The Mortal Son

by FreedomOfThinking

Entombed on the Golden Throne, the Master of Mankind has been near helpless to combat the dangers humanity faces. However against all odds, the Emperor decided to try to tip the scale in Humanity's favor no matter the cost. The Herd has lacked a Shepard for far too long. It's time for something new... well, new-ish.

15. Act 2 - 7: Practice Makes Perfect

AN: Sup. Here's another one. Managed to find a nice place to tie this one off, and even though this means I've added another chapter before we actually get to a major conflict... well, seeding the soil and all that.

It will bare fruit, I'm just sorry its taking so long xd

I'm gonna start answering reviews if yall have questions n such, those are gonna be at the bottom of chapters tho. Since I've noticed there's actually been a fair few questions since the story's inception, I thought it best to start addressing some of these. Since some of y'all are guests and I can't pm you.

yeah.

Welp, and awaaaaaaaayyyyy we goooooooo.

---

"It has been almost a week Brother"

Ivur felt like sighing at the words which were blurted from the vox caster, but had to hold it in out of respect to his Lord.

There was no need to perceive Kjarl Grimblood's words as an insult or a slight to his own, the Wolf Lord merely wasn't able to understand what Ivur was now involved with.

This in mind, he leashed his frustration as he replied.

"When dealing with instruction of a Psyker my Lord, it is better to be certain"

The Wolf Lord was impatient. Even if Ivur were to illustrate in words as to the importance that the Inquisitor's apprentice, Kjarl Grimblood would never truly understand.

While Ivur was aboard the Axe of Russ, secluded to his chambers and ruminating through the Immaterium with his power of Divination, Kjarl was content to leave him to his devices.

But coming to the surface of Balor? Forming some kind of alliance with an Inquisitor, regardless of how admirable and honest the man seemed… For the Space Wolves, this was not the 'proper way'.

Yet if they were to just wait above Balor, patiently and peacefully wait, for some kind of sign as to the Divined path they would. As soon as Ivur was to attempt some kind of initiative, it was taken with concern and immediate oversight.

Ivur felt a tick of annoyance build in his mind.

As if the Grimblood could fathom what the boy could do.

"And is 'Instruction' what we should all be waiting on, Rune Priest. Perhaps there are other avenues for us to explore"

Ivur held his grunt of annoyance.

"The visions remain the same Lord Grimblood. Russ awaits us at the Great Tree… yet it is Balor that remains before it"

"Perhaps you have made a mistake-"

"Lord Grimblood" Ivur calmly, but furiously returned at the Wolf Lord's assumption, "I know that Torrid has your ear. But you allow near baseless fear to take root in yourself. It was not luck or happenstance, but skill and experience that saw me to my position. Nor is it mere coincidence that this boy arrived only years after we did"

Even as the Vox Caster crackled and spat the quiet sparks of silence from the other end, Ivur took a deep breath.

His tone had bordered on disrespect, but the Grimblood was straying into a territory he knew little of. It should not be Torrid's immaturity that guided him.

"Torrid speaks of Warp Creatures, Daemons and Possession" Kjarl's rumbling tone was heavy with concern, yet slow with thought, "such enemies I have faced in war… but never when they are at my back, poised as ally's"

Ivur said nothing, allowing the Wolf Lord to work through his meaning.

"I trust Torrid with my life. As such I will lean on his judgment in matters pertaining to the Warp. But you, Ivur Sverdsyn, are the one that bore us this Great Hunt. It was you that brought us here. And it is with you that I seek counsel. I shall do my best to temper fear and doubt, but I order you give me clarity, Rune Priest. Help me see as you do"

…This was why Kjarl Grimblood was made Wolf Lord. A warrior that had ultimately wrestled with his primal nature, learnt humility instead of immaturity. He understood his strengths and weaknesses, but was wise enough to not let his pride or arrogance blindside him.

He trusted his company. Each and every one of them.

And in matters of the Immaterium and Warp, he would make informed decisions based on the knowledge of his warriors.

"My Lord" Ivur almost stammered over his words, even being centuries old he felt as if he were some scolded Blood Claw once more, "My words. I meant no disrespect-"

"I know this, Ivur" the young Wolf Lord most certainly had a light and fatherly smile across his features, "I trust you to not lead us astray. But you must explain to me, clearly, what is your plan?"

And in that moment, Ivur realized he was being foolish. If there were anyone he could share his ideas with, who would understand it as he intended, it need not be another Psyker. As fair and principled went, Kjarl Grimblood stood as the prime example.

"I believe as you do my Lord, the Inquisitor is not entirely forthcoming with his intentions" the Rune Priest, glanced down the corridor, a slight shifting of light just beyond the end of the corner, "but he does not lie of what the boy is. With the right instruction my Lord, Lucian could prove to be a formidable tool against Mankind's enemies"

"The Inquisitor has said as much. But what are your plans, Ivur?"

Eyes glancing away from the movement, Ivur lowered his voice ever so slightly.

As another flicker danced against the dull light at the corner the Rune Priest became certain that he was being observed.

And yet he still spoke into his Vox caster, regardless of whether this spy could indeed hear his almost hushed tone.

"A tool may have more than one purpose my Lord"

---

Vownus had found it customary, and certainly usual, to meet with Planetary Governors within their own palaces and homes.

It was typical of the Inquisition to introduce themselves at the last possible moment, seeking secrecy over intimidation but never abandoning the power of the latter attitude.

However the interaction with the Space Wolves had left a subtle taste of resentment in Vownus' mind.

He was reminded of how most thought of the Inquisition.

To be fair, the Witch Hunter was never a fan of how his organization operated. Well, less of its operation, but how Agents of the Inquisition had a tendency to conduct themselves.

As nearly all Imperial Institutions operated under the heaving weight of its endless bureaucracy, the Agents of the Inquisition rarely needed to abide by such things as 'officated' orders or commands.

No, an Inquisitor's word was law among the denizens of the Imperium.

To challenge it was to challenge the Emperor.

The mere thought of which is heretical.

In short, Vownus and his many comrades wielded the fearsome power of divine authority.

But power is a fickle thing, and its use can lead even those possessing the strongest of wills down the darkest of paths.

But then there were those that figured out how to abuse their power, how to twist their given authority in order to satisfy dark urges.

And as it is only an Inquisitor who can stop another of their own, these deranged monsters could wreak untold years of havoc before being brought to heel.

That was even if one could prove that the Inquisitor had been corrupted, or had been abusing their authority. Or both.

And as the Inquisition draws upon a very typical kind of individual; suspicious, hateful, arrogant, yet intelligent and keen, finding 'evidence' as it were, was nigh impossible. Those of the Inquisition knew not to step beyond what could be justified, and even as high of a ceiling as that is… it had been done before.

And word of such monsters?

Well there were stories.

There are always stories.

Because the people of the Imperium loved stories. Tales of daring Heroes, lofty deeds and honorable sacrifice, all done in the name of the Emperor. And these tales typically included fearsome foes… such as any foul Xenos out in the galaxy… or of the traitor.

The betrayer.

The being who could be your brother, neighbor, captain, mother, commander or even your father. One who sought to do your harm, for no reason other than the action itself.

Many believed that these traitors actively lurked within their society, waiting for a chance to enact their vicious intentions.

Those that knew of the Inquisition feared as such; that they had crossed paths with a monster wielding the Emperor's authority.

A healthy amount of suspicion was one thing, but those that believed as such….Vownus knew it to be borderline heretical to believe an Inquisitor was unjust in their actions, but he also knew why such talk occured.

Because it did happen, just not as openly as most would imagine.

In most cases the words themselves were never spoken. Written messages and signaled questions wondering if Vownus was one of 'the bad ones'.

There was always a chance someone could overhear a verbal comment or accusation. But Vownus didn't typically have to keep his ears out for hints or clues about how his company perceived him.

After all, he could skim minds with but a whim.

Such talk was more common among the nobles of most developed worlds that he visited. It was their stratos which rubbed shoulders with the upper echelons of Imperial society, and as such were often in contact with those tasked to police these lofty places.

Nobles had long lines of family, and nearly all of them had some kind of horror story that the Inquisition was involved in.

And he understood their fear and concern when the Inquisitorial presence entered such a space, Sigil and Rosette bared as proof of their authority.

It is narrow minded to believe that only the guilty fear the Inquisition. It is natural to fear the Inquisition. To hate it was heretical, but fear was common.

Many believed that this natural fear was itself the sign of a traitor.

Vownus knew better.

He'd seen men flayed alive for flinching at q uestion, children murdered for crying out as their parents were executed… he'd seen the horrors that monsters like Rykehuss or Soldevan could inflict upon the innocent with naught but a word.

