The vast plains of Slawkenberg were covered in snow as the winter season rolled across the hemisphere. In the months since the double xenos attack, life had returned to normal, the people of Slawkenberg continuing to work toward building a better future.
To the surprise of many, the Valhallan captives had honored their promise, and returned the weapons which had been given to them in order to defend themselves from the Orks, in yet another demonstration of how much of an excellent judge of character the Liberator was. The Guardsmen had even volunteered their expertise in tracking down the remaining greenskins, who had fled into the wilderness like cowards while the USA was responding to the Dark Eldar raid on the Liberation Palace.
There had been some reluctance on the part of the USA at first, which had promptly vanished once the Liberator had expressed his complete support of the idea. The resulting purge of the greenskins had directly led to the Bringers' discovery of the xenos' strange biology and reproductive mechanism, leading to the cleansing of the affected areas with fire to ensure none of the beasts' spores were able to take root.
The fact that the Valhallans themselves had no idea about why their traditions demanded all Ork corpses be burned was, in the eyes of many, yet another sign of the Imperium's decrepitude. How many worlds, having successfully repelled an Orkish invasion, had then been plagued by resurgent greenskin tribes generations later, all because their distant masters either didn't know something the borgs had figured out in weeks, or simply didn't bother informing the rest of the Imperium of ? Mankind had faced the Orks since it had first left Holy Terra : the idea that nobody had ever discovered this before was patently absurd.
New wonders continued to emerge from the Bringers' research facilities. As Slawkenberg's available manpower dwindled as the planet's economy grew, the new factories were more and more automated, using automation to greater and greater effects. It was to the point that a plant that, before the Uprising (there hadn't been many of these prior to the Giorbas' overthrow, but there had still been some), would have required hundreds of unskilled laborers and servitors, now needed only a few scores of maintenance personnel and techno-overseers, with the use of servitors completely abandoned.
Salvage teams had been sent to search the ocean for pieces of the Dark Eldar flagship which had survived atmospheric re-entry. Very few had, but rumor had it that a small handful of interesting artefacts had been recovered by the ongoing efforts, sent to the Bringers' facilities for study. Speculation was rife as to what secrets the Liberated tech-priests would manage to pry from this xenotech, as wild stories of the Drukhari's technological capabilities had spread throughout the world.
The outer districts of the planetary capital, which had long suffered from neglect under the Giorbas' cruel and incompetent rule, had been badly damaged during the ground battle against the Orks, however brief it had ended up being. Reconstruction was proceeding apace, and the Liberation Council had decided to use the opportunity to redesign the ravaged areas completely, following architectural designs much more comfortable and elegant than what had existed before.
Yet though all these events were worth celebrating in their own right, it was not them which were honored today, as a great celebration was being prepared in the city of Cainopolis. Instead, the party taking place within the Liberation Palace, and emulated in a score of other locations throughout the capital, was being thrown in honor of the Liberator himself. According to the story that had spread across the planet like wildfire, a week ago, Cain had off-handedly congratulated one of the many aides to the Council for the eighth nameday of his son. Later that same day, the aide had realized he didn't know the Liberator's own nameday, and upon investigating, discovered that nobody else did.
Immediately, the clerk had shared this disturbing information with his peers, and word had spread like wildfire, triggering a great outcry that this injustice be corrected. As was typical of his modest, self-effacing manner, the Liberator had protested : he'd claimed that his own birth was nothing worth celebrating, and the exact date was long lost to Imperial record-keeping and the vagaries of Warp travel anyway. But, faced with the enthusiasm and devotion of the people, he'd relented, and the rest of the Liberation Council had decreed that the day of his arrival, according to the local calendar (which, for various administrative reasons, was used alongside the standard Imperial one in most official documents), would henceforth be treated as Ciaphas Cain's nameday, and celebrated accordingly.
Great feasts and thanksgiving would take place, with the new faiths in particular holding ceremonies where they gave thanks to the various powers they worshipped for bringing the Liberator to Slawkenberg. The Handmaidens of Emeli organized many of these, coordinating with local authorities worldwide, but none of the celebrations matched the one taking place in the Liberation Palace, which would be attended by Cain himself.
As the sun reached its zenith, the parties began, set to run throughout the entire afternoon and night.
In her years as an Inquisitor, Amberley had attended many parties thrown by the rich and powerful of the Imperium. She could say with confidence that none of them had been quite like this one, and it wasn't only because the one being celebrated was a heretic leader and all those taking part traitors to the Throne.
The party was lavish, but not to the point of being ostentatious. There was a buffet covered in food and drink, but no servants walking around with platters : you had to actually walk over there and serve yourself. Knowing Cain, this was probably some subtle metaphor for Slawkenberg's ideals (something about how the Liberation Council provided opportunities for all, but you still needed to seize them yourself in order for the whole thing to work, or something like that).
Or perhaps she was reading too much into it and it was just a random decision that had nothing to do with the Liberator. That was possible too, especially since this party was taking place in his honor, so it was unlikely he'd participated in the preparations.
Looking around at the other guests, it was obvious that Cain had a level of popularity no Imperial Governor could ever dream of. The joy, respect and love these people felt for the Liberator weren't faked, but genuine, just like those of every citizen she'd encountered in the last few months. The Inquisitor had suspected some kind of sorcerous mind control was in play at first, but had found no evidence of such : Cain was just that charismatic and competent a ruler.
In one room, thousands of letters written by children who had only been able to start learning their letters after the Uprising had been placed on the walls, each one thanking the Liberator for how he had improved their lives and those of their families. And unlike what she'd have bet on had this all taken place on an Imperial world, Amberley knew no one had been compelled into writing these earnest, oft-mispelled letters.
Despite her best efforts, Amberley couldn't stop herself from comparing the love, devotion, and simple happiness of Slawkenberg's people with what she'd encountered on so many Imperial worlds. Of course, her own experience was biased, since an Inquisitor was rarely needed on happy, prosperous worlds – but wasn't that the a problem as well, that such places existed that needed her kind in the first place ?
