Author's Note: Wow, ee wow, this is my longest chapter for a long while, over 6,000 words. Anyway, enjoy!

Dellenger led the way as they crawled through the vent; when he found the grate and checked the coast was clear, he pulled out his miniature las cutter and began to slice through the metal.

'God-Emperor, hurry it up, please,' hissed Torris through the vox. 'I can barely breathe. It's so tight.'

Dellenger didn't reply; he just continued to slice. He understood Torris' discomfort; he was easily the largest of them, and even in a syn skin bodyglove, he'd been struggling. Dellenger could hear ever so often slight grunting and groaning from the ex-arbite during the fifteen or so minutes of crawling in the oxygen ducts. That he hadn't complained until now was quite impressive, actually.

But Dellenger needed to concentrate. He needed to cut the grate in the right place so that it wouldn't make all of the bars fall one by one down into the corridor below. He also had to do it on an angle that made it harder for any Adeptus Arbites walking past to glimpse the glow. Dellenger wondered how Darrance was managing at this stage.

After what seemed like an age but must have been half a minute at the most, Dellenger managed to finish, and he pulled in the grating before it could fall.

Dellenger checked to see if all was clear again, and when he found it was, he slipped out and dropped down the two metres and landed in complete silence, camoleoline cloak wrapped around him. According to Torris' briefing, this part of the corridor was free of surveillance, and Dellenger just hoped that Torris' knowledge was applicable here.

In any second, he expected alarm klaxons to begin to shrill as they had back in the medicae facility. But there was nothing, much to Dellenger's relief. Or they might have a silent alarm transmitted through their vox-links? Dellenger didn't even want to think about that.

While stepping forward to allow Delathasi to drop down afterwards, he looked and found the camera at the end of the corridor; it panned about, but just enough to miss making out the vent.

He barely heard Delathasi land, but Torris' hit the floor with such a crash it hurt Dellenger's teeth. It wouldn't be loud at all, but to Dellenger, it was almost deafening.

'Come on,' whispered Dellenger and started on. They'd climbed the wall around the Arbites precinct with no trouble. Using power climbing suction cups on the smooth adamantium surface and timing climbing over the parapet to the split-second to slip by the two patrolling Arbites. Torris had done very well.

Here it was a different challenge. Dellenger was sure the syn skin bodygloves would protect them from heat detectors and Auspex trippers. But he wasn't so sure from the cameras, especially with Torris in tow. So Dellenger made damn sure to time their advance when the camera swivelled away from them, then stayed beneath it until it moved away again. Torris had predicted they would be unlikely to encounter any patrolling Arbites in their headquarters, as for all their discipline and training, the Adeptus Arbites were arrogant, too reliant on their authority and the fear the people have of their organisation so believed no one would have the skill and audacity to infiltrate.

"Audacity" seemed like a too weaker term "insanity" was more fitting. Or, in their case, "paranoia", not that Dellenger couldn't understand the paranoia of the others due to the horrific misadventure back on Omnartus.

They were halfway down another corridor when the sound of an opening door on the left side turn of the next T junction made them freeze.

'Yeah,' said a voice that was blatantly not a local accent. 'Yes, got you, sir. The men are edgy after the terrorist attack. Many feel we should get involved, but we're not. The militia seems to have it under control.'

The voice came closer, and Dellenger, Delathasi, and Torris slipped into the closest shadow just before the Arbite walked into view. Much to Dellenger's annoyance began to stride towards them. He was a big man, even taller and broader than Torris, and he wore the full armour of the Adeptus Arbites. The only thing visible on his face was his mouth, and below, he had a ridiculously wide cleft chin so wide it seemed to dominate his jaw. Dellenger couldn't help but be reminded of Sergeant Kollath's over-the-top square jaw. The Arbite had his gauntleted finger pressed against the micro-bead in his ear.

