I do not own RWBY or Warhammer 40,000, only my original characters.

ARRRRGGGGHHH! GOD-EMPEROR DAMNIT! Of course! Once I decide not to use Primaris in my story, and once I had actually finished the Space Marine scene, GW shows off Primaris Calgar and bodyguard! Dear Emperor, do they look awesome, and I could have given my chapter master a Primaris makeover. I don't care what you all say about the Primaris, their armor is freaking awesome to look at.

Okay, with that little rant out of the way, how you all been? Sorry this took so long, Finals have been a pain and I was trying (and failing) to work on Grimm Heir more. Still, very happy with the way this turned out. Way better than my first version of this, and hopefully with a better battle scene. Big shout out to my beta reader Pinkpower3612, he really helped me out here.

Couldn't think of a better chapter title, sorry!

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

PLEASE NOTE, THIS CHAPTER HAS BEEN EDITED FROM ITS ORIGINAL POST.

Return of Faith

Chapter Two: Revelation and Retribution (EDITED)

Peace. That is what Salem means: peace.

A name from one of the thousands of long dead cultures of Old Earth, in the ages when humanity had yet to leave its cradle and spread itself across the stars. With such powerful meaning behind it, a place bearing the name of Salem must surely be a peaceful and calm place.

And it is true, when one looks upon the world of Salem within the Evangela subsector, they see a celestial sphere of calm seas and vast forests, of majestic mountain ranges and vibrant valleys. Truly, Salem appears every bit the peaceful paradise its name implies.

This is a lie.

War ruled on Salem. Feudal kingdoms bickered and fought upon its surface, sending forth armies of knight and men-at-arms to do battle in the name of their kings and queens. Wars were won and lost each year, political alliances forged then broken, and noble houses rose and fell like the tides. Whenever peace was achieved it was short lived, for the kings and queens would soon find new reason to reignite the flames of conflict. Such was life on Salem.

But in recent years, the kings and queens had lessened their squabbling. Alliances formed held true and battles became few and far between as the local lords had their peasants work the fields rather than serve as fodder in their armies. Knights patrolled the edges of the woods and honed their skills in the training yards. It seemed as if peace had finally come to Salem.

This too is a lie.

This was no peace, only the preparation of dark times yet to come. In the keeps and castles across the planet blacksmiths forged countless weapons and sets of armor while fletchers and bowyers made bows and arrows by the thousands. Whole villages were drafted and trained to fight, and hundreds of aspiring young nobles and promising squires were given knighthood. And as the nights grew longer and the moon came closer and closer to the sun, armies were assembled, and towns were abandoned. Foes became friends as rival lords joined their forces into vast hosts to face the nearing darkness.

For years, they prepared and made ready. With armies numbering in the hundreds of thousands and enough supplies to last them through any siege, the people of Salem stood ready to face what came for them.

And it still was not enough, for the Blood Eclipse shone high in Salem's sky now, and its ethereal crimson light called the wretched things hiding in the Deepwood to come forth and slake their hunger for human flesh.

Monstrous creatures of death and darkness, the beasts of the Deepwood ruled the sunless places of Salem's great forests where no man dared to tread. There they watched and waited for the coming of the Blood Eclipse, the time when they might leave the Deepwood and feast on the people of Salem once more. That time had come again at last, and the beasts of the Deepwood roamed freely in search of their most sought-after prey.

Once more, conflict raged across Salem as man fought a bitter war against the horrors of the Deepwood. Cities were besieged, towns destroyed, and people slaughtered and eaten as the Deepwood hordes swept across the planet like a plague. Their progress was not without hindrance, however, and Salem's people bled the beasts for every life they took.

Knights and men-at-arms, militia fighters and guards, farmers and zealots, kings' men and mercenaries – all fought back against the beasts' advance. Great was their fury and the bite of their steel, but it was nothing compared to the numbers of the beasts nor the centuries of unsated hunger driving them.

As the days turned to weeks, the armies of men retreated back to their strongholds. Yet so vast were the hordes that many armies found themselves surrounded by the beasts and left with no choice but to fight to the very end.

