AN: sup. took a bit. here it is. more chit chat at the bottom. Also thanks dethcat for the funny reviews, really got my rolling xd
Enjoy :^)
The ceremony took place in a public forum, late into the cycle of Helios' day and night.
As shadows loomed across the buildings and walkways around it all, the setting sun cast the barest of orange hue's beyond the Hive's horizon.
A large central section of a walkway that had found itself amalgamated for the purposes of the man which oversaw this… event.
The conductor of the ceremony was a man. Wreathed in an armor shaded the darkest of night, this being presided over all.
An intimidating sight for the crowds of lowly commoners, packed into the surrounding stands. These structures had been erected around this central area only weeks before, but everyone knew their purpose now.
When the man had first arrived, it had been within the right of the people to fear his appearance.
Red highlights upon his armor, a near shade of blood, worked their way around his form. These tones clashed only slightly with the religious symbols, papals, and ornaments that decorated the man from his shins to his shoulders.
His face was horrid and cruel, years of malice and hatred conformed to the tiny visage nearly swallowed by the bulking armor that clothed him.
Forever present, and flanking this being of tumultuous hate, were an order of warriors, cloaked and hooded from sight.
Upon first glance it was possible to tell that the warriors were feminine in figure, but nothing more.
When they did move, they were akin to wraiths of shadow around that clung to the conductor, a silent guard that never left the man's side.
As the sun finally set, and torch light was all that granted the hundreds upon hundreds of hive dwellers light, the ceremony began.
The colosseum was full, yet there was no noise.
No whispers or chatter.
Because the people of Helios now knew what they were to witness tonight. As they had all witnessed night after night, all those months ago when the man had first arrived.
The Inquisitor.
None could have expected this man, nor the fear and destruction he would wrought.
An oddity it was, the danger presented in his mere presence, yet the relaxed posture of his figure as he remained seated upon his raised throne.
A throne far in the back of the stands, raised above all else by instructed construction.
Overlooking the stands, and the center of the impromptu colosseum, the man stood.
The warriors by his side remained still.
Every face in the crowd turned to look at him.
When the first day had come, and this Inquisitor had ordered the people of the hive to attend the stands by nightfall, many had come with hope and wishful thinking.
Helios had found itself divided and hurt, damaged irreversibly by the machinations of Chaos.
While the greatest of the fighting was over, the Archenemy had struck a deep blow in the trust the people felt for one another.
When this Inquisitor had promised to deal with such problems, to show "the denizens of Helios the solution to their fear" they had come with earnest hope.
And then the Ceremony began to take place.
And that bright hope, that things would get better for them all, was surely dashed.
Fear took root, fear in one another, fear in their neighbors and Arbites, fear in the Nobles and the Administratum.
A traitor could be anywhere.
And this man, this Inquisitor, was prepared to show them where the 'true dangers' lay.
"Bring out the accused" the man ordered to the numbly quiet crowd.
Among the throngs of civilians, each as diverse and different as the next, it should be noted that many of the uniform and identical hooded warriors were interplaced.
They kept the peace of the stadium.
They also kept the fear palpably intermingling between all of the citizens, workers and nobles.
As soon as the words left the Inquisitor's lips, did a door open into the center of the colosseum.
A figure, naked and bound, was dragged to the middle of the forum by the hooded warriors.
In the center of the stadium was a contraption. A fearsome amalgamation of metal, wood and sacred rope. It was designed with four hanging manacles, ones that an upright human could be held into.
This was a device designed to torture.
It had seen much use.
Before the figure even reached his destination, the Inquisitor was speaking again.
"Citizen of Helios, I, Rykehuss, an Agent of Our Emperor's Holy Inquisition, declare you to be a traitor to the Imperium, and to the World of Helios"
His sneer of cold command buffeted the silence and the words were that of a man passing sentence upon a disgusting thing, a creature he could not stand even the mere sight of.
This was Rykehuss.
A formidable Inquisitor and a talented Witch Hunter for the Ordo Hereticus, Rykehuss was a man known for his certain results.
And the body counts which were generated by his methods.
But as nearly every member of the Inquisition understood, the ends always justifies the means.
His last command was a taunt, at this nameless man now being placed into the hanging stockade.
"How do you plead?"
This civilian, who had been named by another that had previously been in the same position, was raised from the ground, his limbs splayed as far apart from one another.
Rykehuss' goading words taunted the man, even from so far away.
The silent warriors that had accompanied the man unleashed tools from their belts. After untangling the overlapping rings attached to the handle, long whips with barbed spines were revealed to the audience.
But everyone in attendance knew what they were, and what they were for. They'd all seen what these whips could do to human flesh.
The man, naked, restrained, and mere moments away from having his skin flayed, glared upon the Inquisitor in hateful fear.
"I'm just a farmer! A farmer my Lord, I cut wheat, I tend crops I-"
He strained slightly, his form and voice gaining power despite his horrid restraints.
"I am innocent!"
"LIAR!"
The sharp rebuttal did not come from up on high, from Rykehuss or his closest constituents. It came from the crowds. A lone woman, standing as she accused the man with a single finger pointed at him.
And then another stood.
"LIES!"
And another.
"TRAITOR!"
More and more stood, proclaiming damnation and certain death upon the helpless man.
However, before the vitriol of the crowd could reach a crescendo, Rykehuss cut across their jeers and accusations.
It was not time.
Not yet.
"Good people of Helios, servants of the Emperor" the crowd was quelled by his words, their silence demanded in an instant, "this man proclaims his own innocence"
Rykehuss gestured to the Whip holders.
"Let us test this conviction"
Kjarl Grimblood did not know exactly what had just happened.
His measure of the Inquisitor, this 'Vownus Kaede' of the Ordo Hereticus, had just been taken.
All in all, it was an evaluation that favored this particular Inquisitor over most the Wolf Lord had interacted with.
Vownus Kaede presented the veneer of an honorable man. Whether or not this was the case could only be proven over time; time that the Grimblood was hesitant to give.
The Inquisition was dangerous. And not just to the enemies of man. They served grand designs, with victory measured over years and months… or moments. The latter typically resulted in planetary annihilation.
But a Witch Hunter…
Most were not known for their machinations, scheming against devilish plots and fearsome enemies that required such convoluted plans. Those of the Ordo Malleus were as such, always prepared to murder each and every person they came across without a moments hesitation, a knife always primed at the back of any in their purview.
For Kjarl Grimblood, such individuals were troublesome to trust, let alone tolerate.
Then there were those of the Ordo Xenos.
Single minded in their mission, and the overarching objective that they were dedicated to; the eradication of non-humans.
A simple goal on parchment, but as always anything tied to the Inquisition is never truly "simple". Roundabout methods and non-linear approaches, Kjarl had bore witness to a few acts of Exterminatus at the Ordo Xenos's behest.
And one could only assume such actions were necessary, seeing as it was the Inquisitor responsible for condemning a planet to death was the only one aware of the justification of such a decree.
But Witch Hunters were perhaps the most direct. Even though they may act subtle and position themselves quietly into an environment in order to hunt their prey, should you not find yourself of a Psyker's disposition they did not bother you.
Relentless in their pursuit and focused in the missions, Kjarl could admit to himself that they embodied the determined skill reflected by some of his Company's greatest Warriors.
This existing understanding, as well as Vownus' personal words and actions…
The man had answered Kjarl's summons without argument, and even though he had brought a guard with him he had been prompt.
Regardless of the Inquisitor's guard being Sons of Dorn, Kjarl understood that the man did not come alone in a show of arrogance, nor did he make any demands or orders.
Beside the comment about not being compared to those of his order, Vownus Kaede displayed admirable qualities.
It was because of this alone, that when the sudden attack came from the Grimblood's side of the table, did he immediately sue for peace.
Torrid had flung lightning at the Inquisitor.
Seemingly without prompt or premeditation, Kjarl's Runepriest attacked the Inquisitor in a violent act of dazzling white energy.
