AN: Yikes this was a quick one to type. Hope you enjoy it as much as I am writing it.
When the door to the room suddenly opened, Lucian looked up in surprise, having been caught in the middle of his personal musings.
He wasn't sure how long he'd been in the room for. Servitors had entered through a very small hatch in the ceiling, dispensed food and water, then left.
Lucian had ignored the food for a bit.
A small corner of the room was proof he could barely stomach anything.
However the water was greedily consumed whenever presented. In the silence he had been left to think, and as tired and worn out as he felt, he could barely sleep even if he so desperately wished to.
His mind was filled with the images of… Alena.
It was not a pleasant space to be.
So instead he thought of the tree outside his house, or Old Man Crannog's tree, or his friends. Or even Ostus.
Big and strong Ostus.
He who wouldn't be crying like some whelp.
Lucian thought of anywhere but where he currently was. In this horrible room he had been trapped in.
He did not expect the strange but official looking men that entered.
The light from the grey hallway behind the door to his cell vanished just as quickly as it appeared. His cage now had two new occupants.
Lucian found his way to his feet, politely bowing, as Alena had taught him, for these men.
"My Lords" Lucian mumbled, dipping forward for only a moment.
His body was far too tired to execute a smooth movement.
A million questions bristled in his mind, but he soon found himself transfixed upon the appearances of the two.
The shorter one looked ancient. He was far older than Old Man Crannog.
He was also robotic, like the Arbite that had brought him here. The same servant of the Emperor that had imprisoned him for no reason!
The taller one was-
Lucian blinked, before scratching at his forehead with a hand. It felt like something was brushing up against his skull, tickling at his brow.
The feeling retreated as abruptly as it touched him, and the room lapsed into silence.
"My Lor-" Lucian started, but the old man cut clean through his words.
"I am Inquisitor Ahmazzi of the Ordo Malleus" the old man gestured to his colleague, "and this is my aide, Denex Dondarin"
Lucian nodded, speaking quietly.
"Pleased to meet you my Lords" he glanced between the two, before deciding to focus on the old man. 'Denex' had a strange look in his eye. He seemed to be caught somewhere between confused and angry.
"You are the child of the murdered woman?"
Lucian fidgeted slightly, a visceral memory surfacing in his mind.
Alena…
Alena was dead.
Tears sprung into his eyes.
But he bid them remain as best as he could. He did not know who this Inquisitor was… but Lucian refused to cry before another stranger.
"Answer him child"
The bark of command came from the stupid looking aide.
Lucian glared balefully at the man for just a moment, before looking at the 'Inquisitor'.
"Yes my lord"
The elder continued to question him.
"The Arbites informed me they found you cowering beneath a collection of pipes" the Inquisitor's singular human eye took on a tone of obvious scorn.
"You would do nothing… as your mother was murdered?"
Lucian felt struck by the words, "m-my Lord?"
"You were there, were you not? You saw exactly what happened. You saw that traitorous bastard carve your mother up with a knife, and all you did was hide!?" the Inquisitor snapped, rage sefusing his whole being.
The old man surged forth.
"A cowardly little shit like you deserves to feel horrid! Your mother must have loved you! And this is how you return it?! The Emperor would be ashamed of you boy! So weak and pathetic" he continued to approach Lucian, who stepped back further and further.
The old man's unoccupied hand pointed at the retreating boy accusingly.
Eventually the boy's back met the other end of his cell.
"How disgusting" the man spat, "she must have died hating you, you dirty little-"
Lucian felt it.
It was a weird feeling.
Like his body became hollow. As if something needed to be pulled through it. His form felt weightless as his rage fueled response thundered through him.
"It wasn't my FAULT!" he screamed out, crushing his eyes shut.
A howl of steel and metal screeched through the room.
There was a clatter, and shifting of the wind.
And then silence.
His anger lapsed.
Lucian opened his eyes, and blinked twice at the vastly different room he stood in.
The first thing he noticed was the 'Inquisitor', now on the opposite side of the room, crumpled on the floor with his Aide standing in front of him.
The Aide had his open palm pointed towards Lucian, a wild look in his eye. Lucian ignored him in order to look at the rest of the room… or, what was left of it.
The door to the cell had been wrenched open.
Soldier's with weapons stood in the open doorway, their weapons pointed inwards into the room.
The walls were buckled and perforated, hundreds of fist sized holes having punctured the surface of them. Lucian gazed up at the ceiling. It was ripped open, revealing a mess of wires, paneling and other instruments.
There was so much-
Pressure weighed on him.
His gaze snapped down to the Aide of the Inquisitor, Denex… something. The man was still pointing a hand at him.
That strange feeling appeared again, pushing right through his head, and touching somewhere deep at the back of his mind.
Which was enough...
Like a puppet with its strings cut, Lucian collapsed into unconsciousness.
Denex Dondarin felt his heart pounding in his chest. Adrenaline seeped through his whole being, even as the monster finally collapsed from his mental ministrations.
He had mitigated the blast as best as he could… but that magnitude…
By the Emperor.
A groan echoed out from behind him, followed by a "stand down!"
The Storm troopers lowered their weaponry.
"My Lord!" the sanctioned Psyker snapped out of his funk, turning around to assist Ahmazzi.
"I'm still alive" the old man sneered, sitting up far faster than any other his age realistically could.
He was far more spry than most knew.
Still, Denex helped the old codger to his feet.
"So?" the Inquisitor said, brushing off his sleeves and shoulders with a few simple pats. He retrieved his cane as Denex blinked stupidly.
"My Lord?"
Ahmazzi sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose briefly.
"Is the child corrupted?"
Denex swallowed. Ahmazzi was not a Psyker in any capacity… therefore he had no clue as to the true magnitude of what had just occurred.
"My Lord… the boy is… I cannot explain it in such simple terms my lord"
"Yes or no Dennex, that is all I require"
"But my Lord! The boy-"
Ahmazzi leveled a glare at his Psyker with the full might of the Inquisition behind it. A furious, single eyed gaze, as sharp as it was ruthless.
"Answer. The. Question."
Denex swallowed.
"No my Lord. From what I gleaned from him, the boy is not under any kind of influence"
Ahmazzi's glare vanished just as quickly as it had appeared.
He looked back on the collapsed form of the child.
"And if he did become corrupted? How much potential damage could he cause?"