Lesser men would have despaired at this fate, drop their swords and weep at the unfairness of their plight. But the men of Salem did not despair. They gripped their swords tightly and fought tooth and nail against their bestial foe, screaming their defiance with such ferocity that it rivaled the savage howls of the monsters. They knew they would not survive, and so resolved to kill as many of the beasts as they could.

And so, it was at the Blood Eclipse's peak, when extinction seemed all but certain, that His Angels of Death sullied forth to slay the enemies of Mankind once more.

~o0o~

As he pulled his sword free from a slain beast's neck, Barrasen caught sight of another in the corner of his eye galloping toward him. As he turned to face it with his sword ready, he noted it had a vaguely reptilian appearance. The beast attempted to close the distance between them with a leap, but Barrasen deftly rolled out of the way. As it hit the blood-soaked mud the young Varner knight sliced off one of its legs with his sword eliciting a sound of pain from the beast before it fell to the ground, unbalanced by the loss of its limb.

Though gravely injured, Barrasen regarded the crippled beast warily. It could still easily tear him to pieces if it got a hold of him, missing leg or not. He approached from behind, eying its powerful tail as it thrashed like an angry serpent, then struck. The blade cut deep into the beast's tail, almost severing it. Another sound of pain erupted from the beast's maw as its wounded tail slammed into Barrasen's body, throwing the knight to the ground.

Stars filled Barrasen's vision and he made to stand back up but fumbled. He tried again, knowing his life depended on it. Something collided with his back as he did, sending him sprawling back into the mud. When he tried to push himself back up once more, he found himself unable to, feeling a great weight pressing down on him.

A throaty growl from above him made the knight's blood go cold. A beast was upon him, pinning him down with its claws. He felt the plate of his armor give slightly, just barely able to withstand the creature's weight.

In that moment, it seemed death was certain for Barrasen. The beast would rip off his head and devour his body before moving on to fill its belly with the flesh of his fellow knights. The thought enraged the young knight. He struggled futilely beneath its hold, spite fueling his movements. He did not doubt he would die, but he refused to bow his head and give the monster the satisfaction of his submission to death.

"Raaagghh!" A voice cried out, and Barrasen suddenly felt the beast's weight shift. "Die, foul creature! No more knights shall fall to you!"

The beast let out a sound that might have been a challenge. Focused on this new threat, the beast lessened its hold on the Varner knight. Seizing the chance, Barrasen pushed himself up, surprising the beast and unbalancing it. It stumbled back a step, but quickly caught itself just in time to see the axe as it slammed down on its head.

The new knight pulled the weapon free before the body hit the ground and turned to look at Barrasen. The Varner knight took a second to notice his blue tabard and the white swan that decorated his shield. He recognized these as the colors and crest of House Naleer, an enemy of House Varner.

The Naleer knight thumped his axe against his shield and Barrasen reciprocated the gesture before the two knights of rival houses turned their focus back to the battle. "I am Ser Trevis," Said the knight. "Knight of House Naleer." A small beast ran at Trevis as he finished his introduction, only for his axe to smash into its back, shattering its spine.

"I am Ser Barrasen," He began, pausing to block a claw swipe with his shield and countering with a sword thrust to the monster's throat. "Knight of House Varner."

Trevis gave a growl as he swung his shield into the snout of a rushing beast, shattering bone and dislodging teeth. The monster fell to the mud, whining in pain before a trio of men-at-arms stabbed it to death with their spears. No more words were traded between the young knights as they continued to fight against the horde. The duo fought heroically, slaying many of the Deepwood's monsters alongside the other knights and men-at-arms of their two houses, but they were a few against a legion. No matter how many they killed, the combined army of Varner and Naleer soon found themselves surrounded by the beasts with no hope of escape.

Barrasen watched as a Varner man-at-arms was pounced upon by a lupine beast, his screams changing to wet gurgles as the monster ripped out his throat. The soldier's fellows retaliated with vengeful fury, thrusting at the beast with their spears and driving it away from his corpse.

Three crossbow bolts slammed into the retreating beast, two striking its chest while the third pierced its eye. It toppled backwards and was grabbed by several of its ravenous kin who wasted no time in devouring its corpse. Disgust welled inside Barrasen at the sight, though he found he wasn't surprised. They had been trapped in the Deepwod for centuries after all, they had to have been eating something.