And such monsters believed they were justified in what they did.

That even as they condemned thousands to their deaths, forever scarring hundreds of thousands of innocent people, that the ends would justify the means.

Vownus could not condone pointless slaughter.

That was not what the Inquisition was supposed to be.

They were the first and last line of defense for the Imperium, not heartless creatures that took pleasure from inflicting pain.

When all else fails, it is the Inquisition that would see to it that the day would be won for humanity.

And what was the point of winning, if you weren't even human by the end of it?

Vownus believed this.

It's why he went out of the way at times to attempt to distance himself from the stigma associated with the Inquisition.

He worked very hard to be an approachable and friendly individual, while still adhering to the code of his Ordo.

It was a fine line that he walked, but he still managed to.

So damn the Space Wolves and their suspicion.

Vownus had been put in contact with the Governor of Balor over the Vox, directly asking if he had time for a meeting.

He wouldn't swagger into the man's palace and demand anything from him, rather respecting him and attempting to be cordial.

There was no need to generate fear or distrust.

He would show that he was a good Inquisitor, and not some backstabbing murderous psychophant.

A small part of him took note of how hijacking a private and personal Vox link could be seen as intimidating…

But it was necessary. Vownus wasn't some representative from the Departmento Munitorum, nor an official of the Administratum.

He was an Inquisitor, and had places to be, stuff to do, and a powerful apprentice to instruct.

Super important stuff.

Besides, it was only intended to be a quick chat.

Just a verbal nod, to acknowledge that he was on Balor, and that the Governor had no reason to worry. If there was something on Balor to discover, Vownus would find it, but such problems were to be considered tomorrow duties.

Now he kept a calm demeanor as the Acquillan Lander began to touch down.

Vownus had given the Governor the decision of where and when the meeting was to play out. He hadn't spoken to the man immediately, but conferred his identity and orders through that of a trusted Aide to the Governor's Office.

The response had been instantaneous. And while the decision to have the meeting immediately was fairly typical, the fact that the Governor had instead asked Vownus to choose a place of his preference…

…was oddly polite.

And hopefully a sign that it wouldn't be some fearful wreck that was showing up to do the official 'treat with the Inquisitor' song and dance.

But even if it were some simpering fool, Vownus had come with as little manpower as possible.

The Astral Knights had spent the last few days ferrying gear from the Tempests Advance to the surface. Not only did Vownus trust them to oversee the landing preparations for what was left of the 501st, but to also allow them some more martial time with their neophytes.

Aethod was still with the boy, his instruction in Lucian's first discipline beginning with painful slowness. This was all per Vownus' orders of course. The Witch Hunter wasn't about to jump the gun and force the boy to already begin combat training with his powers.

So with nearly everyone he could appropriately call on to act as his retinue, Vownus was left with the two former Arbites.

Caius was still nervous about his presence, always shooting him an extra glance or two.

The strike he'd given him for back talk and put some fear in the man, and while that was a healthy thing, this skittish behavior could prove to be detrimental.

Lynwood was still…

Vownus glanced at the formidable man.

He really was a sight to look at.

Bionic right eye and both his legs, bald head inscribed with High Gothic text and a grimace permanently affixed to his facial features.

"Try to smile Lynwood"

The grunt of reply that came from the Agent was immediate.

"I am smiling"

Vownus couldn't help the sigh that escaped him as the lander opened. From its stout depths, two rows of three soldiers emerged.

Elegantly dressed yet swathed in darker tones of black, gray and a deep blue, these were obviously men at arms belonging to the Governor's family.

Military accolades were displayed above their hearts, and each had a face covered by a smooth helmet. It was devoid of all features, and seemingly…inhuman, in its design. While nothing like the sweeping facial armor of the Eldar, the Witch Hunter knew them to merely be odd, and not Xenos in origin.

In fact, their purpose seemed that of the identical ethos many regarded the denizens of Kreig to utilize.

'Secret identities, eh?' Vownus thought to himself, smiling as the last of them stepped out into the Fortress's landing field, 'I like it'

And then the Governor stepped away.

Regardless of the military cut of her hair, it seemed Vownus had made a mistake in assuming the leader of Balor to be a man.

Cloaked in the colors of her legions, her visible shoulder marked with ink depicting a sword penetrating a skull, Balor's Governor was a striking individual.

Beautiful, as all nobility seemed to be, but not in the traditional sense.

Her cheeks were a touch away from gaunt, something her pale skin did little to help. Yet her eyes weren't necessarily sunken into her defiant features, but her near black eyes suggesting a sense of… something.

She was striking.

She looked dangerous.

Her hair was cut finely, where black locks cascading down her broad shoulders could be imagined, Vownus had to agree that the short cut suited her better.

Especially with the Imperial cap, dominated by the sigil of the Acquila, that rested upon her head.

Looking from head to toe, Vownus noted how her form was corded yet thick. Her body detonated strength and agility in one, not something typical of nobles.

A half cape of white trimmed with gold covered the left side of her body, but Vownus was given enough visual clues to know this woman had been a soldier.

The stride was a dead give away.

And how her dashingly dangerous gaze fixated on Vownus' curiously interested look the second she was clear from the lander.

As her step and her flanking guards drew her closer, it was the Governor who initiated contact.

"Inquisitor Kaede" she named him while simultaneously reaching forward with a hand covered in a tight black glove.

"Governor Andoa Paxat" she introduced herself politely as Vownus lamely met her grasp with a bemused expression.

By the Emperor!

What a grip!

"Let's cut to the chase" she rolled her neck slightly as she released his hand, before gesturing to the short path leading away from the landing zones, "shall we?"

Shaking himself slightly to jolt him out of the stupor, Vownus nodded eagerly.

"Of course. I shan't take up too much of your precious time"

She snorted at that, "we shall see"

With that attitude alone, and the brazen way she was addressing an Inquisitor of the Imperium, Vownus knew one thing for certain.

'Oh… I think I like this one'

---

Lucian blinked.

….he wasn't entirely sure how he got here. Or where here was.

It had seemed so sudden, so strange to one minute be… somewhere, and then the next be wandering the foggy grounds of some kind of… temple?

Great pillars of blackened stone, many meters apart from one another, reached to the skys. Their tips pointed and sharp, these near flawless spikes aimed at the heavens had writings and scratches upon their lengths.

It seemed to be a language, but it was one Lucian had yet to learn… or was not human.

Sure as hell didn't look like Gothic, that's for certain.

"Because it is not Gothic"

The answer to his internal comment came from deep to his right.

The voice was as amiable as he remembered it, the same jovial tone of what Lucian would imagine a proud older sibling to be like.

And as he spun toward the speaker emerging from the mists, Lucian couldn't help the frown on his face.

"Am I dead again?"

Red, the one-eyed giant clothed as he was the last time they had met, let out a deep laugh.

"No, no you are not" he smiled lightly.

"Then… What are you doing here? What am I doing here?"

The giant scoffed, gesturing to the boy's presence before him "as I said before, I'd see you soon"

Lucian frowned further.

"You also said you'd teach me, help me learn and improve" he gave a pointed look to his left and right at the fog covered structures, "not… well, not whatever this is"

Red's smile remained, and he waved Lucian to his side, taking a short stroll in one direction.

"All in due time" he smiled, "but aren't you curious as to where we are?"

The boy looked around, almost at a light jog in order to keep up with the crimson giant. The mist was obscuring most of the strange temple grounds.

"...It seems alien…"

"Correct" Red's tone drifted into one of a scholarly nature, "what you see and where we are, these are two different things. What you see is indeed alien in nature, an avenue of study I am pursuing-"

"You study aliens?" Lucian quickly blurted, confused.

"I study anything related to the warp, boy" Red corrected quickly, before returning to his speech.

Actually no, it wasn't a speech.

Lucian realized this was a lecture.

"I study such constructions due to their intrinsic and deep connection to the warp. This entire place is built of, as the Imperium calls it, 'Black Stone'"

"I could have figured that name out myself," Lucian grumbled.

Red swatted him on the head. A light hit to be sure, but one that was still delivered by a massive hand.

"OW!"

"Don't interrupt," the giant tisked.

The boy grumbled, but remained silent.

"Black Stone, or Noctilith, is a curious substance. Forged in an unknown process, and molded with great difficulty, the material possess the ability to either nullify or absorb the energies of the Immatierum"

Lucian looked closer at the pillar they were walking besides, the strange symbols that rose high into the sky pulsating the moment he drew closer.

He recoiled from it.