The suddenness of the action had caught the Wolf Lord unawares, rendering him still for a moment as his own battle instincts sought to evaluate the situation in two trans-human heartbeats.
The world crawled past him in near stillness, the blood flowing thunderously in his brain as time seemed to slow to a crawl.
He saw the Inquisitor defend himself.
Vownus had deflected the lighting into the roof of the hall, scorching designs and the material as the Grimblood's guard drew their weaponry.
The Astral Knights drew their own.
Kjarl noted how the Knight's Librarian began to raise an empty hand toward Torrid.
The Kjarl found his voice before violence consumed them all.
"STOOOOOOOOP!"
He stood with a mighty roar, his arms splayed long and wide to not only halt the attacks of his Brothers, but as a sign of peace to the 'guests' aboard his vessel. The Grimblood's armored chest was bare before the Inquisitor and the Astral Knights.
Whatever the Librarian was going to do never came.
Kjarl noted the slight gesture that Vownus was giving the hooded Knight.
A thick silence of blanketed tension consumed them all.
The stillness echoed beyond the Wolf Lord's table, as his call was heard far and wide throughout the hall. The other Wolves and Serfs that sparsely populated the space focusing on his call.
The tension that permeated the entire hall could be cut with a knife.
A moment later, the Astral Knight's Librarian lowered his hand in response to Vownus' calming motion.
The rest of the Knights slowly followed suit, some slower than others to fully put away their weapons.
A small part of Kjarl's mind noted how they only restrained themselves once their Captain had, and he had calmed only when the Librarian had done so. But the Wolflord filed away this dynamic for later consideration, much more in favor of shooting a sharp glance toward Torrid.
To the Grimblood's left was where the Rune Priest stood, the cold and crackling energy of the warp still mingling between outstretched hands, gauntlets coated in the sudden frost of the Immaterium's energy.
"Brother" Kjarl tried, speaking strongly yet safely to the Space Wolf Psyker.
But Torrid's eyes were glassy and glazed, his pupils focused on a plating of the wall far beyond them all.
As if he gazed upon something far further than the ship itself. His stance was slackened, as were his arms.
He seemed… weak.
Shocked.
Grimblood sought his brother's attention immediately. Reaching across, he clamped a firm hand to his brother's arm.
The haptic feedback told him the limb was still frosty, a sign of how much unnatural energy the Rune Priest had channeled.
In that moment, even as he uttered his brother's name, Kjarl knew that Torrid had attempted to kill the Inquisitor.
"Torrid" he said, finally reaching the one in question.
Manic eyes snapped toward him, slit pupils focusing on the Wolf Lord. It was unnerving to see the old warrior express such emotions. Kjarl knew that all the others of his Wolf Guard were equally distracted by such blatant emotion on Torrid's features.
Eventually the Rune Priest found his tongue, his stammered words following afterwards.
"Forgive me, Kjarl, I do not…." his eyes turned away from Grimblood, focusing on the Inquisitor.
Torrid's pupils narrowed as his eyes glared, anger suffusing and subverting the fear that had been so prevalent. The Lord of the Firewolf Company knew his brother was masking the emotions he had felt, burying them under a veneer of powerful fury.
"What is it" the Rune Priest snarled, and Kjarl knew if he released his brother that Torrid was very likely to attack once more.
The Wolf Lord also adjusted his gaze to look upon Vownus Kaede.
And the Inquisitor did not bristle under the focused stares and glares, nor did he cower or crumble. Vownus Kaede merely sighed as he brushed the hat from his head, letting his unruly black hair tumble down from the roost his Witch Hunter's hat provided.
A moment later, the man swept his hair back and the hat found itself back where it belonged.
If Kjarl was to read the emotion across the man's face, he would claim it to be subtle irritation. Perhaps even petulant annoyance.
But Vownus still answered Torrid's demand.
"A Psyker" he simply said.
The Rune Priest tensed, and Kjarl's grip tightened on his brother's forearm, reminding him not to attack.
But Torrid didn't, merely spitting words of vitriol and accusation.
"That, is no mere Psyker!" the Wolf Guard proclaimed, "It is touched by the warp! A creation of madness! Why do you harbor such a thing!?"
Kjarl was beginning to piece together what had just occurred, even as he calmly released his grip of Torrid.
While the Wolf Lord had no connection to the Immaterium akin to the likes of Torrid or Ivur, he was savvy enough to guess that this was a matter between Psykers. Vownus was deploying his Guardsmen forces to Balor's surface, and something among those forces had caught Torrid off guard.
But this something that Vownus claimed to be a Psyker… it had frightened Torrid.
This had the inkling of a very disturbing and dangerous problem….
Before Vownus could promptly reply to Torrid's anger, Kjarl was caught by the attention of another speaker.
"My Lord" Eiran leaned toward the Grimblood, "Ivur would have words with the Inquisitor. He approaches"
Kjarl nodded.
Ivur would be here shortly. Until then, he needed to reign in this situation, before it erupted into more conflict.
Because even though the Astral Knights had their weapon's sheathed, the Wolf Lord knew they were a moment away from defending the Inquisitor.
The Sons of Dorn were always known for their pointed and defiant loyalty, even in the face of greater odds.
And so when Kjarl Grimblood next spoke, his voice was to be heard by all that surrounded him.
"Inquisitor" he looked directly at the significantly shorter mortal Psyker, "you have rattled my Rune Priests. Perhaps you could have the decency to tell me why?"
Kjarl was expecting something defiant. Perhaps even a cagey response, or a flippant reply.
He was not expecting the explosive sigh of exhaustion, or Vownus pointing at one of the great chairs before him.
"Mind if I take a seat? This might take a bit"
The crack of the final lashing sounded in the night air.
In a stiff yet sickeningly acquired silence, Rykehuss once more addressed the accused.
"Traitor" he called down, "how do you plead?"
Even though the vast distance that engulfed all sound between the Inquisitor and the Accused, Rykehuss could still make out the pained gasps.
The staccato of crimson droplets was barely audible against the terrain of the colosseum's floor.
Lashed until he could no longer cry, plead, beg or scream, the accused was left a husk of himself, a shell of a human.
The crowd was vibrating in silence, all of them ready to accuse the man for further lies and heresy, unless of course he confessed to his crimes.
And Rykehuss could feel it.
He could feel the confession even as it bubbled up from the destroyed man's throat.
"I… I am…"
"The Emperor will forgive you" Rykehuss smiled with benevolence, "and the truth will send you to his warm embrace"
The man sagged in his chains, his pitiful and shredded body attempting to slump in on itself.
"...They told me to… take the girl…to bring her to them…"
Rykehuss' eyes narrowed.
He would extract a name from the man later, and then the next individual would be punished, but for now he needed the man to confess his guilt.
He needed to keep the crowd tamed, he needed them fearful of his whip and word… or Rykehuss' hunt would fail.
The Inquisitor was ready to signal the whips, ready to reduce the man even further before the eyes of the people, but the desperate admission caught his focus.
"For the Psyke…, the Boy" the man admitted in a gasp and between convulsions of agony, "she… she would… she would corrupt him…"
Rykehuss stilled.
His eyes narrowed.
He had known the man was not a Psyker… he had known that the others before him were not Psyker's either…. But it seemed as if he had stumbled among one of the Cult's surviving members.
Rykehuss knew that Helios had been subject to terror and violence at the hand's of the Archenemy. He had assumed that Ahmazzi had wiped the planet clean.
Apparently the Old Hunter was getting sloppy.
"Traitor" he spoke once more with a loud booming decree, "name this girl that you and your ilk sought"
The man's body lost all tension, his head bowed even further in pathetic defeat.
But Rykehuss heard the name, as did everyone else present.
"Vanella"
The dropship rattled violently as it pierced the atmosphere of Balor. Lucian didn't mind the shaking and jostling at all, his excitement completely overriding the thought of the ever present danger of a violent death at the hands of a depressurised ship.
After all, he was finally free of the Tempest's Advance.
