AN: Hi, and I'm back. I have decided that after reading all the reviews and quite a few Pm's from others here to change part of the story and get rid of Saito. Maybe in the future, I may rewrite this one-shot to see how it would go if I did leave him here.
I also decided to write this story on and off, so it isn't technically a one-shot anymore... but it would be on long periods of hiatus due to a lot of work and studying.
Thanks for all the reviews. I will write a response to them at the bottom of the story.
Please Review. It helps me learn.
The Headmaster of the Tristain Academy of Magic, an elderly man named Osmond, or Old Osmond to a few, sat at his desk. A long thick, pointed beard went down to his chest and a pipe poked out; small tufts of smoke blew out with every exhale. It was relaxing to imbibe in his hobby and to recline back into his comfy chair. Especially after recent events and… revelations.
He looked towards Colbert, who sat across from him.
"So, Colby." Osmond teased, hoping to give a bit of lighter moment to the tense atmosphere. "Was the Springtime Familiar Summoning successful?"
"It's Colbert." he replied without pause, long used to the man's antics, and his face was a mixture between joy and anxiousness. "It has gone quite well. However, I have a feeling that you are already aware of what exactly happened? With La Valliere?"
Osmond nodded. He was indeed aware of what happened. It didn't take long for the rumors mills to spin, or rather in this case for them to spin fast enough to propel skywards. Not to mention that he had scryed the whole incident from start to finish as well.
"Yes. I have indeed. Something about an angel and a demon of sorts being summoned, if I recall?" Osmond sat up straighter, deciding to play stupid. Refilling the pipe from a small pouch of dried weeds and lighting it with a flick of a finger, "I was hoping tha—"
"It would be one familiar now, headmaster. Both of them fought and only the angel survived, but barely, and we are currently burying the remains of the other." Colbert shuddered as he recalled the monstrous corpse. And how massive it was compared to him. "My attention has been more preoccupied with examining the surviving familiar in the dungeon."
"Why the dungeon, professor?" Osmonds asked. It was peculiar to treat someone in a dungeon, especially when a fully-stocked medical ward was available for use. Surely, it would've been wiser to send him there.
"Security." Colbert admitted then clarified his answer. "I did not want curious students to disturb his treatment. Though I am unsure if it was successful. He, or it, has fallen into a deep sleep and our healers had to work around his armor for most of it."
"Was the armour not removable?"
"We tried but we discovered that he was bonded to it and we didn't want to risk causing more injuries. But, I have managed to find some things about him." Colbert gave a delighted look.
"So? What have you found out so far about him? You seem rather giddy."
"It's not an angel, I think. An actual angel. His armour, it's incredible, I've never even seen something like this before. It's like an artificial body, a golem shell made of bundled wires and metal plates, judging from what I could see. And there were hoses and vents on the box attached to his back 'wings'." Colbert pulled out a sketching of the angel, and gestured to certain locations. The details of which were incredibly descriptive and complex. However, to Osmond, it reminded him of an insect's exoskeleton to some degree. "I've also haven't detected any enchantments and magic, or any I could recognize or find. So judging by the weight of the suit, It is safe to assume that the bearer would be abnormally strong."
"That is quite interesting." Osmond mused.
"There were some inscriptions written in old Romalian, though I am currently working on a translation. And from what the Healers can tell me, he also functions differently on the inside." Colbert tried to find a word for it, but found that he couldn't. The healers had no idea on how to describe it either to his dismay. No terminology or knowledge in their well of experience. Which meant they also lacked ways to treat him effectively, besides working with what they could recognize or extracting broken fragments of armor and bone when they can.
"Differently?" Osmond repeated, confused at the usage. "Do you mean that different being because he's something else…"
"He's human and not human, headmaster. From what they can describe, they think he has... two hearts. And he is also healing at an incredibly fast rate even before their treatment. Wounds were scabbing in seconds and shrinking in mere minutes. The more serious and grievous ones took hours."