"You need not fear it here. Besides, real contact with any that has been set to nullify would only render your abilities useless. It would not harm you; but you would perhaps receive a headache at worst, a light irritation to your senses at best"

"Yeah" Lucian muttered, before asking loudly, "and uh, where is 'here' exactly? And why tell me this about the black stone? I really don't-"

Red stopped walking and Lucian skidded to a halt. The giant looked down at the youth with a soft eye filled with… annoyance.

But despite his expression, Red answered the boy's questions.

"We are in a location of my choosing, a place that has been crafted for our minds to inhabit alone. It is a fictional world, a domain built by myself to illustrate the significance of a moment that will come to pass" Red's singular eye frowned, "an event that will be important for you"

The giant relaxed slightly.

It was as if he suddenly realized he was still speaking to a mortal boy.

"Is that all?" he asked.

Lucian winced, but risked another question, "can I ask what exactly do you mean by, 'event?'"

"All this time and the Inquisitor has still yet to teach you any patience" Red sighed as he rubbed the bridge of his nose with one hand, "allow me to finish, and I will be clear with you"

"Right," Lucian nodded, "Blackstone then. Nullifying my powers. Not good"

They began walking through the fogged maze of pointed pillars once more.

The giant was quick to return to his lecture.

"Black Stone also can absorb the power of the Warp, Lucian" Red noted, "a drastic difference in comparison to nullification"

Red fixed him with a side along look, and Lucian realized that the giant was hoping the boy could figure out 'why' there was a difference.

"Well…" the boy started, but stopped after he retraced the crimson' scholars words.

"Well nullify means that there wouldn't be any Psychic energy present. The powers of the warp would be… gone. I guess? But, well, the word absorb suggests it's still there" Lucian ruminated, his eyes tracing his steps as his mind came to a conclusion.

"Can the energy absorbed by Black Stone be released somehow?"

Red nodded with a savage smile, a bloom of pride developed in Lucian's stomach

"It can" the taller of the two affirmed, "and in every recorded instance that I'm aware of, the release is seemingly tenfold to what was originally taken"

Lucian tried to picture something like that happening.

Red made it simpler for him.

"Imagine a lightning bolt being turned into a storm, the original energy being reflected back far greater than whatever or whoever cast it" Red tapped on a pillar as they passed it, "an object made of Noctilith is not something to be trifled with"

Silence held them for a moment.

"And the event?" Lucian quietly asked, "what happens to me?"

Red brought a hand up, a quick burst of purple and blue energy rolling in his fist before he closed his palm.

The light show disappeared as quickly as the giant had conjured it.

Lucian could only guess as to what the crimson scholar had just done, his ruminations dropped as the Giant spoke to him with a grave tone.

"There will soon come a time where you will have to take up arms. Of these weapons, there will be one made from Black Stone, a piece crafted solely for you. If you wish to see your people live, I advise you to use this weapon over the others"

"Why?"

"Because Balor will need its strength. The planet will not survive if you do not take up the Black Scythe"

Somehow, the name of it drew a chill down Lucian's spine.

"What happens?"

"War" Red said simply.

"With?"

The giant fixed Lucian with a scolding frown

"I cannot say"

Lucian sighed exasperatedly, "can't you just tell me?"

Red's scholarly tone reappeared.

"Certain forms of Divination, such as prophecies and readings of the future… to tell you of what happens would prevent it from happening, thus defeating the purpose of Diving such a future. I have given you all the clues I can, to go further would spoil the fabric of the future"

Lucian didn't argue with that.

In fact, it seemed Red was clued into his immediate thoughts.

"But you're still wondering how you can trust me? If any of what I've just said should be taken at face value"

The Giant shrugged, "do not trust me then Lucian. I do not need your trust"

The boy spluttered a response, accusations and denials ready to fly.

Red spoke firmly and loudly, "do not trust me. But trust that I know far more, and far better than those who would teach you in your waking moments. Trust that I know the tips and tricks that will keep you alive. Trust that only one who has given a lifetime of devotion to the study of the Warp could ever possess such knowledge. Trust that I care not for what you believe and where you stand, merely that you learn"

Red seemed taller in the moment.

Far more fierce, but oddly comforting in his tirade.

"Now I give you a choice. Wake now, with my words considered false in your mind and I will speak no more to you. Or stay, and I'll teach you how to summon fire"

It was tempting.

Very tempting.

But Lucian's curious nature won out over his want to snub Red's 'mightier than thou' attitude.

Besides, who doesn't want to know how to summon fire with their mind?

---

Blood dripped from his jaw. It wasn't broken, but that didn't mean there wasn't any pain. His teacher never pulled punches.

As Titos had learnt quite quickly, when his instructor didn't strike with the first movement it was to attack from the following.

On one knee and covered in bruises, Titos hung his bleeding face toward the black steel of the chamber.

"Get up"

His teacher's voice cracked like a whip, the order given with the uncaring disposition of a giant speaking to an ant.

Titos was a smear of shit on his instructor's boot, a mere annoyance that the man had to wipe the floor with.

And so he stood.

He'd learnt what would happen if he didn't. His teacher would just beat him into the steel, destroying his body with the painful surgical accuracy Titos had to begrudgingly respect.

Even for a boy with next to no martial training, Titos knew what skill was.

And his teacher was beyond that.

The black wraith in a bodysuit of some midnight material wasn't just skilled. He was devoted. Combat was his life, the sole purpose for his existence…

…and Titos was supposed to hit him.

That was all his teacher had ordered of him.

'Strike me'

Two words that were said far simpler than their suggested action could be performed.

After the first few exchanges… Titos knew it would be difficult.

After two weeks it seemed impossible.

After a month of being sent to this clandestine facility's infirmary… Titos knew he'd have to try something different.

He was fighting with a man who could have already ended his life hundreds of times over, if not thousands.

Fighting?

No.

He was being toyed with.

In the darkened room of steel, the Cadian boy shifted his feet into a stance he had been slow to adopt.

With this particular placement, Titos was able to keep his feet from being swept out beneath him. It had taken some time to learn, and plenty of bruises to accompany the hours of indirect teaching.

His arms came up, one covering half his features, the other across torso in order to guard.

It was the best place for the limb. One hand could protect the head, which was arguably the most important part. But the torso was an easy target for debilitating strikes.

Titos was sick of being kicked in the stomach so easily.

"Now…" the voice of his teacher spat, "strike me"

And Titos surged forward.

It was time to try and get creative.

A hand sped toward his face, the skull faced instructor attempting to drop him quickly. He was also attacking Titos' recently injured face.

The boy ceased his charge, stepping back and using his smaller frame to avoid the lightning fast strike.

The arm which guarded his face took the hit, the force of the blow shaking his bones. Titos ignored this in favor of doding the follow up kick from his teacher.

Stepping with the strike to his hip, Titos rolled the blow to take some of its force away. This minimized the pain and also allowed him to get in closer.

Not exactly the best idea against such a formidable enemy, but the Cadian youth wasn't willing to get torn apart by these slight hits and glancing strikes over a longer drawn out fight.

That wasn't favoring him.

Might as well try something new.

An arm attempted to catch him in the ribs. Titos was in the processing of blocking the blinding whip of an attack when a knee buffeted his stomach.

The air was knocked right from him.

But he didn't have time to process this.

In the next moment he was hauled over the shoulder of his teacher, his entire form brought into the air before being unceremoniously cast to the floor.

Titos hit the metal with a hefty impact.

"Get up"

Face still bleeding, stomach now far more bruised than before, Titos summoned what little will remained in his battered body.

He made it to a knee, before shakily finding his feet.

"Now… strike me"

The fire continued to burn in his heart, even as he surged forth once more to his inevitable defeat.

---

"Are you sleeping any better?"

Lucian was startled at the sudden question, the owner of the prompt having snuck up on his flank and shattered the silence the youth had been enjoying.

Turning from his view of the divided sprawls of forests, Lucian faced the arrivee.

From a small outcropping of shadow near the battlements southern tower, Vownus emerged in his full attire, one hand casually placed in a pocket while the other rested on his belt.

In the sinking light of the day, the Witch Hunter cut a fearsome silhouette.

Lucian could picture him with a brightly lit torch held above his head, a cadre of soldiers following in his wake as he cut a path through the darkness.

"Not really" he replied, turning back to the view provided by one of the highest places of the facility.

Vownus had spoken with the Governor regarding a private location to be holled up in and muster a newly improved 501st. Drafting new blood was always an issue, but Vownus had both the time and the resources to smooth any creases in the process.

And the Governor had just the spot.

Despite it being outside of the safety of Hive Primaris' walls, this enclosed facility deep within Balor's jungles was only an hour flight away from the Hive. Recruits were drafted from the Hive's garrisons, those with merit and accolades prized over regular fodder.

