he needed. But lessons needed to be taught and this was one to the entire Wych Cult.
"Cult of Ravage, was it not?" Gumeshka mused at the twenty wyches standing at the other end of the court, witnessing the torture of their cult member. "Perhaps you should try to live up to your name a little less."
No one said anything. Gumeshka sighed.
"It's because you got ravaged by a single mon-keigh, you fools. It was a joke. You should laugh." Gumshka said. His entire court immediately burst into jeering laughter, the titters and guffaws at odds with the seething hatred that evaporated off of the wych cultists. That was better.
"Lord Archon-" the wych on the floor spluttered. Gumeshka's haemonulus increased the pain and she resumed screaming.
"No no my dear, you misunderstand. No excuses will suffice now. You should have killed the mon-keigh as soon as you had the chance but you all were too absorbed in theatrics to see." Gumeshka crooned. The Incubii at his sides were motionless but Gumeshka knew that they were growing tired of this display. Insolent whelps. The Kabal of the Shattered Eclipse, his Kabal of the Shattered Eclipse, were their patrons. They were shrineless and he gave them a place to serve. And yet they dared to roll their eyes behind their helmets as if they were the ones who had favored him. Gumeshka made mental notes to have both of them assassinated.
"Does anyone know where the mon-keigh fled to?" he asked. He drained his goblet and held it out. A slave shambled forward and refilled it. "Hmm? Anyone?"
"The mon-keigh fled to the planet called Callimachus, Lord Archon." one of the wyches said.
"Well then, I suggest you make yourself useful and get back what is rightfully mine, wych." Gumeshka answered.
"That we cannot do, Lord Archon. Callimachus is the hunting grounds of the Cult of Despair, which is currently aligned with the Kabal of the Book of Sorrows." the wych answered.
"Yrveth." Gumeshka said through gritted teeth. The Archon was a woman of cunning and spite and his Kabal of the Shattered Eclipse was outnumbered by the thousands strong Kabal of the Book of Sorrows. Furthermore, Yrveth had a reputation for disposing of anyone who crossed her and although Gumeshka would never admit it, he feared her.
"I believe we are done here." he said. "Half-born,"he said to his kabalite warriors, "give the wych over to the slaves. Allow those slaves a few days of respite and tell them that they can have their way with her with no repercussions."
There were more stares of hatred at him. The wych cult looked as if they were restraining themselves with all their will power. The warriors were apprehensive but they still moved to obey his orders. His Incubi remained motionless and curiously, all their tiredness and frustration seemed to have been reined in. The wych screamed and cursed as she was dragged out of court. He turned to his haemonculus.
"Prepare a scourge. I need to send a message to a dear old rival of mine."
~O~O~
Dikastis: means Judge in Greek.
Myiagros: means He Who Chases the Flies in Greek. It was a cult title for a divine figure who warded off flies. It could be used as an epithet for either a divinity or a hero. The cult title can sometimes be found in older exegesis on Beelzebub understood as "Lord of the Flies".
Wych: is a gladiatorial warrior of the Dark Eldar.
Haemonculus: is a Dark Eldar master of pain, agony, and biological manipulation.
Gumeshka Urvosh: is not a canon character.
Wych Cult of Ravage: is not a canon wych cult.
Kabal of the Shattered Eclipse: is not a canon Kabal.
Callimachus: is a canon planet, which used to be part of the Realm of Ultramar and later was reincorporated during the Plague Wars by Roboute Guilliman and given to the Avenging Sons Astartes Chapter.
Kabal of the Book of Sorrows: is a canon Kabal. It is known that their agents trapped a raiding party of Kabal of the Forked Tongue on the planet Vityris where they were destroyed by Space Wolves. Due to these actions, not only was the raiding party annihilated, but also an Archon of the Kabal of the Forked Tongue — Iruthyr Xynariis — along with his twin sister Izabella Xynariis.
Yrveth: is not a canon character.
Scourge: is an individual capable of flight after the attentions of a Haemonculus. They act as warriors, spies, and messengers for various Archons.