In the short time he, Caius and Lynwood had spent getting in line with the other disembarking Guardsmen, Lucian had come to realize that he was not a big fan of the large Space Faring vessels of the Imperium.
While the larger ones cut an imposing look in his opinion, Lucian found that admiration wasn't enough to forgive the constant but subtle fear of confinement.
The last few days of the journey he had felt it, the gray walls just gnawing at his mind.
It almost made him despise the Tempest's Advance.
Almost.
Because although he detested his relative jail cell, the ship itself was a reminder of the entire clusters of the interstellar behemoth he had seen.
He remembered Agrax and the shipping lanes.
Thousands of Imperial vessels.
Such a sight had stirred a deep feeling within Lucian's chest; and although he has yet to find a name for this peculiar emotion, Lucian knew that he did feel something for such a display.
But to be honest, he took much more pleasure and joy from the simple act of knowing dirt was beneath his step.
Instead of the metal walkways and near uniform steel corridors, he found more interest in open fields, cloudy skies and an endless horizon.
It felt like some kind of natural promise, an entire world ready to be discovered and experienced.
Fantastic opportunities and whimsical moments, all unique to the very planet he now found himself nearly upon.
Balor seemed to have large plains of forest or greenery.
This world was decidedly different from his past experiences. Not that Lucian had a lot of experience to draw from, considering he'd only set foot on two different worlds.
Most Imperial Citizens never left their own planets, let alone set food on multiple.
But, the young Psyker in training was one of the lucky few able to make a planetary comparison.
Because even though Lucian had been able to spot the tell-tale Hive Spires from orbit, he could see that they were far less pronounced than the ones upon Agrax had been.
And Helios for that matter.
Balor appeared to have smaller Hive's than both worlds…. And the great planes didn't seem to have the same harvesting divisions that Helios did.
From all appearances, Balor seemed to be… relatively untouched by man.
The possibilities coming to Lucian's mind were decidedly exciting.
Just the thought of an open field reminded him of Helios' golden fields. The freedom of running through the tall grains, sun on your shoulders-
"Lucian?"
The boy blinked, his focus drawn back to the internal compartment of the Valkyrie Dropship and to the voice that had spoken to him from his side.
Seated to Lucian's left, Caius was staring at him quizzically, the man's expression matching the considerate tone he had uttered Lucian's name with.
But the usual edge that the youth was so used to was still gone.
Like in the hangar before, how Caius had jested with Lucian so calmly and freely.
And that wasn't even the strangest part.
Somehow, Caius's lack of barley detectable unease had unsettled Lucian. It had felt odd before while they had waited to board… and it felt just strange now.
"Sorry" he mumbled awkwardly, "'was just thinking"
"Must be some hefty thinking"
That had not been Caius. Nor Lynwood.
Seated across from the Inquisitorial trio was the nearly half strength squad of Guardsmen that accompanied them to Balor.
Three of them in total. The youngest, a blonde youth covered in black ink from neck to wrist, sat on the furthest left, directly across from Caius. He seemed only a few years older than Lucian, his face showing but the thinnest growth of facial hair.
Furthest to the right, across from Lynwood who sat to Lucian's right, was a slightly humorous sight.
An average man carrying an exemplary weapon, the Corporal of the squad was fast asleep in his seat. It seemed as if the atmospheric knocks and rumbling internals of the Valkyrie did nothing to shake this man from his slumber.
The speaker, the eldest of the three, sat directly before Lucian.
He had the look that Lynwood often carried, a gruff yet controlled countenance, weary eyes that beheld a perceptive intelligence.
But he seemed older in a way unmeasurable by age. His face was far more weathered, creases and lines obvious even behind the gray and white beard. A small littering of scars could be seen across his features, but none of the serious evidence of injuries Lucian had spotted among other Guardsmen.
Lucian didn't know how to reply to the man's comment though.
The Guard didn't interact with him often, let alone share the same space as him. Secluded by training, or openly avoided while traversing the halls of the Tempests Advance, Lucian had mentally grouped the Guardsmen of the 501st alongside Caius.
Merely fearful mortals, ones that didn't deserve his pained attention since they shunned him so simply.
Not that he cared about that.
Not at all.
But this particular individual, a Private if Lucian read the shoulder insignia correctly, was not only completely removed from the usual response his comrades displayed, but quite aggressively held the young Psyker's gaze.
There was no fear in his eyes.
In fact, it seemed to just be a lightly dusted curiosity.
This alone spurred an eventual response.
"I suppose you could say that" Lucian felt like shrugging, but the shoulder restraints of his seat were tightened to accommodate his still smaller figure, so he could only tilt his head in obvious contemplation.
"Worried?" the Guardsman tried, his word posed as a general poke to Lucian's thoughts. There was nothing unkind or rude about it, merely a pondering prompt bluntly delivered.
Lucian shook his head.
"No. I'm excited"
Beside the curious older Guardsmen, the younger and tattooed blonde's face scrunched up in confusion. And even though neither of them pressed the answer the elder had been given, and what the younger was listening in on, Lucian still felt the need to explain his words.
"I've never really set foot on another world before is all" Lucian tapped his feet ever so slightly against the metal flooring of the Valkyrie, "it just seems all so… fantastic"
"Aye"
The older private agreed with Lucian quite easily, his gaze not softening, but the quirk of his lips changing the stoic disposition to a far more friendlier variant.
"I've fought on many planets. Even through all the muck, death and artillery…" he pondered now, drawing upon memories the content of which Lucian could only imagine, "it's incredible to get a taste for how large the Universe is"
Even though he processed this Guardsman's words, especially the part regarding muck and death, Lucian couldn't help but blurt a question.
"How many worlds have you set foot upon?" he asked excitedly, his curiosity getting the better of him.
The Guardsman's quirked smile remained as he answered with plain simplicity.
"I couldn't accurately say anymore… I lost count quite some time ago"
Before Lucian could really sink his teeth into that answer, a gruff voice chose to speak. Lynwood had fixed the other soldier with an considering gaze.
"You boast of a considerable number of Campaigns, Guardsman" it almost sounded accusatory, "but I see many youthful faces among the 501st"
The Private barked a bitter laugh.
"The 501st" he repeated with a now soured smile as his eyes drew to the wall behind Lucian, "not quite what it used to be"
"Your forces are depleted, but-"
"Apologies, Agent" the Soldier interrupted Lynwood quite sharply, "but that was not what I meant to imply"
The Private refocused his attention on the ex-Arbite.
"What you see of the 501st was not the same Regiment that first set out under the command of your Lord and Master, Inquisitor Kaede. Like any active Imperial force we have taken losses and as such have had to replenish our numbers. Over time most of the 501st has been replaced. It was only seven years ago when we last saw a resupply upon Necromunda"
"Is it even fair to call yourself the 501st?" Caius's curious voice piped up, "if so many of you have replaced positions previously held by the original regiment, would that not make you a new force?"
The Guard nodded at Caius, "a fair question. Most of the Officers that still compose the Regiment's leadership come from the original force, and that would include Colonel Wilk. But now that we have all carried the banners for so long, fought under the flag of our Regiment… perhaps most see no need to christen a new fighting force, so long as the roots still remain"
"You speak as if you do not have an answer," Lynwood remarked.
"I do not" the Private affirmed quite simply, "I'm here to follow orders. Seems like a waste of time to rebrand the entire Regiment when the old one still seems to hold up fine"
Silence reigned for a moment.
"I am Lynwood Decelus, an Agent in service of the Inquisition" the man in question gestured to both Lucian and then Caius, respectively naming both.
"This is Lucian Inalique, Student of Kaede, and Caius Helix, an Agent like myself"
The Guardsman smiled, "I've heard a lot about all three of you, but until now we had yet to properly cross paths" he inclined his head slightly, "Private Vartic, Third Company Second Platoon, Romeo Squad"
"I'm Ezekiel" the blonde youth quietly introduced himself, nearly flinching under the sudden focus his voice received, "same company and platoon, Romeo Squad. Private" he hastily tacked his rank on at the end.