They had arrived daily as the Inquisitor and his personal forces settled in.

It was a small facility, far too tiny to be considered a fortress, yet armed enough to repel a variety of threats.

The four corners of the rectangular walls were bristling with guns of a wide variety. Lynwood had taught Lucian how to distinguish the ones designed for anti-air versus ground offensives.

At the far end, to the southern side within the fortifications were the storage chambers. Food, munitions, vehicles and gear were kept there. Under a careful and watchful guard as well. The Astartes had cleared out one of the many storage chambers, converting it to a room suitable for their purposes.

Vownus had joked how no one would be tempted into a late night snack with them on duty around the clock.

Away from the storage chamber and opposing one another were two barrack buildings, each reminiscent of the design of Hive Primaris' central fortress. These housings were separated by a large track of dirt ground that featured rudimentary obstacle courses, fighting rings and marksmen grounds.

The buildings themselves differed by design due to the residents of each. One housed the core of the Guard and the other held the Officers and Command staff.

Colonel Wilk had seen to the arrangements of his Regiment.

Lucian stayed with the general population in the soldiers Barracks. Even though he lived in a recently refurbished bunk room, he was slowly seeing more and more of the men and women who served under Vownus.

Lasty, but not by far the least, was the towering command building.

Communications, planning, strategy; it all went down there.

Vownus typically spent the start of his days there, and would remain long into the night. That was where the Rune Priest, Ivur, stayed.

The boy had seen much of Aethod and Ivur recently, spending time learning what the two could instruct. Ivur spoke far less than their first lesson, but he was not hesitant to correct or extrapolate what Aethod attempted to teach.

But it was still all theory, maybe sometimes a few practical demonstrations to accompany the words, but the youth was never allowed to attempt anything.

And Lucian was irritated by that.

He'd been taken by Vownus so he could be taught, but it seemed like all they did was talk. He never actually DID anything. How was he supposed to help the Imperium, or fight the enemy, if all he could do was swing a sword and shoot a gun?

He could… he could kill people with his mind for the Emperor's sake, that should be reason alone to cut the grox shit.

And yes Luican was frustrated by this, but nowhere near furious.

After all, he'd been receiving secondary instruction, and even though it was ethereal in nature, there were practical applications to what he was taught.

Since arriving in this Frontier Facility, or as the 501st were calling it, 'The Tree House', Lucian had been in near daily communication with Red.

The Giant contacted him in his sleep it would seem.

As Lucian was 'dreaming', his soul was in fact being visited by the Crimson Scholar. And even though he was asleep he was still receiving instruction. As a result, Lucian would more often than not awaken each day already tired and pointedly restless.

These signs had not gone unnoticed by Lucians teachers. A thoughtful excuse was crafted long before the first set of questions came regarding the boy's ragged state.

Red was prepared for this.

"Weird dreams" followed by vague descriptions of said dreams was what Red suggested the boy to say. So Lucian had spoken to his instructors of weird ruins, fanciful battles and odd coloured space marines. When pressed for more, the boy would lamely admit there was none.

And the half truths worked.

Aethod had chalked it up to a sign of Lucian's potential in Divination, something Ivur seemed inclined to agree with. The Astral Knight had witnessed much regarding the boy, his belief in Lucian's word crafted from the power the boy held. Ivur however?

Far too easily had the Rune Priest accepted the story, something Lucian had taken a personal note of. But he said nothing further.

For if the explanation was easily accepted then Lucian had nothing to worry about.

Red had mentioned how it would be 'bad' if they knew about him.

Caius, unable to understand what Lucian was going through, had resorted to simply being even more irritatingly friendly. On the plus side, he now allowed Lucian much stronger doses of Recaff in the mornings. This benefit was balanced with a constant barrage of quips and comments. Lucian wasn't a morning person anymore, and being compared to a fresh off the line servo-skull was irritating. If it weren't true to some degree.

Lynwood merely offered a prayer of strength and a pat on the back each time he and Lucian crossed paths.

And Vownus?

The Psyker in training hadn't seen much of his supposed Master.

Until now it seemed.

Vownus came to stand by the boy, his own gaze cast out into the green jungles just beyond the walls of the Tree House.

"I was the same when I was your age. Never could find some peace of mind" Vownus removed his hat, keeping it by his side as he softly remarked, "meditation never quite did it for me"

Lucian looked up at the man curiously, noting how his eyes were unfocused as they gazed out beyond the ramparts.

"It's all Aethod recommends"

It took Lucian a second to realize he had spoken.

Vownus was drawn from his quiet ruminations, looking down at Lucian with his typical wide brimmed grin.

"Hardly surprising. As an Astartes, let alone a Librarian, he could probably meditate for a week straight"

Lucian shivered at the prospect of sitting still for an entire week.

"Exactly" Vownus' comment was directed at the boy's reaction.

The master and apprentice returned to silence, Vownus gazing out at the distance, and Lucian working up the nerve to confront the man.

And as the youth finally found his tongue, the Inquisitor quietly listened to the boy that he stood beside.

"I haven't been thinking about Helios as much. Or my… my mother. Or Ostus"

"Mmm" Vownus hummed, affirming that he was listening.

"Is that… does that make me a bad person? To… to forget about them?"

"Do you forget about them? Truly?" Vownus replied simply, idly brushing his hat.

Lucian was contemplative for a moment before he next spoke.

"Kind of. A lot has happened… and it feels like they slip from my thoughts. They're still there, but they grow further every day"

Vownus nodded to the words, still not looking at the boy.

"A wound of the heart takes time to heal. And it is healing" the hat turned in his hands "so long as you remember them boy, death will not claim them"

"But they are dead," Lucian replied, his tone flat.

"You, who knew them, who remembers their dreams, hopes, ambitions, so long as you live they will never truly be dead" Vownus looked at Lucian.

He hesitated before he spoke, his words a touch quieter than before.

Only Lucian and the gentle wind were privy to his talk.

"My Master was a man named Alvarion Naal. I was already a man grown by the time I entered into his service, and yet he still treated me like some red blooded youth. He always scolded me on my attitude and performance, expecting better of me"

Vownus wiggled the hat he held.

"This was his. To this day I sometimes wonder if I do his memory a disservice, if I somehow have failed him, after all this time…"

"He's dead?" Lucian quietly asked.

Vownus nodded simply, eyes now fixed on the pointed Witch Hunter's hat.

"Possessed… by the enemy" he smiled, a bitter but warm thing, "tricked a Daemon into granting him more strength. It saved me from an ambush… by The Emperor, you should have seen him…"

Lucian asked in disbelief, "he tricked a Daemon?"

Vownus hummed in affirmation, his smile less bitter than a moment ago "oh yeah. It cost him his life, but for a mortal man… well, it was the greatest feat of strength and willpower I've ever witnessed"

Vownus coughed slightly, bringing the hat back to his head.

"But even though Alvarion Naal is dead and I do not mourn him daily… this does not make me a bad person, Lucian" Vownus reached out and thumped the boy slightly in the chest.

"So long as you do not truly forget them, it is alright to stay focused on other things"

The boy nodded quietly, and the two of them returned to their silent vigil.

…until the boy had another question.

"When are you going to start teaching me?"

"Soon"

Lucian huffed at the noncommittal reply, "when is soon?"

"Soon is… well, soon is soon" Vownus grinned before sobering up at the stink his flippant comment received, "look kiddo, I know I'm a fairly lax-"

"Fairly?!" the youth interjected, a burning accusation against the Witch Hunter.

"-lax individual" Vownus spoke over the outburst, "but these things take time. The Warp is still a dangerous thing, and to meddle with it so callously… can have disastrous effects"

Lucian's glare was murderous.

"I bloody know it's dangerous!"

"Language" Vownus tutted, but the boy paved over him.

"Unless you've forgotten, I've already been attacked! It's how I'm stuck in this situation in the first place The Cult?! That thing onboard the Advance! For Thrones sake it killed me! Yet I'm told not to worry about this, as if that's an easy thing to ignore?!"

The boy was almost yelling. Vownus allowed him to vent.

"But what hurts the most is that I was helpless both times! Either luck or an instinct I can't control saved me. I can't rely on chance, Vownus. I'm a farmer! I need to know how to atleast defend myself" the boy practically begged at the end.

"I have not forgotten the attacks" Vownus frowned, "and I know you are afraid. But you need to be patient. If we were to rush your instruction, it is quite likely for you to have a far worse fate than if we continued down the slow and sure path. And I know this from personal experience"

His tone brokered no argument.

"But I'm not blind to your problems. Take heart in the knowledge that we will not underestimate how far the enemy will go to reach you. It won't happen again. Not on my watch"

Lucian glared once more, before looking out into the forest again, "fine"

Vownus sighed.