"No sense of fellowship, these beasts," Uttered Trevis as he hacked off a beast's claw. "No loyalty or love is shared between them. Only murderous hunger."

"They are of the Deepwood," responded Barrasen before pausing to duck out of the way of a beast's jaws then bringing his sword down on its exposed neck. "Unnatural beasts from an unnatural place, that is all that we need to know, to dwell on it further is to invite madness into your mind."

"The boy speaks true, Swan Knight!" Proclaimed an older knight to Barrasen's right. A quick glance revealed he wore the yellow of House Varner. "Waste not your thoughts on how they are, focus instead on how to kill them!" He punctuated his statement with a thrust of his claymore, burying the blade half-way to the hilt inside an unlucky beast. Barrasen and another Varner knight made to guard his flanks, but the older knight had thrust too deep, he could not pull the weapon free.

A dog-sized beast leapt onto the impaled corpse of its larger kin and used it as a platform to launch itself at the older knight. He tried to bring his arm up to block the attack, but it served only to alter the beast's aim slightly. The small beast's massive jaws clamped down over the knight's helmet, destroying the visor and ripping out chunks of his face. The older man fell to the ground, screaming in pain as he desperately tried to pry the monster from his face. By the time the other Varner knight had kicked the beast off him the man was dead, his face an unrecognizable mess of torn flesh and bone.

Barrasen stomped on the small monster's back in retribution and was rewarded with a loud crack as its spine was snapped in two. Vengeance achieved, Barrasen realized how heavy his breathing had become. The exhalation of air echoed loudly within the confines of his helmet and sweat ran down his face in rivers. Adrenaline and battle-fury had kept him going thus far, but for how much longer?

How long could they hold the beasts here? How long until they were all devoured by the horde, like so many had been before them? Would their sacrifice see Silverport standing by the Eclipse's end? Was the city even still there? Was his family still alive? Were they all that was left?

Had the Emperor abandoned them?

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Barrasen suddenly found himself on his hands and knees as the earth trembled from the unexpected explosions. It grew worse as more explosions sounded nearby, drowning out the pained yowls of dying beasts. Barrasen felt a pair of hands haul him to his feet, and he saw pillars of black smoke rising from within the press of the horde.

A new noise caught his ear just then, an odd whistling-shriek, growing louder and louder with each second until it became a thunderous roar. A trio of black shapes flew over the army of men and their beastly foes, blowing hot wind through their ranks. Silhouetted against the red light of the Eclipse, Barrasen could make out short wings and long, sturdy bodies. For a moment, he could not believe his eyes. It was only when he saw them spew thunder and fire into the beasts that his doubts were banished.

Dragons, he thought, real, honest-to-Emperor dragons…

The yowls of the beasts were drowned out by the dragons' fury, unable to compete against the volume of such destructive power. As they tore through the horde, more shapes appeared in the sky. Some were more dragons, flying over the beasts and breathing death upon them, slaughtering scores of them in seconds. Others simply struck the earth, coming down like stone hurled by an angry god. Barrasen could not see what these ones did, they were too far away, but he did not doubt that each one had crushed many beasts upon impact.

Already the beasts' unrelenting advance began to falter. in the wake of this unexpected shift. The monsters hesitated, braying in confusion… or maybe in fear? Barrasen suspected the beasts were not used to being prey.

Regardless, the pandemonium spreading through the horde gave the soldiers of Varner and Naleer a moment to regroup. It was brief, barely a few seconds, but it was all they needed to reorganize themselves to better defend against the beasts as they resumed their assault on the army survivors. They were impaled on the pikes and spears of men-at-arms, cut down by supporting knights, or dropped by the few archers still living.

"Drive them back men of Varner!" Shouted Lord Varner from atop his charger as he lopped off the head of a beast trying to grab a spearman. "The Emperor has answered our prayers, we shall not die this day!"

"Hold fast, warriors of Naleer!" Proclaimed Lord Naleer as his horse shattered the skull of a beast with its powerful hooves. "His gaze is upon us all! Prove that you are worthy of His great mercy with faith and fury!" He raised his war-pick high and roared, "For the Emperor!"