Osmond took a huff out of his pipe. Placing a hand on his beard and giving a gentle stroke, pondering deep in his thoughts. "What about his weapons? I do hope we have secured them safely away." He asked, worryingly. The image of that oversized axe sticking out from the head of that dead creature, like a unicorn horn, worried him. Even more so, given that it glowed a vivid blue. And that wand bore a partial resemblance to another item in the academies possession.
He couldn't fathom what the consequence might be if they were to lose them. Or how this 'angel' would respond to it.
"We have placed them in the academy vault for safekeeping," Colbert reassured with a nod.
"Ah. That is good." Osmond smiled back. That was one thing off his shoulder. Now he had to deal with the aftermath.
Both of the men continued on in their talks, ignoring the presence of a nearby secretary. Thoughts and plans dancing in her mind. The idea of grabbing an additional prize tempting her. And whether a magical angel weapon would fetch a better price with the Romalians or to an interested individual.
Hamael could only see darkness, a void of immeasurable distance. He felt nothing but comforting warmth. Pains no longer intruded on him. Gone was the stinging and burning of corrosive venom. Gone was the aches and agony that coursed through him. Gone was the desire for the blood: forced upon him by a millenia old curse.
He felt relaxed now. Relieved almost. He had done his duty and there was no regrets, slaying the beast in the midst of the ancient rage. And then dying as he lived, in full service to the emperor -a great honor for any servant.
Now all was calm and he embraced the warmth, lulling his weary soul to sleep. Peace and calm entered his being and then he slumbered. For how long he did not know, he did not care. But then something nearby: his instincts screamed at him, telling him to look, to see and confront.
Something watching him.
With slow eyes, Hamael could see the darkness had been replaced. Light was now present in its absence. A bright, shining light that beamed down like the desert sun of Baal. And a heavy, comforting presence that pressed down on him, making him small and insignificant. Then he saw the source and was shocked.
It was a man, tall and proud, wreathed and adorned in glorious gold. A pointed halo made of light hovered above his black, luxurious hair, which swayed in the air-less void. Piercing blue eyes, ancient and thrumming with power, looked down and scrutinized him. The pressure mentally peeling away his being, layer by layer, in body and soul.
Then a loving smile grew like that of a doting father to an errant son as the pressure was released. Freeing a breath Hamael was not aware he had taken.
Familiarity hit a stunned Hamael. For he knew who it was, having devoted his entire life to him. And it was everything he imagined him to truly be and more.
"My-my Emp-Emperor," Hamael said in a cracked, dried voice. His two heart would've stood still if he could've felt them. Tears would've fallen down if he could cry. "H-have you come to ta-take me with you? To stand next to your golden throne?"
The Emperor did not say a word, simply continuing to smile. Then to Hamaels horror, he shook his head. A look of pity and sorrow etched across the pristine face. Every movement, every shake and glance sent a wave of disappointment. They stabbed into him with sharpened daggers of shame and anguish. It hurt him worse than any mortal blow.
For it tore his spirit, his being.
"Wh-why? Have I sinned against you, my Emperor. Was I not worthy? Have I wronged you, my lord?" Hamael cried out in breaking desperation, praying inwardly that this was a test of faith. Hoping. "Were my centuries of service in vain? Please, tell me what to do and I shall do so. Let me redeem myself in your eyes. I live only to serve you."
No words were ushered from the golden god of man. Only more sorrow, and the slow shaking of his head to the pleas and cries for redemption.
And despair threatened to sink its jaws into Hamaels soul until a golden gauntlet was placed gently on his shoulder, nearly engulfing his entire arm and shoulder. He braced for the inevitable squeeze, imagining that his entire side would be torn off like an ork to a squig for his impudence.
Instead, something else happened.