She forced herself to turn away from such thoughts. She couldn't afford to get distracted, not here, in the very heart of the gentle heresy that had caught Slawkenberg in its embrace. She had a mission, and she would carry it out, regardless of the costs.
Getting into the Liberation Palace had been surprisingly easy. Amberley hadn't even had to steal one or scheme her way in as someone else's plus-one : she'd been formally invited to perform on stage, and join the party afterwards.
She was still vaguely surprised that her attempt to get by using the singing skills she'd trained as a hobby over the years had worked so well. Perhaps that made sense : before the Uprising, Slawkenberg's art scene had been limited to the decadence of the Giorbas and whatever pet artists were brought along by off-world nobles. The cults of Slaanesh were working hard to develop the art scene, true, but her experience still gave her an advantage.
Taking a deep breath, Amberley emerged from the backstage and into the small scene which had been prepared for her. A spotlight fell down on her from above while the rest of the room darkened slightly. The noise of many conversations died down, and Amberley began to sing.
It was, in her own opinion, her best performance ever. The knowledge of her own (most likely, for though her odds of success were rather good for something she'd arranged on her own without backup, her odds of survival were significantly less so) imminent death lent a depth of emotion to her voice she couldn't ever have faked. Judging by the thunderous applause as she finished her rendition of The Love We Share, the audience shared her opinion.
As she came down the stage, Cain himself approached, his psyker aide and xenos bloodward close at hand. The Wych was the object of many glances, varying from the fearful and the wary to the curious and hateful, but nobody appeared to openly object to her presence.
"Miss Vail," he greeted her with a smile. "What a pleasant surprise. I didn't know you were a professional singer."
"Lord Cain," she replied with an elegant curtsy. "It is a recent change in career, but I've found I enjoy it greatly."
"And you are very talented," he complimented her. "I don't think I've ever heard such a beautiful rendition of that old song. I could really hear the feelings you put into those lyrics."
"Surely you know more of love than I ever could," she said, bashful. "After all, yours transcend even the boundary between life and death, does it not ?"
"My relationship with Emeli is … complicated," he said with a wistful look on his face, before shaking his head and turning to his aide : "Jurgen, could you please fetch us some drinks ?"
"Of course, sir."
Amberley counted the seconds as the psyker departed, all while continuing making small talk with Cain about her singing career. When, by her estimation, he'd reached the bar and was as far away as he was going to get, she crossed her hands behind her back, and pressed a remote she had sewn into her sleeve.
Immediately, the bomb she had hidden in the Palace's outskirts three days ago detonated. It wasn't going to do much damage, but then that wasn't its purpose : instead, she had assembled it to make as much noise and create as much smoke as possible.
Immediately, the party stopped, voices raising in panic and alarm. Cain turned sharply in the direction of the sound.
"Malicia ?" He said, his voice the very picture of calm.
"I'm on it," replied the Wych, before dashing off toward the explosion – and leaving her principal alone with Amberley.
A true bodyguard wouldn't have made such a mistake, but for all her lethality, the Drukhari was still new to her role. Her instincts were pulling her toward the threat, which was what Amberley had been counting on. No matter how well-trained the Inquisitor was, she didn't fancy pitting her own human reflexes against the Wych's alien ones.
"Don't worry, miss Vail," Cain told her with a smile. "I promise I'll keep you safe."
"I-I know," she replied, faking the slight trembling of someone not quite managing to hide their fear. Cain nodded, before gently pulling her away from the ballroom and unto a small balcony. There, he put himself between her and the rest of the room, hands moving toward the weapons at his belt, not drawing them but ready to do so at a moment's notice.
This was even better than she'd hoped for. With the Succubus gone, both of Cain's companions were out of the way, while in the ballroom, everyone was focused on the source of the noise. That wouldn't last long : soon, they'd start looking for their beloved Liberator. But right now, she had a small window of opportunity, the results of months of building up her cover.
Amberley activated her sub-dermal implants, and a thin blade emerged from between the knuckles of her closed fist, the synthetic skin parting to let it pass. However small and fragile it might look, it was still monomolecular-edged, capable of cutting through anything, be it the lock of a Drukhari cage or the necks of the Drukhari themselves. Dressed in an ornate ceremonial uniform as he was, Cain didn't stand a chance.
She struck, aiming for the base of the Liberator's neck. Given how effective Slawkenberg's healthcare was, she would need to be thorough to ensure he didn't recover –
Suddenly, Cain turned back to face her, his hand snaking up to catch her wrist, stopping her blade mere milimeters from his throat. Amberley had trained her body to the peak of human capabilities, but Cain's grip was like adamantium. He stared down at her, his face a mask of stone.
Snarling, Amberley brought up her free hand. That one didn't have an implanted weapon, but she had sharpened her nails to a razor's edge, just in case. It was going to be messy, but maybe she could still tear his throat out. Yet before she could reach him, her hand stopped in mid-air, caught in an invisible grip no less strong than Cain's.
"Sir ?" Amberley heard the voice of the Liberator's aide, sounding only mildly concerned, and her heart sank. "What's going on ?"
"It appears there is more to Miss Vail than meets the eye," said Cain, still looking down at her. "I don't suppose you would be willing to just tell me who sent you ?"
Amberley quickly made a decision, and activated her Inquisitorial electoo, flaring the sigil of the Holy Ordos in her palm.
"I am Inquisitor Amberley Vail of the Ordos Xenos," she declared defiantly, staring the arch-heretic dead in the eyes. "And I came here to kill you, Ciaphas Cain, for your betrayal of your oaths and heresy against the Golden Throne."
She was hoping to shake the pair of heretics enough that she could slip either of their grasp and finish the job before the psyker tore her apart. Yet to her surprise, Cain merely raised an eyebrow at the sight of the Holy Ordos' emblem, and Jurgen didn't relax his psychic hold in the slightest.
"Ah," the Liberator simply said. "I see. That does make things a tad more complicated. Jurgen, if you would ?"