"And him?" Caius asked with a touch of humor, gesturing with a thumb at the now snoring Corporal.
"That's Grikken" the younger Guardsman answered, "he can't stand atmospheric drops"
"And so he sleeps through them" Caius summarized with distinctively audible disbelief.
Private Vartic chuckled, "his own personal philosophy. Something about dying in his sleep, rather then fearfully waiting to get shot out of the sky"
Lucian couldn't help the slight nervous shudder at the thought.
The man was right after all.
Even though in this very instance they were landing on a friendly planet… if they were attacked while in the sky, there wasn't much the occupants of the Valkyrie could do. All they had trust in was the pilot, and that was it.
Vartic continued speaking, clueless to Lucian's blossoming fear.
"As soon as we break through the atmosphere, he'll be right as rain"
Almost as if the forces of the universe sensed the Private's words, a gigantic thump rattled the interior.
The shaking reached a crescendo before dying out all of a sudden.
A second later, the internal vox caster for the cabin clicked on.
"The Emperor has blessed us with a safe landing gentlemen" the Pilot spoke to them, "we will arrive at the Fortress of Hive Primaris within a few minutes"
With a yawn and a few bleary eyed blinks, the named Corporal Grikken sat up straight, his head looking forward to everyone in the cabin.
After a few moments of finally coming to a complete wake, the man asked a simple question at all the faces that stared at him.
"What'd I miss?"
The great hall had been cleared. In the short time in which Vownus was permitted to be seated at the Wolf Lord's table, the tension had not diminished even in the slightest.
Aethod had his gaze locked firmly upon the Space Wolf 'Rune Priest', while the Wolven Psyker had only eyes for the now seated Vownus.
Any other time, the Inquisitor would have made some ideal comment as to the humorous nature of his small stature in a seat most certainly built for a Wolf Guard… but now was neither the time nor place for such words.
He had to explain what the Rune Priest had seen and reacted to.
Even now Vownus could feel Lucian's presence drift closer and closer toward Balor. This detection served an understanding that was two fold.
One, it brought to his attention that Lucian was no longer as subtly covered as he had been before the… incident.
The boy was a Psychic beacon, a pillar of blinding energy that emanated throughout the Immaterium. Anyone with a sliver of a Psyker's presence would not fail to notice him. This was proven by Torrid's reaction, presumably believing it to be some summoned being.
While the nature of Lucian's presence was arguably pure and benevolent, the sheer mass of it had caught the Rune Priest off guard.
Vownus supposed that Torrid had believed it to be some kind of attack that he sensed, not the presence of one mortal. For how could such a mass of power ever be a human? Vownus was willing to accept the man's sudden response because he himself would probably have reacted similarly given the sudden reveal.
Secondly, and most importantly, it confirmed Vownus's earlier suspicions about the girl still held aboard the Tempests Advance.
While she was most certainly a Blank, as Vownus had noticed how his abilities had suffered slight ailments in her presence, she was unlike any he had studied or come across.
Her presence was not just a simple negation of the Immaterium, but a cascading veil that obscured the powers and presence of the Warp, a tool that a Psyker could hide behind.
Lorn De Chambaal had used the youth for such a purpose, presumably discovering this strange girl among the Central Hive of Agrax and using her talent to assail his sister's rule.
It was a veil that when concentrated could physically remove someone's presence from conscious thought and sight.
This invisibility did not extend indefinitely though, as Lucian had just so clearly proven.
The larger form of Kjarl Grimblood returned to his seat, his attention mostly fixed upon Vownus.
Both the Wolf Guard and the other Astral Knights remained standing, their eyes focused upon the occupants of the other side of the table.
It was a non-verbal confrontation for now, a standoff measured in the blistering violence that either side could suddenly bring forth from the stillness of it all.
Vownus found his voice quickly enough, knowing that a calm explanation could be the hopeful diffuser of this volatile situation.
"A long time ago, before I had assumed my position in the Ordo Hereticus, I operated exclusively out of the Calixis Sector of the Segmentum Obscurus" the Witch Hunter tapped the brim of his hat once, "my Master was a man name Alvarion Naal. When he died, his duties and obligations passed to me"
Vownus' finger lingered on the hat for a moment before letting his arms come to rest on the table.
"What I am about to share with you now does not leave your lips, let alone this table. I speak to you plainly because you demand answers. I am more than willing to give you these answers, but you must understand one thing"
The Inquisitor held Kjarl's gaze with a touch of steel, desperately hoping the Wolf Lord would take his words at face value.
"There are those within my order that would see us all dead, should I share this with you and your Guard, Kjarl Grimblood"
"Then why do so?" was the Wolf Lord's immediate response.
Vownus smiled, but it might have come across as a sneer, "because unlike you and yours, I am a man that likes to think he can trust others"
Kjarl considered his words in silent contemplation.
While the dig at the Space Wolf was obvious, Vownus could see that the Wolf Lord was still sitting on the fence, so he decided to tack on a bit more.
"You would not believe me if I were to lie to you now. Not only would your Psyker know, but any lie would be far too removed from the reality of the situation"
Kjarl's eyes narrow as the Rune Priest snarls at being labeled with the word 'Psyker'.
"You assume I would not trust anything that comes from your Inquisitorial tongue" the Wolf Lord harshly remarked.
Vownus scoffed, "no" he settled back in the chair, "I assume that a lie would be comparably more believable than the truth, regardless of its fictitious nature. I do not ask you to blindly believe or trust what I'm about to tell you, just that this talk stays between us" Vownus gestured between the two parties, "I ask for your word, before I begin"
Kjarl huffed, "fine. You have it. What is said now will not leave our hall, so do I swear it"
Vownus closed his eyes and nodded, taking in a deep breath before opening them once more.
"I belong to a smaller Cabal of the Inquisition. It is composed of many prominent and powerful agents of a wide variety of the Ordo's. This Cabal holds a powerful, yet secret grip over the entire Calixis sector"
"A council of shadows" the Grimblood barked a laugh at the thought, "trust the Inquisition to always operate from behind the curtain"
"We are preparing, actually" Vownus corrected, "peace and order is maintained throughout the Sector, but the Cabal was formed due to natural calamities in the region, before we made a critical discovery that shifted its purpose"
The Inquisitor leaned forward, his voice a touch more subtle and his eyes blazing with conviction.
"We found a vessel. A human vessel. It was frozen in an asteroid belt and it took us a long time to extract it… longer still to figure out exactly how much time it had spent in its icy tomb" Vownus' gaze remained on Kjarl Grimblood's face.
"But the ship's technology was ancient. And when we finally retrieved it's data logs… they would suggest it to have set out sometime near the end of the 30th Millenium"
Kjarl Grimblood's back straightened, as his eyes widened ever so slightly. The reaction was measured and tempered, but there was a keen edge of interest in his gaze and question.
"A ship from the Great Crusade?"
Vownus nodded, "lost with all hands, a relic lost in time until we found it… and what it carried"
"The cargo being?"
"A Psyker. A long dead Diviner was my best guess. But whoever they were, the mad bastard managed to leave behind writings and scribblings. They were preserved by the ice and are currently held by my Cabal"
The Wolf Lord found his fingers tapping against the wooden table unbidden.
Vownus glanced at the man's rolling fingertips for a second before continuing.
"Some kind of Prophecy. I've read a fair few sections of the legible sections, but this unknown Psyker's writings have, even though they were created in the past, echoed through our history" Vownus swallowed slightly, "he predicted many things, stated them as immutable fact that would eventually come to pass"
"Such as" Kjarl exasperatedly asked.
He could tell Vownus was being somewhat skittish with his words, and even though he wished to demand the Inquisitor to just be out with it… he knew that what the man was to share would be hard to cope with.
If he even believed it. Which he wasn't sure of.
Hammersbald had told drunken Fenrisian Folk tales that Kjarl found more plausible than all this. But the Inquisition got up to many things, involved themselves with situations most servants of the Emperor were in-equipped to handle.