'The militia, sir?' said the Arbite as he began to close in. 'They do not technically break the accord. They were founded by the planetary governor, not the Ecclesiarchy...Yes, I know they are practically one and the same on Quoranda. I have been on this planet long enough to know that. But the loophole is still applicable. Our hands are tied.'

Dellenger held his breath as the Arbite started passing right by them. He could only hope the Arbite would be so entrenched in his debate with his superior he'd miss anything being off.

'Send a communication to the Inquisition?' said the Arbite. 'I don't know if that's a good idea, sir...why not? Because, if I may be honest, sir. Because it's the frigging Inquisition, sir.'

Dellenger had to hold back a laugh at that. This little conversation they happened to hear was becoming quite revealing. First, they seemed to be uninvolved with the local conspiracy. Second, they bought the "official" explanation about what happened today; and lastly, they didn't know about Inquisitor Soloston's presence on the world.

Which was interesting.

'Yes, sir,' said the Arbite. 'No problem, sir. Good night and I will make an appointment with Governor Doltris in the morning.'

The Arbite deactivated his micro-bead; by then, he'd walked a good three metres down the corridor and his broad back squarely to them.

'Frig,' said the Arbite to himself before he disappeared behind the next turn. 'God-Emperor, I hate paperwork.'

Dellenger let out a breath in a sigh that seemed like an explosion to his ears that made him blink. 'Let's go,' he whispered through the vox, and then they were finally moving again.

Thanks to Torris' knowledge it didn't take them long to find the main Judge's office. The Arbites' precinct had no signage as they made the Arbites' memorise the layout. This was one of the reasons why they seemed to be the same across the sector. Now they were here, Dellenger just hoped the Judge wasn't there.

They had to travel light, so no one had an auspex or any fancy equipment, so Dellenger had to do it the old-fashioned way, push his ear against the door and try to hear any movement on the other side.

He didn't, and despite the door being made from thick plasteel, Dellenger trusted his senses, so he tapped his micro-bead several times, indicating Torris move forward.

Torris slipped past Dellenger and, being very careful not to show it under his cameleoline cloak, placed his hand against the gene scanner. Dellenger gritted his teeth. Torris had left the Arbites many years ago. Still, he never said how or why, much to Dellenger's annoyance, so there was a good chance that it might cause the alarms to go off, so he watched with bated breath as the display showed the whirling symbols of reading Torris' gene information.

But the lock clicked, and Torris opened the door then they slipped inside.

Delathasi closed it behind them, and they looked around the office. It was about four metres by three. A trio of arched windows were on the far wall, allowing a brilliant view of the starry night sky and the city spreading out below. In the middle stood a desk that had a cogitator bank built into it. It wasn't like the Interrogator's back aboard the Audacious Edge as that was slick and subtle; this one was bulky and bulging with pipes. The machinery rose a good metre and a half on the left side of it that it seemed more like a chair than a desk.

Torris didn't hesitate to approach it; he took out a multi-tool and began opening one of the panels.

Dellenger and Delathasi began to search the room itself, both using pict takers to take picts so to make sure they left things the way they were.

Dellenger opened a drawer in the deck while Delathasi began opening the drawers of a file cabinet. There were three of them. In the top draw were a couple of data slates. Hoping they weren't passcodes, Dellenger activated them one by one to find each one indeed was; much to his lack of surprise, he didn't have time to try to get in, so he didn't bother.

Meanwhile, Torris stood, activated the cogitator and reached to his vox-link. 'Darrance, you in position?'

Dellenger didn't hear the reply, but Torris nodded. 'Good, beginning the data transferral now.'

Torris disappeared from view briefly, then stood again.

'We done, then?' said Dellenger.

The ex-arbite shook his head. 'I've got to tune it to match the channel of the transferrer planted on the roof by Darrance so next time the Judge switches on his cogitator and inputs the passcode, it'll transmit straight to Vex's. He'll also be able to erase the record of my DNA being used to access the door.'

Dellenger nodded, finding he and Delathasi were quite useless in this endeavour. He hoped the Arbites wouldn't notice the re-welded the vent cover.