Something squeezed Amberley's mind, and then there was only darkness, with her last thought being shame that, once again, she'd failed in her Emperor-given task.
Too close.
That had been far too close !
If I hadn't decided to use the pretext of getting Miss Vail further away from the ballroom and whatever scheme had caused the explosion, causing me to turn just in time to catch her assassination attempt, I would be explaining myself to the Emperor by now. And given that it was credits to carrots that the female Inquisitor would have promptly been sent there as well by Jurgen, Malicia, or any of the Palace guards seeking to avenge the death of their beloved Liberator, my chances of getting Him to see things from my perspective would have been slim to say the least.
And had Jurgen not come back with the drinks I had sent him away to get in the foolish belief that I was safe in the heart of the Liberation Council's power during a celebration of my own nameday, it was a coin toss whether I would've blocked her second blow or not. She was fast, and while I was no slouch myself thanks to my regular training, our respective positions had made reaching for her left hand difficult.
Now that the spike of adrenaline which had let me project a mask of calm through the event was gone, the sheer terror of how near I had come to death was hitting me with full force. It was an hour or so after Jurgen had rendered Miss Vail unconscious, and I sat in one of the Liberation Palace's many side-rooms, nursing a glass of amasec and looking at the data-slate containing the report of the borgs I had tasked with disabling her implants (which, while nowhere near as comprehensive as those of even the lowest-ranking tech-priest, were apparently of a much higher quality, which was only to be expected if her claims of being an Inquisitor were to be believed).
Outside this room and across the city, the celebrations were continuing : I had given the order to announce the explosion to be the result of an entirely innocent accident. As for my own absence from the festivities, I had sent word to the rest of the Council as to what had happened, but told them to keep quiet about it for now. I didn't doubt for a moment that the rest of the guests would see me and the beautiful singer missing after I had taken her aside and draw conclusions themselves. Which might do some harm to my image as someone entirely dedicated to the memory of his supposedly dead beloved lady, but at the moment that thought was rather low on my list of concerns.
The galling thing was, I hadn't even considered such an outcome when I had started talking with her. I had genuinely enjoyed her singing and wanted to congratulate her, while discreetly trying to keep her away from being recruited by the Handmaidens or one of their subordinate cults. I had no idea how Emeli would react to me gallivanting with women whose bodies she wasn't using as vessels for her essence, and I didn't want to find out the hard way. Thankfully Krystabel knew the truth, so I needn't worry about the Daemon Princess of Slaanesh getting jealous like we were in some demented comedy play.
"You know," Malicia said suddenly from where she stood in the room, "I think I know how that Inquisitor came to this world."
I blinked. That had been one of the questions on my mind. "Elaborate, please."
"I learned Vileheart had a captive Inquisitor on his ship. That must've been her."
"And you didn't tell me ?" I asked, forcing my voice to remain calm with practiced ease.
She shrugged, mimicking the human gesture passingly well, but I could detect a current of unease in her. She was afraid of me, however she hid it. Her job, which had been given to her by a creature capable of devouring her soul, was to keep me safe, yet she hadn't been there when I had faced the first threat to my life since her forceful recruitment.
I could see why she might be worried, and I might have felt sorry for her if she wasn't a cruel, vicious xenos who quite literally fed on the pain of her victims, and had taken part in Emperor knew how many successful raids before. As it was, I had to admit to feeling a certain dark amusement at seeing her squirm.
I wasn't actually going to do anything to her as punishment, of course. All it would take was one moment of her hatred for me overriding her self-preservation, and she could kill me before I had time to blink. Emeli might drag her soul to the Warp for an eternity of damnation as punishment, but I would still be dead.
"I never saw her on the Dark Tormentor," she pointed out. "I just assumed she'd died when you destroyed it."
Oh, so by giving the order to fire the borg weapon, I'd almost killed a second Inquisitor without even knowing it. Brilliant. You might think that it wasn't as if the Inquisition could want me dead anymore than it already did, but I was still clinging to the hope that Karamazov hadn't exactly been the most popular member of that exclusive club.
Then another thought struck me, and I frowned.
"If she was on Vileheart's flagship, then how did she escape ? I'm assuming your folk are good at keeping prisoners locked up, especially valuable ones."
"I would've thought it impossible," she agreed, "but I've recently been forced to reconsider everything I thought I knew about your people, and she clearly is resourceful."
Which was probably as close to a compliment as she was capable of giving to a lowly human being like myself.
"Well, she'd have to be, as an Inquisitor," I muttered to myself.
"What are you going to do with her ?" asked Malicia.
That was the question, wasn't it ? Even if she had tried to kill me, I didn't want her dead. For one thing, I could hardly blame her for trying to kill someone who had not only killed one of her peers after (allegedly) led a planet into rebellion, but who'd also performed a daemonic summoning right in front of her eyes.
As a Commissar, it would've been my job to shoot any sanctioned psyker doing the same on the spot (not that I'd ever had any intention to be so close to so dangerous an occurrence, which given how my life was going was yet another sign that the Emperor had it out for me), and as an Inquisitor, she likely considered it her Emperor-given duty. I had to respect that level of commitment, even if I had never even remotely approached it myself.
On the other hand, I couldn't just let her go. Well, I could : I was confident nobody would stop me so long as I claimed to have some kind of nefarious, long-term, secret scheme in mind. But that would hardly be helpful to my health, since she was all but certain to try again, and I refused to go down as some kind of idiot who encouraged others to try to kill him just to keep myself and my entourage sharp.
I supposed I could keep her imprisoned indefinitely, and claim to be working to turn her against the Imperium so nobody questioned why I hadn't executed her or tortured her for information. Of course, the latter would never have worked anyway : it was well-known that Inquisitors were masters of interrogation, and anything my little bands of madmen and heretics could've conjured would've been laughable in comparison. Unless we involved Emeli, but my soul wasn't so far lost that I would consider such a thing.