Denex also stared at the boy now. His eyes were filled with much more fear than his Inquisitor's.
"Such an answer is beyond my comprehension my Lord… but if I had not been here, he could very well have killed every single man and woman within this building… perhaps even the entire hive itself…"
Ahmazzi said nothing.
He studied the boy, trying to imagine such destructive capability in such a small form.
"The prophecy my lord…" Denex whispered, "would it not be better to end this while we can?"
He took a deep breath in, and a large exhale out.
"Perhaps" he replied, "but I couldn't care less about that dusty old tome" he shrugged slightly as he left the room through its torn open door.
"It would appear the Archenemy had plans regarding the child. His mother was an unfortunate tragedy, but their true intention was the boy" Ahmazzi stopped for a moment. His free hand rose, brushing his grey beard in a downward moment.
His mind was concocting a plan as he stuck together all the evidence he had.
Eventually, his gaze focused again, and Ahmazzi started to bark out orders.
"Arbites" the two troopers made an immediate and hasty appearance before the Inquisitor.
"Transfer the boy to a different location. Cell or room, I couldn't care less. Just one with a bed and toilet" the Arbites nodded, but the Inquisitor wasn't done yet.
"You two will be working with my Scions in order to guard the boy. Keeping him safe and under my protection is your top priority"
Lynwood and Caius both echoed out with "My Lord" and a set of nods.
"You are hereby conscripted into the Inquisition, under my direct service. You wield my Authority for as long as I deem necessary"
The older Arbite nodded immediately, while the youngest followed suit only a second later.
Lynwood, the older one, was a dependable individual. A man over qualified for the position he currently occupied.
"Good. Now get to it" Ahmazzi trudged down the hallway, his entourage in tow.
He did mutter to himself with a slight smirk on his weathered features.
"Vownus is going to love this"
Ahmazzi directed a message to his Cruiser in orbit. The Astropath onboard would relay this message to its intended recipient.
"An Inquisitor?"
There was a murmur among the group of cloaked people. The large crowd of hidden individuals were clumped around a singular unidentifiable figure.
Gathered beneath a district somewhere within the hive, these members of the inner circle had been called to discuss the arrival of their latest threat.
A voice of anger spiked up from the crowd.
"How is this possible? The Governor sent his plea but days ago! It should have been another ten or twenty days at worst!"
The one in the center spoke, drawing silence from the crowd.
"This is no coincidence… I feel more than the hand of fortune at work here"
Another voice rose up.
"Damn what you feel!" many heads shifted toward the speaker, a radical even among them all, "we all felt the boy! We all felt his shift in the immaterium!"
Muttering broke out, many voices expressing agreement with the speaker.
The central figure raised its hands, calming the crowd.
"That we did my brother's and sisters… our faith has brought us one step closer to our glorious reward…"
The one in the center turned as it spoke, uttering words of soothing calm to all that composed of the inner circle, "we must spread ourselves thin my brethren. The Inquisition and their dogs must not learn of our plan. Our Faith and the Architect will guide us… continue preparations, but remain vigilant. May the true Gods watch over you"
A general chant echoed out before everyone dispersed, leaving through tunnels and passageways.
In naught but a minute, the space they had gathered in was empty.
Inquisitor Vownus Kaede read the message once.
He then read the message twice.
And a third time.
Then a fourth.
Eventually he accepted the words, and the Inquisitorial stamp attached to them, to be legitimate, and did the only thing he reasonably good.
He groaned and slumped in his chair on the bridge of his Light Cruiser.
His wide brimmed hat hung far over his face, obscuring the frown which was dashed across his features.
Of all the people to contact him, it was that Prophecy hunter, Ahmazzi. Crazy old bat.
Not only that… but the fool actually believed he had found the second piece of his grand puzzle. Yeah. It was more likely the Emperor was a worshiper of the ruinous powers.
Even as he rubbed his hands across his youthful but tired face he muttered a prayer for penance of his horrible joke.
"Frigging-razzled-bloody-old-dirty-daemonhunter-grampa" Vownus growled, pulling himself up his chair to sit in it properly. He adjusted his hat as the bridge crew pointedly ignored the grown man's tantrum, instead doing their best to appear busy with their respective tasks.
His Light-Cruiser, the Tempests Advance, had been peacefully drifting through the void of space, enjoying some peaceful downtime before another Witchhunt began…
"It hasn't even been seven days!" Vownus wailed quietly, throwing decorum to the wind and practically demanding the Universe to reply to his whinging.
Predictably, there was no response from the benevolent silence of space.
He did get a reply from one of his crew.
"My Lord"
Vownus grinned a bit at the voice which sounded off to his right.
"Yes Captain?" he turned to her, smirking at the disciplined woman.
Captain Olivina Ceris stood at dutiful attention. Fully drawn up, the Captain of the Tempests Advance stood at an impressive six foot six, towering above all the other officers onboard. Her purple eyes were cold and focused.
Vownus couldn't help but admire the horribly disfiguring scar that ran up the side of her face. It made her staunch ferocity so much more… palpable.
Vownus admired all of her.
She was a true born Cadian, drafted into the Imperial Navy at a young age. The lax Inquisitor had seen her record as she had climbed the ranks, personally seeking her out when he deemed her an acceptable choice for his vessel's commander.
"Our Navigator reports two potential paths through the warp" her voice was clipped and soothing, something so at odds for how she looked.
Vownus would never judge a book by its cover however.
You don't make it very far or long as an Inquisitor if you take everyone you encounter at face value.
"The first path should take us an approximate week or two of transit. By the Emperor's grace we would arrive at Helios as scheduled"
Vownus couldn't help the slight quirk of his lips.
The man stood, his tattered cap sweeping across the bridge deck as he approached one of the many working officers.
Vownus hovered behind the man, studying whatever readout and technical piece of the ship the officer managed.
"And the second path?" his eyes were dancing with mirth as he spun around to face his Captain.
He cherished the distasteful sigh the woman had trouble biting back.
Ruffling feathers was a pleasurable pastime between hunts.
"The second path, while being potentially faster, puts the Tempests Advance in close proximity to a forming warp storm" the Captain grit out, knowing where this conversation was leading.
She'd been around the black haired and roguishly handsome Inquisitor for long enough. Her time with him had taught her one thing. Vownus enjoyed complications and intrigue. He was an adrenaline junkie in the worst of ways.