And while Kjarl despised the Inquisition, this did not mean he knew of their value, or their necessary purpose.
Vownus sighed.
"This long dead Diviner wrote… nearly four centuries before it occurred…" Vownus relaxed back into his chair, his expression flat and open.
"...That Horus Lupercal would betray the Emperor of Mankind"
It was an inhuman silence that emerged following the Witch Hunter's words.
Not a single figure moved, spoke, or drew breath.
Kjarl's fingers had stopped tapping.
Every eye from the Space Wolves side of the table was solely fixed upon Vownus. Yet the Inquisitor didn't buckle beneath the wild and near rabid focus. Instead he grimaced somewhat, "there is more of course, other events and moments that the Dead Diviner predicted, but it was then that a vein of my Cabal began to take the later writings more seriously"
The Wolf Lord had yet to find his tongue.
And even if he did, he wasn't sure if he would use it to call Kaede some kind of liar, or… or…
"The last writings that the Diviner left us, predicted that a…. Well, to put it simply, that a powerful Psyker would rise among the people of the Imperium" Vownus scratched a spot above his right eyebrow, "I'll uh, spare you the flowery wording, but there were a lot of substantial claims made regarding this individual"
"And you believe that thing is the being you seek"
It was not the Wolf Lord that aggressively accused Vownus.
Torrid had found his voice far before any of his brother's had, a cascade of disgust touching each and every pointed word that left his fanged mouth.
"Believe? No" Vownus heartily denied, "a few weeks ago I believed. Now though? Now I know the Diviner spoke of Lucian"
Kjarl raised an eyebrow at the name.
"The being is a young boy," Vownus explained, "his name is Lucian. And he's the so called thing, your Rune Priest can sense"
The Wolf Lord pondered to himself for a moment.
Eventually he came up with two questions.
The first was simple.
"Where exactly was this 'frozen vessel' destined for?"
Vownus answered with relative ease, "from what was uncovered, it is believed that the ship had no specific destination. My Cabal believes that the Diviner was searching for something in the far reaches of known space, something that he had been commanded to discover at all costs"
Kjarl nodded, following up with his second question.
"And where did the ship come from? Which world did it depart from?"
Vownus hesitated before answering the Wolf Lord, knowing that his answer would more than likely be met with some resistance. Each piece of information he gave was one unbelievable nail after the other, hammering into the minds of the Space Wolves that listened.
Even if he had the ability to give them evidence… no sane man would take any of his answers at face value.
But regarding where the Ship had originated from?
Well for that answer, Vownus only needed one word.
A word that was delivered with an airy simplicity to the attentive and focused Wolf Lord. A word that carried a considerable amount of weight and power behind its five letters.
"Terra"
Before anything else could be said, the doors to the hall swung open with a bang.
From the hallways beyond the Axe of Russ's great feasting hall strode a figure wrapped in Shamanic furs. Carrying a wooden staff inscribed with runes, and a Wolf's head pelt resting over his ancient forehead, the new figure strode deeply and powerfully toward the impromptu meeting.
Kjarl stood and greeted the arrival with a solemn nod.
"Ivur"
As the back of the Valkyrie opened up, Lucian was blasted by a wave of slightly frigid air filled with hundreds of voices, roaring engines and hard boots marching. In his pale gray and bland uniform clothes, the naturally colder climate of Balor sent a shiver up his limbs.
It was a nice feeling though.
A natural feeling.
All of the energy and excitement he had been feeling came to a head as he stepped down the ramp of the dropship, only a few steps behind Lynwood and a few steps in front of Caius.
The three members of Romeo squad had already stepped away from them, moving towards the large throngs of the already landed Guardsmen of the 501st.
There were many others also present, people that Lucian assumed to be those of Balor's local forces.
The young Psyker in training almost stopped mid step as he turned his head up to gaze around at the gigantic structures around him.
The two central spires of the Hive towered over the buildings around the huge field the waves of Valkyries were setting down in, drawing Lucian's eyes for a moment.
But his focus returned to the military installations. Three nearly identical buildings were spaced out from one another around the hundreds of meters that composed the landing field.
These squat yet wide buildings were detailed from ground to foot with Imperial symbology, but also ornate carvings of a deeper gothic nature. Not to mention that each building had a roof that bristled with a number of gun platforms obviously designed for the destruction of aircraft.
His focus drifted back to the art.
Lucian recognised some of the more prominent Imperial Saints, such as Annard, Arabella, Emilia and Gerstahl, depicted in a lack of vibrant colors alongside their fellows. This art that decorated these structures wasn't limited to just the buildings. Large statues dominated the marked walkways of the landing field, flanking each of the guiding paths that various people were moving up and down on.
The entire space was a sea of activity, diversity and organized chaos, but one that extolled the values and designations of the Astra Millitarum.
While the Military Structures were impressively masculine and dominating, each a testament to the sturdy nature of the men and women stationed within its walled area, Lucian noted how this entire segment seemed to be… of a poorer quality than the large walls that separated it from the rest of the Hive.
He blurted his conclusion aloud even as they drew closer and closer to one of the three largest habitat structures.
"These buildings are older than the city"
Lynwood grunted, "a common sight. As a world is colonized by the Imperium, it is the Guard which takes root first. Naturally their structures would stand for the longest"
"But would they not want to improve? Surely the materials originally used are outdated?" Caius chimed in from behind the youth, his head swiveling left and right to examine the many structures of the Hive's Fortress.
Lynwood nodded, but kept his head faced straight on as the trio drew closer and closer to a narrow intersection. He spoke over his shoulder to Caius and by extension, Lucian, "Do not forget that these buildings are not just fortifications, but sights of heritage for this world. To so easily dismantle them would do a disservice and insult to those that built, and lived in them"
Lynwood's head turned slightly to his left, allowing Lucian to watch as the man's mismatched eyes tracked a statue that flanked their pathway for a brief moment.
"However, I believe you will find the interior to be up to the modern Imperial standards. Even for a backwater world such as this"
They said nothing else as they drew closer to the bustling entrance of the largest structure.
Somehow Lynwood knew this to be the appropriate destination for their group.
How? Lucian had no clue, and even though Lynwood had spoken to none other than Caius and Lucian, the man continued to advance with his calm and powerful stride. Right towards the crowds of people, the people of Balor
Who Lucian had never met before, and knew nothing of… and wouldn't judge…
…even if these new faces and figures were giving them wide eyed and serious looks.
These men and women were Balor's Guardsmen. Even though their armor was dressed with the Acquilla, Lucian could see subtle differences between them and the 501st uniforms.
Beside the obviously different gothic lettering, their pauldrons carried a skull with a sword staked through it.
A vicious symbol when compared to the Necromundan's crossed Bolters.
While not completely swamped by people, the gigantic entrance to the bunker-like structure saw a stream of traffic coming in and out of it.
The doors were wider than two tanks and taller than any of the Astral Knights. Lucian couldn't even make out the interior without his eyes getting lost in the crowd of moving bodies.
But like a rock in a river, Lynwood's confident stride, commanding gaze and the seal of the Inquisition upon his breast, the tide of people split to allow the trio passage.
Lucian did his best to ignore the blatant attention he was getting.
While agents of the Inquisition were not an unheard of thing…
A youth that walked between them, dressed in nothing of an identifying nature? Now that was a curiosity, and boy did the Guard of Balor enjoy that mystery.
The boy's eyes remained fixed on Lynwood's back as they crossed the threshold into the building.
But it bothered him.
It bothered him a lot.
And a small voice at the back of his thoughts told him to do something about this itching annoyance.
Lucian ignored it with a slight shake of his head.
The movement did not go unnoticed by the Agent that walked behind him.
Ivur Sverdsyn was studying the Inquisitor the second he entered the great hall. Even as Kjarl Grimblood called his name, the Rune Priest had only sight and thought regarding this agent of the Inquisition.
He already knew the man was a Witch Hunter, but to see the pointed and wide brimmed hat peeking over the chair he lounged in was potentially a bad sign.