The best scenario would've been to convince her that I was still loyal to the Emperor before escaping this madhouse together, with my assistance in surviving this mess serving as proof of my loyalty. Unfortunately, her witnessing the whole thing with Emeli and Vileheart had probably put any chance of that happening to rest, unless Inquisitors were much more flexible on theological matters than I had been led to believe.
I was still pondering my options, and failing miserably to find a satisfying one, when there was the sound of a knock. It didn't come from the door, behind which Jurgen was still keeping watch, but from a closet on the other side of the room (I say closet, but this was still a Governor's palace : there was enough space in there for a family of four underhivers).
Malicia reacted at once, drawing her weapons and leaping across the room to position herself between me and the wooden panel.
The closet opened, and a figure dressed in what I could only describe as a clown outfit from the festivals I had managed to sneak out of the Schola to attend emerged.
"Harlequin," Malicia hissed at the sight. Oh, so the intruder was a xenos (the clothes made it impossible to tell, though as it walked out, its motions betrayed the same kind of fluid, inhuman grace Malicia herself possessed). Absolutely brilliant.
I put down my glass of amasec and moved my hands to the weapons at my belt. The intruder hadn't made any hostile move yet, but it had somehow passed through the security of the entire Palace and hid inside that closet for Emperor knew how long. It would be just my luck to survive an Imperial assassination attempt only to get done in by a xenos killer sent by the survivors of the Dark Eldar raiding force.
"Who are you, and what are you doing here ?" I asked.
The Harlequin bowed deeply, and I sensed the surprise in Malicia's body language, though her caution didn't diminish.
"Lord Liberator, I am Leirahaz of the Masque of the Veiled Path, and I have come to bargain."
Amberley was mildly surprised that she awoke at all, part of her having expected Cain's Dark Eldar bodyguard to rip her to shreds while she was unconscious for daring to threaten the being whose continued existence was the only thing keeping her from being devoured by a Daemon Princess of Slaanesh.
Her surprise doubled when she realized all her wounds were gone, and doubled again when she looked around and saw that she wasn't in some dark and foreboding cell, but instead laying in a comfortable bed in a small, windowless room. She immediately noticed that her implants were gone, yet there was no pain, not even a scar where they had been removed.
So, whatever game Cain was playing, it most likely didn't involve torturing her in the immediate future. Unless this was a ruse to make her lower her guard, but the Liberator struck her as too cunning a manipulator to attempt such crude tactics on an Inquisitor. Until the very moment she'd made her move, she'd been convinced he'd completely bought her cover story; but instead, he'd been on his guard all along, waiting for her to act and confirm his suspicions.
"You are awake. Good."
Amberley barely suppressed a jump as the voice surprised her. Cain's aide was standing next to the door, looking at her with a neutral expression that nonetheless exuded an air of menace the likes of which Amberley had rarely encountered.
Jurgen (she had learned his name during her investigation) was famous on Slawkenberg as a powerful psyker whose loyalty to the Liberator was beyond question. Back during the Drukhari incursion, he'd apparently been too tired from fighting off a bunch of Ork psykers to assist, but now he was at full strength. In her present state, Amberley didn't doubt for a moment that he could neutralize or kill her with a thought.
Fortunately, he didn't seem inclined to do so at the moment, despite the fact Amberley had just tried to kill the man he'd sworn himself to. Instead, he inclined his head toward a door on the other side of the room.
"Please refresh and dress yourself, miss. The Liberator has invited you to join him for dinner."
Knowing better than to argue at this stage, Amberley got up and went into the small, windowless bathroom. There was another dress there waiting for her, of the same quality as the one she'd worn earlier today (and it had been today, she wasn't thirsty or hungry enough for it to have been more than a few hours and Jurgen had mentioned dinner).
Once she was ready, Jurgen escorted her (politely but firmly) outside the chamber and across a series of empty corridors, eventually bringing her to a well-appointed dining room. Cain sat at the other end of the table, his Wych bloodward standing next to him, glaring daggers at Amberley. And there, seated to the Liberator's right, was the accursed Harlequin who'd captured the Inquisitor, handed her to the Drukhari, then aided her escape from their ship for some unknowable reasons. Her blood ran cold at the sight of the xenos' colourful outfit.
"Inquisitor Vail," Cain greeted her with a smile. "How good of you to join us."
"Aren't you missing your own nameday celebration ?" she asked.
"Don't worry about that," he waved off her concerns. "I spent time with everyone while you were unconscious. Things have calmed down a little for now, as everyone is preparing for the nocturnal festivities. This little diversion will be dealt with by the time I'm expected to return, although it is a shame you will have to miss on it all."
Amberley internally shivered at the implied threat.
"Ah, but where are my manners. I haven't even introduced you. This is Ser Leirahaz of the Veiled Path. I believe the two of you are already acquainted ?"
"We are," she replied, glaring at the Harlequin, whose mask revealed nothing of his thoughts.
"I understand that your previous encounters have been far from pleasant, but you should know that it was Ser Leirahaz who bargained not just for your continued life, but for your freedom as well," said Cain. "When we are done here, he will take you away with him, the same way he presumably used to get here in the first place."
"And what price did that xenos pay for this ?" asked Amberley warily.
"One worthy of a soul such as yours," replied the Harlequin with an inclination of the head. "And one that would, in other times and places, have caused wars to erupt."
"You heard him," said Cain, amused. "If you want more details, you should ask him later. For now, please have a seat. The cooks have really outdone themselves today."
After a moment's hesitation, Amberley decided the food was unlikely to be poisoned. If Cain wanted her dead or drugged, he'd plenty of opportunities to do it while she was unconscious.
Once she was seated, Jurgen brought in the food, serving all three of them – even the Harlequin, who eat with the manners of a spire-born noble, his fork passing right through his mask and into his mouth.
Cain was right : it was very good.
"You have been on our fair planet for several months now," said the Liberator as they finished the dessert. "Tell me, what do you think of it ?"
"It is quite nice," she admitted, before taking a drink of amasec, putting her glass down, and deciding she might as well be completely honest and see where it led her. "A shame about the daemon-worshipping scum running the place, though."
