A caged wagon was carrying Forschner in chains to Roswaal's manor. Forschner sat quietly in rags, bounded by shackles. However, his face showed no fear or remorse. The ride was bumpy as he remembered from last, during the fight with the cultists. He had endured torture from Roswaal once and did not want a second, yet to show fear was to lose. He kept his stoic face throughout the ride.
Suddenly, the horses stopped in the middle of the woods. The guards stepped out to find out the reason. The driver had a dagger stuck halfway through his chest.
"Ambush!" screamed one of the guards. There were only 4 guards in total.
Forschner drew closer to the bars to see what was happening.
"Witch Cultists! Several of them!"
The guards maintained a defensive formation around the wagon.
Agent of Chaos... Forschner thought to himself.
Forschner could make out the figures hiding in the woods. They were the same cultists as the ones he fought.
Roswaal... Have you come to escort me? He thought.
The cultists rushed out and threw their daggers at the guards, who fell helplessly to the ambush.
A spray of blood wet the commissar's face as the guards were slaughtered before him. Then, the commissar noticed something different. The marking on their forehead was unlike the cultists that attacked the commissar and his group before.
One such cultists approached the caged commissar, his dagger still dripping with fresh blood.
"Have you come to get me, heretic?"
The commissar glared at the cultist without a hint of fear or worry.
The cultist raised his hand to form a spell. The commissar did not turn away or close his eyes. His faith demands that he does not cower.
…...
Some time ago, Lexandros found the blue haired maid who desperately ran around in search for someone or something.
"You there! In the maid dress!"
Lexandros yelled across the street. Rem turned with a hostile look on her face. Lexandros thought that he had just made the wrong first impression but did not feel the need to act differently.
"Who are you?"
Rem asked in a growling tone.
"You are the abhuman who is acquainted with the commissar, correct?"
Rem raised her guard at the word "commissar".
"No need to raise your guard against me. I am an agent of the Golden Throne. Uh... here."
He rummaged around his pocket for the proof. He held his golden Aquila pendant. He didn't really understand how that will help; he was simply following his master's orders. To his surprise, Rem seemed to recognize the symbol. She slightly lowered her guard.
I guess the Emperor's glory shines even in the lowest of worlds. Lexandros thought.
"That pendant... where did you get it?" she asked the man in the black carapace armour.
"This?" said Lexandros, raising his pendant, "Everyone has it. It the symbol of the Imperium," he answered, stuffing his pendant back into his fatigue pocket.
Rem's eyes grew with surprise.
"Do you serve in the same army as Master Commissar Forschner?"
Lexandros scratched his head.
"So, that's his name. Uh... Yes and no. I'm an inquisitorial storm troo- I meant Tempestus Scion, not of an Astra Militarum regiment, but we come from the same school, sort to speak. But never mind that. Do you know where he is?"
Rem shook her head. Lexandros cursed silently.
"But I was told he was being transported to Lord Roswaal's manor. It seems something has happened on the road there."
"Frak it all! Alright... Well, I still need you to come with us."
Lexandros stretched his hand out.
"Rem can not until Rem is able to find Lady Emilia," Rem declared, ignoring Lexandros's hand.
Lexandros wanted to shoot something. He was not suited for such task. He excelled at killing horrors, not negotiating with mutants. Still, he held down his urge for the sake of his master.
"Look, I don't really care for all that, but I guarantee you that my master will be able to find them a hundred times faster than anyone in this damned world. Come. I will show you to him."
…...
The commissar regained his conscious and slowly opened his eyes. He discovered a strange pale faced man staring back at him, tilting his head.
"You... Are you Pride?"
The thin man with green hair wearing the cultist's purple robe stood before him. He held Forschner's chin with his grotesquely pale fingers. Forschner shook the man's grasp and continued to glare down at the horror of a man before him with undying eyes.
"You are truly... slothful."
Forschner darted forward, only to be stopped by the chains that bound him.
"Kill me and be done with it, heretic!"
The commissar growled with bloodshot eyes.
The man started to dishevel his hair and face with maddening movements.
"AHHHHH! This is truly, truly, truly, truly, awful!"
The man leaned forward and spoke in a very calming tone.
"I can not... do that."
His smile was enough to drive fear into even the bravest of men, but Forschner was no stranger to terror. He stared right back into the abyss.
"Because my master wants you."
"Wha-" Forschner stuttered at the unexpected reply.
The thin man began to squeeze his own face as if to squeeze the life out of it.
"AHHHHHHHHH! Feigning ignorance! You are truly slothful! My brain trembles!"
The man suddenly licked the commissar's face. The commissar responded by bashing his head against the thin man's face.
The man's head was slight thrown back as he bit his tongue. There was blood dripping from his lip. But the man showed little sign of agony.
"It saddens me to be treated like this! Even though I am treating you this nicely!"
The thin man bend over backwards, clawing on his face.
"What are you, you unholy thrall? Speak!" Forschner questioned.
The man stopped his thrashing and screaming and turned his head like an owl towards the commissar. He, then, gathered himself and stood before the commissar in a respectful manner and bowed.
"I am Witch Cult's Sin Archbishop, representative of Sloth, Betelgeuse Romanee Conti!"
With a terrifying smile, the man looked up in a bowed position. His eyes were almost protruding from their sockets. Commissar yet maintained his composure.
"You have just declared yourself a heretic, for which I shall deliver your sentence myself," the commissar promised.
"Truly..." Betelgeuse smiled, licking his bloody lips, "You are prideful."
Betelgeuse grabbed the commissar's face and slammed his head against the rocks behind him, screaming like a madman. Blood ran from the commissar head down to his face.
"AHHHHHHHHH! For what purpose those my master have for such a man? Why do you deserve her LOVE? This man who does nothing! This is slothful. Truly slothful!" Betelgeuse continued to ramble, grabbing his head, "My brain... trembles."
Commissar was still recovering from the head bashing. He spit what tasted like blood to the side. From his blurry vision, he saw a cultist approach Betelgeuse in a hasty manner. Betelgeuse lent his ear to the cultist.
"An issue. Huh. Huh. Uninvited guests? They have slaughtered several of us? Huh... And you did nothing?"
Betelgeuse turned his grim face towards the cultist.
"You... are truly... slothful."
Betelgeuse grabbed the cultist's head and bashed it against the rocky floor. The commissar could hear the crunch of the skull as the blood seeped through the cultist's hood and into the ground.
"Find those intruders! If they are alive, kill them. If they are dead, bring me there heads. There is love to be shared. LOVE!"
