FIRST REALM OF THE DIVINE DESOLATION
301st YEAR OF THE AWAKENED ERA
ALL-SPACE
"I thought that my invincible power would hold the world captive, leaving me in a freedom undisturbed. Thus night and day I worked at the chain with huge fires and cruel hard strokes. When at last the work was done and the links were complete and unbreakable, I found that it held me in its grip."
- Rabindranath Tagore, Gitanjali, 31
THE PUBLIC EXECUTION OF TWENTY INQUISITORIA was no small event.
When the Lord Remnant ordered them arrested there was shock, dismay and disbelief. Inquisitoria were beyond question, beyond doubt, beyond recrimination.
The reason for their arrest He termed 'indiscriminacy' – "killing without reason", and so the Inquisitors were bound into the courts of the Endless, a first, for never before had any of the redoubtable warriors ever been prosecuted thus. Inquisitors were of five classes: Omens, Harbingers, Heralds, Proctors and Hounds. The Hounds were the lowest tier and in the greatest numbers, although they were still considered the equal of any ten of the Endless. Proctors were the equivalent of squad leaders in an action. Heralds were Captains in the Inquisitoriat's own fleets. Harbingers commanded divisions and fleets, akin to admirals and generals. The Omens, also known as The Blood Hundred, were never spoken of by the laity. They were the closest to the Beloved, Her most trusted cadre, all handpicked women. Of all the Inquisitoriat they were the most deadly and most secretive. Each was the equal of five individual Inquisitors. The Inquisitoria were the Beloved's alone. They always had good reason. They were the most trusted Instruments of Her Will, they Her Hands, Her Eyes, Her Wrath on disbelievers.
When the courts were directed to find the Inquisitors guilty, it was duly done and the expected verdict reached. Condemned they were marched silently away to the place of execution where their armors were systematically and publicly detonated. The Inquisitoriat, the body that commanded the Inquisitors in the Beloved's name, said nothing.
This was something no living member of the laity had ever before witnessed.
The Beloved's mouthpiece, the Grand Inquisitor known as 'The Redoubtable Arc of Reason' also stayed silent on this matter. Some said this only proved that she had condoned the Lord Remnant's actions, as inexplicable as they had been. Some even said in whispers in dark, dark places, that the Lord Remnant had done it without Her council, or more unbelievably, against Her wishes.
In the Stagings where the great fleets assembled approximately three hundred Field Commanders were demoted or reassigned. When thirty were condemned by the Inquisitoria for 'apostasy' and another hundred and fifty Captains for 'disinclination', the Lord Remnant had refused to give them up. Following that the Remnant recalled the Lord Hound of Thrice, already deep in his liquidation of the Horned Ones and redeployed him four times then finally sent him back to the battlefield with a contingent of Third-Year Acolytes as a 'field training exercise'. Already bogged down and hampered by the Lord Thrice's inconstant presence, the Action began to falter and slow. A request for more veteran troops was refused.
Then two Harbingers came for the Remnant and the murmurs rippled further out and only grew in density. When the Beloved finally 'Spoke' through her Grand Inquisitor, stating that all, "even the inexplicable", was a 'vital part' of the Purpose sent by the Echo, it did little to ease secret and muted grumblings and questions.
The Harbingers escorted the Lord to her. He'd resisted the summons. He had much to do, He'd said. When She insisted, He knew better than to resist further. To the Spire He went, a twisted copper-sheened needle kilometres high. It was emblazoned with the Word, covered in massive frescos and sculpted scenes depicting the many triumphs of the Echo over the Unhearing. Ringed by the most ferocious defences with a fleet of Inquisitor ships dedicated solely to its defence and thousands of utter fanatics patrolling and protecting, one approached it without permission in greatest peril.
In a ring of stoic Inquisitors He rode the centre lift high into her Spire, felt the subtle shift of pressure as they climbed kilometres into the sky. Sunlight slanted through windows of colored glass. Light was everywhere. Both Her Home and the most holy spot in All-Space, the centre of the Inquisitoriat, The Beloved's Spire could be seen halfway around the planet. Its tip touched the very edge of space. Through curved and climbing hallways they led Him until at last He came before Her. High above Him on a slim platform She stood in Her rust-coloured robes and hood. The room was large and high but had been designed so that sound would carry easily. Even though She was many metres above him, He could hear Her as if She stood next to Him.