Instead of turning purple with rage at the insult, Cain merely chuckled. "Yes, that is about the response I expected. Nor do I blame you for it. I know full well how deeply Imperial conditioning runs. If nothing else, I admire your courage in speaking so freely in front of me."
"I suppose not many do these days ?" she asked with a caustic smile.
"Oh, nothing of the sort," he replied with a dismissive wave. "I've made sure the Liberation Council know to speak honestly to me. People telling those in power only what they want to hear because they're afraid of being punished for telling the truth is how you end up with the Giorbas."
"Fair point," Amberley admitted. "I admit I'm surprised, though. From what I heard, the last Inquisitor to come to Slawkenberg wasn't given such pleasant treatment."
"Well, not only are you much more pleasing to the eye than Karamazov was, you also haven't threatened to burn this world and everyone on it like a petulant child throwing a tantrum," replied Cain.
"I tried to kill you," she pointed out.
"I was trained by the Commissariat," he said with a small smile. "I expected people to try to kill me while I am doing my job."
"Doing your job ? Is that what you call of this ?"
"Wouldn't you ?" He challenged her. "Look me in the eye and tell me I wasn't doing the Imperium a favor when I shot Caesariovi Giorba and stabbed Karamazov."
Despite knowing the man sitting in front of her was the most dangerous heretic she'd ever met, Amberley couldn't bring herself to argue the point. She'd dug into Slawkenberg's history enough to know that where it came to the former Planetary Governor, the propaganda of the Liberation Council didn't need to exaggerate anything. And she knew about how much damage to Imperial efforts in the Sector Karamazov had caused with his stupidity before his forces had even reached Slawkenberg.
At the same time, however, she wouldn't be an Inquisitor if something like this was enough to shake her faith in the Imperium.
"I won't argue that these two men deserved to die, but that doesn't make you any better," she said. "You follow the Ruinous Powers, the Dark Gods of Chaos – the Archenemy of Humanity. Everything you have built on Slawkenberg is at best a lure to deceive others into following your example and turning against the God-Emperor, or, far more likely, merely the prelude to the unleashing of such horror as to make the Giorbas' depredations pale in comparison."
"Is that how you justify it ? The Imperium is bad, but everything else would be worse ? What kind of reasoning is that ? Where is the line between the atrocities of the Imperium and those it ascribes to its enemies, then ?"
"Wherever the Emperor wills it," she replied on reflex. Cain sighed theatrically.
"A perfect answer, exactly like what the Abbot at the Schola would expect," he said mockingly. "But let me tell you something else, Inquisitor. You have, of course, heard about the Panacea ?"
She nodded. It was pointless to deny it : everyone on Slawkenberg knew about the hereteks' incredible invention, capable of healing any wound, curing any ill. It was used in every public hospital, and in such quantities that all but the most banal of ailments were treated with it. So far, Amberley had managed to keep herself safe from anything that would've required her to be injected with it, as she was deeply suspicious of such a miracle cure.
Wait. Her implants were gone, and she had no scars, despite the surgery that'd removed them taking place only a handful of hours earlier. Did that mean …
"Yes, Inquisitor, we did use the Panacea on you while you were unconscious. Otherwise, I've been told it would be several weeks before you could handle your own cutlery, and I didn't feel like waiting that long to have dinner with you. Don't worry," he smiled, "it isn't rooted in sorcery, nor does it have any hidden side-effects."
"How do you know that ?" she countered. "It is the work of your hereteks, is it not ?"
"No, Inquisitor. It isn't surprising you didn't know, but despite what was told to the public, the Bringers Of Renewed Greatness didn't actually invent the Panacea. Instead, it was discovered aboard Emeli's Gift, when I led our very first expedition aboard the Space Hulk."
Amberley's breath caught in her throat. No. He couldn't be implying what she thought he was. Surely not.
"I see you've realized," the bastard continued with a knowing smile. "Yes, Inquisitor. The Panacea is based on a Standard Template Construct. A full, intact and uncorrupted STC from the Dark Age of Technology, containing everything needed to create the serum which has banished sickness from this world and lets us heal any injury."
Throne of Terra. To think that such a wonder had ended up in the hands of a small rebellion in the back-end of nowhere …
"When the Uprising happened, Slawkenberg wasn't a well-developed world," Cain continued. "Even now, despite the work of the Bringers and the common folk, our industrial base remains but a tiny fraction of a hive-world's, let alone a forge-world's. Yet we still manage to produce enough Panacea to distribute it to the population freely, while building up our stores for military and emergency use. And if we can do that much here, then, well. Can you imagine it, Inquisitor ? You saw for yourself how effective the Panacea is when we fought the Drukhari, and have tasted its boons for yourself now. How many Imperial citizens would be saved from plague in crowded hive-worlds ? How many Guardsmen who die every year who might survive if they had access to it ? How many worlds which fell might be saved by these same soldiers ?"
She could. It was a heady vision, of a reinvigorated Mankind, free of disease and injury. She lacked the proper training to calculate the full impact of a galaxy-scale integration of the technology, but she didn't need it to realize how much it would change the Imperium.
Then Cain slammed his fist onto the table, shaking the plates and cracking the wood under the table cloth.
"All of this, the Imperium could've had centuries ago," he hissed. "Because guess what ? The Panacea STC we found aboard Emeli's Gift wasn't the first Mankind rediscovered. Which, given how useful such technology is, only makes sense. It was Malicia who told me about it : apparently, it is a well-known tale in Commoragh."
Which meant no one who wasn't a Drukhari would enjoy it, Amberley knew.
"The Panacea STC was discovered on a forge-world centuries ago. But because the High Fabricator of Verdigris IX was more interested in keeping the STC in a temple for worship, in ensuring the supremacy of his forge-world and his own fame, he didn't do the obvious thing and send copies to every Imperial world he could reach. And so, when the Dark Eldars came to steal it, its secrets were lost."
He sat back into his chair, suddenly sounding exhausted, defeated almost.