He was a damn good Inquisitor, but sometimes she prayed to the Emperor that the man would act more professionally. More befitting of his position.
"How much faster?" The lightness of his tone was pissing her off. Most Psyker's were erie and creepy, having a tendency to be recluses who avoided social contact.
Vownus seemed to feed off the natural distrust that most felt toward his kind. He enjoyed it.
So Olivina refused to let him have such an easy victory over her. The Alpha Plus Psyker could rip her apart with his mind if he wanted to. But Olivina knew the silly manchild would never do such a thing.
His loyalty was unquestionable.
As Psyker's go he wasn't that bad…
As an individual?
Nearly biting her tongue before replying, she said "two days at most… less than 26 hours at best. Unless there are… complications"
She couldn't help but address a small amount of her worries to the man. Vownus' response however, was exactly what she expected.
"Your concerns are noted, Captain" with an overly dramatic sweeping turn of his cape Vownus proceeded to walk away, "but it looks as though we've got quite the situation on our hands"
He stopped as he passed her. In a rare moment, a serious set of eyes gazed up at her purple ones.
She saw the command in them, as well as the blank authority which he exuded in extremely important situations.
"Get us to Helios before Rykehuss does, Captain. That's an order"
His sudden change of mood failed to destabilize the Cadian woman.
"It will be done My Lord"
Vownus' face melted back into a beaming smile.
"If things go wrong, I grant you the right to expressly tell me, 'I told you so'"
The Captain snorted down at the shorter man.
"If that day comes My Lord… I fear I won't have to"
They studied one another for a few moments.
Vownus, finding whatever he was looking for, nodded once and swept away from her. His cloak billowed behind him as he exited the bridge.
As soon as the door shut behind him, Olivina brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose. She let out a deep sigh.
What were the chances of her being placed under that insufferable fool… out of the trillions of humans within the galaxy, sometimes she wondered why it had to be her.
One day the man's insufferable streak of luck would run out. On that day, she knew, knowing her own luck, that she'd be beside him, neck deep in whatever problem he'd flung them all into.
A distinct lack of noise drew her attention to the other occupants of the bridge.
All the other officers in the room were watching her. Some had smirks on their faces, other's were just curious as to the interactions between the Inquisitor and the Captain.
"Back to it!" Olivina snarled, her crew jumping to it as their stalwart leader returned, "I wanted us at Helios yesterday!"
All across the ship, preparations were made for Warp travel.
The Witchhunt had begun, and the crew of the Tempests Advance was not going to be late to the party.
It was a cool night.
Quiet, yet strangely calm. A direct contrast to his own mind.
Ahmazzi let the coin flip between his fingers. The small piece of circular metal danced up and down his left hand, a practised and simple movement to the old Inquisitor.
One of his many personal techniques to clear his mind.
Troubling times were ahead, and all the fervent prayer he had given to the Emperor was not enough to stem his concerns and worries.
Only three days into his investigation of Helios, and the details he had begun to uncover were of a disturbing nature.
The cult was expansive. Efforts led by his personal forces had uncovered members in many different branches of the Imperium. Helios was being infiltrated by a cult with wide spanning implications.
Of those caught, Ahmazzi had positively confirmed the presence of two chaos gods. Those of Khorne and Slaneesh were easy to uncover. Those associated with the The Prince of Pleasure and the Blood God had their barrows burned, their covens destroyed… and the surviving members of their heretical faiths were kneeling before Ahmazzi.
Only a handful were necessary for his plan.
Ahmazzi's own detachment of Tempestus Scions had joined him on Helios. They were the ones which commanded the PDF toward the located Heretics. Of the two hundred traitors uncovered, roughly twenty remained.
These twenty had been taken from the city, driven out into the middle of one of Helios's many fields.
The Inquisitor had selected this location in particular, for a few reasons.
These blasphemers were naturally quite confused when they were not killed outright like their comrades had been.
When the PDF and Ahmazzi's scions had attacked, they hadn't expected to survive the assault.
Therefore, this short drive they were subjected to, bound and gagged, served to inspire as much nervous fear as possible.
Ahmazzi had ordered complete silence between the Scions. If they were to communicate, they would do so through a private Vox channel.
Not a word was to be uttered out loud.
The Six Taurox APC's came to a halt at their intended destination without any complications. Each transport opened and the prisoners were taken out. Since they legs were bound quite closely together, their movement was more akin to a pathetic shuffle. Their arms remained behind their backs.
Each of them had been patted down for weapons and tools.
They would not escape this.
A few of them had begun to cry.
Ahmazzi had remained in the vehicle for this part.
Arranged in a long row by his own orders, the former citizens of the Imperium were forced to kneel in the dirt. Gagged pleas from a few of them fell upon silent ears.
Two of the Taurox's adjusted themselves to point forward at the kneeling traitors. Their large headlights flared into existence, bathing the twenty in white light.
Six of the Daemon hunter's numerous Storm troopers holstered their weapons and walked away to one of the Tauroxes. Their brethren kept the barrels of their lasguns trained upon the bound and gagged heretics. After they adjusted to the sudden and bright light, they began to look around, scanning up and down the line at one another.
The selected six storm troopers returned, each with an Imperial trench shovel in hand. It would get the job done.
The old man knew that the fear of the traitors was at its apex.
The coin stopped flipping.
Inquisitor Ahmazzi stood from the back of the APC which carried him and his Psyker, Denex Dondarin. As he exited the vehicle, the six Scions armed with shovels began to dig directly in front of the line of traitors.
Flanked on either side by the Tauroxes which provided light for this Inquisitorial affair, Ahmazzi took his time to study each and every face of the twenty before him.
Young. Old.
Man. Women.
A few rich. Some were poor.
'The cult's reaches are far and wide…' he thought to himself, a suspicion working its way to the back of his head.
He would need to ascertain the validity of this concern here and now. His operations were at risk if he did not.
And so for a handful of minutes, the only sound which permeated the air was that of six shovels slicing into dirt, the hysterical breathing of those slated to die, and the gust of the wind.
Ahmazzi's vox communicator in his ear crackled.
The breaking of earth ceased, and the six Scions returned to the ranks of their helmeted brothers in arms.
"Ready my Lord"
The grave had been dug.
Now it was up to him.
The bright frontal lights of the Taurox dimmed slightly, allowing Ahmazzi's figure to be seen by those that kneeled before him.