"For the Emperor!" Cried Barrasen and all who stood beside him. The cry went up among all the survivors, further strengthening their morale. "For the Emperor! For the Emperor!" the cry became a chant, a mantra of conviction and fury recited in the face of death. "For the Emperor! For the Emperor! For-"

"FOR THE EMPEROR!"

The thunderous declaration silenced the soldiers' chanting as strange Bang-bang-bang sounds grew louder and louder. Then, in the distance, Barrasen saw them. Clad in armor of black, red and gold, cutting through the beastly horde as farmers might scythe through their fields. Like untouchable gods of death, they strode through the beasts with merciless efficiency, ensuring none could escape their wrath.

He saw ten of them, each clad in the same armor and each wielding strange and devasting weapons. There was one who stood out however, distinguished by a bright red helmet and a massive, clawed hand that crackled with lightning. This one turned to the human remnants and as he raised his claw into the air, Barrasen nearly went to his knees. "Fight on, knights of Salem," the warrior shouted, his powerful voice reaching them with no trouble, "in the name of the God-Emperor and the Nameless Saint, let none survive your retribution!"

Barrasen watched in awe as the red helmed giant brought his claw down upon a brazen beast that sought to tear out the towering warrior's throat. His lightning-wreathed talons traveled through the beast, parting muscle, bone, and sinew with the ease of a hot knife through butter. Reduced to bloody pieces, the warrior was already killing another beast before the remains of his previous kill had even hit the ground.

The young knight nearly jumped when a hand slapped itself against his pauldron. "Hey!" He looked over to seen Trevis. "Now is not the time for day dreaming, my friend." The Naleer knight thrust his sword toward the giants. "The Emperor has sent His Black Knights to save us, but there are still many more beasts to slay. Let us act as knights should and kill these monsters. For the Emperor!"

Barrasen blinked, then allowed a ferocious grin to split his features beneath his helmet. "For the Emperor, brother." He grabbed Trevis' pauldron tightly. "Time to prove our worth!"

The two young knights then charged into the beastly horde, eager to prove themselves in the eyes of the legendary Black Knights. The rest followed after them, all doubts toward survival banished by the appearance of the Emperor's holy warriors. Now, they fought for glory, for honor, and for the Emperor of Mankind.

Now, they had hope.

~o0o~

And so, it was, all across the planet, the advance of the bestially scourge was blunted by the ceramite fist of the Adeptus Astartes of the Black Lions chapter.

In the many battles where the Salemite armies still fought to push back the Deepwood beasts, the Black Lions descended from the skies in drop pods and thunderhawk gunships. They left their transports with guns blazing and swords raised, mercilessly cutting down every beast they saw. Assault squads carved bloody paths through the hordes with their chainswords as tactical squads followed close behind, providing fire support. Devastator squads mowed down score after score of beasts with their heavy weapons as gunships and land speeders flew overhead, making attack run after attack run.

In those walled cities and fortresses where the beasts laid siege and the innocent prayed for the God-Emperor's protection, the chapter's mortal servants came to fight in their masters' stead. Battle serfs trained in the ways of war and combat, so as to better serve their trans-human masters, plowed through the Deepwood beasts in rhino and razorback tanks, grinding them beneath their treads before storming out from their transports to unleash storms of lasfire against the beasts. Escorting these mortal warriors were the chapter's ancients, great heroes entombed within the life-support sarcophagi of dreadnought war machines so that they could continue to fight the Emperor's wars. It was their duty to ensure the survival of Salem's population centers. They would not fail in their task.

But it was in the deserted places where only beasts now roamed, and all human life had been devoured, that the hordes of the Deepwood felt the full, unbridled wrath of the Black Lions. In these places, where there was no worry of serious damage to the planet or its human population, the chapter fleet unleashed its fury in the form of orbital bombardment. The land was transformed by the force of the strikes: lakes evaporated, hills became craters, forests burned, and mountains crumbled while millions of Deepwood beasts were incinerated in an instant.

The mortal warriors of Salem's feudal houses, those armies that had not been consumed by the hordes, rallied at the sight before them. Weary limbs surged with newfound strength as knights and common soldiers charged back into the fray, eager to join their saviors in battle. Gone was their desperation, replaced by hope and enforced by fury. They fought to prove themselves to the God-Emperor's chosen, to show they were worthy of joining the ranks of His most holy warriors.

