Sepherael Bale rose from her slumber. She was tired. Since the sky has been torn in two, she's been having the same nightmare. Each night the same vision of people she knew being mutilated, torn apart and devoured by a horde … a horde of Emperors. Not all Emperors looked the same. Some looked like the Holy Lidia Basilica's statues: tall, with long golden hair with determined eyes. Others looked like the Cathedral Elmondis stained glass: shriveled, covered in wires, rusting metal arms, exposed bones, sitting on their golden throne with a red-eye. Finally, some looked like Sephereal Bale church mural painting: skinny, small, smiling and with arms wide open. They didn't all wear the same clothes. Some Emperors were wearing guardsman armor, others were wearing the finest silk, a few preferred the cloth of the scribes and many others donned the garbs of the Ecclesiarchy. All were hungry.
A hunger they could only satisfy by devouring every last person of Groxfoot City. Every night an army of Emperors tore, bit and chewed on the muscle and fat of everyone Sepherael knew personally. Every night she was the one dooming them all to this faith. Because every night, she would be faced by an army of Emperors surrounding the city walls. They were emaciated and terrified. They all said the same thing: "Please Sister Sepherael Bale! Feed us! We are your Emperor. We've provided for you and now we humbly ask that you feed us.". In response, all Under Hivers of Groxfoot City implored Sister Bale to not open the door. She would ignore all their pleas and walk toward the door unbothered. Until she sees Vasz Kor towering figure clad in his space marine armor staring at her with tears in his eyes. He would invoke every argument he could think of to convince her to stop: their love, the safety of the city, her faith, her duty. She would dismiss every argument with one simple answer "we can't abandon them''. Every time she said this, Vasz Kor would grow taller. He stated each of his arguments with more anger in his voice, he would cry until the city was flooded. The minute she opened the door, Vasz Kor would shrink to a minuscule size. She could hold him in the palm of her hand. Then he would be swallowed by the Emperors.
Her dream always ended with an Emperor clad in a green guardsman suit with the number 14th sewn on its left chest pocket devouring her stomach.
She always woke up at that moment.
Like every other day when she woke up from this nightmare, she saw the inquisitive eyes of Vasz Kor who's been awake for hours, as usual.
Before, he used to ask her how she was. Now he simply looked at her hoping today she'd answer anything else.
Like every other morning, she gave him a look of pain he understood so well. He immediately hugged her. Not saying a word. Simply holding her close. Surrounding her with the shield of his warm two-meter-tall muscular body. Afraid to let her go, but also to hurt her by holding her too tight. She used to cry. Now she simply grabbed onto him strongly. They would stay like this, completely silent as long as Sephereal wanted. Some days that was a few minutes, other hours.
Today she spoke immediately:
-I have to go, the children need me.
-You're sure?
She held him even tighter.
-No, but I need to go.
He let her go. Sepherael Bale groaned slightly as she was struggling to get up. She also felt colder, which encouraged her to go put on: her humble ecclesiarch dress, the regular under-dress, her white gloves to hide her unnaturally white hands and the imperial veil she's been wearing for ten years. All full of patches of mismatched colors. Once she was fully dressed, she got up and walked towards the door.
-Aren't you forgetting something? said Vasz Kor to Serephael, while he was setting up the table for breakfast.
-Is my dress on the wrong side again?
-No, you need to eat.
-But the…
-The children need you fully fed and awake. Not collapsing halfway because you didn't eat my lovingly made imperial pancake.
-It only happened three times.
-Four. Remember Lorgian burial?
She really didn't want to remember Lorgian burial. Instead, she quickly sat down on an old plastic chair and started devouring the pancakes. Vasz Kor sat on his own chair made of welded steel and melted stubbers. It was a miracle it could withstand his weight. They ate in silence. Enjoying the divine pancake Vasz Kor made.
The minute Sepherael was done eating, she immediately got up to kiss Vasz Kor and then ran to the door to open its 5 different locks before leaving her home in a hurry. Outside she was faced with a very unique spectacle in Groxfoot. People were picking up trash and cleaning up the streets.