'I'm surprised your gene code still worked,' said Delathasi.

Torris shrugged as he knelt and began tuning the gadget. 'Who said it was mine?' he said. 'Anyway, this'll take a few minutes.'

'Yeah, well, hurry it up,' said Dellenger as he glanced at the door. 'We've got to exfiltrate soon. Delathasi, go into the corridor and keep a lookout.'

She nodded and left.

'You alright?' said Torris. 'This type of shit is new to you, right?'

'Kind of,' said Dellenger as he began to flip through one of the files.

There was a long pause; the only sound in the room was the clicking of Torris tuning the gadget, his finger pushed against his micro-bead.

'Is what you said back on that Eldar ship true?' said Torris.

Dellenger couldn't remember, their time travelling with the Eldar felt like an age ago now, and most of it was either a whirling blur or the blackness of sleep or unconsciousness.

'I'm not sure what you mean.'

'You don't remember, huh? You said your real name was Adrassil, some great hero from your home world.'

'Y...you were there to hear that?'

Torris paused and raised an eyebrow. 'Yeah, the Commissar had me watch you as you talked. He wanted to know if you were truthful or not.'

Dellenger frowned. 'He did, did he? What did you think, then?'

'That you were telling the truth or believed you were telling the truth,' said Torris plainly.

'So, you think that I could be delusional and believe I was Adrassil?'

'It's a possibility, in a rational mindset, but I've found in this galaxy the definition of "rational" is an inconsistent one at best.'

'Hmm, if you think I'm so delusional, what's the point of asking me the question, Torris? If I say "yes", you'll just think I'm crazy. If I say "no", you are good enough to see I'm probably lying. Thus I'm still delusional. You've put me in a no-win situation here.'

'Good point. Alright, how about we assume you aren't delusional, then is it true, then?'

'Yes.'

'So, did you happen to live for all of those years? Or were you in a state of hibernation for all that time?'

'I lived it, all of it.'

That made Torris' attention snap to him, and he whistled. 'Oh shit, and what was that like?'

'Utter shit, Torris.'

'I frigging bet. So, you like one of those Perpetuals? Come back from the dead?'

'No. Or at least I'm pretty sure I'm not. My master did some experiments on me and his other agents. He made me eternally youthful somehow, but not immortal. All of my...colleagues, when they died, they...they stayed dead. I'm the only one left.'

'And your master?'

'Died a long, long time ago, back when my friend Royd was alive. He sacrificed himself to save us. He was a good man.'

'And not just eternally youthful. I saw you fighting that Plague Marine.'

'"Fighting" is too stronger a word, but yes, there were many like us, Royd included, and we performed some great inhuman feats that've been blown out of proportion during the centuries as it became myth.'

'I frigging bet I'm surprised Attelus didn't come to you begging to know what you know. I'm guessing he's been too busy or in isolation to manage it yet. He'd be so happy to learn about that stuff from someone who's seen it, lived it.'

Dellenger smiled. 'Yes, I think the young boy more than deserves that, after all the horrible things he's been through. So, you believe me now?'

Torris pursed his lips and shrugged. 'Don't know what to believe any more, mate.'

He reached to his micro-bead. 'You got it, Darrance? Good. Meet you back at headquarters.'

Torris looked at Dellenger. 'Let's get the frig out of here.'

Despite the aching and pain in his legs, Attelus fell asleep, and he became plunged back into the nightmares yet again. First, he dreamed he was back in that tower on Sarkeath, being controlled by the daemonic sword's will, slaughtering his friends. He'd try with all his will to stop himself from slashing and stabbing through them like they weren't there. It wasn't just the people he'd killed, Jelket, Helma, Verenth and the Imperial Guardsmen and women who'd sacrificed so much and fought so hard to reach the tower only to be murdered at his hand. Them and the imperial citizens didn't deserve at all such a fate. But he murdered Tathe, Dellenger, Delathasi, Torris, Hayden, Halsin, everyone and each time they were decapitated, disembowelled, impaled, much to Attelus' shame; he felt a rush of joy and pride with each time. He didn't know whether this was him or the blade itself, but it didn't matter either way. He hated it, and he hated himself.