The surprise of the Space Marines' counterattack did not last long, but by then, the beasts advance had lost all momentum. Slowly, bit by bit, the beasts of the Deepwood were pushed back by the combined fury of the Black Lions and the Salemites, but they made the humans pay for every inch they bought. They lashed out with tooth and claw, talons and tusks, horns and hooves. Men and beast died in droves as the fighting dragged on, each driven by instinctual hatred for the other.

The humans' hate proved the greater force, however. Carried by the power and zeal of the Black Lions, the Salemites managed to hold back the Deepwood tide long enough for the Blood Eclipse to pass. As the crimson glow faded from the sky the beasts broke and ran, fleeing back into the depths of the woods where none dared follow them.

The time of death and blood had ended, and the people of Salem rejoiced in their survival. Within the cities and castles, dancing erupted in the streets, bells tolled in the churches and temples, loved ones embraced and thanks was given to the Emperor and His Black Knights.

But on the battlefields, there was no sign of such mirth. True, the knights and soldiers of Salem's kingdoms felt pride and joy for their victory over the Deepwood beasts, but their time for celebration was put aside as the skull-helmed chaplains and white-armored apothecaries of the Black Lions made their way through the ranks of mortal warriors in search of suitable recruits for the chapter.

They found many who met their requirements. Already, the total number of potential recruits collected had climbed to the high thousands. Those youths selected were escorted by battle serfs into the troop bays of idle leviathan-pattern mass-landers where they would be flown off to the proving grounds of the Black Lions' fortress monastery Castrum Argallus, where they would partake in the Games.

"Quite the sight," announced Arin as he looked over the procession of Salemite youths being sorted through by Chaplain Rickard and Apothecary Lanser. "So many new brothers for our chapter."

"Do not delude yourself, Arin." Said Cedrick, his gruff voice made harsher by his helmet's vox grille. "They are not our brothers, yet."

"The more we recruit, the more will die in the Games," added Miltar. The heavy weapons expert sat behind his brothers on a large rock where he busied himself with cleaning the skull of a four-horned beast. Another trophy to add to the collection already dangling from his left pauldron. He did not look up from his work as he spoke. "Only the ones who survive its trials will be worthy of being our brothers. Such is His Will."

"Such is His Will," the words were repeated by Miltar's brothers with reverence. A unique quiet settled over the battle-brothers of Tactical Squad Jorran then as they took a moment of silence to thank the Emperor for allowing them to partake in this short, but vital campaign, as well as to honor the many warriors that had fallen to the beasts' claws.

The battlefield they now looked over was a scene copied across all of Salem. From their vantage point on an overlooking hill, the tactical squad saw a muddy sea of human and beast corpses stretching for miles. Those surviving mortals too old or weak to be chosen milled about the corpse field, searching for the remains of their lost comrades. Those they found intact enough for burials were loaded onto wagons for transport home, but these were few. Many opted to simply take the weapon and shield of their friends so as to return them to their families.

The growling roar of machine-engines cut through the solemn atmosphere like a cleaver. Giant dozer-bladed tractors plowed through the field of death, their servitor pilots pushing countless bodies into massive piles where they were dosed in promethium and lit aflame.

Brother-Sergeant Jorran eyed one of the corpse mounds as fire consumed it. The talons of his Crusade-pattern lightning claw twitched in agitated disgust as he took notice of several human shapes in the mound, unmoving as the flames crept ever closer. The servitors did not discriminate between human and beast.

It was a sight he was familiar with. This unceremonious disposal of the dead was something he had seen performed on countless worlds. They could ill afford the time it would take for their work force to find their deceased loved ones, nor the risk of spread of disease it might invoke.

But Salem was a feudal world, a death world. Their world. There were no quotas to meet, no production deadlines, only humans trying to survive on a world that would see them slaughtered. These men were knights of Salem, he thought bitterly, they stood their ground against an enemy of relentless ferocity, and this is how they will be honored.

"Brother-Sergeant?" Jorran turned to look at the faces and helms of his brothers, their eyes now on him. He realized his fist was clenched and the adamantine talons of his claw were scrapping against the ceramite of his enlarged gauntlet.

He released the fist. "Forgive me, brothers," he said. "I was lost in thought."

