Armorum Fidei Chapter 12
"Give unto Him thanks and praise!" a rector cried into the templum.
Kneeling in long lines the congregation intoned, "All hail the God-Emperor."
"From the evils of the Warp and the blandishments of Daemons!" came the next cry.
"Save us mighty Lord of Terra," the crowd recited by rote.
"From the perils of the Xenos and the filth of the mutant!"
"Deliver us," the faithful chanted.
Justini knelt in ceremonial robes, and clasped engraved rosary beads to her brow as she tried to ignore the aching in her knees. The service had been going on for over four hours and she was eager for it to be over. She should be concentrating on prayers but her attention was waning and her back twinging, focusing on His glory was rapidly becoming impossible. In a moment of impiety she lifted her head a fraction and glanced across the congregation, seeing the gathered crew of Currens Ecclesia.
Down the length of a templum, raised high on the walking church's back, were a selection of the adepts and helots that endeavoured to bring the God-Emperor's teachings to Suna. Filthy labourers and wizened clerics, pitted steeplemen and pious Sisters, choirboys, gunners and mess-cooks. Their coarse cloth was at odds with the golden Aquilas and bronzed lecterns of the Cathedral, but their humble attire was irrelevant compared to their faith. At the back hung a shadowed gathering of bulky figures in red robes, Tech-Priests, gathered in unusual number. The Ecclesiarchy typical kept its distance from their divergent strain creed, the clockwork version of Emperor they worshipped unsettling to the fanatical hearts of the Ministorum, yet they were essential to the functioning of Currens Ecclesia, and today was hardly a typical day.
Justini dragged her eyes back to the front, where a fat preacher was extolling the perilous evils that roamed the galaxy. Rich robes hung heavy around his stout frame and he had dribbling candles set upon his shoulders, that ran wax gobbets down his back. He was reading from a thick tome, set atop a lectern bolted into the back of a sweating man, the pain of that must be extreme but his devotion to expunging sins through suffering was admirable. Justini knew first hand that most of the teachings read aloud were half-truths at best, fabrications at worst, but held her tongue. The common man was a simple being, best kept from knowing the truth of the danger. Men could not be allowed to know Daemons were extant threats, that the warp hungered for their souls. All they needed to know was Mankind was under threat from all sides and that only the God-Emperor could save them.
Suddenly the preacher yelled, "There can be only one Emperor!"
"One saviour," the crowed replied, "One deliverer."
"Without him a billion, billion souls are but fodder for Daemons!"
"Shield us from evil and send forth your angels," the congregation cried.
"Behold proof of His benevolence," the preacher bellowed.
All heads rose as thick doors opened at the back of the Templum. Through a marble arch, inscribed with images of winged Saints, came four men struggling under the weight of their charge. Plasteel beams were laid over their shoulders and set atop was a golden palanquin, with glassic panels shielding a stasis-field. Within this reliquary was a chair, and in that chair a skeletal mummy. Faded red robes hung from decayed arms and a grinning skull hung to the left, set with a tall mitre upon its head. Oddly evidence of numerous augmetics could be seen, wires threaded through bones, leading under the robes where bulky devices were hidden.
"Behold the bones of Saint Kekest!" the preacher yelled. An excited thrum rang through the crowd as the bones of the Sainted Tech-Priest were paraded up and down the nave, even the Tech-priests letting out a low buzz of Binaric at the sight, thrilled to witness so hallowed an occasion. A member of the Mechanicus elevated to sainthood by the Ecclesiarchy, a truly rare occurrence. Justini kept her eyes low as the bones were displayed, then closed her eyes as they were returned to their rest.
The service had climaxed and the preacher seemed to be done. He made his last benedictions, urging the faithful to continue spreading the Imperial Creed, then departed without looking back. The Congregation swiftly broke up, leaving the Templum and returning to their labours. The Celestians left via a side door and as soon as they were out of sight Justini began swinging her shoulders about with a loud groan.
The others followed suit, even Resita lifting her arms high then bending down to touch her toes as her spine creaked. Praxi winced and remarked, "Doesn't that hurt?"
"Flexibility is key," Resita admonished, "You should be able to touch your toes too."
"If the God-Emperor wanted me to touch my toes he'd have placed them on my hips!" Praxi laughed.
Lexia shook her neck about as she asked, "Do they often bring out Saint Kekest's bones?"
"First time I've seen them," Praxi sniffed, "Special occasion, don't ask me why."
"It's accession day, accounting for sidereal," Resita informed them, "Celebrated every one hundred years on Terra, to the exact day the Emperor took His place on the Golden Throne."
"How do you know these things?" Praxi snorted.
"I listen," Resita snapped.
Justini rolled her eyes and asked, "Does anyone know why Kekest was canonised?"
"He built the first Train-cities," Resita answered, "Allowing humanity to survive the alien menace."
"And keep the sector's pipe-line of Promethium running," Praxi quipped.
"Such impiety from a Celestian is shocking," Resita said archly.
"That's not the half of it," Praxi retorted, "I heard a rumour he built Currens Ecclesia too. Apparently wouldn't touch the license of the Ministorum, until they promised to make him a saint. Seems Tech-priests aren't as immune to a bit of bribery as they like to make out."
"May you be forgiven for heretical gossiping," Resita replied with a wry smile that showed she wasn't truly offended.
Justini was glad to be free but then Heleyna hissed, "We will be deploying soon."
That punctured the mood and Justini said, "We should return to our chantry-barracks."
