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Chapter 19: Kronus: Consequences

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Part 3

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Gryphon

Dictator class cruiser

high orbit above Kronus

"No Crusade against the Adeptus Mechanicus at this time." Inquisitor Chandra spoke in a deadly voice. "We will have one chance to realize the Emperor's vision as given by us by the Living Saint." He nodded at the living proof of the Emperor's divinity. "If we mishandle it, the consequences are going to be disastrous for the Imperium at large."

That wasn't a suggestion, Wolf realized immediately. The Inquisitors' whole bearing was different, deadly. They were ready to back their worlds with violence at a moment's notice.

"No hint of what Inquisitor Veil told us can leave this room before we're ready." Inquisitor Vail added. "We will need to craft meticulous plans, gain strong allies, and most importantly, prove to the Imperium at large that Veil is indeed a Living Saint speaking with the Emperor's voice. A failure will mean a civil war which can rend the Imperium asunder, perhaps even doom it."

That unfortunately was the reality looming beyond the glorious vision of the Saint. The Mechanicus was trouble. The Ecclesiarchy always knew that. Unfortunately, they were one of the most vital pillars keeping the Imperium running. Many people before had dreamed of that organization doing much more, however, without the backing of a Saint, the very idea of doing something about it would be insane.

Now, it was merely insanely dangerous. Doubly so, because to the average faithful, such important distinctions would be lost. If they heard the Inquisitor speak about his vision, all too many of the faithful would merely see the Mechanicus as an enemy to be vanquished, humbled at best, destroyed at worst. The consequences would be indeed catastrophic if this went out of hand.

"The Mechanicus controls the majority of our industry. A disruption in deliveries of military or civilian equipment can doom countless worlds and Guard Regiments. This is to be avoided and mitigated as much as possible." Chandra continued. "We need forward-thinking allies within the Mechanicus itself, whole Forge Worlds backing us that will see a minimal disruption of production and delivery while we reforge the organization at large. If we are to have a chance, if we are not to fail the Emperor's orders, we must be careful and prepare the ground first."

The Inquisitors knew it, which was good. Wolf's fellow Priests received the bare-bones explanation with mixed feeling, that much was obvious. He would need to speak with them at length before they left to ensure there would be no misunderstandings or mistakes.

"At the same time, Inquisitor Veil does have other, more immediate orders to follow and we believe you will be in great use in aiding him fulfilling them." Vail finished.

"Kaurava. Sub-Sector Aurelia. I need to visit both places, soon and do the Emperor's work there. I'm burning with the need to go." The Saint finally spoke.

Everyone perked up at that.

"The Order of the Sacred Rose contingent under my command is at your disposal, Inquisitor Veil." Palatine Weber bowed as deeply as her sitting position and armor allowed. "You lead, and we will follow to the depths of hell itself!"

That was a predictable outcome. Serving a Saint? That wasn't just a dream come true, but a sacred duty for the Adeptus Sororitas. The obvious downside was Wolf would not have them to help bring Kronus back into the fold, however with organized enemy resistance on the surface broken, he shouldn't need them. The Militia, Imperial Guard forces, and the PDF once properly reformed, should do.

"I would love to join you in your mission, Saint Veil." Amelia grimaced. "I'm afraid that my Medicae experience and faith would be better served to aid the people of Kronus at this time. However, once the situation here is resolved, I'm at your disposal. Command me, and I'll answer."

"No need, Missionary Argent. You're right, Kronus can use all the Medicae assistance it could get. The Emperor didn't intervene twice only for use to fail his people when we can do anything to help them." The Saint's words rang true, and Amelia beamed at them.

"I am not exactly suited for the rigors of combat, your Holiness," Bruce spoke next. The tall man shrugged in apology. "My talents would be better spent on Kronus I fear."

"On the other hand, I'll be honored to walk in your footsteps and smite the Emperor's enemies!" Questus hurried to add. "If you would have me, of course, Saint Veil!"

"I have the feeling that I can use all the help I could get at Kaurava." The Saint finally acknowledged them. "What assets can you spare to join a task force heading there?"

"At least a handful of ships to carry Missionary Questus and Palatine Weber's people." Wolf decided. Anything else would be borderline treason and heresy at best! The very idea of not aiding the saint as much as possible was unthinkable!

"That's a good start." Inquisitor Chandra spoke next. "While this ship already has tasking, either the Blessed Blade or Naginata with escorts should be able to join you. You might want to speak with General Alexander when he recovers, and Captain Thule for additional support. I'm sure we can spare at least a regiment or two from the reinforcements I brought as well."

"Unfortunately, neither of us will be joining you, Inquisitor Veil," Vail explained. "We'll need to ensure what you already did on Kronus doesn't go to waste and begin laying the groundwork to realize your vision."

"I expected that much." The Saint acknowledged.

"Inquisitor Greyfax might serve you well if she recovers enough before you leave," Vail added.