Of the large array of guards which surrounded the traitors, twenty stepped forward and closed the distance between the accused. Lasguns were levelled at the backs of their heads.
But they did not fire.
Whimpers and mutters sounded from the gagged people.
A few of whom had only eyes and focus for the two man now revealed between the light of the transport vehicles.
"I am Ahmazzi. Lord Inquisitor of our Holy Emperor's Ordo Malleus"
His inflection was toneless and lacking. Each person was drawn to the only human noise in the isolated location. The Scions kept their focus on the prisoners, as did Ahmazzi and Denex.
The Psyker was already carefully rifling through their minds, gleaming what he could from the traitors. Carefully being the operative word.
Minds corrupted by Chaos could be just as dangerous as any bullet or Las weapon.
"You stand accused of consorting with the Archenemy, with the Forces of Chaos that so dearly wish the destruction of not only our great Imperium, but He who sits upon the Golden Throne of Terra"
From behind the bound prisoners, Ahmazzi could see four large barrels being placed heavily and loudly on the ground.
He knew what they contained.
All the traitors could hear was something heavy hitting the earth.
"You will die here tonight" Ahmazzi said calmly, his hands naturally clasping behind his back, "here upon this world will be your last moments. I suspect that your heathen Gods will gladly welcome your souls into their realms, before all of you are consumed by the Daemons you consort with"
Their reactions were pitiful. More whimpering, crying, and silent begging.
A few remained stalwart and stiff. The hatred in their eyes focused on the Inquisitor and the Inquisitor alone.
Those were the ones Ahmazzi wished to speak to.
"But you shall be given a choice" Denex stepped away from Ahmazzi as the Inquisitor spoke, moving to the firing line of soldiers behind the kneeling men, women and youth.
'Must have found something…'
"Confess. Repent to your sins, confess to the horrors you had planned to subject the innocent of Helios too… free yourselves from the Ruinous Powers and accept His light once more. Do so, and you may just save your souls"
Having said his piece, Ahmazzi moved to the far left of the line of people.
The meter and a half deep trench separated himself and the first traitor.
It was a man. A full set of hair, heavy set and sweating. His eyes were pinpricks of fear. There was a noticeable quiver in his body.
The Scion behind him roughly removed his gag.
"M-my L-Lord!" the man cried out, "I-"
Ahmazzi held a hand out. The man shut his mouth closed, unable to keep his eyes off the being of judgement before him.
"Confess" was all the Inquisitor said.
"I… I…" the man gulped. Something found its way into his features, and his body slackened slightly.
"I was poor, my Lord. The… the Ruinous Powers granted me what the Emperor could not… I know nothing that could assist you my Lord"
Ahmazzi glanced up to Denex for a brief moment. The Psyker was halfway down the line, standing behind a young boy, the one which caught his eye.
The man nodded in response to the Inquisitor's nonverbal question, never keeping his eyes off the boy.
"Your honesty is well met, Traitor" Ahmazzi nodded to the guard behind the man, "the Emperor forgives you"
The man relaxed a second before the Lasbolt blew through his forehead, scorching the opposite bank of the trench.
His corpse tumbled forward, slumping into its final resting place in the dirt.
Many traitors screamed at this, their howls of fury and fear muffled by their gags. Many writhed around, only for the Scions to smack them with the butt of their weapons.
The remaining 19 stayed on their knees.
Ahmazzi moved to the next individual in the line.
A young woman.
As her gag was removed, a torrent of curses left her mouth.
"CORPSE WORSHIPER! I RUE THE DAY I EVER ANSWER YOU! FILTHY MONSTER! YOU-"
The guard behind her struck her heavily, dazing her for a few moments.
Ahmazzi made a gesture, and the still living woman was pushed forward into the trench. The noise she made as she fell was incomprehensible but ultimately useless. Ahmazzi would not waste his time on her.
Upon his non-verbal order, two Scions hefted one of the large barrels, bringing it right up to the edge of the grave. Uncapping it, a fair amount of liquid was poured out over the disoriented woman.
She spluttered and gasped, trying to find a way onto her feet.
Ahmazzi nodded toward the same Scion which removed the cap of the barrel.
"I sentence you to burn, Heretic"
The man produced a flare from his belt of equipment. Without any ceremony he tossed it into the pit.
The Promethium ignited immediately.
In an instant, the silence of the night was shredded by the brief roar of the fire, and the skin crawling shrieks of the woman being consumed by the flames.
Ahmazzi watched her writhe and flail, her skin blistering and burning, her eyes melting in her skull.
She screamed until her voice was hoarse.
Eventually her body just twitched and spasmed in silence. The only noise was the crackling of the fire.
Ahmazzi had looked away at that point, his eyes locked upon the now 18 people remaining.
The will of some of the more stubborn had been shattered, the posture more cowed, and their expressions fixed in a tableau of horror. They could not tear their eyes from the sight of their burning comrad.
Ahmazzi simply moved down the line, now standing before another man.
He was younger than the previous two.
His fear filled eyes darted between the woman and the Inquisitor.
The moment the fire had died out, Ahmazzi had the man's gag removed. Instantly, the Hive dweller began to beg and plead.
"Please! I'm not with them! I swear it, my Lord! I'm innocent!"
Ahmazzi's expression did not change. His features conveyed nothing but cold rationality. His word, a demand uttered as simply as it had been for the first man.
"Confess"
The man blubbered, sweat and tears rolling down his face as he shivered.
"Please My Lord! I didn't know! I thought it was just-"
With a grunt, the man fell forward, the scion behind him striking him swiftly in the back of the head.
Promethium was poured upon him as well.
"NO!" came from the grave.
A flare was tossed onto the man.
His screams of agony tore into the night.
And like the woman before him, Ahmazzi waited, letting the man's actions and choices reflect upon the 17 Traitors which remained.
Ostus Barrow sat at the table in his home, alone.
Clutched in one hand was a wooden flagon, the other, a small rose.
He had heard from his colleagues and friends what had happened…
His dear sweet Alena, the kindest and most perfect woman he had ever had the pleasure of knowing, was dead.
It had been only a few days ago when he had dropped them off near the city, promising to come pick them up on their way back to the farming outskirts of Helios.
They had never shown.
Assuming that friends of Dessidus had taken them in, or perhaps they were waylaid by some kind of business, Ostus had contented himself with knowing that if they needed help they would contact him.
But now… he blamed himself for not finding any proactive motivation.