Powerful energies surged into him. Where he once felt comfort, it was being replaced with an aching pain: screaming, burning veins in nerves and muscles. The odor of mold, burning pitch and stale air where no smells had once existed. And he gritted his teeth at the sudden discomfort.
His right hand felt as if it thrusted into a fiery forge and he clenched it till it turned white.
Life was returning to his battered mortal vessel, Hamael realized. His two hearts resuming its erratic beat again, as his chest burned and cooled down in slow tempos. Hushed, frantic voices in strange tongues were heard, faint beyond even his augmented hearing. And his throat grew parched with thirst he could not slake.
Fear crept up, no, pounded back into him like an unstoppable force. Was he being banished for all eternity? To be torn from a rest well-deserved? To be unable to join his brothers and his gene-father in death? Perhaps he did deserve this for whichever slight or error had been done.
"You have not erred. Nor have you sinned. There is no need for redemption, for you are saved like those you have saved," the Emperor reassured him, speaking softly in his mind and soothing his panicked mental state. But the words still bore his mighty presence, a compressed storm waiting to be unleashed.
Relief washed over Hamael. And if able, he would kneel in supplication and deference before his liege.
"You have done many things, many a great deed; If able I would welcome you to stand beside me, alongside your fallen brothers, but it is not your time. Not yet. There is something that can be done and only you can do it. A moment of opportunity has arisen from your misfortune and a chance for the Imperium."
Hamael looked back with steeled resolve, ignoring the rising jolts of pain and being unable to bow. Ready to accept whatever was asked of him. His life was not his own to decide, It was the Emperors. And now he needed his assistance and he shall give it willingly. "What is this task you wish of me, my Emperor? I shall do it. I will head to the dark reaches of your universe or dive into the Eye of Terror, if that is what you desire. I would enforce your will and that of my father where it does not exist."
The light began to dim and Hamaels vision began fogging in and out. The Emperor released his grip, "you will think you are betraying me."
"I will never betray you, m-"
"You will think and you are not," he glared back. His voice demanding no further interruptions.. "You must reign in your urges, your pride, your dignity, if only for the time being. For I am aware that you are an angel of my beloved son and I ask much of you for this. Bide your time; follow, teach and learn. Protect the girl who claims to be your master and do not harm her. Though I know you may wish to. Refrain from it, for this I order you."
"My lord, I shall do as you wish." However, Hamael was confused. Shouldn't the world he perished on be now nothing but barren, lifeless rock. Its organic material turned to biomass that would be subsumed into the hivemind, to birth further monstrosities and abominations to plague the Imperium. Was it even still possible for someone to avoid the Tyranids after such a thorough scouring of life?
"Confusion and questions shadow your mind; all shall be clear soon. And I apologize… You were simply the wrong man in the wrong time at the right place. Farewell, Hamael of Baal Secundus." The Emperor faded away, taking his light and warmth.
Soon Hamael felt his eyes shut as a cold permeated into his body.
Hamaels eyes popped open. Pupils dilated and instantly adjusted to the low levels of light within the stone room. Flickering beams from burning torches giving off scant light from the sole entrance: a wooden door with a small barred window.
The machine-spirit in his armour, having sensed him conscious, came to life. The emergency solar batteries cycled and activated. Alarms, signals and diagnostic reports filled his helm feed before being silenced with a single thought. He needed to know where he was. This was not where he had fallen.
He fell on the open plains of a dying world, not in a damp room of roughly hewn stone and stale air.
Muscle fibre bundles contracted, actuators protested, joints groaned; Hamael pushed himself up, feeling the sharp aches of pain running down his limbs. His frame clambered from the hay bed he lay on in a clumsy manner, as he steadied his disorientated self. The burning of venom and pained flesh was still present but greatly diminished.
He didn't shrug the pain off, he fully embraced it. It was a wonderful feeling. It meant that he was still alive. He must not slumber again.
