Chapter 1- Post-Archangel
'Opal Ward is a remote and isolated part of Chell district. A desolate, irrelevant, backward of a ward in a desolate, irrelevant, and backward district. A human ghetto essentially part of a domain, albeit a semi-autonomous one, of a minor Krogan warlord. Said Warlord ran it on behalf of the Blue Son's …or that was the situation as far as anyone knew until about a few days ago.
Aria T'loak, the Pirate Queen of Omega, took a sip of a clear green liquid from a crystal tumbler. The woman seated opposite her waited patiently, her hands cradling another such item.
Although hers contained only water.
'After a devastating loss of leadership during their battle with Archangel, any fool with a gun and a couple of friends tried to carve out a residential block for themselves, assuming the Blue Sons, Eclipse, and the Blood Pack were vulnerable. Long story short, they failed, but Opal ward is a special case.'
'The fool and their friends won?' asked the woman.
'Oh, they didn't just win' T'loak replied, her face plastered with a sardonic grin.
'The Krogan is dead and his several wards in Chell are under new management. Not only that, but the Blue Sons grip on the district is also weakening by the day.'
'And you want to know who these people are, and how they are giving the Blue Sons a thrashing' responded commander Chloe Shepard.
'And more importantly what their ambitions are and who is backing them.' Aria stated.
'Normally I would not concern myself with small scale territory disputes, but as I said, Opal Ward is a special case.'
Aria took another sip from her drink.
'The balance of power on Omega is a delicate thing. After the Blue son's plan to oust me, I would like to see them…humbled. Humbled in any way I can, whilst still having plausible deniability. I have no interest in causing a full out war. But this new faction could cause further trouble if I help them now. Especially given how there is no way it could be this powerful, this quickly, without some outside backing.'
'Who do you think is backing him?' asked Shepherd, naked interest covering her face.
'Could anyone. Maybe the Eclipse and Blood Pact as part of a proxy war, maybe it is Cerberus or some bored rich brat. There are numerous possibilities.'
Aria stood up and lean over the balcony, overlooking After Life's numerous patrons.
Shepard joined her on, putting her blue armoured hands on the rail.
Aria turned to look at Shepherd.
The cold arrogant beauty carved into her face was overshadowed by a pair of impossibly ancient eyes.
'From what my sources tell me, the group is something of a theocracy. The leader goes the name of "the Ecclesiarch" and controls his "diocese" with an iron fist. Originally, he emerged out of nowhere in Opal Ward some years back as local preacher and social worker of sorts. Then he started developing a cult following with the humans living around him. No idea why or how though, and now he has an army of fanatics with an expansionist agenda.'
Aria paused for a second.
'He is also aggressively pro-human' she said striking a more serious tone than before.
'Species based animosity even violence is hardly unknown on Omega. Especially against human, and especially after the Citadel council now has a human chairman. But this beyond anything I have seen in a long while.'
'How so?' queried Shepard, trying to conceal a pang of guilt at the mention of the Citadel Council.
'The forceable removal of non-humans from newly controlled wards, summary executions of those not cooperating, chauvinistic propaganda against Turians, Vorcha and Batarians.' Aria stated nonchalantly.
'So, you think this "Ecclesiarch" won't take kindly Omega's one rule?'
'They haven't said anything bad about the Asari' Aria smiled mirthlessly.
'Not yet anyway.' the Pirate Queen mused.
'Why hasn't this become more widespread knowledge?' asked Shepherd.
'The Blue sons have been trying to keep this guy quite ever since the Krogan was ousted. Naturally, they do not want to show weakness, especially to me. So, they have put Chell district on lockdown…or at least tried to.'
'So, there's a secret entrance?'
'I'll have one of my people take you there. You will find them outside the afterlife front entrance; he will fill you in the on the details. Oh, and Shepherd… be careful. The rewards for this job are great, but so are the risks. I have put half a dozen people on this task before you, and they all vanished without a trace.'
Flames licked at the dead man. He lasted longer than most, but he choked to death from the smoke well before flesh was seared from his body. His charred corpse was tied to a stake in a clearing in the middle of the urban sprawl. Ordinary men, women and even children, watched the horrific spectacle with barely contained glee. They seemed little different from ordinary humans of Omega, although clothed in drabber fabrics, somewhat more well fed, and displace a confidence and purpose unheard of in the Citadel's dark twin. They kept at a safe distance by a cordon of red and white armoured fanatics.
Fanatics.
They lacked the general unrestraint to be thugs or gangsters, nor did the possess the professionalism and discipline of soldiers, and they did have the martial prowess of warriors. What they did have was zealotry. A belief in the righteousness of their cause beyond reason, a willingness to suffer gravely for it, and a child-like eagerness to better their abilities for it.
'My children'
The faithful watched in awe, their faces turned away from the smouldering corpse to a robed man standing atop a balcony two stories above the burning. He wore a crimson dalmatic, covered in gold filigree, aside from haloed white skull inside a Capital "I" at the vestment's centre. A golden death mask of a skull covered his face, which was topped with a tall bone-white mitre cap, with a two-headed bird upon it. He was flanked by three others. Two were men, much like the fanatics below but armoured from head to toe in crimson and chrome. They held their assault rifles with military discipline ex-servicemen; with a competence weakened by age and modified by experience. The other, taller, broader could not be more different. Clad in head-to-toe in black, red, and gold plate, with fleur-de-lis and red wax seals holding parchment to her amour, she ( as made clear by the shape of her breast plate) donned a domed helmet covered of black and white. Two red eyes glared at the faithful in a perpetual scowl, as she struck a warrior's pose: confident, defiant, belligerent.
'Rejoice!' exclaimed the Ecclesiarch.
'For this wretched sinner's unwitting slavery to the dark gods… HAS ENDED!'
A wordless roar of primal joy erupted from the crowds. The maddening cathartic chant was a maelstrom of hate, of anger, and of desperation.