A brief silence fell over them again, until it was broken by Holt. "They fought bravely."

Miltar let out a laugh. "Did you expect them to run when the beasts came?"

"Of course not," Holt amended, "the children of Salem are fierce warriors, one and all. Still, the courage they displayed during the Eclipse was… admirable."

"Admirable indeed." Jorran said, turning his gaze back to the procession of Salemite youths, catching sight of a group of twenty walking toward one of the leviathans. "Should they survive the Games, I believe they will accomplish great things and slay many foes in the Emperor's holy name."

"It is said that those recruited from a Blood Eclipse go on to become great heroes of the chapter." Pointed out Nethin. "Take our brother-captain for example."

Captain of the Black Lions' third brotherhood, Braedon Ando had been among those recruited from the last Blood Eclipse nearly three centuries ago. Long before any of them had been born, Ando had fought against the Emperor's many foes, earning glory and honor for the chapter with every victory. Blessed with great strategic cunning and possessing superb martial prowess, he had led the third brotherhood to countless triumphs, more than earning his position of captain and the respect of his brothers.

Dontin snorted, "Do you mean to say our future captain is down there?"

Nethin shrugged, the movement causing the devotion chains dangling from his bolter to rattle gently. "For all we know. The Emperor works in mysterious ways; perhaps our next chapter master is among them as well."

"The possibility of that certainly exists," proclaimed a loud, commanding voice. "Though I doubt our liege will need replacing any time soon."

Squad Jorran turned and stood at attention before their captain. "My lord," Jorran bowed his head and made a half-sign of the Aquila with his left hand. Those of his brothers not grasping weapons did the same, though since none were burdened with a bulky lightning claw, they were able to make the full sign.

Captain Ando returned the gesture, folding his hands over the veiled face of the Nameless Saint that adorned his breastplate. Without a word, Squad Jorran parted for the captain as he made his way to stand beside the sergeant. For a moment he said nothing as he watched the chaplain and apothecary sort through the youths, a look of nostalgia overcoming his features.

"I remember when I was chosen," he said suddenly, his gaze never leaving the field. "I was convinced that by nightfall I would be donning the colors of the chapter and swearing fealty to the God-Emperor at the foot of His Golden Throne." He let out a dry chuckle. "Of course, I did not know about the Games back then. I did not know I would have to prove myself worthy of power armor. I did not know that the Emperor's Golden Throne was a million light-years away. How many down there harbor the same thoughts, I wonder? How many will survive to learn the true scale of the Emperor's reach? How many will endure the trials necessary to become Astartes?"

"Only the Emperor knows, my lord," answered Jorran, unsure of how else to answer such a question, "those He favors will succeed, those He finds lacking will fail."

"Such is the way of things," The captain agreed, turning his head to look at the sergeant. "But how many do you think will prove their worth, Sergeant? How many new brothers do you see down there?"

Jorran frowned and opened his mouth to answer only to shut it when the captain placed a finger to his ear. The sergeant heard the crackle of vox static as the captain's smile quickly disappeared. He acknowledged the transmission before lifting his finger from his ear and cursing.

"What is it, my lord?" Arin's question was of curiosity, but Jorran heard the traces of concern in the young Marine's voice. Few things could antagonize their captain so easily.

Captain Ando turned his gaze on the squad, irritation in his bronze eyes. "We have guests," he said before marching down the hill, leaving Squad Jorran to their devices.

~o0o~

"May the God-Emperor be with you all."

"And also, with you."

"Go in peace." With the service's end, Carmine's flock rose from their seats and slowly made their way out of the cellar. Some stayed and chatted with each other, others came up to him and thanked him for the service while the children raced each other up the stairs. All in all, it was a typical Sunday for the priest.

He noticed young Ruby escorting little Oliver outside, letting the faunus boy pull her along by her hand. He was glad to see the young Huntress-in-training was doing better since they had their talk, back to her usual chipper self. An amused smile crossed his lips as Carmine entertained the thought of himself becoming a therapist instead of priest, but he dismissed the thought as quickly as it appeared.

It was the God-Emperor who aided Ruby in her time of crisis, he had merely acted as the mouthpiece.

Soon, the cellar's occupants returned to the surface to enjoy the post service in the courtyard. Carmine was just about to make his way up to join them when he noticed there was still one person in the cellar besides himself and his guards.

