Domus Discordia Chapter 43

The Reclusiam was as quiet and solemn as ever, the space resonating with dignity and reverence. The walls were untouched by the recent fighting and the shimmering stasis fields still shone, their contents undisturbed by the calamities that had engulfed the island home of the Storm Heralds. The stained glass windows glowed in the daylight, projecting the images of saints and heroes onto the marble floors. In here it would be tempting to think that nothing had ever happened, that the war had never occurred. Yet to those present the facts were undeniable, the fall-out still to be dealt with.

Standing before the golden arch Captain Toran was quietly reflecting. He was clad in a loose robe, his armour having been stripped by irate artificers and taken away for repair and re-sanctification. The wizened artificers had harangued Toran thoroughly for the battered state of his plate. To those aged savants rank was an irrelevant detail and woe betide the warrior, no matter how high, who dared treat his armour's spirit with anything less than the most reverent care.

It had been several Terran weeks since the fighting had ended and the victors had determined that nothing could be resolved until all their Captains were reunited, until Phalros returned. Toran looked to his side, where Phalros was stood in robes of his own, gazing upon the golden architecture. Phalros' patrician features looked glum, his stern visage cracked by sorrow and grief.

The Ninth Captain had received the Astropathic cry long before he reached his target and had aborted his mission immediately. He had turned his Strike Cruiser around and sailed for home, but still had arrived far too late to participate in the fighting. Phalros had received detailed reports before he set foot on the planet but he still seemed shocked and dismayed by recent events.

Phalros sucked in a breath and said, "I never thought it would come to this, how could it go so far?"

Toran nodded in understanding and explained, "None of us did, none of us knew how deep the rot went."

Phalros shook his head and said, "Samect was always a zealot, even by our standards. So convinced of his righteousness that he thought anything he did was justified, merely because it was him doing it. Lessall however… he was ruthless and ambitious. I should have known he would be plotting something, I should never have left."

From Toran's other side Hakulo, who wore a short toga to leave his arms free, growled, "It's not your fault, it is mine. I was in their camp and heard nothing, had I known what they were planning then I would have rammed my spear into their hearts first."

"A shame you didn't," Phalros commented, "We could have avoided so much carnage."

"They are dead, that's what matters" Toran reassured him, "Now we can put these sordid affairs behind us. Now we can rebuild properly."

Phalros looked down and said, "Not quite, there was an issue on my ship. An incident occurred."

"Ninth Company's Chaplain?" Toran guessed.

"Aye, Chaplain Megaro," Phalros answered, "As soon as I got your message I ordered him confined to quarters, I put a pair of my most trusted Initiates on his door and told him I would give him a fair hearing once we got home. But it seems he had ideas of his own on the matter."

"Tell me he didn't kill the guards and escape," Hakulo pressed.

"Worse," Phalros sighed, "All three of them disappeared, he must have turned them to his cause. As soon as we reached orbit an Arvus Lighter and three other Brothers went missing, bewitching the Machine Spirits to conceal their exodus. They could have reached any of the orbital docks before we noticed their deceit. I dispatched squads to hunt them down but with the number of Pilgrim ships in orbit, leaving daily to resume their journeys, they may have left the system already."

Toran growled angrily, "Lessall had agents in the Ninth all along."

"Aye," Phalros hissed, "I thought my Company was united behind me but I was wrong. We are as divided as the rest of the Chapter."

"This is intolerable," Hakulo spat, "We must hunt them down. The rot must be burned out, root and branch."

"We must reorganise first," Toran countered, "We have half of the First Company, one Battle-Company, one Tactical reserve, one Assault Company and one Devastator Company, that will not do. Factional power blocs and cliques have become too entrenched in the ranks; we need to shake them up. During the fighting Company morale was paramount but now we need to restructure ourselves completely."

Phalros eyed him and said, "Only a Chapter Master can authorise such radical changes."

Toran nodded and said, "So we concluded, but we cannot appoint a new Chapter Master without an official election. Our traditions are adamant that the Captains have the right to elect any one of their number to the office of Chapter Master but only by a majority vote, including the heads of every speciality."

"You know what that means," Hakulo stated.

Phalros agreed, "I concur, this must be done."

"Then we united in this decision?" Toran asked.

Phalros confirmed, "Absolutely, there can be no doubt. None can question that this is the correct choice."

Toran nodded and then raised his voice to shout, "You can come in now!"

As the echoes faded the far doors opened, revealing a quartet of Astartes. It was Toran's command squad, Brothers Furion, Novak, Persion and Jediah. They walked in their pale blue robes, their scars laid bare for all to see, yet their heads were held high. Toran looked upon his comrades and felt pride stir in his hearts, these Brothers had stood with him through the worst of times, never faltering or doubting his course. They were the finest warriors he had ever known and he was humbled to be among such heroes.

The squad pulled up and snapped to attention, Jediah slightly slowed by his injuries, given that he was an Astartes that spoke volumes as to their extent. Toran looked upon them and said, "Brothers, we welcome you, there are matters of great import to discuss and we turn to you to resolve them."

Furion looked at the Captains and said, "We stand ready to serve."