With a nod the Celestians straightened their robes and returned to the main cathedral. The space was empty now and they made their way out the far doors. Outside the cold air hit hard and the constant peeling of bells rang in the ear. The soaring towers were like forest trees rising above, complete with simian shapes that swung about their heights. The smell of burning braziers lay heavy in the air and the deck swayed ever so slightly as the walking church lifted its feet in sequence.
Justini blinked as they walked past a pair of Paragon warsuits, the proud sisters standing guard over the Templum, as was their holy charge. Justini had trained to use the Machines, as a Celestian she was eligible, but found them cumbersome and unsteady. The arms were controlled by free handles but the thighs encompassed the wearer's lower limbs, trapping her legs in a vice. Without the ability to flex her knees she could only move her hips, leaving a pilot to trust the Machine Spirit to compensate and walk smoothly. She always felt like she was about to fall over when she trained in one and was glad to keep her power armour instead.
So intent on her thought was she that Justini failed to notice Phantes stepping out of the shadows. The Celestians pulled up short and Justini nearly tripped over her feet. She hastily caught her balance and bowed with her squad mates before their leader. The Canoness eyed them primly and then said, "I require Justini, the rest of you return to your cells."
The other departed with odd looks and Justini sweated under her leader's gaze. She worried her impious glances had been noticed but to her surprise Phantea said, "Walk with me." The old lady turned and made her way to the edge of Currens Ecclesia, from where they could watch the dull land creep by far below. Justini gathered her robes close and tried to not let her teeth chatter, as the wind cut straight through, and waited for Phantea to speak.
Eventually Phantea sighed, "I have need to share my burdens, but have none to hear my woes. Tyreck is a fool and all others lesser in rank, so I must ask for your trust. Can I share my troubles with you?"
"I shall keep your thoughts private between us," Justini replied, "You have my sacred troth."
Phantea looked downwards and stated, "I must confess I have been sending Astropathic messages to Sucaris, asking for redeployment."
Her dour tone spoke volumes and Justini hazarded, "They refused you."
"Worse, they ignore me. A Canoness of the Order, not even worthy of a reply."
Justini gulped, "You mean to say, we're stuck here?"
"Barring a miracle," Phantea lamented, "It seems Tyreck was right, Suna is a dumping ground for failures and the ignorant. I accepted this assignment thinking it would be a brief respite from the front lines, a chance to do some humble missionary work. I thought we could succeed where generations before us failed. I don't know which one that makes me, a failure or an idiot."
Justini gulped, "Surely He would not leave us to rot without purpose. There must be a reason the God-Emperor placed us on Suna."
"You still see the will of the Golden Throne in this wasteland of heathens?" Phantea scoffed.
Justini reached to her neck and pulled out her mother's ring as she said, "I see His hand in all things. I was left in an orphanage, no different to a billion others, yet He called me to His service. I have fought across worlds, saved cities, seen miracles first-hand. None of these things would have occurred without that first day, a pebble that set in motion an avalanche. All things occur in accordance with His will."
Phantea stared at the ring and breathed, "You still have that?"
"It is all I have of family," Justini explained, "For everything else there is His love. What more could I need?"
Phantea looked away and spat, "Above all I curse that I brought you here, to waste away with me. I had such hopes for you."
Justini thought that odd, she was only a humble Sister among many, but dared, "You thought I could rise to a higher station?"
Phantea nodded, "I have kept a close eye on you Justini, I thought you could be my successor someday. I brought you close to teach you how to be a true servant to the Golden Throne, a sentimental act and in my weakness I doomed you to share my fate."
Justini heard a hitch in her voice, the first hints of despair. She was shocked to learn that Phantea had doubts, that her house of faith was built upon crumbling sand. She had clung to the idea that Phantea had a plan, to convert Suna and leave this world, but the truth was the Canoness had no clue what to do. If left unchecked she could well sink into the same apathy as had taken Friar Tyreck, eating the heart of her until all that was left was a hollow shell. Justini wouldn't have that, she wouldn't allow it.
Justini lifted her chin and declared, "We must have faith, that our being here serves His purposes."
"What purpose?" Phantea scoffed, "The galaxy is aflame, crusades sweep across the stars and demi-gods war. The Space Marines will charge into the next fight and the next until they run into something mean enough to kill them properly, but we will spend our lives watching algae fields roll by and chasing heathen train-cities."
"His will is not for us to know," Justini argued, "Perhaps His plan is not for us to accomplish great deeds, but to help another achieve a grander design. Some soul not yet born may have need of us, the smallest action we do here could open the door for them to save worlds. Yet we cannot know what that deed is, or when it will be required of us, so we must act every day as if that is our time. Every action we take must be performed as if that is His appointed hour."
Phantea stared at her and mused, "Such faith, such steel, I knew you had it in you. By Maelstrom you're right, we have a task to accomplish and a cause to fight for. You have given me back my hope, and I thank you."
"It was nothing," Justini demurred.
"Not so, you have shown true spirit this day, beyond hacking and slashing on the battlefield. I promise you it will not be forgotten, soon we will speak of your future again and find a better place for you."
Justini was proud to hear such words and said, "I seek only to serve Him."
"You cut to the heart of me," Phantea affirmed, "But don't tell the others of my weak moment, they would not understand."
"Of course," Justini agreed, "I am glad I could offer counsel."
"Come lets us don our armour and prepare to venture forth, there is the God-Emperor's work to be done!"
With that the pair turned away and left. Justini was confident they would find their purpose on Suna and yet deep within she was worried that Phantea had exposed hidden doubts. That the Canoness was bold and brave was unquestionable but she doubted, the mettle of her faith was revealed to contain impure dross. Truly it was said a moment of laxity could spawn a lifetime of heresy. Justini resolved in her heart to stay close to Phantea from now on, just in case she had another moment of weakness.