"Humanity's salvation, slipping from between our fingers just like that. And I cannot help but wonder : how many times has such a thing happened in the last ten thousand years ? How often does the Imperium's blindness and stubborn dogma make it turn away from another, better path ? And now, here we are, ten thousand years later, beset on all fronts, ever growing weaker and more ignorant, looking up to our forebears as legends while forgetting that they were only human beings too, and that anything they could achieve is also within our power. Mankind cannot continue as it has, Inquisitor. Ignorance and tyranny may be sufficient to maintaining the status quo, but survival is not enough, and even that won't be guaranteed much longer."
"And your solution is to turn to daemons for aid ?" Amberley forced herself to say. "To auction your soul to the denizens of the Warp in some kind of infernal bidding war ?"
"I can't say I've heard it described like that before," the Liberator mused. "But no, that isn't my solution. I am merely looking for a way out of the trap, Miss Vail. Jurgen, please bring it in."
The psyker brought up another silver platter, covered in a white cloth, which he removed to reveal a circular device of human make. Despite not being trained in the ways of the Mechanicus, Amberley could tell, just by looking at it, that this was archeotech of the highest calibre.
"This, Inquisitor Vail, is the Panacea STC," declared Cain. "Uncorrupted, untainted, and undamaged. And I want you to take it with you when you leave."
"Why ?" Amberley managed to ask. "Why would you do such a thing ?"
"Two reasons," he explained. "The first is that, bluntly speaking, we don't need it anymore. We have copied the full contents of the Panacea STC many times over, with countless backups. Nothing save for the complete destruction of Slawkenberg and every ship in the system will deprive us from that knowledge. However, I know full well how far the Mechanicus will go to reclaim it when they learn of its existence. So far, our isolation has served us well, and masking the Panacea as the Bringers' creation added another layer of obfuscation, but Vileheart knew about it when he attacked, so the secret is already out. Inevitably, the Martians will learn of it too. Having the original STC out of our hands will take the heat off us."
"And what's the second reason ?" she asked.
Cain laughed sadly.
"Is it really that difficult to guess ? You have lived among us for some time. You are an Inquisitor : you must have spent all that time studying us, learning everything you could about us. Use that information, miss Vail. Make a guess."
"… Nurgle. The other three Dark Gods have cultists on this world, but not the fourth."
"Exactly," nodded Cain. "The Lord of Decay feeds on the misery and suffering of the Imperium. He grows strong on the plagues that ravage entire underhives, on the despair that afflicts uncounted trillions who never saw natural sunlight, and whose bodies slowly break down as a result of their misery. His gifts do not bring hope or strength, only a bitter, pathetic acceptance of one's suffering, and a desire to inflict it on all others."
"Nurgle has no place on Slawkenberg," the Liberator declared, eyes aflame with zeal. For the first time since she had met him, Amberley saw what his Schola tutors must have seen in him, when they had assigned him to the path of a Commissar. "He has no place on any human world, in any human soul. Since before the Uprising, I have fought against his dupes, but it is not enough. There can be no hope for Mankind while Nurgle remains in the Great Game, poisoning all efforts to drag the species out of the mire of despair and stasis in which we've been trapped since the Emperor last walked among us. And the Panacea is possibly the single greatest weapon in existence against the Plague God. With it, we have eradicated all but the meanest remnant of his influence on our world. By giving it to you, it is my fervent hope that you will do the same on countless other worlds."
Madness, Amberley thought. She was no member of the Ordo Hereticus or Malleus, but she knew of the Dark Gods, and only the Emperor Himself had the strength to fight them. Mere mortals such as them could only hope to fight back against their mortal thralls and daemons, and the latter came at a terrible risk and cost. And yet, looking at Ciaphas Cain in that moment, she found to her own shock that she almost believed him when he declared war against the Lord of Decay. No, worse than that : she wanted to believe him, to think that Humanity could hope for more than a bloody, unending stalemate against the hosts of the Outer Dark.
"Or perhaps I've misjudged you, and you will do the same as that long-dead archmagos, and keep the STC for yourself, using it for your own advancement in the Imperium's self-destructive politics," Cain sighed. "It would be deeply disappointing, but at least Slawkenberg would be safe from the Mechanicus' selfish greed."
Standing up, the last of the food forgotten in her plate, Amberley picked up the device. It was surprisingly light, for all the promise it contained.
"I believe it's time for you two to leave," said Cain, as he and Leirahaz rose to their feet, the Harlequin all but dancing to Amberley's side. "I wish you good luck in your future endeavours, Miss Vail. May the Emperor watch over you."
"I would wish you the same, but I fear your infernal patrons would be offended," she riposted. Again, Cain merely continued to smile, as if to a joke only he was getting.
Leirahaz made a strange, arcane gesture as some of the jewels embroidered in his clothing shone with eldritch light, and a circular hole in space appeared in the room. This, Amberley recognized, was a Webway Portal, although she had only read about such things, and was pretty sure very few Eldars had the means of opening them so casually instead of relying on the remaining infrastructure from their long-dead empire.
Leirahaz turned to look at her, and she knew that he too was smiling under his mask.
"After you, Lady Vail," he told her. "Mind the gap, and don't go off running without me. I would find you, of course, but whether I'd manage to do so before you were found by something else less friendly is far from certain."
Amberley glanced at Cain, who raised his glass in a toast to her, still with that infuriating smirk on his face. Refusing to show any weakness by hesitating, she straightened her back and walked right through the portal without looking back.
I breathed a sigh of relief as Leirahaz followed after Amberley with one last elaborate bow in my direction, and the Webway portal closed with a sound between the whisper of the wind and a distant thunderclap.
I still had no idea what game the Harlequin was playing. From what I'd pieced together, he'd arranged for the Inquisitor to be captured by Vileheart in the first place, then helped her get to the Palace during the raid, only to show up now to exchange the Panacea STC (apparently, there had been some kind of disturbance in Commoragh recently, and the Harlequins had used the distraction to infiltrate the vault containing the STC) for her life and freedom.