He should have gone to look for them.
He should have informed the Arbites earlier… he should have-
Cutting off his thoughts, the deeply troubled man took another swig of the liquid within his flagon.
Ostus had not found any rest, instead keeping himself to the small table of the home he had planned to share with the woman.
And her child.
Ostus could only hope that the Arbites would not hold Lucian for too long. The boy was already going through so much. While death and heartbreak was normal for a man of his age, the boy needed some stability in his life.
The ground couldn't constantly be torn from beneath him, again and again.
A shudder wracked his body as he dropped the mug, his misty eyes focusing on the flower instead.
Ostus hadn't married before. He'd thought about it and considered it, but the right woman had never truly walked into his life.
There had been flings and moments of passion, but he never truly found the right one to settle with.
It had felt like a blink of his eyes and he was 50, still toiling away among the fields, managing what he could and doing what he did best.
Alena and her boy had been a surprise. One that he hadn't gotten a good understanding of until the child was seven years old.
Ostus had always wanted to be a father, and the boy was such an honest and warm presence in both his and Alena's life.
The universe had been cruel to create such a life and then take away the boy's chance at ever meeting his true parents, but as the Emperor as his witness, Ostus would be the best Father a child could ever ask for.
Lucian and Alena would be happy. They would live safely and-
And…
….
Ostus dropped the rose on the table.
Alena was dead.
Lucian was gone.
And now Ostus was alone.
Completely and utterly alo-
FZZZK!
Through the drunken stupor he had put himself in, the big bearded man was not so far gone to miss the sudden crackle of noise which echoed from outside.
His eyes refocused on his door.
Silence echoed out through the space around him. The crackle of his hearth, in the small home he lived in being the only noise to blossom out into the now eerie silence.
A chill trickled down the back of his spine, and Ostus slowly stood from the table in his kitchen.
His meaty right hand reached behind him to grasp the long axe next to his hearth.
He took a careful step to his right, his eyes still glued to the door to his home.
It was bolted and shut, like every window and hatch.
His left hand pulled the Las pistol from its small housing near the Kitchen sink. It was dirty and worn, a relic from the old wars of Helios.
Nearly every farmer out in the fields had some kind of weapon which traced back to their fighting ancestry.
Ostus's entire body tensed as the door rattled, ever so slightly.
The ominous feeling on the back of his neck was irritating.
And the words which came from his mouth came freely.
"Love the Emperor, for He is the salvation of mankind" Ostus did not flinch as his door banged against its frame. Nor did he fail to continue speaking.
"Heed His wisdom, for He will protect you from evil"
The next strike upon the door was stronger, rattling the frame dangerously. Ostus however, did not cower, his words finding more strength and power.
"I tread the path of Righteousness. Though it be paved with broken glass, I will walk it barefoot; though it cross rivers of fire,-"
One of the locks shattered.
"I will pass over them!" Ostus raised his Las pistol as he roared, its barrel pointed toward the door.
The feeling from his neck had reached a crescendo, the icy spike of danger having done its best to warn the man.
Something unnatural was coming for him.
But fear did not find him unprepared.
"Though it wanders wide," Ostus gripped the axe tightly, a cold fury burning brightly in his gut, "the light of the Emperor guides my step!"
The door to his home finally broke open, allowing the tide of cloaked and faceless beings to swarm in, armed with sharp and crooked weapons. Blades and daggers of any amalgamation.
Ostus didn't even hesitate.
With a deep roar he fired into their midst, his pistol spitting red death to the first wave that rushed at him.
They fell to the floor of his home, their brethren stampeding over their fallen corpses. Their target was Ostus, and the large man did not begrudge them of their quarry.
He clashed with them, his weapon firing as he planted his axe in the head of the nearest attacker.
Like the tides of two great bodies of water they met.
Their jagged weapons of torture flashed out, cutting into the man.
Ostus barrow fought for as long and as hard as he could. The members of the cult had not expected any of the farmers to be ready for them.
Ostus would make them pay dearly for such hubris.
...but eventually, he would lose his axe. The blade would remain buried in the chest of a slain opponent.
The various cuts and slices across his body would drain him of his strength.
His las pistol would be knocked from his hand, vanishing into the seal of cloaked traitors.
And he would find himself restrained against the floor, at the mercy of the followers of Chaos.
Ostus Barrow went down with one hell of a fight.
Ahmazzi had skipped over the one boy that Denex had indicated. The Inquisitor still noted the fear in the young lad's eyes, but he made no noise and offered no resistance.
If what Denex said was true, this idiot would be dealt with at a later time.
So the Daemon hunter had proceeded down the line, welcoming the repentant and burning the Traitor.
Fumes could be picked out of the air, alongside the pungent smell of burning flesh. The Trench was almost full of corpses, and strange mingling of charred bodies, and their untouched counterparts.
A fitting, unmarked and unknown, grave for traitors.
The ones that had not wavered had proven to be troublesome. Those four had burned, but notably with no noise.
The flames had not caused them pain.
Ahmazzi knew what this meant, but he would be sure once he finished with them all.
There were only four left bar the boy that had been spared.
The first of the remaining heretics had his gag removed.
An older man, crusted by age and nearly twice as frail.
"Confess," Ahmazzi ordered.
Old eyes met with his own, and the old man smiled, revealing a mouth only half full of teeth.
"The ritual has begun, Inquisitor. Even I couldn't stop them if I wanted to"
The man began to laugh then. Raspy and tired. He only got a few barks out before he was struck and tossed in the hole.
Ahmazzi watched him burn silently. The old man, like the others, never made a noise.
The Inquisitor's mind was stuck upon the old man's words.
The last two in the line were also men, similar ages, and of different builds. The first was skinny and wiry, while the last was large and powerful.
In a second, the gag was removed from the one of slight stature.
He said nothing, allowing the Inquisitor to speak.
And Ahmazzi did. However, he did not demand confession.
"Tzneech has promised you something… hasn't he?"
The slight recoil of the skinny one gave all the answer Ahmazzi required. That makes three of the Four.
An eight pointed star…
Chaos undivided.
"Your ritual involves the child, the Psyker… did you create him? Is he a spawn of Chaos?" Ahmazzi drilled the youth, trying to get a response.
Suddenly, and with a mumbled roar, the larger one pounced on his brethren. He was attempting to do… something to his fellow.
And whatever it was, Ahmazzi and everyone else would never know.