The last two people he slayed were Karmen and Adelana. Karmen was exhausted, her energy drained; she couldn't even stand as he took her head off with a casual off-hand blow. As if all the years they'd worked together and everything they'd been through meant nothing.

Then was Adelana; she was too tired to fight back. As in the real situation, she sat and had her back against the parapet. She saw him coming, despite his inhuman speed, and he stopped before her, allowing Adelana to truly appreciate him before he killed her. She didn't beg or anything, just stared at him, her beautiful sea-blue eyes wide and watering with what seemed to be...pity. Pity and sadness of such potency made Attelus' breath lodge in his throat. It didn't stop him from slashing down his sword, so it slowly, horribly cleaved through her skull, then her torso. The vile, horrid act made him want to shriek, made him want to vomit. But he could do none of those things. He was a prisoner inside his own body. Forever forced to watch and do nothing as the Blade of Kalncerak would perform horrid acts with the limbs that were once his. How he'd managed to overcome its control back on Sarkeath was beyond him. He fought and fought with all of his will, everything. It was even harder than trying to regain control of himself while he watched Karmen tear her own face apart in a psychotic haze back on Omnartus.

Attelus was suddenly whisked away from that scene of dozens of slaughtered, sliced-through corpses and the all too familiar stench of death. Of the tang of blood intertwined with shit and other body fluids. Then he stood in a boulevard, dozens of metres wide. Above him, the roiling black clouds of pollution covered the sky just as they had on Omnartus. The buildings that surrounded the boulevard weren't just from Omnartus but a mish-mash of many familiar buildings from his past. His childhood home from when he lived in the country in northern Velrosia viewed from the backyard; only a single story tall, it was made of wooden panels painted grey and a trench-like path was dug around it; the bathroom stuck out further from the house, about three metres and expanding on his left about ten metres more where his and his father's bedrooms were contained. Despite the clouds above Attelus' house became eclipsed by a huge shadow, and that shadow was cast by Taryst's tower over five hundred stories tall, it rose far above the clouds just as it did on Omnartus. But still, Attelus could see the top of it somehow. Next to that was the hab block he'd stayed in Omnartus, a rectangle that was fifty stories tall and made from reinforced rockcrete. Then there was the compound Brutis Bones had stayed in the under hive of Omnartus, a three-story rockcrete square. It even had the windows boarded up with flak board.

Then there was the main administratum building on Omnartus, another huge seventy-story building of adamantium that was made of three towers, both shaped like arrows, with the taller one being in the middle. Then was his and his mother's home in Varander; it too was built with wooden boards painted green but the paint of flacking; it was a rectangle with a pointed, panelled roof made of brown ceramic tiles. The fence that normally covered this side of the backyard wasn't there, so Attelus could see the metal drying line and the tree.

The last time he'd seen that house, it was in utter ruins, flattened from the Chaos orbital bombardment along with all the other buildings around it. Attelus flinched as the guilt shuddered through his frame. He didn't even try to dig into the rumble to try to find his mum; he'd just turned and run. Overwhelmed by his grief and the terror, the utter terror at the prospect of being caught in another bombardment. If he'd just knuckled down a dug, if she was somehow still alive, maybe he could've saved her. Tears welled in his eyes, and he pushed his sleeve against his face to try to stop them. His shoulders shuddered, but he sniffed and shook them away.

More buildings seemed to grow into view; one was his pre-scholarium education centre which he barely went to. Then was his first classroom when he began proper scholarium. Then the hall where they would have assembly meetings and play sports. All around him, building after building exploded from the rockcrete, some more familiar than the others. One was a barn his friend's dad from northern Velrosia owned. Another was a mansion his other friend's rich family lived in, the local doctor of Attelus' old town. Then there was the Sister's convent.