"You have been …disconcerting of late, my Lord," the Beloved said calmly to Him as He entered. "It is …intriguing." Her back was to Him. She directed the Inquisitors out. When they'd gone, He'd pulled back His hood and opened His faceplate.
"Soon the Waves will flow and crash, Beloved. That which seems inexplicable is to the Purpose." He told her carefully. "I simply do the necessary." She nodded.
"Our Purpose is all." She agreed, finally turning. "The Faith must not be shaken."
"Shaken? How can the Faith shake when I am its foundation? I alone decide its path, do I not?"
"No," She said as she descended and He stared as if such a word had been completely new to him, "You do not." He took a step back.
She levelled a finger upon which the words 'truth and punishment' were inscribed and said in a calm tone a simple truth.
"You are Eighty-First, Lord Remnant, not the First. You may Speak but I am The Voice In Flesh." A small smile crossed Her Face. "Remember, I was there when the Word was Heard for the first time."
"I command here!" He insisted loudly, trying to assert himself. His voice echoed through the huge room to circle Them with its temper. He was careful not to look at Her when He did.
"Yes," She agreed, as serene as always, "But I decide."
The Lord Remnant grimaced but said nothing. Such ran the Creed. In almost every way, He was identical to the First, yet He was not. He could do nothing but accept the truth of that. It was one of the few things that unsettled Him.
"Do not spend My Inquisitoria without reason," She added with steel in Her tone, referring to the ones He had executed, "they are not yours."
"They openly defied me." He insisted. "If they do it, are not You doing it then?"
"How can that be? You are My Lord and My Love, the Body of the Word and the Image of He Who First Spoke. Through My Inquisitors I am ever beside You. What is a small …correction next to their deaths? What is done to them is done to Me." Her silver-rimmed eyes suddenly glared from under Her hood. "It is all very distressing, My Love."
"These are anxious times, Beloved." His voice conceded and attempted to soothe. "Can it be avoided? I am ordering the First Wave loosed very soon. Your Inquisitors will march. They may die. So it has been, so it will be. So it must be."
"When I decide," She repeated.
"You are the Word," He said after a moment's hesitation, His voice seemingly contrite. He bowed low to her. "You are, of course, correct. The stress of this great undertaking takes its toll, it seems. This has been an unfortunate lapse in judgement in which I take full responsibility."
She inclined Her head as if in understanding and then turned away.
"Yes. You can be forgiven." When He smiled She told him, "Of course You can. You are the truest servant of the Word there can be and My Love. You cannot fail."
"To be so is my only desire, Beloved."
"I have never doubted it, Lord." She held out Her Hand, which he took reverently and pressed lips against as she added casually, "Yet, You should call an Amendment."
The Lord Remnant's smiled vanished against the back of her cool hand. An 'Amendment' meant He had to go before the rabble and explain Himself, to calm unease and crush unrest before it had a chance to begin. Private excesses were one thing but public 'inexplicabilities' were different entirely and He understood now He'd gone too far with the summary excision of Her Inquisitors. The Amendment would be an unpleasant reminder that He was not in absolute command. He could not avoid it and the Beloved could not be gainsaid. So He did the only thing He could.
He obeyed.
"The Faith must not be shaken," He told Her, kissing the proffered hand again. His lips touched the word 'redemption' inscribed across a smooth knuckle. She retrieved Her Hand and laid a cool dry palm against His cheek.
"Thus speaks the Word. In service of the Word only is one sanctified."
The Lord Remnant bowed low again and took His leave. Outside Her door He straightened and waved away the escort that awaited. Alone He marched resolutely from the Spire. Watching the Remnant leave, the Beloved silently admired his determination and will. There was a very specific reason why He and all those who had been like Him had been so carefully chosen. She called in two members of Her Omens. These two were named 'Requiem of Night' and 'Solace of The Dawn'. Their sigils were jagged slashes, white cuts on armor the colour of clotted blood. On their backs the open palm of the Beloved's Right Hand.
"Stand watch over Our Lord." She told them as She climbed away to Her chambers. "Discreetly. We must safeguard our Lord's sincerity." The two Inquisitors nodded instantly and marched out. "For his own sake."