With open hands, Hamael reached where his weapons would be magnetically holstered and found nothing. He narrowed his eyes at this. A marines weapons were considered sacrosanct, especially one like his, as old and revered it was. And it was also a bad choice for anyone seeking to live long.
His nose picked up a pungent odour of bitter plants and strong alcohol, and looking down he could see cloth bandages stuffed inside cracks of his partially-cleansed armour. Clearly, his rescuers had attempted to clean and treat him. Though it would also show that they were unaware of Astartes physiology for the most part.
Not that many mortals knew in the first place but the meaning of the gesture was there. So he could respect them at least. Not many mortals would save an Astartes or try and treat one.
Activating the suit's chronometer, Hamael noted that roughly a terran-standard day had passed and he gave a quick prayer to the Emperor: thanking him for the speedy recovery and blessings for his mission. He moved towards the wooden door; noting that it was too small to allow him passage -more fitting in size for a base-line human- and was of primitive make. Peering through the narrow gaps of the barred window, his vision and the torchlight revealed that he was in a dungeon… along with the absence of any guards or fellow prisoners.
A tap and examination of the nearby walls revealed them to be solid rock, thick enough to deter any normal human prisoners but not enough to deter a determined Astarte. Especially one still wearing functioning, albeit damaged, power armour.
Which did leave a question of how they placed him in here. One that shall be answered later, if only to satiate his curiosity.
Hamael pondered his action. Should he leave to meet his saviour or captors, it would require him to smash his way out. An easy but noisy task for him. Or perhaps it would be wiser to simply wait for them to come back. The fact that they had attempted to heal him would mean that they would eventually come back to check on him.
Both were viable options. Both had their ups and downs. His experience, training and the Codex Astartes screamed at him to escape. To regroup and plan in a safer and secure environment, and reassess the situation.
However his instincts were hinting for him to stay here, waiting patiently for the right moment.
Then a choice was made.
Amidst the stone paved corridors of the Tristain Academy of Magic, two people carrying bandages and bottles walked together. Both of them chatting as they continued on their way lower, their surroundings slowly transitioning from luxury, to plain and finally old stone.
"Professor Colbert, I would like to thank you once again for helping me and letting me see my familiar." Louise de la Valliere said thankfully, happy that she was getting help. Though not to mention that it was not her who asked but rather it was the professor who approached her. And he turned incredibly excited when she gave him permission to come along to see her beautiful familiar, which may or may not be an angel according to him.
Needless to say, Lousie was saddened by the news. But the help was still appreciated and gave her a bit of a boost to her pride.
Not that it did much.
Her life, which was already torturous from the biting words and scorn of her peers, had only accelerated to a higher level of torture after yesterday's incident. Instead of the usual insults of 'zero' and 'failure', they now whispered more hurtful ones. Ones that stung harder than before.
Louise the death summoner.
Louise the Angel slayer.
"It is no trouble at all, Louise. In fact, I should be thanking you instead," Colbert replied back. "I have to say that giving me the chance to examine your familiar has been most exciting. And I can't wait to translate those writings on his armor."
Louise shook herself out of her thoughts.
"You can't read Old Romalian?"
"Not much, sad to say. I have studied them before and I never got the chance to fully study it. Though most people can pick up enough to understand with enough research, many don't. The language has been dead a long time, and the fact that you knew it was Old Romalian is already impressive."
Louise gave a prideful look, proud to have finally received some praise before she refocused on a question that was gnawing at her.
"So… professor. My familiar, when do you think he will wake up?" She asked.
"I'm not sure. He was injured quite badly, and we were unable to see how extensive the damage was. Not to mention that he is in a comatose state. Even the healers are unsure of when, or if, he will ever wake."
That was not good, Louise thought and felt a pang of guilt pulse within her. Perhaps it was her fault he was in this state, perhaps it was not. It still did not help her state of mind, but she knew he was her familiar. A gut feeling inside of her.