The larger one's head was suddenly twisted right off of his body, leaking blood and fluid all over his shorter compatriot.
Denex lowered his hand, allowing the flow of the Immaterium to return to normal.
Ahmazzi fixed his Psyker with a pointed look as the Scions pulled the corpse off of the shorter figure, dumping it into the trench.
"Slaanesh. He knew nothing" Denex justified.
Ahmazzi grunted, refocusing on the skinny traitor.
"Answer me Traitor"
The man trembled for a brief moment, shutting his eyes in some fervent hope that he would awaken from this horrible dream.
But then he spoke, so quietly and softly, Ahmazzi knelt down in order to pick up on it. The body of the man twitched and jolted, fighting some kind of non-physical control.
"We were drawn here…" he breathed out, eyes still shut, "we were drawn to the boy"
Ahmazzi kept silent, allowing the heretic to speak.
"All of us were… drawn to him… you cannot feel him, or see him, as we do… we see all of him… now that he is ready"
The man suddenly stopped moving, his stillness prompting Ahmazzi to stand once more.
The air felt colder, and far more sharp. Every member of his retinue knew what was happening.
Warp possession. A conflicted soul finding solace in the disgusting daemon it believed in.
For now, this served Ahmazzi's purpose.
"Just like his poor little brother, believing daddy doesn't love him… that daddy doesn't care..." a twisted smile broke across the boy's face.
"My Lord," Denex warned from the side.
The Scions had all of their weapons trained on the figure.
"Hold!" Ahmazzi ordered.
He needed the information.
"We will take him from these Fields… far away from the light of his father, the corpse on its throne! The Anathema! The monster which-"
As the powers of the warp swelled in a violent rictus around the figure, so too did they die as Ahmazzi removed the figure's head.
The Daemon hunter's sword was already stowed in his belt by the time the head of the nearly possessed traitor dropped to the ground.
Ahmazzi was already turned away, marching back to his Taurox. Denex came up beside him.
The Scions were pouring out more Promethium into the ditch. Each and every corpse would be incinerated, leaving no trace of who they had been before.
Ahmazzi pointed toward the still living boy, "bring him with us. Keep an eye on him at all times. I will interrogate him later"
The Scions guarding the boy nodded their assent, but the Inquisitor was already turning away.
He needed to get back to the city.
"Contact the Arbitrators, the two we can trust. Tell them to get the boy and take him to my ship. The city, as of this moment, is no longer safe" the Inquisitor ordered a Scion standing beside his vehicle with the Vox caster.
The man nodded and began speaking.
"My Lord" Denex conferred with Ahmazzi as the Taurox was sealed behind them, "we already possess the boy, have you considered Exter-"
"No" Ahmazzi snapped, shutting his eyes in a moment of frustration, "do not utter that word. The situation is salvageable. We maintain possession of the child, then route out whatever is left of these Heretical Scum"
Denex did not say anything more and sat back in his seat, away from the old Inquisitor.
"Besides, it would take days to get a fleet insystem. We do not have the ordinance to complete such a task"
Denex knew that the old man was trying to cover himself. For one so brutal and heartless in the pursuit of mankind's enemies… The 'E' word was a big no-no for him.
The Psyker would have protested his point further, but the Vox line to their Taurox crackled loudly, interrupting whatever complaint he may have had.
"My Lord Inquisitor, there is a situation"
Ahmazzi wasted no time in keying back to the driver, "What is it?"
"The Adeptus Arbites fortress is under attack. The PDF is mounting an offensive to relieve them, but the Child is missing. Caius Helix and Lynwood Deculus claim to be in close pursuit of the boy's captors"
Denex felt his stomach drop just as Ahmazzi's face morphed into a cold mask of stone.
This was not good.
In the darkness of Helios's night, Lynwood's bolter boomed four more times, the noise barely distinguishable with the sound of fighting all around him and Caius Helix. The man that had been attempting to climb into an Imperial Taurox fell back dead. He joined a pile of similarly dressed people at the base of the vehicle.
It was correctly assumed that the man was intending to follow after the two APC's that were already disappearing into the distance.
The same vehicles that carried the boy, Lucian.
"Watch it!"
The aged Arbite didn't get a chance to react as his colleague shoved him aside. He also barely saw the blade which displaced the air where he had been standing.
Caius blasted the fool that had rushed them.
"Heretic Bastard!" the younger spat, helping Lynwood to his feet.
The Arbite Fortress was burning in some places, smouldering in others. Waves of cloaked figures had rushed the structure, overwhelming the guards from outside before pouring into the numerous corridors.
They were armed with a scrapheap of weapons, but through sheer numbers overcame any Imperial hurdle on their way to their prize.
The child, Lucian, had been taken by them.
Fortunately, for Lynwood and Caius at least, the two of them had been enjoying a brief lunch break before they rotated back onto guarding the boy's room.
They had been discussing how they both felt to be working under the Inquisition. Or how different it felt for the both of them...
Then the vox had practically exploded with chatter.
The surprise of the situation did not falter them, and weapons in hand, they rushed toward where Lucian was kept.
Corridors were filled with corpses and blood stains, while fighting could be heard from nearly every room and floor.
A few cultists had stood in their way, but the main tide had already swept through the building.
The two Arbites were right on their heels.
Arriving at Lucian's room revealed two dead Tempestus Scions and scores of dead cultists. Or atleast, Caius declared them to be cultists.
"They have the boy," Lynwood declared.
Following the path of death and destruction brought them to their current predicament.
A smaller group of fleeing 'cloaked bastards'
Seeing them shepherding one another into the appropriated Arbite vehicles, Lynwood had taken action.
One Taurox had already escaped by the time he started firing, a second close behind.
The third was left with its side hatch open, a cluster of dead bodies before it.
"I don't suppose-" Caius began, before being interrupted by another figure moving toward them,
"Skulls for the-!"
As one, the two Aribites turned toward the battle crazed Heretic, Lasfire and Bolter round reducing him to burnt mulch.
"I don't suppose you know how to drive such a vehicle?" Caius asked, scanning around him for any other kamikaze chargers as he changed the charge in his weapon.
"I can. You're suggesting we go after them? Just the two of us?" Lynwood was perplexed as he too reloaded his bolt pistol. Caius usually prefered avoiding the more difficult tasks and work that came with being an Arbite.