When one was so steeped in tradition, they had a tendency to see only what their personal purview allowed.
The powers of the warp slowly coiled around him as he approached the table.
From behind the seated Inquisitor, a few of what Ivur could only assume to be the Witch Hunter's guards turned to face him as he approached.
Astartes.
The Rune Priest recognised their sigil.
In a loud tone he addressed the Wolf Lord.
"Lord Grimblood" he nodded for a moment, but his eyes tracked to one of the Astral Knights that remained facing him.
It took him a moment, but the hood was a dead give away.
A Librarian of the Astral Knights.
Perhaps the last Librarian of a reportedly dead chapter….
The hooded warrior had his gaze fixed upon him. From over the Psyker's shoulder, Ivur spotted the angered look of Torrid.
"Most curious" Ivur commented to himself, his grave and gravelly voice a dull mutter under his breath.
He knew his words had been caught by all the Astartes present, but he was unsure if the Inquisitor had heard them.
But this did not truly matter.
Ivur was prepared to get to the bottom of things.
As he approached the tense meeting, he veered slightly away from the rear of the Inquisitor's party, coming instead to stand at the end of the long wooden table.
He tapped his staff once against the floor.
"If I may intercede?" he politely directed his query toward Lord Grimblood.
Ivur, like any Space Wolf, rarely danced to the tune of appropriate conduct. He preferred to get to the point. He had come to speak to the Inquisitor, but he would not disrespect his Lord by doing so out of Kjarl's purview.
The Grimblood merely gestured with an open hand, giving the Rune Priest a clear incentive to speak freely.
Ivur turned his head to the Inquisitor, who was doing his best to glance between the Wolf Lord and the newly arrived Rune Priest with some grace.
"This being… it is human, yes?"
Every Psyker present at the table knew who exactly Ivur was speaking about, so the four of them had no interjections or clarifying questions. But even though those not connected with the Imperium struggled to keep up with the underlying importance of the conversation, they remained silent out of respect to the great severity of Ivur's words.
The Agent of the Inquisition simply nodded to the question.
Ivur let his tongue flick across his fangs as he thought.
"I say the inherent danger in such a being far outweighs whatever purpose or justification you would have for such a weapon" Ivur regarded the Inquisitoir with a blank gaze, the cold touch of the Warp coming into his palms as he studied the man with both his own eyes, and his mind's eye.
"What say you, Witch Hunter?"
The Inquisitor stiffened, but not out of disgrace or irritation, merely cold consideration. His rebuttal was sharp and immediate.
"Lucian is young. He is malleable"
"It lacks control," Torrid snapped, but stopped as Ivur held up hand that demanded immediate silence.
The younger Rune Priest obeyed, but still held his baleful gaze toward Vownus.
"While young, Torrid speaks the truth, Inquisitor" Ivur brought his hands back to his staff, "such power can be an addictive thing… and aa youth is not only susceptible to your influence, but to entities far worse"
The Inquisitor shook his head, "twice Chaos has come for him, and twice have they failed. The forces of the Archenemy fear him! For that reason alone he deserves a chance"
"Even if that is true" Ivur stated, "a possession needs to be successful only once. Two attempts, although failed, lends credence to the idea that the Enemy will continue to try"
The Witch Hunter sighed.
"Aye" he let his head rest back against the chair in exhaustion, "which was why I picked Balor"
Ivur's mind pieced together what was being implied.
"You wish to train him here"
"He must learn to protect himself first-" the Inquisitor rolled his shoulders slightly, stretching to avoid a deep rooted stiffness, "-before he can defeat our enemies"
Ivur closed his eyes.
Through the Immatierum he reached out, his attention focusing away from the Axe of Russ and toward the singularity of power now radiating upon Balor's surface.
For an infinite moment he studied it, looking through the blinding waves of power that coalesced around the bright soul of the being that had shocked him from his meditation.
He could find no darkness, no sign of taint or corruption.
Such a locus of power… it seemed incredible for it to be devoid of even minor corruption.
…but a mortal youth….
Perhaps…?
"This being-"
"Lucian" the Inquisitor corrected, "his name is Lucian"
Ivur nearly rolled his eyes, "Lucian, was raised where?"
"Helios"
The great Wolven Warrior, Hammersbald couldn't help but snort out "never heard of it"
Before Ivur could fix the Wolf Guard with a glare, the Inquisitor replied with an easy smile, "and isn't that wonderful?"
The boy was a blank slate. While hopefully tempered by experiencing whatever malicious attempts Chaos had made against him, he was still young and from nowhere. The Inquisitor had said nothing about a crazed being, or one driven to madness by their own power or those around him.
In fact, Ivur was off the thought that the reason the Inquisitor seemed so certain of his favored outcome, was because the boy demonstrated either no conscious control over his great power, or was unaware of his true capabilities.
Besides, being relatively untouched by the horrors that plagued the Imperium every day, this being had the potential to be crafted into the greatest Psyker Ivur would ever know…
Such an opportunity…
As he studied the boy through his eyes in the Warp, Ivur was able to further understand why the Inquisitor so fervently favored the more potentially disastrous outcome.
Even though the risks were great, the rewards would prove to be significant.
This child was untrained, yes, but if he were to be pushed in the correct directions, nudged down particular paths and guided by the wisdom and strength of an individual such as Ivur…
The Rune Priest couldn't help but think to himself, even as he turned his full attention to Kjarl Grimblood that 'Perhaps this is it. Perhaps this was the goal of this great hunt?'
"Lord Grimblood"
The Wolf Lord looked to the aged Rune Priest, a non-verbal gesture for Ivur to speak.
"I request permission to travel to Balor's surface to directly observe the being called Lucian"
"I see" the Grimblood rumbled, "and what exactly do you hope to gain from such an action, Ivur?"
The Rune Priest let an honest smile slip, an odd expression for a Space Marine to wear, let alone a space wolf.
But his answer was as simple as it was layered.
"Perspective"
He did not fail to note how not just the Inquisitor's eyes narrowed in his direction.
Lucian was beginning to learn how deceptively large the structures of the Fortress were.
From the ground and across the tarmac of the landing fields, he had keenly observed how the central buildings of the walled complex were indeed grand.
But as they descended down a gigantic flight of stairs, one that extended at least fifty men wide, and thrice as many deep, Lucian had a feeling he had only observed a fraction of the facility's true size.
"They keep their administration underground?" Caius chortled, now a few steps behind and to the left of Lucian, "I've never heard of such a method of organization"
Lynwood grunted from a few steps down and ahead of the following two, "while not common, I can think of a few notable examples in the Imperium"
Lucian could hear the slight twist of confusion in Caius' face, the look betrayed by the man's tone, "such as?"
The young Psyker in training noticed how Lynwood's shoulders tightened ever so slightly.
"The Death Korps, for one"
Beside the many Guardsmen and soldiers that ascended or descended the steps beside them, the odd silence that followed Lynwood's seemingly simple answer was noted by the boy.
And yet before Lucian could ask who such a name as 'The Death Korps' belonged to, the boy's eyes were drawn to the now revealed base of the staircase.
In a moment of brightened splendor, the descending passageway opened into a grand space. A domed ceiling composed the sky, lanterns hanging from equidistant places between all the Gothic imagery that was deeply chiseled into the dirty white stone.
The center of the space was dominated by a large spire. While not thin, this central structure was still minute compared to the open space around them all.
An open space dominated by identical desks, covered in both loose and collected parchment, wax and a variety of sigils that Lucian could only barely make out. Occupying these desks were hooded individuals, almost identical to one another, but varied by the color of their robes.
But they all bore the same symbol.
Even if they were of a blackened midnight, a slight brown, a soothing maroon, or any other, the robes were decorated with an Imposing "I".
Not the symbol of the Inquisitor however, for Lucian was able to make out the deformed letter 'a' at the center of the Sigil.
Lynwood named these hundreds of desk workers, separated by clearly drawn walkways and paths between their near silent laboring.