"Soon you won't have to rely on the likes of myself or Aethod to protect you"

The boy was ignoring him, his attitude soured by his impatience.

'One step forward… two steps back' Vownus thought to himself.

"I'll leave you be kiddo. But you should get some sleep soon. The Wolf is instructing you tomorrow"

"I will" Lucian grunted, his arms crossed over his chest petulantly.

The Witch Hunter made a decision in that instant.

Vownus brushed across the boy's mind with a touch of the warp.

He managed to get a brief glance into the boy's thoughts before the full weight of Lucian's presence bore down on him.

There was no instinctive lash of power by the incredible force, but a wave of frost had exploded out from the boy's position.

Ice had sprouted along the ramparts in response to his power.

The instant their minds made contact the boy rounded on him, anger in his gaze.

They stared down one another, the Inquisitor calm, the apprentice furious.

Vownus nodded, "you have a better guard of your thoughts. Good"

Lucian said nothing, his anger still simmering due to the successful intrusion. Vownus had seen nothing in his fairly deep skim, no signs of corruption or heresy.

"Good night Lucian"

He received no reply as he departed.

Eventually the youth returned to the now darkened view.

The sun had almost set.

---

It's strange how the passage of time felt different depending on how one's circumstances were altered.

For Caius, it had felt like years had been spent aboard the Tempest's advance. In reality it had been only months.

On Balor, sequestered a few miles outside of Hive Primaris in a repurposed facility… well a year had passed quicker then he'd expected.

Caius gazed into the mirror, looking up and down at the reflection of himself he was presented. In the small bathroom attached to his personal quarters, the Inquisitorial Acolyte took a second to brush his ungloved hands over his chin.

He was in desperate need of a shave, but would address that later.

His immediate attention was drawn by the subtle movements from within his room. Caius took a second to appreciate his decently sized quarters. While slightly larger than that of his space on Vownus' ship, it was nothing substantially different.

The bed was also far less comfy. Another perk of living in a building were the Imperial Guard was disciplined and trained. Comfort was the last order of business, if it was even on the metaphorical list of facility requirements to begin with.

But the company was just the same.

Said company being the source of the movement which caught his eye.

The nude form of Sergeant Haliday stretched obscenely across the black bedding, a coy smile on her features as she tiredly addressed him. Caius was admittedly distracted by how the blanket clung to her curvy figure, her words taking a second to register with him.

"Another early start?" she mumbled, sleep still clinging to her.

Caius smirked, stepping out of the bathroom as he attached the last piece of his Inquisitorial garb.

"Seems that we Acolytes are held to a higher standard than the guard" he joked, coming to the edge of the bed as Haylay slowly rose.

"General muster is in-" Caius kissed her sweetly as she attempted to speak, "-mmmhm- twenty minutes…"

The unasked question of what Caius was doing being awake so early hung in the air between them.

As the Agent pulled away from the now slightly more awake Sergeant, he gestured to the small bedside table.

Atop it was a flashing wax skull, the sigil of the Inquisition being the source of flickering red.

"Duty calls," he grinned.

Haylay huffed, "I thought the Astartes were with the boy today?"

Caius shook his head, patting his uniform down once more as he spoke, "seems that the Rune Priest has other matters to attend to. Vownus urged Aethod to train with his brothers. Myself and Lynwood are to administer a physical evaluation in their absence"

Haylay rubbed her eyes as she slipped from the bed.

Caius couldn't help himself as he tracked the nude sway of her hips on her path toward the bathroom he had recently vacated.

"Beat on the brat" she chuckled, "and Vownus wonders why the boy retains his animosity"

She cast a look over her shoulder, her eyes flashing with a brazen and primal emotion.

"Will I finally have the shower all to myself?" she mischievously pondered, her gaze taking on a look of coy contemplation.

Caius took only a step in her direction, yet it prompted the Sergeant to blurt a quick laugh before closing the door to the bathroom behind her.

A slow smile spreading across his features, Caius brushed his hair back while taking a moment to orient himself.

Haylay certainly had a mischievous streak.

One casual pat down later, and he was exiting his room.

He had duties to perform.

---

It seemed that the entirety of 3rd Company was on PT for the day.

An excessive amount of training was expected whenever a Guardsman Regiment was drafting new blood.

Corporal Grikken observed most of the ordered chaos from a fair distance away. The new barracks that the Necromundan's called home wasn't an improvement from their housing on the Tempests Advance.

Wasn't a downgrade either though.

The general layout of the bunked rooms was par for the course, but the actual design of the buildings gave a few noticeable niceties for the men and women of the 501st to enjoy.

Of course there were certain benefits to being stationed planet side rather than on a warship, and that primarily was an atmosphere, rather than the cold touch of space.

One such benefit was being subjected to Balor's typical weather cycle.

Cold days and a warm sun were the day to day typical conditions.

The chow halls, if they could even be called that, were a nice change of pace. Considering they were attached to the barracks, rather than inside the structure, this meant everyone took their first and last meals of the day under tarped roofs. Outside and exposed to the elements.

Some days, the heat made it a sweltering day, and once you caught some R and R, the only place to stay cool was in the shade that the propped up mesh provided.

On particularly cold days you'd stay huddled by the long benches, hoping you got warm broth to ease your frigid bones.

Even the mustering grounds for the Guardsmen was partially shaded, the last vestiges of hanging forest green mesh tapering off twenty meters before the first set of obstacle courses.

Grikken couldn't speak for the officers, as the extremely large tract of land that comprised the totality of the training ground separated the two buildings, but the Guard preferred this to the Advance.

Being on the ground was what the 501st knew.

Many of them weren't adjusting to Balor's climate so perfectly, but Grikken knew that each and every Neccromundan would pick the Tree House over the stuffy halls of the Advance.

As for Grikken?

The Corporal was liking Balor so far, and just over a year spent on its surface and he had yet to find any major complaints.

As he often prayed for, the rains came occasionally. Grikken wasn't really a fan of training in the dirt and the mud of the obstacle courses, or spending hours at the firing ranges under a deluge… but it was just a fact of life. Besides, getting used to those circumstances would mean he'd have some experience if he faced similar situations later in his career.

And the cascading waves of water from the skies were extremely refreshing after a long and arduous day.

Something that this day was shaping up to be.

General muster had started as per usual.

Everyone was awake, fed and dressed for the Company Formation. Grikken, Vartic and Ezekiel, the sole survivors of Romeo Squad, had been expecting to find themselves half haphazardly attached to a new group of recruits.

Their purpose upon Balor was first and foremost to replenish their Regiment's strength.

Vownus Kaede, the Inquisitor that commanded the 501st, was an Inquisitor. This meant he didn't have to settle for just any all recruits.

He could have the cream of the crop if he so desired.

Even if this took an amount of time longer than necessary to draft a fighting force, it would by no means weaken the 501st.

Valkyries arrived daily to dispense these potential candidates, each of them recommended for one reason or another. These same ships would take back the ones that were not accepted or had failed.

It seemed like the Colonel was allowed to hold the recruits to high standards.

Grikken had been surprised to see so many being turned away. But in the short time he was allowed with these new faces, he found it to be a nice opportunity to speak with Balor's locals.

Learning about local history was fascinating for him.

Especially considering how Balor seemed to have a deep history of festivity. Those that held strong bonds with their traditions and culture typically turned out to be interesting people.

So long as you kept an open mind, you'd be hard pressed not to find something that would catch your eye.

Besides learning what he could, it was a shame that these temporary talks didn't develop into friendship, let alone comrades in arms.

The ones sent to the shattered remains of Romeo Squad rarely remained for longer than a week. Most spent only a day or two before orders sent them either elsewhere or away from the Tree House.

This constant turnover Grikken regarded with a hefty amount of suspicion.

His Squad had been shattered for some time now. He was unofficial squad leader for now, but only because a new Sergeant had not been sent to them, or that Grikken wasn't promoted to the post. If he'd done something wrong to not deserve the position the Lieutenant or Captain would have said something. Of the times he'd asked for clarification of orders, he'd either been given a warning or told to be patient.

Why?

What was the point of taking all this time to make a simple decision?

The Corporal didn't have the slightest clue.

And a deep seeded feeling in his gut told him that today would be the day he learnt why Romeo was kept at just under half strength.

Because at formation, Romeo Squad was specifically ordered by the 3rd's Captain to remain behind while the rest of the Company began drills and training exercises.

In the shade of the mustering ground they had waited, standing at attention as not a soul approached them.

A hissed whisper came from Grikken's left.

"The fuck is going on?" Ezekiel's voice was touched by a minor thread of worry.