Phalros accepted this and said, "I have heard of the recent calamities and the darkness that almost consumed us. Every Brother who stood true deserves praise and laurels will come in time, but first we must address the vexing issues that plague us."

"Permission to speak freely," Furion requested.

"For you," Toran replied, "Always."

Furion stated, "The prisoners, I know many call for their heads but I must reiterate once more the need for a fair trial. No matter their crimes, to kill them out of hand…"

"No," Hakulo interrupted, "We do not speak of them, not yet anyway."

"The Apothecaries," Persion ventured, "Their deviant experiments…"

"No," Phalros cut in, "Not them either."

"The Primarch…" Novak mused.

"Let me stop your guessing," Toran said suppressing a smile, "We are here to set right the most glaring omission from our order. The Chaplaincy, we are without any Chaplains."

Phalros lifted his voice and declared, "Brother Furion, step forth!"

Furion's eyes widened but he obeyed. He looked uncertain and inquired, "Captains?"

Toran tried to keep his face solemn as he said, "Furion, you have proven yourself stalwart and true, you have been our beacon of righteousness in an eclipse of evil. You have been more than our strong right arm you have been the embodiment of our resolution and purity. Even when darkness engulfed us, you showed the way, never letting us set so much as foot upon the slippery slope of Heresy."

Hakulo took over the announcement and said, "In full accord, we have determined that you shall take up the Rosarius and Crozius. Henceforth you shall be known to one and all, as Chaplain Furion."

Wide smiles erupted all over the squad as everybody heard the news, even Jediah revealing a rare twitch of his lip. Toran himself couldn't keep from grinning at Furion's elevation and the bestowment of a rank that was most assuredly deserved. Everybody seemed jubilant, save one, Furion himself who raised his hands and said, "Regrettably I cannot accept."

Of all the responses Toran was expecting that had most definitively not been one and he spluttered, "What?! Why not?"

As baffled expression spread Furion explained, "You seem to have forgotten that I once trained to be a Chaplain and I was rejected."

"By Samect," Phalros stated, "Worst decision he ever made. Perhaps his ego would have been punctured were you at his side; you might have prevented all of this bloodshed."

Furion shook his head and said, "You don't understand, that decision made me who I am. Being rejected showed me that there are blemishes upon my soul, impurities in my hearts. You seem to think me some flawless paragon, but nothing could be further from the truth. I struggle every day with my imperfections, to rise above my faults. I know my hearts and I am the lowliest of us all. It is not my place to stand above anyone else, I am not worthy."

Toran disagreed completely and urged "But it has to be you, I could think of none other who could serve. You have ever been with me, reminding me to do what is right. I cannot imagine the Marine I would have become without you in my life. He is a stranger to me, callow, base and ignoble."

"Toran's right," Persion declared, "I've known you longer than anyone else and you've always urged us to be better, to be the best versions of ourselves. You taught us not to hold ourselves above the common man and that we should never take enjoyment in pain and killing."

"Except for Jediah," Novak muttered under his breath.

"Except for Jediah," Persion hastily glossed over, "You are what the Chaplains should have been."

Hakulo agreed, "This war began in the Chaplaincy, their insistence on Emperor-Worship, their need to preach to the masses. The embers of corruption smouldered long before Lessall came along; he merely poured Promethium onto the fire. We ask you to put it out, to smoother the embers entirely."

Furion hesitated and said, "But there are rituals and ceremonies to be undertaken."

Phalros declared, "You've had the training, you already know the litanies and sacraments. Yet as an outsider, you can see what is pure and what is not. You can examine every aspect of our philosophies and doctrines, excise what is rotten and leave behind only that which is pure. In time other Chaplains will be found but you will be the first, you can set the tone of all that is to follow."

Toran nodded and said, "Furion, we do not ask you to lord over others as Samect did, we ask you to stand beside us, to place yourself into the service of all Storm Heralds. This Chapter stands upon the cusp of immense change but for good or ill, I cannot say. Without clear guidance we will stray ever further into darkness. I can't stop it alone; I can't do this without you."

Furion was silent for a long moment, his face unreadable. Toran held his breath until Furion finally declared, "You are wiser than you know and I am proud to have watched you grow into such a fine leader. So shall it be, I shall dedicate myself anew to the service of all Storm Heralds and Him on Terra. Not as a leader but as a humble guide, as a Chaplain."

Now cheers did erupt and everybody broke formation to slap Furion on the shoulders, congratulating him loudly. Everybody was jubilant and they cheered their Brother's elevation.

Persion called out, "None could be more deserving."

Novak grinned and cheekily quipped, "Just imagine, you don't have to ask permission to speak any more!"

Even Jediah remarked, "A skull-helm would suit you."

Furion however raised his hands for quiet and said, "Not yet, I still have to pass the trials."

An abrupt silence fell and Toran was confused as he stuttered, "What… what trials?"

Furion sighed, "You didn't bother to review the rites of investiture, did you?"

"Well no," Hakulo confessed, "We thought we could dispense with all that."

Furion rubbed his eyes and said, "No, we must do this properly or not at all. One cannot just pick up a Crozius, it must be taken in a test of strength and purity. Before one can become a Chaplain one must first face the Emperor's judgement, in the Hall of Tempests."