Lynwood himself was just about to demand they follow after the escaping cultists, but raised a perplexed eyebrow as he marched toward the vehicle.
"I mean" the younger man shrugged, walking alongside his cohort to the left over Taurox, "do you wish to be the one to tell Old Mister Inquisitor Grumpy how we just let the boy be captured-"
Caius hoisted himself into the cabin, turning around to offer a hand to the now exasperated Lynwood.
"-right after he specifically gave us orders to guard him?"
Lynwood snorted.
"No. I suppose not" he grumbled, taking the arm of his colleague and hoisting himself into the Taurox cabin.
Lynwood scrambled into the pilots cockpit as Caius closed the hatch to their APC.
"Check for weapons and equipment" he ordered over his shoulder, beginning to bring the machine to life.
Hopefully it's Machine spirit would be alright with a somewhat rusty driver.
Hopefully.
Muttering off a quick prayer to the God Emperor, Lynwood started flipping switches.
"Got a couple krak grenades, las rifles, a few clips of bolter ammunition and a- ooooo Melta grenades!" Caius called from the rear, "Oh and a Vox caster!"
Lynwood touched a few more dials and buttons, and the vehicle sputtered into life, its engine giving a beautiful growl.
"Get on the Vox! Contact the Inquisitor and inform him of the situation"
"Aye aye, Captain" Caius snapped back with a drawl.
Lynwood just rolled his eyes and powered the vehicle forward. With a rumble, they began to move, driving right after their prey.
They had Heretics to catch, and a boy to save.
Lucian was in a dark place. A strange place. Everything around him was consumed by a blackness that no light from anywhere could penetrate.
He didn't remember how he got here. Here, in this inky blackness
Looking around him, he could see his shoulders, his hands and arms… he floated in this strange place, as he realised that his feet weren't actually touching solid ground.
Looking down, he could see his naked body beneath him… that was strange. He could have sworn he had-
"Lucian"
That voice… he knew it. It was airy and bright, promising and warm… but also, salacious. It promised things… nice things.
But also bad things.
He blinked, and before him was someone he knew very well.
"Vanella" he gasped, seeing the girl he knew so very well. She had a smirk upon her features, a smile that tugged at a place deep within his belly.
Her long hair was cascading behind her back, floating aimlessly in this blackened void.
She was wrapped in a white sheet that revealed her long legs and many more things Lucian had never seen before. Almost as if she was underwater, the sheet drifted and swayed, curling here and there to provide a tantalizing image of his friend.
It looked so real.
"Lucian" she said his name again in that breathy gasp of intimacy, "did you miss me?"
"W-what?" the boy replied, his voice quiet as sudden feelings and heat began to grow within him.
The long white blanket that enraptured Vanella drifted toward him, curling around his leg.
It felt like lighting as it traced across his form, ensnaring him.
She drifted closed to him, her arms wide and open, bearing almost all of herself to him.
"I missed you" she affirmed, the dainty fingers of her hand coming to rest on Lucian's shoulder. As the tips of her fingers caressed him, Lucian couldn't help but close his eyes in bliss.
This felt…
This felt so…
"Good?" her smirk returned, "I can make you feel better" she insisted.
"Really?" Lucian replied, the oxygen in his lungs barely able to sustain him. He couldn't help the word that had left him, nor the tone in which they were uttered.
"Really" Vanella affirmed, her other hand cupping his chin while the fingers of the first trailed down his chest.
She leaned in closer to him.
"You just have to let us in"
Lucian floated there in bliss, completely content with…
With…
His eyes opened and he looked at the perfect representation of his friend.
"Us?" he replied.
The smirk he received told him two things.
One: this was not Vanella. This was most definitely not the sweet girl he cared about.
Two: Wherever here was… wasn't a good place to be.
"Come" Not-Vanella tugged on him, "let's meet the others"
And Lucian could do nothing as he was dragged through the void, toward a door that hadn't been there before.
Or maybe it had, and he had been too distracted to notice it.
"Another breach Captain! Lower decks 22 and 23, outside the Medicae! The Guard are doing their best for now, but the Daemons are tenacious!"
Consoles beeped and whined as the grey haired Lieutenant gave his report to Captain Olivina.
From her chair at the head of the bridge, her fists curled in anger.
Vownus' demanded shortcut had proven to be quite disastrous. It indeed was saving them time, but the turbulent waves of the warp might prove to be their undoing.
A series of Daemonic incursions had assaulted the Tempests Advance leading to fighting on a few of the levels.
The Inquisitor who had sent Olivina's vessel down such a dangerous path had yet to make an appearance.
This was a hellish outcome.
Olivina felt her blood boil just thinking about the black haired handsome looking prick. He could get into the auto cannon and fire himself out into the void for all she-
"My lady! Vox communique for you! It's the Inquisitor!"
The Captain patched in with the speaker on her chair, "My Lord, we're under attack, I don't suppose-"
"Captain. Give me the locations of the heaviest incursions. Myself and my oh so loyal friends here will make short work of these warp spawn"
'Friends? Did he mean the-'
"Time is of the essence Captain"
Olivina shook herself.
"Decks 14, 17, 22 and 23. Start with the Medicae my Lord, the Guardsmen there need the support!" she sighed once, "I apologize for being so caught off of our guard My Lord, I take full responsibility for-"
His jubilant voice jolted back onto the comm line.
"Nonsense my dear Captain! I picked the path, I will bear the blame. But if you are so determined to make it up to me, perhaps we can finally share that meal in my quarters?"
Even in the middle of a dangerous Daemonic incursion, as the horrors of the Warp assailed her vessel…
Olivina Ceris was at a loss for words. So was the rest of the bridge crew, some of which had quite clearly heard the loudly spoken offer.
The klaxons and warning sirens swiftly drew them back to their hurried work. That, or the vicious glare that Olivina leveled at all of them.
The Cadian Captain growled as she replied back.
"Now is not the time or place Inquisitor Kaede"
And his response?
"That's not a nooooo" his voice twittered with humour just seconds before cutting the vox.
The glare that Olivina leveled at the innocent speaker could have melted Ceramite.
They would have words…
If they survived this.
Knowing Vownus, he'd prefer it if they had words over dinner.
The call of "Captain!" and yet another report drew her back into the moment. Now was not the time to be distracted by frivolous things.
After closing off his personal vox channel to the bridge, the Inquisitor spoke aloud.