"I haven't the slightest" Grikken admitted honestly, taking a moment to scope the grounds once more. Seemingly, no one was approaching them.

"Ten Credits says it's the Inquisitor" Vartic dryly bet, his tone bored and exhausted.

"You don't even have ten Credits" Ezekiel sniped back at the idle comment.

With a spluttering anger, Vartic seemed incensed by the remark against his wealth.

"Don't have ten- Say's who!"

"Say's me you old bastard!" the youth grunted.

Rather than get involved, Grikken just attempted to reduce their conversation to background noise as he kept his eyes out in front of him, occasionally turning from side to side to see if anyone would approach them.

"I have the money"

"I don't believe you"

"If I made the bet, then I'm good for it!"

"Please. We both know you owe far too many favors"

"Gossip and slander" Vartic dismissed the accusation.

"Oh come on" Ezekiel hissed, looking too the Corporal among the three of them "Grikken, doesn't he-"

"Leave me out of this" the Corporal quickly returned, disavowing himself of their shenanigans.

Vartic took that moment to verbally pounce on Ezekiel.

"You're just too cowardly to take the bet, ain't cha?"

"Am not!"

"If I'm too broke to make the bet, why don't you take it then?"

"Because you wouldn't be able to pay me when I won!"

"Wow" Vartic sarcastically exclaimed, "not only are you assuming I don't have the Credits, but you also assume I'm wrong!"

"Because not only are you probably broke, you're also probably wrong!"

"Then take the bet, you coward!"

"Fine! I will" Ezekiel growled.

Accord settled, silence consumed them for all of two minutes. The tense quiet was broken by the clearing of a throat behind them.

As one, the three members of Romeo squad turned.

Standing a few feet behind them, Witch Hunter's hat prominently displayed on his head, was the Inquisitor Vownus Kaede.

His idle smile contrasted Ezekiel''s shocked face, and Grikken's soured mood. Vartic however, was gazing at the youngest Guardsman with a predatory grin.

"Pay up" Vartic chortled.

Ezekiel was stuck between glaring at the other Private or remaining in fear of Vownus' presence.

It took all three of the Guardsmen a moment to notice the second person who stood a bit behind the Inquisitor.

Grikken cleared his throat, offering the first greetings.

"Inquisitor Kaede" the Corporal saluted with the sign of the Acquilla.

"At ease Guardsman" the man chuckled good naturedly as he waved away the Corporal's salute. In a moment he was keenly observing Vartic, taking a second to look him up and down before addressing the man.

"When did you spot me?"

The private shook his head at the assumption of the Inquisitor revealing himself by sight, tapping the side of his head with one finger in explanation of his true skill.

"'ave a good ear, Milord," his smile remained, "'sides', unless Colonel Wilk was promoting Grikken to Squad lead, who else has a reason to pull us out of PT?"

"I see" the Inquisitor's attitude was a touch speculative before it returned to jovial, "and please, Vownus will do. Unless you prefer titles, then Inquisitor Kaede will suffice"

"Of course, Inquisitor Kaede" Grikken replied, keeping his address of the Witch Hunter as formal and respectful as possible.

"Now" Vownus dusted his hands off, taking a step back and fixing his attention on the person who had accompanied him.

"You're probably wondering why I've brought my apprentice"

Grikken had seen the boy only a few times in the Tree House, but never truly interacted with him. Having ridden down to Balor in his presence, the Corporal recognised that the youth, Lucian, was almost a grown man.

The boy was nowhere near as thin or short as he'd been over a year ago, but still retained signs of his youth. Grikken had seen the apprentice training, seen what the Inquisitor's subjects had put the youth through, and was glad he was a bystander in such moments.

While Grikken and his squad were held to the standards of the Guard, young Lucian was held to the Inquisitor's requirements. But he understood how the youth came to be the somewhat imposing figure before him.

Lanky and muscled, his attire was a midnight black with a few mountable sections lacking armor plates. The boy now bore the red skull and symbol of the Inquisition upon his breast, as Vownus' Acolytes did.

While he wasn't as tall as Vownus or the Guardsmen present, besides the young Ezekial perhaps, he no longer hung around a head or two above the waist.

Maturity suited the boy, giving him far more favorable attributes then most ended up with.

He carried a regalness to himself that couldn't be denied, his trimmed hair and sharp features adding to the imposing nature of his outfit.

But the Corporal couldn't help focusing on a particular place.

Grikken locked his gaze with Lucian's.

The pools of the youth's eyes were ringed in gold, a soft glow at the iris fixing the Corporal's attention and holding it for longer than was probably appropriate.

Many whispers had passed between the soldiers of the 501st regarding the golden gaze.

Most were on somewhat comfortable terms with Vownus' nature as a Psyker. Yes there were still touches of fear here and there, and some preferred not to interact with the man more than was necessary… but in all, Vownus Kaede was a cheerful fellow. Mostly well liked by those of the 501st.

But the boy?

On the way to retrieve the boy and traveling with him… many blamed the youth for the Chaos Incursions that had occurred onboard the Tempests Advance.

It wasn't hard to draw a line between the arrival of Lucian and the sudden and fervent attacks by Chaos. When en route to Balor the ship found itself assailed by the forces of the Warp, and voices in the guard had claimed the boy was taken.

Whether this was truth or speculation or gossip…

Grikken didn't know.

But all tales, no matter how fanciful, usually held a modicum of truth.

So he had heard them all.

Some talked of great battles with warp entities, while others spoke of possession or sacred sacrifices…

There was even a tale of how the boy had been slain, rising once more as a vessel of the Emperor…

The stories stretched far and wide, but as Grikken stared deep into the gaze of the young Psyker, he thought of none of them.

An odd sensation jolted in his chest, and before he could speak, another found their voice.

"Lucian" it was Vartic's jovial greeting that broke the staredown between Corporal and Apprentice.

"Vartic" the boy's voice had deepend slightly, "good to see you again"

Vownus cleared his throat.

Silence returned, and he took control of the conversation once more.

"Corporal Grikken. Due to the conditions Romeo Squad finds itself in, I'm retasking it for a special purpose" the Witch Hunter gestured to his student, "my young apprentice has yet to properly experience any chain of command, or combat drills for that matter. He can fight, but he does not know how to work with others. It will be under your leadership he shall learn, Sergeant Grikken"

Ezekiel slapped Grikken's arm, a proud smile on his face at the promotion.

The former Corporal let a small amount of pride push up, before he sobered up and focused.

"Sir. Thank you"

"There's no need, Sergeant. If anything I should be apologizing to you. I was the one who stalled your promotion" the Inquisitor casually admitted.

Finding himself in an awkward spot, not knowing whether to accept the apology or not, or what to actually say, Grikken settled for a brisk "Sir"

Nodding once, Vownus stepped closer to them.

His voice was pure professionalism as he further remarked on the turn of events.

"While you still answer to your chain of command Sergeant, there will be times that Lucian is required for additional instruction. Aside from these moments, he is yours to command and order, as you would any other soldier of your squad. But he is not a member of the Guard You may refer to him by the rank of Specialist or Apprentice. Should this be a problem for you to accommodate, I would know now, rather than later"

Grikken shook his head, "no sir. If you need him, you need him. We'll make do"

Vownus nodded, "as Sergeant you will also be managing the new recruits you bring into your squad. I will be personally vetting anyone you select, is this clear?"

"Yes sir"

"Good" Vownus stepped back, frosty attitude retracting, "well then Sergeant, I shall leave Lucian in your capable hands"

And he marched away, cape fluttering behind his stride ever so slightly.

---

Once again, Vownus was dumping him in someone else's care.

Fucking great. And to learn 'combat drills' or to experience 'the chain of command'...

Lucian didn't have the slightest idea what that actually meant… but he had a few inklings.

Eh. This might not turn out so bad all things considered.

At least Vartic wasn't an automaton like Aethod could be. Or Ivur for that matter. The Rune Priest had his moments, but he rarely engaged Lucian in actual conversation.

Romeo Squad though?

Vartic seemed like an interesting person, Lucian had held that thought from the first time they had crossed paths.

Ezekiel seemed a bit skittish, but by no means less personal than Lucian's Adeptus Astartes instructors.

He'd been within ear shot when the little 'bet' had been made between the Privates.

Watching that whole kerfuffle go down, and how the older Private practically swindled the younger Ezekiel out of his money… well that had put a small smile on Lucian's face.

"So, Specialist Lucian, how is it learning from the Emperor's finest?"

It was Vartic's plainly curious yet slightly mocking question that drew a scoff from the youth.

"Repetitive and dull," Lucian grinned.