Well, her freedom to go with him, which might not be quite the same thing. He had to have some kind of plan in all this, but try as I might I couldn't figure out what it was. From where I was standing, he could just've handed her the Panacea STC directly. According to Malicia, the Harlequins were well-known among her people for their seemingly nonsensical actions, whose purpose only became clear much, much later, when it ever did.
It was unfortunate that I hadn't been able to hand the ansibles' schematics to the Inquisitor along with the Panacea STC. Based on my admittedly limited perspective and (clearly very flawed) judgement, the Imperium stood even more to gain from their widespread use than it did the Panacea's. But while I could justify giving away the latter's as a long-term move against Nurgle, there was no such convenient explanation for the FTL-communicators.
I didn't exactly enjoy the thought that the Harlequin had, in all likelihood, known exactly how I would react to his present, but the opportunity to do something undeniably beneficial to the Imperium while reducing my chances of being turned into a servitor by a Mechanicus crusade, all in a way that I was confident I could sell to the lunatics around me, had been too good to pass up.
Of course, it wasn't all sunshine and rainbows (an expression I had never heard before being taken out of the underhive and into the Schola, but which I felt fitted the present circumstances). Amberley's suggestion that the Dark Gods were using me and Slawkenberg in general as some kind of bait, a pretty mask to draw others away from the God-Emperor's Light and into their embrace, had hit closer to home than I had let it appear. It was an idea that I'd already had myself, during the sleepless nights that had become all-too-frequent since my arrival on the miserable planet.
Most of the time, I managed to tell myself the Dark Gods weren't capable of such long-term cooperation for so little gain : the only times the fractious servants of the Ruinous Powers collaborated was during the infamous Black Crusades, and the Uprising was nothing compared to Abaddon's tantrums. The idea that three of the Four would cooperate on something like this was absurd : it had only been through pure blind luck that the cults on Slawkenberg hadn't ravaged the planet as they fought to decide who would inherit it.
As for the times when I didn't manage to convince myself, well, there was a reason I'd made a small but not insignificant dent into the cellar I'd inherited from the former Governor since the Uprising. Speaking of, I had a party to get back to.
I opened the door to leave the dinner room, Malicia and Jurgen on my heels, only to freeze. All the other members of the Liberation Council were there in the corridor, staring at me. Somehow, in the excitement of finally doing something which wouldn't damn my soul, I had completely forgotten they were there. They were all dressed to the nines : Mahlone was in full military uniform, Jafar wore ornate robes of blue and gold, Tesilon-Kappa had changed their usual working red vestments for brand new ones, and Krystabel wore a silver and purple dress that didn't so much walk the line between decency and indecency as twirl and dance back and forth around it.
I prepared myself for another round of deceit and manipulation. I had told the rest of the Liberation Council about Vail in advance of having dinner with her (I had needed an excuse to not be present at the celebrations for that long, and keeping this secret from them would have backfired sooner or later), but I hadn't told them the details of the deal I'd made with Leirahaz. They might have argued against giving her the Panacea STC, and though it was a lesson I'd been too cunning to ever need to use myself, I knew from my days at the Schola it was better to ask for forgiveness than permission.
Still, for a moment, I felt panic rise, threatening to consume me whole. Throne, what if this was the moment they finally saw through my deceptions and realized I had done what I did simply to get some kudos with the God-Emperor ? Even if that was going too far, what if they objected to my actions, and were about to make their displeasure known in a violent manner ? I thought I could rely on Jurgen to stay by my side, but Malicia was bound by Emeli, and if Krystabel told her I had turned –
"Lord Liberator !" Mahlone bellowed, and to my utter shock I realized that the General was crying. "What a great speech that was ! We should have known your vision reached so much further than Slawkenberg !"
"Indeed," said Jafar, who at least was calmer than the General, even if seeing him with a wide smile on his face was mildly disturbing. "To turn an Inquisitor into the instrument by which you declare war against the Lord of Decay … Truly awe-inspiring."
"It was a rare treat to hear you so passionate," said Krystabel, while taking hold of my arm and pressing herself against me, which did very interesting things to her figure. "You are usually so calm and collected, it was a pleasant change of pace."
I smiled, and thankfully she mistook my relief that they had all bought it as embarrassment for such a public display.
"Thank you all for your kind words. Magos," I asked Tesilon-Kappa, making it seem as if I were trying to change the subject, "did your people get anything useful from our guests' exit ?"
The thought of the xenos being capable of bypassing all our security and materializing inside my quarters at any time was a disturbing one, given I'd no idea what Leirahaz's motivations were. So, before the dinner room had been set, the borgs had installed as many auspexes and scanners as could be hidden under the decorations. All of these devices had transmitted their findings to another room, but I had little doubt Tesilon-Kappa had been monitoring the results remotely.
"Our instruments have detected some strange readings," they confirmed with an enthusiastic nod, buying my false display of modesty wholesale. "Making sense of them will take some time, but we will crack that mystery eventually !"
"I see. Well, I have full confidence you will figure it out," I told them, lying through my teeth (although given the kind of things the borgs had already achieved, perhaps I was being unfair to them). Behind me, I heard Malicia's quiet scoff at the notion that primitive mon-keigh could decipher the mysteries of her kind, but I let it pass. "In the meantime, let us go back to the party, shall we ?"
"Oh, yes," purred Krystabel. "There is much I don't want you to miss, Ciaphas."
All in all, I felt remarkably happy about how the day had gone, given how close to death I had come. Of course, had I then known just how much trouble that rant I'd taken straight out of third-rate mummer's play would end up causing me, I would have jumped through the Webway portal behind Leirahaz and taken my chances with the Inquisition.
On the bridge of the Lucre Foedis, the Rogue Trader Orelius sighed as he took in the list of damage his vessel had suffered during the latest stretch of their tormented journey.
Truthfully, it wasn't that bad. The ship had suffered much worse on much shorter trips. A couple of auspex arrays had been knocked out of alignment, the lights on deck forty-two had gone dark, and half a dozen crewmen had lost their minds and started ranting about some vast and terrible shadowy hand reaching out to seize the ship. Given that they had been working on entirely separate sections of the kilometers-long vessel, it was something to keep an eye on.