There was a third Inquisitor here? It was nice to know the Inquisition was taking the situation and the Saint's plans with the appropriate gravitas.


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Librarium
Battle Barge Omnis Arcanum
Sub-Sector Aurelia

The Blood Raven's central Librarium situated deep within the armored decks of their flagship had a distinct presence. The huge repository of knowledge was heavy with the secrets it contained, yet it was always quiet and peaceful, allowing for undisturbed contemplation.

Usually, a visitor could hear only a few sounds in this place. Those were the quiet shuffling of servitors, the familiar and easy to ignore warble of Servo-Skulls tending the shelves, and the almost inaudible steps of Blood Ravens in search of knowledge.

It was rare for the Chapter Master to summon you in these hallowed eyes – Kyras usually did his work from his private Sanctum a few decks above the Librarium.

Brother-Captain Boreale stalked past the shelves, determined not to disturb the atmosphere of this hallowed place. He could see at least a dozen of his Brothers pouring through thick tomes, searching for enlightenment as was proper.

Indrik eventually found the Chapter-Master in a secluded corner of the Librarium, sitting at a large and ornate wooden table crafted by a particularly skilled Brother centuries ago. The priceless ebony furniture was almost as old as the Chapter-Master himself if rumors were true.

Kyras spoke with another ancient, the Apothecary Galan, who wore simple white robes.

"Ah, Brother-Captain Boreale!" Kyras smiled wistfully as soon as he noticed Indrik's approach. "Come and join us. I have news and orders for you, my young friend."

Say what you will about the Chapter-Master, Kyras wasn't just a veteran of centuries of warfare. He was also a charismatic leader who could put you at ease with a handful of words and a few gestures.

"Sir." Boreale saluted, then did as bid and sat on a stout bench meant to support the bulk of a fully armored Astartes.

"You've always been a stickler for protocol, lad. Calm down. We aren't Ultramarines. We don't live and breathe the Codex." Galan ribbed him in good cheer.

"With respect, Apothecary, the Chapter-Master didn't call me for small talk."

"Sadly I did not." Kyras traced a finger over the leather cover of the large tome he had been reading. "I have news, both fortuitous and not. The good news first, Brother-Captain Thule has been successful in securing Kronus. While the planet is now safe from hostile forces, and our losses light, Thule has been unable to achieve his primary objective – secure critically important relics."

That was good news indeed. Too bad about the relics, though.

"This only makes your mission that much more important, Indrik. It also warrants a change of orders. I'm attaching the available assets from the Fifth and Eight Companies to your Task Force. Further, I must alter your orders. Instead of landing on Kaurava II in order to first neutralize the Ork menace there and prevent them from rampaging across that world, first, you'll have to strike at Kaurava IV. We've got unconfirmed intelligence of Alpha Legion presence there. You must neutralize them by any means necessary, retrieve and safeguard any relics you find. This is particularly important after the events on Kronus."

The Chapter-Master spoke with an intensity he rarely displayed.

"I can't stress this hard enough. Beyond any other considerations, you must recover any Chapter relics on Kaurava IV. Only then, you can proceed to pacify the system against any and all opposition. Recovery of any other relics you find will be of critical importance as well."

"I'll do as you command, sir! However, I feel compelled to ask, won't sending this much of our strength to leave Sub-Sector Aurelia open for attack?"

"Good, I know you will, Indrik." Kyras smiled benevolently. "I'll be here keeping the peace. Captain Thule will be returning soon as well. I'll personally make sure our recruiting worlds are safe and prosperous, worry not."


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Part 4

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Asdrubael Vect's palace

Commorragh

Reluctantly, very reluctantly at that, Asdrubael Vect, the supreme overlord of the Dark City, had to admit that too much of a good thing not only existed but could be a spot of trouble. If it was trouble, or outright disaster, for other people, then Vect would have merely enjoyed the show, perhaps after ensuring he would profit by it.

Commorragh vibrated with screams of unimaginable agony, ecstasy, often both. They were torn from the throats of billions of slaves and Drukhari alike, and their suffering souls.

That was the finest music caressing Vect's ears, and soothing the eternal hunger clawing at his soul.

It wasn't going to last for much longer, and that was the small issue distracting him. That was a shame really. The last couple of weeks were quite interesting, with every Drukhari on Commorragh going out of their way to quiet down Slaneesh's hunger for their souls. The bitch was throwing a temper tantrum over not getting her way, a particularly bad one this time. It wasn't unheard and when it happened, it usually ensured interesting times for Commorragh – rivals to see fall, new up-and-coming artists going above and beyond what could be expected under most circumstances, all the entertainment Asdrubael could think of within the grasp of his hand… Those were usually very good times.

After two weeks of debauchery that would have made the Aeldari Empire during its fall proud, Commorragh was running out of slaves. A not insignificant number of Drukhari were a mess and would be of no use anytime soon if at all. That's why, a lot of those took center stage of the entertainment over the last few days, and most of them loved every moment of it, screaming for more sensations.