The last building to come out was the tower of Sarkeath, and like his first vision, it erupted into flames. The flames were so bright they almost blinded him, and the heat hit him like a punch.

Attelus leapt back, covering his gaze and crying out. The heat then died away, and it allowed him to look again. The city that was around him was made up of hundreds of buildings of dozens of different makes and heights from almost all of the worlds he'd lived on and visited over the years. Some he'd seen in a glance, some treasured homes and...

Then the smog that coated the sky suddenly opened. Swirling into nothingness and revealing the starry night sky. Attelus swallowed, and he clenched his teeth, and then his stomach dropped as the bright bombs began to fall. First dozens, then hundreds, then came more, so many that, like the smog, they covered the sky like pollution but in a constant golden blanket.

The Sarkeath Tower was the first to become nothingness. More and more of the bombs landed, and the sporadic shaking quickly became a constant rumbling like an earthquake.

The explosions shook him to his marrow, causing him such agony he couldn't breathe and couldn't help but reel and collapse to his knees. The explosions consumed the buildings, which were instantly reduced into shards of rockcrete and slivers of wood. Both were vaporised. Attelus screamed as the heat began to cook him.

The Omnartisian Administratum tower started to collapse, its adamantium walls cracking and breaking into chunks that rained out in every direction. Those chunks fell amongst the smaller buildings and into the lower stories of taller buildings. Crashing into them and opening holes that Attelus swore seemed to be in the shape of human silhouettes. His mother's house collapsed beneath a piece of adamantium so large it seemed like a boulder. Wooden shrapnel flew for Attelus. Attelus barely managed to turn away, covering his head with his sleeve so it embedded in his flak jacket instead of his face.

The explosions continued to destroy everything, and soon Attelus found he couldn't keep even keep kneeling any more. He hit the ground, smashing onto his side so hard his pain blasted into his shoulder so bad he worried it could've become dislocated. He still gazed up to see the wall of light approaching him. Vaporising anything that got caught in it. Taryst's tower was engulfed in only a few seconds. Then his scholarium class, then his childhood home. The was no rhyme or reason why the buildings would be consumed; those that seemed closer to him were vaporised before those that were further away and vice versa.

The wall came its way for Attelus, and he couldn't even scream before it consumed him.

Next, he knew he was sitting in his father's vehicle as it drove on a familiar road that weaved around a familiar coastline. On the left lay the wide river that flowed through Velrosia's centre, the Vandeeran River, its deep blue water shimmering in the sunlight. At places such as this, the river widened out so far it could be seen as a sea. Koliaha trees curled out from the bank, sloping down to the water, and swayed in the breeze, their red flowers blossoming for the summer. On Attelus' right, the bank climbed up to a tree-covered hill. Attelus watched the river whirl by, hypnotised by its beauty, he took it for granted as a child, all of the hundreds of times they would drive this road, but now after everything he'd been through, he could truly appreciate it, he found he missed it.

Then a shiver hit him as he realised who would be in the driver's seat. He didn't dare turn; he didn't want to see his father again; he didn't want to remember the memories of the time he spent with his father. The hours upon hours of him teaching Attelus how to fight and how to survive, things the young Attelus had believed were taught out of love and caring, but it was just so Attelus could survive so he would become a pawn in Etuarq's plans. That was the whole reason Attelus was born, to be manipulated for some cosmic plan of their enemy. A plan that would've succeeded if it wasn't for the intervention of Kalakor.

Attelus kept his attention plastered on the coast, hoping it'd pass by and allow him to move on to something else, but the coast just seemed to weave on and weave on and on.

He knew Serghar Kaltos was there, driving as he always had; Attelus could sense him. But Serghar said nothing; the silence inside the vehicle was stifling. It seemed to whittle away the comfort and awe he'd felt in watching that river go by. Attelus knew he had to look; something deep in his subconsciousness seemed to scream that if he didn't, this would never end.