"The Administratum" he glanced to the left and right wings of the circular space they were in, "...and the Guard… in one place…" his tone was one of growling concern, but only a touch so light that Lynwood's companions did not draw themselves on edge.
"What? Something wrong with that?" Caius frowned, coming up to stand beside Lucian as they looked around, "beats having to ferry orders and permissions across an entire Hive"
Lynwood turned to answer, but his mouth never gave a reply.
His eyes fixed over Caius's shoulder upon the person that did respond.
"While not strategically sound, it is done for the sake of practicality"
The two who had their backs to the new voice turned on a dime, joining Lynwood in observing the quietly spoken man that had stepped up to them.
Dressed in a primary tone of a deep olive green, the newly arrived man was to Lucian's eye an officer of some sort.
He struck an imposing image.
A raised pauldron topped his left shoulder with the golden veneration of the Imperial Aquila, a finely casted model that Lucian found his eyes drawn to first.
This pauldron was attached to a large open trench coat with a raised collar reaching to his ears. The coat was not worn, but rather rested upon the figure's shoulders, something to be easily removed should any situation call for it.
His visible underlayers were that of black armor plates and green intricate holdings of said plates. Usual Imperial markings and scratchings slathered nearly every square inch of him, but the fervent sigils of the Echlesiarchy took the more prominent positions.
Black boots completed the base of this man, polished and cleaned to a near shining perfection.
Lucian turned his eyes up to look at the man's face. Purple eyes flickered down to his own blue for a moment. The youth recognised those eyes. It seemed like a lifetime ago that he had been in the company of his friends from Helios.
This man had the same eyes as Titos.
A curious note of study and confusion entered the man's look, before he charmingly refocused his attention toward Lynwood.
Lucian wondered if there was something on his face, and even as he discretely yet swiftly scrubbed at his features, the man had been looking directly into his eyes.
A beautiful white smile opened across the newcomer's hazel face as he seemingly found enjoyment in his greeting.
"Hageski Harkoden, Major General of Hive Primaris and Castellan of this Fortress" he bowed slightly, one arm across his waist as be bent forward "I welcome you to Balor, Servants of the Inquisition"
And while Lucian didn't know what a 'Castellan' was, he knew by the distinct look of the two soldiers that flanked the man, that whoever this Hageski Harkoden was…he was probably important.
It hadn't been long enough for Lucian to forget the fully armored and mechanical presence of Storm Troopers.
Two Tempestus Scions flanked Major General Harkoden. Set in tones of plated blue armor, beady red eyes fixed above their rebreathers, these troopers were different in coloration than what Lucian had experienced before, but were undoubtedly the same brand of troop.
"Greetings Major General. I am Lynwood Decelus, an Agent of our Emperor's Holy Inquisition" he gave a polite nod, but did not bow. He reached into his gear belt, drawing forth the undeniable proof of his position
"I am but an extension of my Master's will. Vownus Kaede, Inquisitor of the Ordo Hereticus, has bid our presence here on Balor"
The Inquisitorial Rosette drew the gaze of the Major General.
Lucian figured the Scions were looking to, but couldn't tell due to their covered features.
But the Castellan nodded with a smile, drawing the focus toward him again as he spoke, "I see"
The man glanced up to the ceiling, as if he could see past all the layers of earth and rock that separated him from the sky, "but…I suppose an envoy is to be expected"
Harkoden stood up straighter, his eyes flickering to Lucian once more.
"Perhaps it would be best to continue this conversation elsewhere"
He gestured toward the central spire.
Lynwood merely nodded in quiet agreement, the trio moving to follow the Castellan.
Lucian wasn't completely sure, but something had been communicated between Lynwood and this Major General fellow… something that he couldn't discern.
He frowned slightly, but said nothing.
If he needed to be told, he'd be told. Until then, he'd have to get used to being ignored.
Caius knew what a Castellan was.
Had he met one before? No.
Besides the PDF, Helios had no need for such a position to be filled, rarely seeing the total number of drafted Guard Regiments exceeding thirty.
This man, Hageski Harkoden, commanded an obscene amount of power for one within the Guard. That wasn't to say that he sat at the top of the Imperial's Guard's Hierarchy upon Balor, which he most certainly was not, but Harkoden's position was responsible for the maintenance of this Fortress.
This in turn meant he held power of where resources were diverted to, approval of promotions, Regiment positioning and formation, conscription numbers and setting the drafting quota's… it all fell under his purview, so long as it was tied to the Fortress.
And considering Hive Primaris was the largest of Balor's populace centers, he was closely tied to Balor's Imperial Tithe.
The Tithe that every Imperial world gave to the Imperium at large, a supply of manpower, resources and munitions desperately needed by active or forming wars and battles.
Helios had been an Agri World, and as such food was the primary component to the Imperial Tithe.
But on Balor? Manpower was the name of the game.
Guardsmen regiments were drafted and deployed out into the Universe at large, to fill the gaps left by the millions slain at the hands of Mankind's enemies.
And so a man like Harkoden, who obviously held close court with the Adeptus Administratum, enjoyed the proverbial throne.
The Marshal of Balor could overrule him, but said Marshal had their gaze focused upon the planet at large. With millions of lives and duties needing the Imperial seal, the Marshal did not have the time and need to closely monitor how Harkoden conducted their duties.
And justly so, as one could not rise to the rank of Major General, let alone be given the duties of a Castellan, without having done enough to earn such a position.
There could be powerful noble families involved, but even Imperial nepotism had a limit to its influence.
So long as Harkoden did not impede any necessary Imperial missions or incentives, the Marshal would not weigh in on any decisions made by the Major General.
And Caius was of the thought that this man had quite the backbone. Even though Hageski Harkoden had a scarless face that denoted a sense of youth, the former Arbite felt that he had a modicum of talent regarding his ability to read people.
And this Major General was a confidently calm man.
As he led them toward the thick central spire of this underground section, the Castellan received salutes, nodds, and bows from those be past.
With a genial elligence he responded to each and every one of them, neither drawing out the courteous replies, but not dismissing a single one of them either.
He was well liked by his people it seemed.
The spire, at the center of this Administratum workplace, seemed to be completely devoted to the Guard.
Its entrance was flanked by both Tempestus Scions, wearing the same colors as the ones that moved with Harkoden, and Imperial Guardsmen in the dress uniform of Balor.
The spire was a mass of enclosed offices, ones walled in and more private than the hundreds just beyond the concrete walls.
A central lift, a large freight like elevator, was what provided access between the floors of this dominating administrative building.
While privacy could be drawn with but a curtain and a blind, Caius did take note in a few quick glances of how both Officers of the Guard and members of the Adeptus Administratum occupied these central offices. An even split of Scions and Guardsmen patrolled in pairs throughout this central honeycombed office.
This was the core of the Fortress's organization. Here was where all the important decisions were made regarding the Imperial forces of Hive Primaris.
As they walked for the open doors of the lift, Caius was willing to bet the six of them were bound for the top floor.
Where the Castellan's chambers and office would be.
"There's so much paperwork"
The whispered comment came from Lucian, his face cringing at the orderlies and servitors that carried large stacks of folders and stamped parchment from room to room.
Caius couldn't help the smile at the boy's subtle disgust.
No one was a fan of laborious paperwork.
Less so if your entire purpose was to manage said paperwork.
"Not the most glorious of tasks, but a necessary one" Caius said with some cheer, "not everyone can be a hero on the frontline"
"Well put, Agent" Castellan's tone rumbled from ahead, the man turning around once he was in the lift in order to face the trailing Inquisitorial party.
As the trio stepped into the lift, politely keeping space between the Major General and themselves, Caius introduced himself.
"Agent Caius Helix. I share the same master as Agent Decelus"
The Castellan gave Caius an odd look.
Lynwood looked to Caius out of the corner of his eye, his face unreadable.
Lucian seemed confused, and Caius couldn't help but feel the same way.
'Did I say something wrong?'