This unique spectacle brought a large smile to Sepherael. They followed her recommendation. The council of gang bosses had fulfilled their promises after all. She started walking through stubber street saluting anyone picking empty bullet casing, fossilized Grox shit, broken glass or bones. Others were setting up posters for the play ''The Red Queen and the Emperor''. A very popular play recounting the arrival of the Emperor on Sierra Segundus. If some were grumpy, the majority was quite pleased to see their local Sister and took the time to salute her. Some would come to her asking when the play would happen or how excited they were to see their children play the role of the holy tree, the hungry Grox or one of the 9 divines Primarchs. Others came with concern about their children's performance or the status of the play. She would always answer their apprehension by indicating how: young Letia was an excellent singer, Belath played an impeccable Leman Russ or that Philmus was trying very hard to say their lines properly.
Each of her answers was given with a smile that seemed to melt away the worries of all parents who came to her.
As she was navigating the worries of her community, Serapheal Bale was also crossing the labyrinthic streets of Groxfoot only familiar to those who've spent years there. No street signs were present to identify one crooked street from another, but for Serapheal Bale it was all very clear. She could easily tell the difference between Stubber Street, broken heart way or Ole Pete Hole. For she knew each street story. Stubber Street is where famous Boss Ogg Chalek was shot 28 times by a rival gang. Broken Heart way is where a lady publicly beat up with a broom her husband and his lover, both three times her size. Ole Pete's hole is where the town drunk, Ole Pete, somehow slept a whole night on an unexploded shell from the Horus Heresy days. The minute he walked away from it; the shell exploded, leaving a large crater still present to this day. Ole Pete is still often seen sleeping in that hole.
Crossing each of these streets was like entering the mighty fortress of a Red Baron. You first had to signal your intent to cross the street to an armed ganger. Next, the ganger would make sure you were unarmed. Afterwards, you'd negotiate an appropriate tax to pass through. Only then were you allowed to go to pay respect to the owner of that street. Once you paid respect and exchanged a few pleasantries with the street boss or one of their lieutenants, you normally could move on through the street without any problem. For Upper Hivers who can cross vast Hives in mere minutes using imperium mighty celeritas train and speed elevators, this may seem like barbaric backwardness. An unjust tyranny. For the people of Groxfoot, it was simply a guarantee of safety. Knowing each local boss meant they wouldn't shoot you and would protect you while you were in their territory. It was really only a threat to strangers and idiots. Likewise, the taxes one had to pay to cross each street were not in money, but in promises. Promise to help fix a door, attends a dinner, spy on a possible imperial plant, listen to bad poetry, keep watch during a raid or help carry heavy boxes of White gloves. A local drug made of extract of psychotropic mushrooms that gave a strong feeling of satisfaction when it entered in contact with the skin. It had the unfortunate side effect of slowly removing the pigmentation of the part of the body it touched, turning it pale white, hence white gloves.
If one could be considered rich in Groxfoot, it would be Seraphael Bale since everyone owed her several promises. Her unmatched memory also helped her recall exactly what was promised and in what form. Some Gang boss actively avoided her for fear she'd remind them of a promise long forgotten. As such, her crossing of the streets to Saint Elmund Boniface church was fairly uneventful. She thanked each Gang boss who would meet her and reminded them politely that they promised to contribute to the play. Some grumbled, all complied.
Except for one Gang Boss. Zart Backstabber. Zart really didn't like the fact Serephael was asking for a contribution when Lorgan Bigfoot had gotten his son to play Lorgar. While his kid was reduced to playing Felinas the spirit of the forest. The role may be important, but the kid did have to dress up as a cardboard tree.
-An unacceptable insult Sister! said Zart. How can I stand next to the others proud? Bigfoot's son can't even spell Emperor, while my Irma can flawlessly recite the Holy Will of the Emperor in High Gothic.
-They would need to attend practice sessions. Plus, I have heard their recitation and they like to insert High Gothic swear words at the end of every sentence. They made Imperialus rhyme with defecus.
-Bloody genius right hahaha!
-I can appreciate your enthusiasm Zart, but this is His Holy word. One cannot just disrespect such blessed language.
-Now come on Sister. I'm sure you have heard quite a few blasphemies in this Emperor forsaken town. The empire's word ain't worth much for us.
- I have no love for the empire either, Zart, but The Emperor's Holy word isn't the same as the incompetent high born who hunt us for sport. It is the light that guides us in the dark. It is the love that saves us from hate. It is hope in these desperate times.
-Perhaps, but I do not need hope. I need power. When my Irma is a farcking shrub, I lose power. People think they can take me and I have to kill them. You know how those things work Sister. I'd rather burn down the stage.