Attelus gritted his teeth and fought his bashing heart, and he finally managed to turn. Serghar Kaltos did indeed sit in the driver's seat. He was beyond relaxed, with one hand on the wheel manoeuvring the car around the coast with unbelievable ease. Serghar Kaltos had always been a good driver; he was always good at everything. Serghar had the same brown-coloured hair as Attelus, but it was close-cropped short.

His father seemed to catch Attelus watching him in the corner of his eye, and he turn to him, and Serghar turned and smiled.

It made Attelus freeze as he found himself curled up on the sand; sudden blazing agony erupted from his guts, agony that made him writhe and eclipsed his every inch. The agony that stemmed from the blade impaled through his guts. Attelus wanted to scream, but it came out of his gaping lips in silence.

Then Attelus was sitting back in that car, gasping, the agony ebbing flowing away. Attelus' limbs kicked out, and he hyperventilated like never before as he squirmed in his seat.

'Son?' said Serghar, and it seemed like the lifeline that allowed Attelus to regain control of himself, and he looked back to his father.

Serghar still smiled at him, but it seemed kind, genuinely kind, and he reached out...

Then Attelus was back on the blood sands, the blade back in his guts. The agony exploded back, and he screamed silently. Serghar's hand held the hilt, and then he pulled it from Attelus' stomach, sawing it out as he did back on Sarkeath.

Attelus curled and gasped, and his consciousness began to ebb away into blackness. He could hear Adelana's voice, he couldn't make out the words, but the tone was begging, pleading and-

He was unprepared for the boot as it crashed against the gaping wound in his gut. A new, somehow even worse, agony speared through Attelus' every inch. He wanted more than anything in the galaxy to curl up, to protect his stomach, but he couldn't breathe, let alone move.

Serghar's boot then smashed into the wound again and again and again. All the while, Attelus' mind's eye saw the sadistic wide smile that was on his father's face as he rained kick after kick into his horrible wound.

A smile that was somehow far more genuine than the one he'd given Attelus in the vehicle.

And...

With a cry, Attelus awoke sweat soaked his face, plastering his fringe against his face.

Gasping, Attelus went to grab his guts to make sure it no longer had that gaping hole in it, but he couldn't move; it took him a second to remember his arms were still held over his head. He looked down, and the utterly irrational relief to find he was fine caused him to shudder out a sigh, and he managed to finally gain control of his breathing.

'Had a nightmare?' said a vox-enhanced voice, and Attelus looked at its source.

Two Sisters watched him through the bars; both had helmets on, their red lenses glowing, boring into him. One held a bolter; the other one had a frigging flamer; it seemed they'd changed his guard while he was asleep. A pang of regret hit him as he wished Satiristine was still here.

'Y-yeah,' he stammered. 'But it's always a nightmare, both in my waking and in my sleeping hours. It's always the damned same.'

Neither Sister said anything, they just watched him, and Attelus found he missed Satiristine even more, and the grey-haired Sister too. At least she would say something, even if she'd call him a "swine".

Attelus sighed and hung his head. 'Life is shit, and then you die,' he said, but in his case, death was only temporary. He'd thought Enandra's statement of "no one has suffered more than him" couldn't be true, not literally, not in this horrid, grim dark universe; there had to be someone, somewhere, worse off than him, surely. But, in all honesty, perhaps it wasn't by too wider a margin.

'How long have I been asleep for?' he said.

'I do not think we should tell you that,' said the Sister on his left.

'Of course, you think that,' said Attelus, then he grinned at them. 'May I ask who my new friends are?'

'No,' said the Sister on the right. 'And we refuse the "friendship" of scum like you.'

Attelus smiled; well, looks like I've been demoted from "swine" to "scum" now, he thought.

'What are you smiling about?' said the left-side Sister.

'I'm just trying to take the good with the bad,' said Attelus, a sentence which made the Sisters glance at each other, which brought him such a disproportionate amount of joy it made him blink.