"The Medicae is under immediate assault" Vownus addressed his much larger comrades as they marched, but in Vownus' case jogged, down one of the larger corridors of the Advance "Sounds like bloodletters to me… probably attracted by the wounded"
"Damnable creatures" the only unhelmeted figure among Vownus' new friends declared, "cowardly and weak"
The Inquisitor snorted, "weak for you maybe. For us mere mortals they can be quite a problem at times"
A pair of red eyes turned to regard the Witch Hunter for a moment as they made another left turn in the endless grey steel passageways.
"Are you not a Psyker, Lord Inquisitor?" the large figure asked in mild confusion.
"Right you are Raduriel!" Vownus smirked, "I was merely speaking for the less… magically inclined"
One of the helmeted heads turned sharply, the occupant of the silver armor listening in on some kind of information.
It was relayed to the group aloud, in respect to the Inquisitor present.
"The Neophytes have joined the battle on the floors above us. They are driving the Daemon scourge back to where they came" the large figure addressed the other towering monstrosities, "Steel yourselves Brothers. Dorn and the Emperor watch over you both"
And as the others responded to their leader, "By Dorn and the Emperor"
Weapons from bolters to chainswords, broadswords and even a powerfist were drawn. They had armed themselves for close combat after all. Vownus had his reliable hell pistol at the ready, his sabre held tightly in his right hand.
He couldn't help the quick looks he stole of each of the six Space Marines that surrounded him.
Adeptus Astartes.
The Emperor's finest. Armored in tones of beautiful white and blue, their symbol of two crossed sabers blazed proudly upon each of their large pauldrons.
The Astral Knights.
Last of a dead chapter, a name that held sway among all the sons of the Primarch Rogal Dorn. Their Chapter's most famous and heroic deed was also the beginning of their end.
Of the six that stood with him, only a small growing group of Neophytes and a bad mannered Dreadnought had been rescued by Vownus.
The debt they owed to the Inquisitor was being repaid in service to the man, helping him strike down the enemies he hunted across the stars.
They had no other purpose but to service the Imperium, so Vownus Kaede made good use of the big fellows.
Their most senior member was the Dreadnought, but due to him not being present, the Space Marines present differed to Germael, the captain of this ragtag squad. A master of the blade, as all of them were, he stood above his peers by a slight head.
Vownus had joked about getting him access to Terminator armor, but the Knight refused on the grounds that his swordsmanship would become useless.
Germael took his duties seriously, and if he was irked by the Inquisitors attitude, failed to show it. His preferred choice of firearm was a bolt pistol.
Raduriel was the Sergeant of the squad. His armor was scratched and old, something that he chose to keep maintained as. These wounds would and damage would be with him till his grave. The proud coating of his brothers was worn for him.
This Astartes typically carried a heavy bolter most of the time, two large and beefy drum magazines attached to the beast of a weapon.
For now, he had a very bright pair of powerfists…
'Huh' Vownus thought, 'maybe they finally let the Mechanicus start repairing their junk'
'I'm afraid not, my Lord Inquisitor' a voice echoed into Vownus' head, 'Raduriel bartered for it on the last Imperial world we hunted upon. He has been itching to use them'
Vownus glanced at the helmetless one of the group. The hood that lay behind his head indicated who he was.
A Librarian. The last of his chapter.
This was Aethod. A gifted Psyker and prodigal marksman. A nice little close up and far away combination.
Vownus got along with him the best.
Like all of his brothers, beneath his helmet he had a bald head and three metal studs above his left eye.
Unlike his Brothers, Aethod had small illegible scripture upon his entire head, and arguably one of the nicest smiles Vownus had ever seen on a human.
Dominius brought up the rear of the group, constantly checking back behind them in case of any clever Daemons attempting to flank them.
Dominius kept his armor on at all times. The most reclusive of the group, he hardly spoke or talked to anyone else, even his own chapter. He was a wraith upon any battle field, advancing under torrents of gunfire with no fear or hesitation.
The Astartes of all trades, currently armed at this moment with a bolter. Vownus did note the dagger (or sword, if you were a regular man), strapped to his side.
Tiberec and Rhamine were the last two. An inseparable duo that fought back to back whenever they could.
Their friendship was a thing of legend, with Vownus having witnessed two separate occasionals where these Knights had emerged victorious against impossible odds.
One carried a power axe, and the other, a chainsword.
The eagerness in their posture was noticeable by all. Word had it that there was a bet going on between the two of them.
First to a thousand kills while in the Inquisitors service.
Word also had it that Rhamine, the one armed with the power axe, was in the lead. But fear not, Tiberec swore he was only a dozen or so behind.
The squad of six Astartes and one amused Inquisitor rounded the last bend, revealing the Medicae and the siege which was taking place.
Vownus had been picking up on the sound of combat only a few turns before, but the large cavernous space where the Guard defended themselves was a sight to behold. The Medicae structure had lasfire and bolter rounds hurtling out of it, striking the waves of daemons that surged to meet it.
It seemed as if the guard were indeed holding the tide back.
Very commendable.
"Bloodletters indeed" Aethod noted with a smile, "you never cease to demonstrate your commendable foresight my Lord Inquisitor"
Vownus didn't get a chance to respond.
"Brother Tiberec, Brother Rhamine,'' Germael addressed the two eager Astartes, pulling them to the forefront of their group.
Some of the demons began to turn to face them, seemingly noticing the presence of the six hulking Space Marines.
"If you would like to do the honors" the Captain raised his sword, and Vownus could imagine the smirk which lay beneath his helm.
The two Assault Marines did not hesitate.
"For the Emperor!" they roared, weapons raised as they charged forward like a pair of identical Leman Russ's.
Vownus watched them plow into the swarms of daemons, killing swathes of them without discrimination.
"I'll settle the guard down Captain Germael" Vownus smirked at the sight before him, before turning to face the leader of this squad "you and your Astartes do what they do best"
Germael's helmeted head nodded once.
"It will be done, my Lord Inquisitor"
And like that, he and his brothers dashed into the fight. Never the ones to let their brothers have all the fun without them.
As Bolters fired and chainswords growled, Vownus was very glad he'd come across the path of the Astral Knights.
They made his job so much easier.
AN: Thanks so much for reading! Please leave a review if you note any lore problems... I'm still pretty new to writing 40k. If you haven't already, please consider following and favouriting!
See y'all next chapter!
-Freedom