-Why would you suggest such a thing Zart? You promised me you'd make sure the play was a success.
-Indeed, dear Sister and I sincerely believe the play can only be a success if my Irma plays a Primarch. As such, I use the appropriate method to convince you.
-Hmmm you see Zart, I already have given the roles of all 9 Primarchs to other bosses childs and I suspect each of those bosses would also burn the stage if I remove them at the last minute. So that wouldn't improve the situation.
-Hmmm, that is unfortunate.
-How about Irma playing Horus instead? They would absolutely capture the role of the betraying son.
- You think Irma can really do it? You said they didn't attend practice.
-I didn't say they had no talent; otherwise I wouldn't have given them the role of Felinia. Plus Linius caught the Flaxian flu so he won't be able to play.
-How convenient. Did you plan this in advance Sister?
-I would have to be very devious. It's simply a coincidence.
- I know where you come from, Sister. You may eat like us, dress like us and shit like us, but you don't think like us. I can see it in your eyes and smell it on your clothes. You're Upper Hiver nobility and you will always be. Always with a plan to rule your lesser.
- Is that so?
-You're getting all of us to make peace today, cleaning up and celebrating an emperor I have no love for, like the good little workers slaving away above.
-But he loves you, Zart. He loves us all. Can't you see?
-Would you say this place has been made by love? It's very colourful, I'll hand you that, but I wouldn't call it loving.
-He gave us the power to make it loving. We simply failed Him, but with faith we…
-Spare me your sermons Sister! You may have fooled the others, but not me.
-I see you once again refuse His light … maybe next time. Does Irma playing the role of Horus preserve your status?
-It does for a sinner like me.
-Do you grant me passage through your street?
-I do.
-I thank you for your protection.
-Pleasure is mine.
Serephael humbly bowed and moved on satisfied.
Once she was away from Zart home, she started running to the church. It may taint her image, but this little talk with Zart had taken too much of her time. She darted through the last stretch of muddy road with determination. She dodged without mercy three mothers who came to waste her time with needless prattle, avoided a gang of locals carrying boxes of white gloves and jumped over Ole Pete Hole with incredible ease. She was a bit winded, but finally arrived in front of Saint Elmund Boniface church unpolished rock façade layered with poster for "The Red Queen and the Emperor".
Its entrance was guarded by the Emperor statue. It was made of dark crude steel for the body and cheap tinted glass for the eyes. It was staring at Serapahael Bale with a forgiving look. His arm spread wide welcoming her within His home. Today he was wearing a purple tunic with a pink wig. Seraphael Bale used to love this tradition of dressing up the Emperor. Now she quickly passes by Him, avoiding His gaze. She was afraid looking at Him would make her relive her nightmares. She entered through a side door to avoid the crowd of impatient parents gathering in front of the church waiting for the front doors to finally open. She was greeted by the usual smell of cheap incense and wet carpet. She walked on the hall of the church she has helped maintain for the last decade. Each step she took, she would walk on the name of a life snuffed out by the unending mutant hunts or gang wars. All those names were scraped, scribbled, painted or welded from floor to ceiling. The only record of the lives that once were. All under the roof of a church that should have collapsed centuries ago under the crushing weight of the hive city looming over it. Instead, it simply sank further in the mud.
The unnatural survival of this edifice didn't faze Seraphael Bale. She was too focused on her actors standing on large stage made of condensed fungus, draped in a large curtain made of mismatching fabric. Two dozen kids from 12 to 15 years old who were doing what most kids their age would do. Everything, but practice their lines. She quickly put an end to that and gave her final advice to everyone before the play started.
Phelas, don't forget Sanguinius holds his holy sword on the left hand; Belath sings from the stomach, not the throat; Maria please adjust your flame costume. It's slipping.
Her advices were answered by the nervous looks from kids who didn't fully listen, but seemed a bit more at ease.
One person, however, didn't seem to pay mind to Seraphael instruction. It was Irma who seemed content twiddling their thumbs in satisfaction.
-Irma are you ready? asked Seraphael Bale.
-To be a shrubbery? I don't really know what it looks like, but I think I can make it work. It's just like our fungus, right?
- I just had an interesting talk with Zart. You wouldn't have complained to him by any chance?
-I didn't do anything. Zart just saw me in my costume and said he would take care of it.