The left-side Sister stepped forwards and seemed to be about to say something, but the door opening interrupted her, and the Catachan stepped in and much to Attelus' joy, he was followed by Satiristine.

'You two, get out now,' he said in such a resounding, commanding tone it made Attelus' breath lodge in his throat, making both Sisters flinch, and they left the room like murderers running from their handiwork. The smile Satiristine made when she slammed the door shut behind them made Attelus snort.

'I found the snake,' said the Catachan; as he began to pace back and forth, he breathed through his nose so loudly it seemed to hurt Attelus' very eardrums. Attelus wanted to ask how the Catachan managed to get there and back so fast, how he'd done it without the knowledge of Soloston and how he'd left and come back without being spotted by the Sisters patrolling the walls. But Attelus already knew the Catachan wouldn't divulge that information, but he also seemed to be in a mood not to brook those questions.

'...And?'

'And I ain't an expert on warp shit, not like my master, but I know enough to know enough about wildlife to know that creature ain't infected with anything natural.'

Attelus nodded and gave Satiristine a glance; she met it and pouted her full lips in what might've been bemusement.

'So,' said Attelus. 'Thanks for having a look for me, but what do we do now?'

The Catachan didn't answer; he kept on pacing back and forth, his body shaking in what seemed like rage. 'I can't believe it. I can't frakin' believe it. How could we've missed it so completely?'

Attelus went to shrug but yet again found he couldn't. He wanted to say it didn't help; they'd just locked themselves up here and didn't bother to delve into the plague further, that couldn't have helped, but the Catachan's intensity was frigging, freaking him out.

The Catachan stopped his pacing and turned to Attelus with wide eyes that shone with anger, but Attelus knew that anger wasn't at him but at himself and his people.

'"What are we to do now?" said the Catachan, then he looked at Satiristine. 'Let this little shit-head free, please, girl.'

That made Satiristine's eyes widen, and she hesitated.

'Do it now,' he growled.

She nodded and, hesitantly, opened Attelus' cell and began to unlock the chain holding up Attelus' manacles with a ring of keys.

'Keep the manacles on him,' said the Catachan.

'W-why are you setting me free?'

'Because it'll show Soloston how serious things are when I bring ya up to meet him with me,' said the Catachan, and he sighed. 'I can't believe this.'

Satiristine unlocked the chain, slid it out from beneath the cuffs and helped Attelus to his feet, holding his hand with a gauntleted hand that was surprisingly soft and careful grasp.

Instantly, when on his feet, Attelus' shaking legs almost gave out from beneath him. Still, Satiristine prevented him from falling on his face by grabbing him by the shoulder, again with such coordination he barely felt a thing.

'Thank you,' said Attelus, smiling.

'Not a problem,' she said, smiling back, and their eyes met again.

'Alright, you two,' said the Catachan. 'We've used up enough time already, Emperor, damn it. By the frigging way, Attelus Kaltos. My name is Goruan, Goruan, make sure to frigging remember it like you'd remember Satiristine's here because I'm really puttin' my head in the choppin' block here. Ya got that?'

'Yes,' said Attelus. 'I will make sure. Sorry, I forgot your name, Goruan. I owe you that much, the biggest being you didn't shoot me in the back when you had the chance.'

'Good!' said Goruan. 'Now let's get goin'! Now!'

As Attelus, Satiristine, and Goruan walked through the convent, to say the least, they drew the attention of the Sisters of Battle and everyone else around. Despite this, Attelus couldn't help but smile; it felt good to finally be out of that cell, even if his wrists were still bound and every inch of his legs and thighs ached like complete bastards.

In silence, they ascended the levels; it was on the fourth floor that they found Soloston, the Canoness and the Throne Agent in elaborate power armour, along with another squad of Sisters of Battle waiting for them.

'What in the God-Emperor's name are you doing, Goruan?' snarled Soloston with such power it made Attelus flinch. He didn't expect such strength of voice from such a small, lightly built creature, even if he was an Inquisitor.