He looked over to see a woman sitting in one of the back rows. She was dressed conservatively in a mint-green dress over a white top. She had long ivory hair that reached past her shoulders and when she noticed Carmine's eyes on her, she smiled warmly at the priest.

Getting a good look at her face, he realized he did not recognize her. He had made it a point to know each and every member of his flock, and this woman was not one of them. A spike of fear shot through his body for an instant, terrified by the possibly that this woman was a Huntress sent to silence him and arrest his flock.

His fear must have shown on his face because the woman frowned, "Are you alright, Father?" She asked, her voice one of alluring innocence.

Carmine shook his head to regain his composure. "I-I am fine, child. Thank you." He gave her a smile to sell his lie, but she did not appear fooled. He tried to change the subject. "Who are you? I have not seen you here before. Are you visiting for the Vytal Festival?"

"My name is Yuria Lond, and no I am not here for the Vytal Festival," she stood up from her seat and slowly made her way over to Carmine. The priest felt his heart hammering in his chest as she drew closer and he shot a look toward Malach and Turk and felt some measure of relief. "I am here for you."

When she was two yards away from Carmine, Malach and Turk made their move. Pulling out their pistols, the two gangsters pressed the muzzles of their guns against the back of the woman's head. She stopped in her tracks, knowing what they wanted from her, and raised her hands over her head.

"There's no need for violence," she began, but was silenced by Turk's gun pressing hard against her skull.

"Shut up Huntress." He growled. "You don't get to act all high and mighty now. Even Aura can't protect you from a point-blank bullet to the brain."

"You got a lot of nerve to come here, to this holy place," sneered Malach as he moved to place himself between Carmine and the woman. "Who sent you? The Council? Beacon? That Atlas general? Answer me bitch, before I-"

"Ave Imperator, sacerdos." Carmine's eyes went wide when the woman spoke, he recognized those words. "Nunc dic homines stare ante me occidere eos."

Malach and Turk looked at her with confusion, not understanding the weight of her words. "What the hell was tha-"

"Stand down," Carmine ordered.

Turk looked back at the priest in shock. "What?! Father, she's-"

"I said stand down, you fools!" He repeated, more forcefully this time. "She speaks in the Emperor's Holy Tongue! No Huntress would know His sacred language, nor the weight inherent in its use. Stand down, before you incur His wrath."

The two thugs hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to proceed. Reluctantly, they lowered their weapons and stepped away from the woman, whose smile sent a shiver down Carmine's spine.

"Thank you, Father." She said, making the Sign of the Aquila. "Ave Imperator."

Carmine did not drop his guard just because she spoke the Holy Tongue. This woman wasn't a Huntress but that didn't rule her out as a possible threat just yet. He wanted answers. "Who are you? Why are you here? How do you know the Emperor's Holy Tongue?"

She smiled at him, a thing both kind and predatory. "As I have already said, my name is Yuria Lond. I am a servant of the God-Emperor's divine will." At the end of her introduction, she bowed to the priest, an elaborate and graceful display that made him think of a ballerina. "And I am here for you, Father Carmine. The Emperor has need of you, and your flock."

~o0o~

Author's Note: Well that was ominous, huh? I wonder what Yuria and Yole are up to while their Inquisitor is off talking with space marines. Anyway, what did you all think? This was a lot of fun for me to write so I hope you enjoyed it too. The battle scene in particular was a blast to write, but also challenging. It was pretty hard coming up with descriptors for the space marine aircraft when your point of view character is on a feudal world.

Expect more from the Space Marines and Inquisitor Kress' retinue in the future, but we won't see them on Remnant for a few more chapters. Why? Let's just say the Games that follow the Blood Eclipse are not exactly short, and that's not counting all the ceremonies and rituals in between.

Also, this is what Yuria said: "Hail Emperor, priest. I mean you no harm. Now tell your men to stand down before I kill them."

And also, Yes, Carmine recognizes High Gothic, but outside of Ave Imperator, he doesn't not speak it. He barely understood what Yuria even said.

Also, and this is just because I want to share this, here is the name of another of Kress' retinue: Artoris Von Gwynn. Guess who he is?

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DeadRich18 Out!