And she was about to ask something when she felt a strong vibration and the echoing sound of smashing metal on rock. They both looked at one another before they quickened the pace, dropping their packages to the ground, and realizing that the sound was coming from their destination; just down the corridor that would lead down into the dungeon.
"Louise, stay behind," Colbert ordered as they moved down the steps and turned a corner.
A second and third crash, each one louder and more audible than the last. Then the sound of crushing rock and tumbling stones, signalling that he had broken through the walls. Walls that were enchanted by an earth mage to be more durable and resilient due to its usage.
And her familiar had smashed through it. She felt proud and smug.
"No! He's my familiar and I have the respo—" Louise stopped, along with Colbert. With slack jaws as they looked upon the enormous figure, which towered over them and made the hall seem smaller, more narrow. Rock dust covered his golden battered frame and he looked -no, he glared- back at them. Blackened holes where eyes would be brokered no reflection from the nearby torches. A presence filled the air and it was overwhelming.
Louise wanted to step forward, to order her familiar to cease this, but had taken a fearful step back when he took a heavy step forward. She could hear the masonry crack under the weight of its feet.
Meanwhile, Colbert had frozen in place, stunned, before his courage lifted and he placed himself in front, between the Angel and Louise. His staff raised and he was about to chant something but stopped when he spoke.
The voice of the Angel was mighty. A deep and resonating voice that oozed with authority and power.
"I am Brother Hamael, Sanguinary guard of the Blood Angels. To whom am I addressing and to whom shall I address my thanks for attending to my injuries?"
" I-I-I am… allow me to introduce myself, I am Professor Jean Colbert and this is my student," he gestured to Louise standing behind him, his voice adopting a veneer of calm. "Louise de la Valliere. We, along with the schools healers, attended to you, Angel Hamael."
Louise gave a small bow, staring timidly at her familiars mask as it looked upon her.
"I am grateful for your care. It is rare when mortals would save an Astartes." Hamael spoke again, this time much softer. "I would assume that I am in a schola? That is rather surprising to hear."
"Why is it so surprising?" Louise asked.
"Because I, nor the evacuation fleet, were not aware that there were still survivors here, especially a schola."
"A schola? What evacuation fleet?" Colbert said a bit puzzled. An evacuation fleet to where? There were no disasters going on in Tristan. No problems with the academy to warrant such a measure. And he couldn't help but feel that something was off here.
"How are you not aware? Did you not notice the Tyranid bio-ships that clotted the stars above? The endless swarms of monsters and beasts, devouring and stripping your world for the past four years? Of the fall of Hive Erandus and Arazul?"
"I don't know what you're talking about. What's a Tyranid? And there have been no insects hives around here." Confusion was on the faces of all present. Though none were as greatly confused as the Hamael, who stood still in place. A faint clicking was heard, like the ticking of a pebble on gravel.
"I do not know what you are speaking of, Angel Hamael. This is Tristain and last I recall, we have been at peace for years. So there has been no reason for an evacuation." Colbert broke the silence.
This was wrong thing to say, for as soon as Colbert ushered those words. The angel strode towards him, causing Louise and him to shy back a bit. Now a mere feet away, Hamael spoke even more quietly.
"There is much I do not know. Speak and tell me. Where am I?"
Louise answered, the giants' shadow looming over her. "You're in Tristain's Acade—"
"No, Where am I? What world is this? What planet? Which segmentum and sub-sector am I in?" The giant clarified, staring at Louise.
"This world, we only have this world. What other world do we have?"
Please Review. It helps me learn.
19Fate99
Angron
Guest
and a few others who wanted to remain anonymous.
An: I took your opinions into regard and decided to get rid of Saito, at least for this story for now. I do hope you enjoy this chap and leave a review of what could be improved.
DragonLark
TheLastBattalion
Lord of Moons
look2019
dragonrider goku
Cavaliere-de-Milan
Destins
AN: Thank you for enjoying the story.