-He did. Congratulations Irma. You are now the Traitor Horus.
-What! But he talks so much. Can't I be Leman Russ?
-Sorry, the role is taken.
-Throne!
- Believe it or not, I know you can do this.
-This is the first time I'll ever play him! I wanted to be Russ.
-Well, I wanted you to play Felinia. Go practice his lines. You have one act to learn them. Be happy Lucius will at least cover your part as the old man.
-Why can't he play Horus too?
-Because your father would burn down the stage.
-That's Groxshit.
-No swearing in the Emperor's home.
-Fine… Sorry Sister. said reluctantly Irma as they walked away.
Seraphael Bale sighed and went on with her work. So many things still needed her approval. The lights had to be set in the right place. The starry background she specially ordered just arrived and had to be set up. The animatronic of the Emperor was still having issues on its wiring. A million other things were going wrong and needed her attention. Seraphael Bale was in her element.
It reminded her of the past. When she used to play in the most prestigious theatres of the sector. Entertaining thousands in flawless performances bending minds and senses. It felt like forever ago for Seraphael Bale. The glory, the wealth, the applause, the lies, the abuses, the feeling of emptiness and the white glove. All wrapped in so much regret and shame.
But now was not the time to remember who she used to be. That was long ago and the kid needed her now. She helped set up the last details before the show. Afterwards, when she felt satisfied, she finally gave the sign to open the church doors.
First, each local gang boss entered with their followers, mutant bodyguards and lovers. They all sat in the front row seats. All wearing the most extravagant armors, dresses and clothes one could afford in this hole. Most of it was new and the majority of the gold wasn't fake. Following this group of respectable characters, a disorderly crowd entered, everyone rushing to sit on a dirty plastic chair, the upper balcony, the floor or in some cases on the back of other spectators. The crowd was filled with people with too many eyes, long teeth, rock-like skin and complex patchwork of clothes. Mutants alongside ''normal'' people without anyone raising any concern. The church was bursting to the brim with people.
They were all yelling over one another. Expressing pleasure seeing a friend or anger at meeting a rival. Some were haggling over what promises to give for a nice pair of stolen boots or agreeing on fixing the roof of someone's home in exchange for some "quick fun". Promises were exchanged at a surprising speed. One would have believed it was a marketplace, not His holy house.
Seraphael Bale decided to bring back some order in His house. She took a deep breath and went to face her fear.
She walked on the stage for the first time in ten years. Thousands of eyes were staring at her like predators. She suddenly felt the anxiety kick in. Dark spots were appearing in her eyes. She felt heavy. The sounds of thousands of voices were all bouncing back and forth in her head. It felt like they were all laughing at her.
She clenched her fist. Called on His love and took the time to focus on specific faces. The dark sport receded. Her heartbeat steadied. She spoke:
- People of Groxfoot! The Emperor, in His immeasurable mercy, has welcomed us in His home. I ask you all to show restraint. We have a wonderful show for you tonight, but we need silence to perform.
Her call was initially ignored, but local bosses asked their boys to go to knock some sense into those who were too noisy. Large mutant bodyguards and gangers started walking around the aisle of the church intimidatingly. Roughing up the ones who refused to shut up. This necessary display of force finally silenced the crowd.
-Thank you for your collaboration. The children have worked tirelessly to prepare for this play. The Red Queen and the Emperor is a play practically as old as our presence on this planet. It tells us how the Emperor brought the light to this world. Illuminating us with his love. It is a pillar of Sierra Segundus culture and I am honored to host its first presentation in Groxfoot. Before we start, I'd like to thank all of the Groxfoot community for their support in making sure this Emperor day to be a success. Especially the respectable bosses who've given their time and resources to help us build this stage to His glory.
The followers of the bosses took the occasion to applauded enthusiastically their leaders and "encouraged" the rest of the crowd to join in. All bosses bowed humbly save for Zarth who still looked grumpy.
Seraphael waited patiently for the applause to die out and then declared with all the enthusiasm she could fake:
Now on with the show!
Afterwards, she immediately walked away from the stage to escape the inquisitive eyes of the audience. The crowd waited expectantly. Suddenly, the light in the church were turned off. For an interminable second, His home was swallowed in deep darkness. Then the first notes of Imperatus Ave started playing and the stage lit up.
THE CURTAINS OPEN