It was telling Vect was no longer celebrating. Instead, he stood on his throne flanked by the closest thing he had to reliable guards, while his Archons gathered down below. No one was untouched by the revere – fresh and days-old blood-covered scarred skin and painted armor. Creative wounds and mutilations oozed dark ichor. From where he sat, Vect could smell the stench of sublime narcotics still gripping most of his Archons.

Yes, this was less than ideal. In a few days, there wouldn't be a single useful slave left in the Dark City, and that was saying something. It was impressive really. The anarchy that would follow would be a bit less impressive. Already, the crew of a Battleship got too busy entertaining themselves, that they managed to crash into a docking cradle and immolate a whole section of the docks. The whole area still burned, wasting megatons of supplies. That wasn't the only incident, only the most spectacular and visible one.

Even worse, dear Lelith was getting bored and restless due to a lack of entertaining opponents. Every time that happened, Vect's life became that bit more interesting. If he couldn't provide the Queen of Blades with distraction, she would either go out seeking it or stalk Commorragh causing trouble. And if that state of affairs persisted, sooner or later she might decide that Asdrubael made a worthy opponent. It was one thing "dueling" with her in the bed or one of the countless entertaining rooms in the palace, it was another the Queen trying to get him out of sheer boredom.

After all, Lelith Hesperax was perhaps the only person in all of Commorragh's left who posed a credible threat to his continued survival if she ever turned her blades on him. That, of course, only made the sex even better…

Valossian Sythrac staggered into the throne room, leaking blood and other, harder-to-identify fluids. He was bare-chested, showing countless burns, cuts, and more exotic wounds. He also bore a manic grin on his mutilated face.

"I like what you've done with the cheeks, it's inspired." Vect laughed in greeting.

That was a mask of course. Seeing his most reliable military commander reduced to this, and more importantly, arriving in such a state, was telling. Perhaps the effects of the celebrations were a bit more profound than he believed. Vect made a note to torture answers from a few underlings and check his contingencies – missing such obvious clues meant he was slipping, and that was not good at all.

"Thank you, My Lord!" Sythrac bowed, spilling blood all over the floor. Well, that was all right, the place was already covered with a lot of it, and many pieces from slaves and Drukhari alike after the morning's entertainment.

What wasn't all right was the lack of slaves to get it cleaned up, along with fixing the parts of Commorragh not requiring a more delicate touch.

Vect frowned. If his minions were in a better state of mind, they would have been terrified by such an obvious display of displeasure. All the fun and games had dulled his edge, he noted. Otherwise, one of the first things he would have noticed about Sythrac would be the lack of his Husk Blade.

That was much more important, compared to what wounds the warlord had suffered or let his lovers inflict upon his body.

Khorrzh Vrex was a little better, though that wasn't directly visible. While the tall man was clad in his spiky armor, which had small hands of all things embedded on each spike, he leaked blood from ill-fitted seals. The younger Archon also swayed on his feet, though it wasn't obvious if it was the wounds or drugs he had taken.

Tahril appeared most composed among the small group. He had misplaced his lips somewhere, displaying two rows of ugly teeth for anyone interested in breaking them. That particularly arrogant Archon played with a bald, scarred, and silently screaming head he held in his Power Claw.

Such stunts went out of fashion about a thousand years ago or so, Vect knew. If this was the best, he would have, the Supreme Lord shuddered to think what kind of imbeciles would have been running around if he somehow failed to seize control of Commorragh.

"Pay attention, I won't repeat myself." Vect drawled. To their credit, his chief minions found in themselves enough sense to look up. While their expressions, when there were expressions to consider, didn't fill him with confidence, they could at least follow basic orders. And wasn't that a low bar to clear… "We find ourselves with a critical lack of slaves to have fun with." Vect waved at the pieces of bodies covering the floor and the few distinct pieces of fine art writhing in silent agony on display high up on the walls.

Tahril looked up, grinned bloodily, and had the gall of giving Vect a thumb's up.

"Your approval is noted, Archon." Vect muttered dryly. And of utterly no consequence. The art was already getting stale. "We're going on a few large-scale hunting expeditions." Predictably, Tahril perked up at that. "We need to replenish our slave stables and ideally find at least a few morsels worthy of our attention." By that, he, of course, meant his attention. Everyone else could go find their entertainment or vigorously fuck themselves with whatever sharp thing they found particularly interesting at the time.
The sounds of approval that met his grand proclamation were distinctly underwhelming.

Perhaps Lelith had the right idea, and getting out for fresh air and fun was in order… The alternative was having to endure the pathetic state his chief minions were reduced to and Vect found himself quickly running out of patience with them.

"Gather up your minions, we're going hunting." Vect declared grandly.

The reaction was still underwhelming. Must not kill chief minions, Vect told himself repeatedly. Their available replacements were currently even more pathetic.


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