Vartic was still smiling, "oh? Guess they're not so different from the Guard then"

Ezekiel blanched at that comment while Lucian laughed.

Before he could find a witty reply however, the former Corporal cut into the conversation.

"Operative Lucian" the newly instated Sergeant Grikken looked him up and down, "you are now an active element of Romeo Squad. Do you understand this?"

The youth nodded.

Grikken's eyes narrowed, "while under my order you will address me as Sergeant or Sir, is this clear Operative"

The bite behind the words got a straight back out of the youth, his hands snapping to his sides as he blurted out a "yes sir"

Lynwood had to practically beat that instinct into Lucian's hide, but it would serve him well with his time in the Guard.

The Sergeant appraised him for a few moments.

"Inquisitor Kaede has ordered us to instruct you. To do this, I must have some measure of you. Tell me of your capabilities" he held up a hand, forestalling the youth's immediate response, "I know you are a Psyker. Tell us of your physical skills"

The sudden denotation of his ability, a reminder that he was indeed a Psyker, got a mixed response.

Vartic and Grikken seemed oddly at peace with the words, the reminder of what Lucian was prompting no uncomfortable thoughts or expressions.

Ezekiel however… The younger of the three Guardsmen paled slightly.

Fear.

Biting back a sigh, Lucian answered promptly.

"Sir. I am physically capable and trained by Agent's Decelus and Helix. Besides their… typical instruction, Aethod of the Astral Knights has started me down the path of swordsmanship"

"You have no firearms training?" Grikken asked in abject surprise.

"No sir," Lucian shook his head.

The stupefied look of disbelief on Grikken's face lasted only a moment before the eldest private spoke.

"He's from Helios, Sarg, the Agri-world" Vartic chimed in from the right, "he's a farmer boy from what I heard"

Both Grikken and Lucian looked at Vartic at that moment, the former with a raised brow… the latter with wide eyes.

"How'd you know that?" Lucian couldn't help but ask.

"Is it true?" Grikken asked the boy.

"It is" Lucian answered, "sir" he tacked on quickly.

Grikken looked to Vartic for an explanation.

The man shrugged, "Kado, Kilo Squad. He's an old friend" was his offered explanation.

Looking back to the youth, Sergeant Grikken was beginning to realize that there would be a lot of work from this day forward. Apprentice Lucian was relatively untrained in warfare, and with the claim of only martial skill, he'd be working from the ground up.

But this didn't necessarily mean anything negative.

In fact, with physical instruction and no training involving weaponry so far, Grikken had a blank slate before him.

Even though Lucian wasn't to fill a permanent role in Romeo Squad, or at least this was what the Sergeant suspected, he could have him trained in the manner of an auxiliary unit.

Someone to fit a more versatile position as Romeo was brought back to full strength.

First however, he wanted to test the boy.

"Right. Romeo Squad. We're hitting the obstacle course first"

The sudden yet powerful command caught the two privates and the Apprentice by surprise.

"Sir yes sir" Vartic grinned, waving to Lucian as he began to stride off, "come on newbie, time to run the gauntlet"

Ezekiel gave the other youth a quick glance before following after the older Private.

A second later Lucian and Grikken were moving after them into the sun, the four of them headed toward the bustling training grounds.

---

The vast majority of the Wolf Guard were absent from the great hall. Kjarl had remained in his seat as all but three of his closest companions had departed to see to their duties. The Wolf Lord had his gaze blankly cast out over the rowdy hall.

From Blood Claws to Grey Hunters and Long Fangs, the hall was packed with the many vibrant faces of the Grimblood's company. Every table was lined with meats, Mjod, raucous laughter and bellowing stories. Each torch mounted on the wall was lit, giving the room a warmth to the jovial attitude of every Space Wolf within it.

The energy of the great hall was rather tame in comparison to times of festivity and celebration, but the Wolf Lord was blind to it all.

He brooded in relative silence, his fingers idly rolling across his wooden table.

His Guard did not know what to make of it, and remained respectful of their Lord's obvious contemplation.

He had spoken little during their feast, keeping his thoughts precise and sharp, questions pointed toward unit cohesion and strength.

Banter was light between the occupants of the table, but Kjarl never took part in it. Nor did he order his Guard to cease in such humorous talk, but his brothers weren't blind to their Lord's mood.

It was a respectful silence he was given.

Torrid had been first to leave. The Rune Priest had taken over Ivur's duties since the latter had departed for Balor's surface, and as such, had to commune with his brethren.

Skorn was quick to depart. An ill-favored individual, by Skorn's opinion at least, had entered the great hall and the Wolf Guard would not share the same room with such a warrior for longer than necessary.

Valtaf and Rathvind had left to continue training, both with one another and their forces.

Tyrur went to the kennels. Being a master of Fenrisian Wolves, the Thunderback was responsible for the beasts while they remained aboard the Axe of Russ.

Ulvarr went to speak with his Grey Hunters, only after a polite acknowledgement of his departure of course.

Kurgskald had followed after Svessl, the former wishing for some peace of mind away from the raucous space, while the latter presumably went to go nap somewhere.

The three that remained, two seated across from the Grimblood while the third was beside their Lord, were Hammersbald, Eiran and Joran.

The largest of the remaining failed to keep his gaze subtle.

"You have eaten" Kjarl spoke, his gaze still unfocused, "and yet you remain"

The Wolf Lord's eyes focused in on the Grim old warrior, Eiran, who sat across from him, "I would ask why"

The old wolf guard snorted in a derisive manner, "such a query is pointless my Lord"

Grimblood's fingers continued to tap against the wood, even as he tilted his head, "is it?"

The eyes of Eiran the Grim narrowed in annoyance, but it was Joran who interceded, "something is bothering you my Lord, even Hammersbald can see it"

Without admitting to it, the Grimblood turned to his right, facing his friend and Wolf Guard.

The great Otalig Hammersbald sighed at the friendly jab, but affirmed the words under the gaze of the Wolf Lord.

"Aye, Kjarl. What's on your mind, Brother?"

The Lord of the Firewolf Company continued his stacco of tapping against the wood, silently studying his Guard for a moment before reaching for a full cup upon the table.

Downing it in a second, he let out a brief exhale before speaking.

"I worry"

"About Ivur" Eiran bit out simply.

Kjarl let a soft chuckle out from his lips as he regarded the Old warrior.

Eiran the Grim gave his Lord a friendly frown, "I am old My Lord, not blind"

Before they could tread the path of quips and friendly insults however, Joran was quick to bring them back to the unveiled topic at hand.

"Ivur is instructing the… being, that Torrid sensed"

"The being that Torrid's still scared of" Hammersbald grunted.

Joran ignored the side comment, continuing to speak, "you worry for Ivur? Or what he is involved with"

"That, and what it would mean for us" Kjarl admitted, "it is a cautious place we find ourselves in"

Eiran had the first word of the three Guards.

"We are aligned with the Inquisition in this matter… we provide what the Witch Hunter had sought. Sverdsyn is a talented Psyker and I could not imagine better instruction than he… Yet you speak as if Ivur is up to something else'' Eiran's gaze narrowed further, "a matter which would be dangerous should it be revealed, and not just for him"

Kjarl fixed Eiran with a hard gaze, but said nothing.

Hammersbald, in a soft tone so unlike his usual bellow, spoke to the Wolf Lord "my Lord?"

Kjarl's eyes remained on Eiran as he spoke to the three members of his Guard.

"It is true. Ivur asked for permission to act, and I gave it to him"

Eiran was quick to speak in abject denial, "subtlety and secrecy are games the Inquisition is well versed in my Lord. Vownus Kaede, regardless of his attitude, should not be regarded as some simpleton. Should we-"

"I know" Kjarl sighed, a calming hand aimed at his guard, who silenced himself at the word and gesture, "but we have followed this Hunt far too safely. We must take risks should we wish to see progress"

"Is this risk worth it?" Joran quietly asked, the talk having moved farther and farther from the loud hall.

"Should Ivur succeed" Kjarl's eyes went glossy again, his gaze focused out into space and he slowly spoke the words that had heavily rested across his mind "we will have succeeded in our Great Hunt"

His fingers ceased their incessant tap against the table.

"We will have finally found our Father"

---

Governor Paxat's home was not one of lavish decadence. Well, in comparison to other Noble families and governors that Vownus had rubbed shoulders with, Andoa Paxat seemed to be far more modest than her counterparts.

Upon entrance, Vownus' prior suspicions regarding that the Governor and her family had some kind of long history in Balor's Guard was soon confirmed. But to finally see how deep that connection ran from within the walls of her home…

Now that was something else entirely.