The doors to the lift shut and the contraption began its steady but sure ascent.
"I must admit, you are the first to compare my choice of organization to the Death Korps"
Caius blinked.
The Castellan had overheard the comparison?
Lynwood engaged the man in the seemingly idle conversation. Caius knew better than to step in for now. The older of Vownus' agents was an old hand at whatever games the Castellan might be attempting to pull.
"No, Major General. I compared the use of underground fortifications for the command facilities to that of the Kriegers" Lynwood idly corrected, "your organization is, as you say, seemingly practical"
The implication being that the choice was not 'tactical'.
"Seemingly" the Castellan repeated the word with a laugh, humorously stating that "you know little of Balor, Agent Decelus"
It wasn't a barbed comment, but Caius felt as if it were. A seemingly idle comment yet coated with a sinister intent.
Lynwood either brushed this off or ignored it completely.
"This is true" he admitted, "but perhaps you could explain to us then, for what reason does the Adminstratum and the Guard operate so closely? I'd imagine there to be… some congestion, so to speak"
The Castellan held a great smirk, his joyful attitude coldly contrasted by the deathly still guards by his side.
"I trust those of the Adminstratum to do what it is commanded to. But in order to solicit a more, shall we say expedited approval process, it is good to have the bureaucracy of the Imperial Command attached to those that give such orders''
Lynwood gestured to the closed doors of the lift, obviously referring to the many people beyond it that worked to maintain the order and bureaucracy.
"And yet to have them concentrated in one point?"
Lynwood asked the Castellan directly.
He did not beat around the bush and had every reason to make such a prompt. Lynwood was wondering about the justification of tying the institutions so closely together.
There was no strength in having both the heart of the Guard and Balor's Adminstratum in one place. Merely a higher priority target than other locations. Many planets had separate facilities for the Adminstratum to operate out of, spreading out the value of targets for mankind's enemies.
And the Castellan replied as easily as he did before.
"In the earliest days of Balor's development, it took time to take control of the surface. Those that came before all of us, they first fought to hold the mountains upon their arrival"
Caius frowned at this, but Lynwood still retained control of the conversation.
"Xenos?" the man asked, wondering about the reason for the implied struggles faced by Balor's first colonists.
Harkoden nodded.
"Indeed. A fearsome race that we've thankfully seen the last of, its presence forced Balor's first to seek refuge beneath the earth" the doors to the lift opened, revealing a short corridor before a set of tall doors.
As the Castellan set forth toward these doors, he continued speaking to Lynwood over his shoulder.
"Our people became quite adept at forming tunnels, passageways and all kinds of subterranean construction. And even when we finally dominated Balor's surface, such skills are still utilized," the doors to the office opened.
The two Tempestus Scions halted before entering, taking up a guard post beside the entranceway.
Caius spared them a glance as Lynwood followed after the Castellan.
"You'll find that Balor's surface hides a great series of tunnels and passageways, both old and new, that keep many places connected to one another"
The Major General's office was quite sparse.
Where paintings should have hung on a blank wall over a mostly empty bookshelf, was only one moderately sized portrait.
A small row of busts dominated the other side of the square office, each one carved in white marble, and depicting people each donned in the same garb and hat as Harkoden wore.
Caius suspected these six depictions were others that had held their host's position.
"I hope such passageways are guarded" Lynwood came to stop before Hageski's desk, not moving to the two seats that were before the short wooden feature.
The Castellan nodded, "and all that are utilized are accounted for"
The desk was devoid of the seriously tall stacks of parchment the ones on the lowest floor had been, but Caius noted how the man did still have to sign off on orders and lettered commands with a distinct sigil.
The skull impaled by a blade.
Harkoden seated himself behind the desk, the pane of glass behind him revealing the hustle and bustle of the many workers of the Administratum. From up here, Caius could also make out how figures carrying stacks of papers and parchment would walk to small holes made in the walls of the domed space.
And they would seemingly disappear into shadows.
Some of these entrances were large enough to fit a tank, but most seemed to be only a meter or three as wide as they were tall.
Most peculiar.
Passageways meant for individuals or groups, depending on the size.
"But I did not bring you here to speak upon the talents of my people" Harkoden gestured to the two seats before him.
Lynwood drew the chair back, preparing to sit but halting as he gazed back to Caius and Lucian. The two of them were still hanging by the quietly closed doors to the Castellan's office.
Caius wasn't sure of the look Lynwood was giving him.
It was blank yet tight, a serious glare bubbling beneath the surface of the old man's face.
And the Major General was blatantly observing the two of them, his elbows propped forward on the table, fingers lightly interwoven to allow his chin the veneer of resting upon them.
Caius, finding the tension being given to him in such a short amount of time, stepped forward and sat down.
Lynwood followed a moment later, the look having softened.
Lucian awkwardly approached the two of them, standing between their two seats as he distractedly tried to avoid meeting the imposing eye of the Castellan.
Harkoden let another airy question loose.
"May I ask who the boy is?"
"I am not permitted to answer that" Lynwood grumbled.
He did not answer the man's question, but his response gave enough for the Major General to work with.
Harkoden's eyes seemed to glint at that small revelation. Caius was beginning to understand that the man was digging for information and was doing so in a way that Caius had only seen Nobles utilize.
Perhaps this Harkoden came from a Noble family?
Lucian was obviously a curious mystery to the Castellan, a young boy in the company of Inquisitorial Agents and bearing no obvious traits or markings to denote the youth's position.
To know that Vownus would be the only being who could answer his question…
Well the Castellan had just learnt that Lucian was important to the Inquisitor.
"Your Master might be indisposed for some time" Harkoden murmured, before speaking with a stronger note, "of what I know of them, the Space Wolves do not take kindly to Agents of the Inquisition"
Lynwood hardly moved.
Caius was confused. The Inquisition held the highest authority in the Imperium, who were the Space Wolves to draw such consideration from Vownus?
"My master has gone to delegate with them" Lynwood replied diplomatically.
"While you have come to the surface, to do what, exactly?" Harkoden tilted his head slightly, his question blunt and pointed.
"Our own quarters. For ourselves, and my Master. He will be joining us soon, and will inform you of his designs at the appropriate time"
Harkoden nodded.
"Seperate rooms?"
"Aye" Lynwood nodded.
The man's eyes twitched once more, but the Major General said nothing further, standing from his desk and gesturing to the door.
Lynwood and Caius stood, each flanking Lucian as they followed the Castellan to the office's exit.
"Boy"
Lucian flinched as the Major General called to him, just as he stepped out of the room.
Turning to face the man, Lucian looked up into the purple eyes of Hageski Harkoden.
And the man asked a clear and calm question, no malice or authority in his tone.
"What is your name?"
Lucian blinked, not expecting the softness behind the question, not from such a disciplined man such as the Castellan.
"Lucian, my Lord"
The man held his gaze with the boy for a moment longer.
Lynwood broke the staredown with a clearing of his throat.
The Castellan focused on him.
"At the base of the offices there will be a Guardsman, his name is Jasper. He will take you to your quarters"
And then the man slipped back into his office without another word, the doors swiftly shutting behind him.
FINALLY. WE ARE ON BALOR. Y'all don't know how I've been planning this shit for aaaaaaaggggggeeeeeeessssssssss. but its good to finally touch down. Even though we've got a lot more to cover before I can start setting up some battles. And I know... I know, its called Warhammer, not TalkHammer. But I gotta get meaning and importance across, I gotta make the characters feel like characters. There's gotta be stakes people, and if there aint, then when people start dying it ultimately doesn't matter... and then whats the point of that?
Sorry. I guess I'm a bit slow when getting this down. I also should probably make my chapters a bit longer, but then they'd take longer to make. I mean, if y'all are cool with it, I'll do longer chapters, but it will take longer. I'm thinking like 20-30k per chapter, that typa deal.
Anywho, some set up for next chapter, as well as establishing the pecking order of Balor's power structure. More to come later my lovelies.
The Emperor Protects,
Freedom.