Goruan didn't even blink. 'I'm gonna try talk sense into ya.'

'Sense? Sense?' said Soloston. 'I have more than enough sense for the both of us, Goruan. You should know that.'

'Not in this case, sorry, boss,' said Goruan, shaking his head. 'Not since what happened on Gurtar, ya haven't.'

Soloston sneered; it was an ugly expression. 'So you go behind my back, then? Betray me? What did this little fool tell you that drove you into this foolishness?'

'The truth, boss,' said Goruan. 'The truth which I looked into, and it ain't good.'

'What? Are you speaking about that Bark Snake?' said the Canoness. 'That is ridiculous-'

'No, it ain't mamzel,' said Goruan. 'I saw it myself. Gunk, like that of the Plague god, had burst from it and soaked everything around it in a big radius. Gunk that'd mutated those trees into rotting, bulging, ugly things. The pustules on it a lot of them were shaped together into the mark of the Plague god. It's here, and it's infected the world, so this plague's gotta be-'

'I already said, Goruan,' said Soloston as if he was talking down to a child, which surprised Attelus with how much that angered him. Goruan seemed like an intelligent, good, loyal man who didn't deserve to be subjected to such condescension. 'I tested the sickness, and it had no sign of warp influence-'

'Yes, but what if this plague was made to somehow trick those tests?' said Attelus. 'If it is a product of a god, who knows what it could do? And you admitted it yourself. You are getting the patients from the local government. What if they're corrupted and sent you the people who weren't as sick as the others? You couldn't know because you haven't left the convent for ages.'

'Shut it, boy!' bellowed the Throne Agent in power armour. 'Your words have no meaning in this Holy shrine.'

'Indeed,' snapped the Canoness, who glared at Satiristine. 'And Goruan is not the only betrayer here! How dare you, Satiristine! How dare you! I am tempted to place you into the Repentia for this!'

Satiristine just puffed out her cheeks and said nothing, which was one of the cutest things Attelus had ever seen.

'Boss,' sighed Goruan. 'I've been workin' under ya for years now. Ya know me good enough that I don't do nothin' for no good reason. That my instincts are usually on point, it's how I survived back on Catachan for so long, and if I think this boy's gotta point, he's likely gotta point. I saw that snake, and my eyes don't lie. So ya gotta take what this boy says more seriously.'

Soloston didn't reply his eyes were hidden behind his red glasses, but Attelus felt the Inquisitor was looking back and forth between Attelus and Goruan. Silence hung in the air for a good while before Soloston sighed.

'God-Emperor damn you, Goruan. How dare you undermine my authority,' said Soloston.

Goruan grinned. 'It's what us Catachans do, boss. It's also one of the reasons ya hired me. Ya said it years back "Goruan, if you ever think I'm going to stray, you have to make sure you do what you can to stop me from going over the edge", or somethin' like that. I can't remember that shit verbatim.'

'Yes, I do remember saying that.'

Another pause drifted into the air. Attelus' said nothing as the Canoness began to glance from Goruan to Soloston, back and forth, back and forth.

Eventually, Soloston turned his gaze to Attelus. 'Your vox-link is in my quarters. You may speak to your master there.'

That made the Canoness' jaw drop. 'I don't...understand.'

'No,' said Soloston. 'I don't either. But Goruan is correct. His instinct is usually correct. I have to give the boy a chance, and maybe we can learn about what's happening out there from this Inquisitor Enandra.'

The Canoness frowned and treated Attelus with a withering glare. 'This boy is a snake. He cannot be trusted.'

'Maybe,' said Soloston. 'But I'm sorry, Canoness. I think it is about time we try to be more active from henceforth.'

Soloston turned back to Attelus. 'You, Goruan and Sister Satiristine accompany Dollok and I. If this happens to be a ruse if you have tricked us somehow, young man. I swear upon the God-Emperor's soul you will come to learn just how far my wrath can extend.'