Since they had lost Inquisitor Vail to that xenos ambush, things had kept going wrong. The rest of the Inquisitor's team had managed to make it off-world, but the loss of their leader had hit them pretty hard. They'd remained in their quarters as the ship made the return trip to more civilized space in order to report the Inquisitor's disappearance. Losing the Inquisitor would've been bad in any circumstances, but the fact she'd been taken by the Dark Eldars was even worse. Orpheus hadn't faced the Chaos-tainted xenos himself, thank the Throne, but he'd heard plenty from those who had, and each story was more horrifying than the last.
The journey itself had been exhausting all on its own. From the moment they'd entered the Warp they had been beset by what the Navigator claimed weren't exactly storms, but instead opposing and shifting currents in the Immaterium. In addition to rendering astropathic communication impossible, preventing them from sending word of the Inquisitor's capture ahead, it also made progress very difficult and forced them to drop out of the Warp at regular intervals in order to check the engines, calculate their position, and establish a new heading.
Between this and the usual time dilation of Warp travel, the Master of Auspex told him that nearly one standard year had passed in the Materium according to his instruments, though it had been less than half that for (most) of the Lucre Foedis' crew. And they were still only halfway to their destination. They had enough supplies to last the trip, of course : Orelius was a Rogue Trader, after all, and before coming under Inquisitor Vail's influence he'd spent years away from friendly ports, exploring the wild frontier in the name of Emperor, Dynasty and profit (perhaps not always in that order, but nobody living had any proof otherwise and he would swear to the contrary until his dying breath).
If things continued like this, they should still have a comfortable margin by the time they reached a port where they could resupply. But not knowing why this was happening at all was getting on his nerves, and that of the rest of his crew as well.
He was about to vox the Navigator to ask how long they would need before re-entering the Warp when the air on the deck twisted. That was the only word he could think of to describe it, before a tear opened in reality through which Orelius caught a brief glimpse of a vast tunnel before it spat out a humanoid figure and closed with a sighing sound of displaced air.
"Intruder on deck !" He barked, hands moving to the weapons at his belt – before freezing in place as the figure stood up and, to his absolute bewilderment, he recognized her. Instead of the combat uniform she'd worn when he'd last seen her, she was covered in something more appropriate for the halls of the spire-born, and she carried no weapons, only a strange device he didn't recognize but was clearly of human design, but it was still impossible for him to mistake the intruder's identity.
"Lady Vail ?" He asked, not believing the evidence of his senses.
"Orelius," she sighed, sounding both relieved and deeply exhausted. "Throne, I am glad to see you. You would not believe the day I have had. Right now, though, I need you to escort me to your most secure safe so I can store this inside it until we can get it analysed by a reliable tech-priest. Then I need your medicae to give me a full check-up, and then, I want to debrief my team about what happened. I assume they are on board ?"
"Yes, Inquisitor," the Rogue Trader managed to say. He glanced back at his console terminal : the scans of the individual in front of him he had discreetly started were returning a fully positive identification. However impossible it might seem, this truly was Amberley Vail. "But, well, sorry about this, but could you explain how you came here ? We are in the middle of nowhere. The Warp journey from where we lost you has been … difficult."
A strange expression flashed across Amberley's face. "Difficult. Of course, that makes sense." It did ? The Navigator and astropaths had no idea why their passage through the Warp had been both slow and relatively tranquil. "To answer your question, I was brought here through the Webway by an Eldar Harlequin, who bought my life and freedom from the Chaos warlord I failed to assassinate after escaping from the Dark Eldars during their raid of his palace, which took place after he'd killed an Ork Warboss which was in the process of becoming a Sector-level threat in single combat."
Orelius' mouth moved for several seconds, but no sound came out. Eventually, he said : "What ?"
"As I said, you would not believe the day I have had."
AN : This chapter's release was delayed by me learning about Realm Grinder, the successor to the (in)famous Cookie Clicker, and losing my entire week-end to it before finally succeeding on my Will saving throw and breaking free from the grip of that devious time-vampire of a game.
Yes, Leirahaz is Zahariel backward. Someone suggested it on SB and, once I had stopped laughing, I decided I just had to go with it. I'm not quite sure whether the ability to open Webway Portals like he does in this chapter is actually possible in canon, but this is a crack fic. If you need an explanation, the clown used some pre-Fall unique artefact to circumvent the Webway's usual limitations.
While writing this chapter, I hit a block concerning what Leirahaz could give Cain to justify his release of Amberley. Then, it hit me : the original Panacea STC, gathering dust in the vault of Lady Malys. It was the perfect gift, and it made perfect sense for the story. It also inspired Cain's anti-Nurgle rant (to those readers who theorized the Grandfather would get a seat at the table at some point, sorry but that's not the way this story is going), with a pinch of anti-Imperial rant added in for flavor.
We will see more of Amberley in the future, don't worry. She's going to have her own entire character arc, and it is going to be a thing of beauty. Nor will this be the last time the faithful servant of the Emperor and the cunning instrument of the Ruinous Powers meet.
There is probably going to be a timeskip before the next chapter, or at the very least before the next main arc. This story is planned to cover Cain's entire life, meaning we're going all the way to 999.M41. Which I have realized means that relatively soon, I'll have to think about how the people who were born on Slawkenberg post-Uprising think of Cain (and think in general). That will be fun.
As always, I look forward to your thoughts and suggestions regarding this chapter.
Zahariel out.
PS : Regarding whatever is going on with ffnet at the moment, I still haven't managed to get my email notifications fixed, despite following the procedure and adding the ffnet bot to my contacts on my Gmail account (and yes, I did check my Spam folder). If anyone reading this has managed to solve the issue, I would be grateful if you could send me the details through a PM. Oh, and the viewership stats continue to be busted, as they have been for the last two months (there is nothing quite like seeing 0 views and 20 reviews on a chapter), but by that point I have given up on that.