The small antechamber that served as a security gate had been a standard affair; guards, an official scanning of Vownus' Inquisitorial Status and the like.

However once beyond the tedium of the Governor's personal security, Vownus, and his entourage of two, had shortly found themselves in a grandiose hall.

It wasn't decadent in the same kind of form that the De Chambaal's of Agrax had taken.

Instead of openly accumulated wealth displayed in tasteful selections of a variety of statues or gold encrusted artwork, the hall was more uniform and straightforward.

The walls were dominated by portraits, each and every one of them separated by only a meter in length. Their shape and size was identical , but their media was different. Besides being a portrait of a human, the actual person was varied.

Once could see the similar traits between each face, but by reading the black encrusted name in the gold frame informed him of their identity's.

Caius whistled quietly from Vownus' side, "that's a looong family line"

Lynwood grunted, and the Inquisitor knew that to both be an admonishment of Caius' words and an agreement with said words.

Besides the two great rows of the Paxat family line, displayed proudly in military uniforms that differed slightly over the years of Balor's history, the entrance hall was sparse.

It appeared to be made of a gray stone-like brick, stacked and colored akin to the interior one would find in any Churches of the Ecclesiarchy. But unlike the Churches of the Imperial Creed, there was hardly any decoration upon the walls, not even inscriptions or litanies upon the stones.

On closer inspection, there was a thick line of white that interspaced the meter gap between every portrait.

This line connected into a rectangular outline around each portrait, a marking that was barely visible upon first glance of the gray stone walls.

'And why does every portrait have a square surrounding…' Vownus' thoughts stumbled to a halt.

"This is a mausoleum" he quietly admitted his realization, his eyes going from wall to wall, "the tomb of the Governor's forefathers…"

As he turned to look from portrait to portrait, the marker of each tomb, a voice called to them.

"Those that served before me, from the first, to the last…"

The sudden addendum was spoken from the lips of the Governor herself. Dressed in a sharp yet practical uniform, she had approached from the other end of the long hall.

She bowed only slightly toward him as Imperial etiquette dictated, before following up with a blunt greeting.

"Inquisitor Kaede, thank you for coming"

"Governor Paxat, I thought I told you to just call me Vownus" he smiled at her, stepping toward her with an outstretched hand.

She took the offered appendage.

"You did" she nodded, not scowling but not smiling either.

They shook firmly before she gestured to the end of the corridor.

"If you would"

And as Vownus followed her lead she moved in step with the man, beginning to speak with him.

"I asked you here to speak, but not to discuss the Spatial Anomaly"

"Oh?" Vownus asked curiously, his eyes drawn to the graves of men and women on either wall.

The Governor glanced at him briefly, her look almost going unseen by Vownus before she directed her gaze forward again.

"No. This is regarding a far more personal…" she paused for a moment, her mind running over her words, "I hesitate to use the word issue, but I fear there would be no other way to phrase it"

"And what kind of problems do you face?" Vownus reiterated, already preparing to deal with some kind of in-planet corruption of some varying concern.

"I have no issue… but I believe it would be problematic for you, Inquisitor Kaede"

Vownus' hand twitched toward the sword safely strapped to his belt. Lynwood tensed and Caius completely missed the compliment, instead focused on the many portraits.

"It is not what you assume" Andoa reiterated, her tone stoney as she still did not look toward the Witch Hunter that was scrutinizing her.

"When you say something will be my problem, I tend to make assumptions" Vownus blandly admitted, but kept his gaze pointed.

He was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.

They had reached the end of the corridor, a set of three doors presented before them.

Attendants dressed in the colors of the Governor remained at each side.

They were all armed, but none had their weapons drawn.

Waving toward the central door, the Governor approached, Vownus and the duo of Agents in toe.

The door opened as they approached, granting them access to a confined, yet dense library.

A second floor jutted from the far wall, cutting across half of the room. These two floors were separated by a staircase, the overhang of this second half-floor covering an official desk at the end in shadow.

The Governor's office.

Vownus gave a short hand signal from behind his back. Receiving the order, Lynwood tapped Caius' shoulder before leading the two of them back to the door.

They would remain there, keeping an ear our by the door for any activity beyond it.

Vownus would deal with the Governor.

Andoa Paxat took a seat behind the desk, taking a moment to read an open scroll that lay before her.

Vownus focused his powers.

Lightly touching the warp revealed there to be no malicious entities or beings lingering between the shelves or pages of the Library.

Taking this as a safe signal to continue, the Witch Hunter sat down.

He took his hat off and dropped it on the table casually, a gesture of goodwill toward the Governor.

He was prepared to listen to her.

She sighed slightly before looking up to face him.

"Balor's history is by no means short, but we are still a young world, hardly developed. Our settling of the planet was an arduous affair"

Gesturing with a thumb over his shoulder toward the hallway of the dead, the Inquisitor commented, "I can see that"

She wasn't angry at that.

Most would take insult at their dead relatives being made into a sharp beat of humor, but not her.

She didn't react at all really.

"But we had help"

Vownus' eyes narrowed. His focus tightened.

"What kind of help"

"Adeptus Astartes" she immediately supplied, but her now more dour expression was filled with concern.

Vownus remained tense.

"Which Chapter?"

"They are a collection of Chapters"

"Don't evade the question"

She brought both hands together, "four we do not know, but they are lead by a Blood Raven"

Vownus tilted his head slightly.

He knew of that Chapter.

"He's a Psyker, isn't he?"

She nodded.

"Let me guess," Vownus shook his head with some exasperation, "he wants a word with me, regarding the 'bright being'?"

"A "Psychic Storm" in a living thing is what he spoke of, and yes, he would speak to you" Andoa tenuously admitted.

"Right. And what is this Blood Raven's name?" the Witch Hunter simply asked.

"Seraphis"

"Okay" Vownus retrieved his had stood from his seat, "tell me how to find them, and I'll drop by"

She blinked.

Vownus met her eyes, "what? I will. Give me a location, let him know I'm coming, and we'll speak"

She spoke of a church, one that was hidden beneath the many layers of the inner city.

A servitor could guide them there.

Vownus nodded, thanked her, and walked for the door.

As the wooden double doors opened, the Governor stood, her voice controlled and focused.

"Vownus"

He stopped and turned to look at her, hat held in his hands still.

"These Astartes have fought with us, protected us, and defended us from the dangers of the Universe. They are a penitent group, seeking absolution for a history they have not shared with us. We accepted their help but kept their existence secret"

She took a deep breath, calming herself.

"Please, do not judge them harshly for whatever you may uncover"

Vownus nodded, but spoke back to her as he contemplated something while staring at the hat he held, "I can't make any promises Governor, you know that"

"They are not traitors" she stated with determined affirmation.

"You called them Penitent, and in order to be penitent you've got have done something you believe deserves an act of penance" he shrugged, "but what would I know? I'm only an Agent of the Inquisition"

She fixed him with a deep stare, Vownus mirroring the look as the wide brimmed had found its way atop his head.

"I will be fair" he said after some time, "but if the responsibilities of my office force me to act, there will be no mercy"

She closed her eyes and breathed a calm of relief.

"I accept any and all responsibility if you find even the slightest sign of Heresy, Inquisitor Kaede"

He accepted the words with a nod.

Slowly a smile spread back across his face.

"I thought I already said I prefer Vownus?"

And with that, he departed.

---

Thanks for all the love and words of support guys. Really helped me churn this one out a lot quicker.

In response to some reviews tho.

Deccam; when I mentioned Vanella and the cultsits, I'm not sure how clear it was in the opening chapters, but when Lucian was being subjected to the ritual, one of the surviving sacrifices was Vanella. So she's been in the thick of it lol

zeusjupiter46: I'm not sure how I'd weave them in or they'd be soon, but I could do it at a far later time. Love how I could play with the Minotaurs

Guyslord: thanks for the wellwishes my dude. There will be more to come, I promise.

Angel Dust The Spider: thanks lad. I appreciate the love 3

PaladinSans; here ya go. thanks for the name suggestion

Ultimate Hunter X: cheers for the names, also thanks for comparing my character to Joffrey, (it's kinda the direction I'm going with him)

ex555: oh the Eldar will make an appearance, you can bet on that.

and DaddyRylanor; I write Magnus with the TTS voice in my head, helps him seem like more of a brother figure (as thats what I need him to be here). The Calixis mess I'm using as a sort of mcguffin for Lucian's purpose in 40k, the big overarching problem that he exists to solve. I admittedly don't know much about the cannon Calixis situation, but at this point I've already crafted an AU one. Also love green boi's names, tysm.

To those that followed and fav'd, thanks so much.

See y'all next Chapter! The Emperor Protects,

Freedom.