I do not own RWBY or Warhammer 40,000, only my original characters.
Return of Faith
Chapter Twenty-One: An End and A Beginning
In Vale, there was a plot of land known as Pallet Park. Constructed in the wake of the Great War, Pallet Park was designed to mesh human creativity with natural splendor. Vines and creepers climbed over marble pillars in carefully planned patterns, statues of heroes stood sentinel over the painted cobblestone paths while hanging glass sculptures dangled from the branches of trees. Gazebos wrought in the architectural styles of all four kingdoms stood at the four corners of the park, overlooking Atlesian topiary sculptures and Mistrali rock gardens.
At the very center of the park stood a structure known as the Valen House of Art, one of four art galleries built to commemorate freedom of artistic expression. Each House of Art was a stunning example architecture, but many viewed the Valen House to be the most impressive. Constructed in the styles of all four kingdoms, – and even a bit of Menagerie – the gallery stood as a monument to the wonders brought about by peace and unity. Inside the House of Art paintings from Remnant's finest artisans, both past and present, hung for all to see.
The House of Art – indeed the whole park – was one of Vale's greatest cultural sites and a source of pride for countless citizens. Countless people had come from all across the world to walk along its pathways and admire the myriad works of art on display. It had played host to galas, concerts, weddings and a dozen other types of social functions since its opening on the fifth anniversary of the War's end.
Rickard watched it burn from behind the eye lenses of his helm.
The chaplain had ordered the idols to the world's false gods and every piece of literature or paraphernalia he deemed morally compromising to be piled within the House of Art before igniting it with a stream of burning promethium from Light Bringer. The holy flames eagerly ate away the blasphemous material before spreading to consume the entire structure, transforming the gallery into a huge bonfire that illuminated the trampled and ruined parkland in orange light.
The assault marines with him continued to feed the blaze, tossing books and dead heretics into the fire, and the familiar smell of burning flesh soon hung over the once pristine park. A large mass of humans watched from the edge of the park behind Rickard.
He did not acknowledge them. At the moment, they were of little consequence to the chaplain and so long as they did not try to interfere with his operation, he saw no reason to waste his or his brothers' strength in culling them.
Instead, Rickard watched as the flames of the pyre reached high into the night sky, tongues of orange and yellow whipping back and forth in the breeze. The sight always brought the chaplain's mind to dancing, like the fire itself was celebrating the destruction of the heresy it consumed. It was but another sign of His divinity, in Rickard's eyes, that even nature itself understood the holy truth of Him on Terra and condemned any foolish enough to refute Him.
It was a truth Remnant had tried to deny, bringing down the God-Emperor's retribution onto itself. Rickard felt no pity for this world's populace. Save for the true believers, the people of Remnant had rejected the Emperor's Light in favor of false deities and depraved ideologies. Yet these idols too were abandoned in the face of death. When he and his brothers had raided the temples and churches of this city's false faiths, the mortals cowering inside them had fled or begged him for mercy, rather than to their gods, and only a few had tried to protect their holy artefacts.
It had sickened him. It was not the golden enlightenment of the Emperor that saw them plead for leniency, but the simple fear of death. At least the priests had the courage to try and stop Rickard and his brothers, pointless though it had been, the heathen masses had been naught but mewling cowards, professing understanding of the true path and fouling the Emperor's name with their deceit-filled mouths.
Rickard had killed them. They were faithless cowards, unworthy of their humanity, and had burned like the sub-human filth they were. Were it up to Rickard, he would have washed this entire wretched planet in holy fire as he had done with this pathetic gallery. The Emperor would protect His own from death, and if He did not, they would find themselves seated at the Emperor's table in the afterlife.
The flames continued to spit and dance in the night sky. They sparked a memory in the chaplain's mind, old and hazy. A burning castle, a murdered family, enemies surrounding him, wielding a blade too big for his small hands, a brother at his back, a roaring shadow descending from the sky.
As soon as the memory came, it was gone. Rickard did not chase it. It was of a time long ago and with no bearing on his life or duty. Yet, it had held his attention long enough for him to only now notice the sound of footsteps approaching him from behind.
Rickard turned and looked down. A boy stood before him, a child not even a decade old. He was filthy, covered in dust that dulled his blonde hair and gave his skin a pallid hue. In his arms, held close to his chest, the boy held a cloth wrapped bundle. For an instant, Rickard thought it was a concealed explosive, until the bundle squirmed in the child's arms, prompting the boy to adjust his hold and reveal the face of an infant poking out from the cloth.
The boy stared up at Rickard, and the chaplain saw that both he and the infant had golden eyes.
"H-hello," the boy greeted.
"Hail," Rickard said, and the boy flinched back from the harshness of his vox-filtered voice. He took a step back, then shook his head and took two steps toward the chaplain. Rickard was impressed. Few mortals dared approach one of the Emperor's chosen so brazenly, especially after having their world subjugated. The adults in the crowd were watching on in fearful anticipation, yet none made to step forward and pull the boy away.
"Are you really an Angel?" The boy asked.
"I am," Rickard said, after lowering the volume of his helmet's voxspeakers.
"Did the Emperor send you?"
Rickard nodded, "He did."
The boy was quiet for a moment, his gaze drifting to the blazing inferno behind Rickard. "Did we make the Emperor mad," he finally asked, his voice innocent and sincere.
"Your rulers did," Rickard answered. "They rejected His truth in favor of lies, corrupting the spiritual purity of your planet's populace. Such arrogance could not be allowed to fester. For this reason, we have come. The destruction you see before you is the consequence of your rulers' actions, and the first step on Remnant's path toward redemption."
The boy just stared at him. "You are being given a chance to earn the Emperor's forgiveness." Rickard simplified.
"Oh," the boy said, golden eyes gleaming with understanding. He looked down at the babe in his arms with an expression of concern that morphed into one of determination. Then the boy did something that surprised Rickard.
He held the babe out to the chaplain, and in a clear but shaky voice, said, "Please make her be loved by the Emperor!"
Rickard blinked within his helmet and the mortals in the crowd gasped in shock and began to mutter. One of them finally broke from the throng and made for the children but faltered when Rickard turned his gaze on her.
She bore a slim resemblance to the boy, boasting the same curly blonde hair, but her eyes were green rather than gold. The woman stuttered meaningless drivel before bowing her head in submission. "P-please excuse my nephew! H-he's a good boy I swear, and he didn't mea-"
"Silence," Rickard told the woman, who clamped her mouth shut instantly. He looked back at the boy, the babe still held out toward the chaplain and looking mildly confused. "What is your name, lad?"
"Louey," the boy answered.
"Louey," Rickard repeated, "you ask me to bless this babe, but not yourself. I would know why."
"W-well… because she's a baby." He answered. "And since she's a baby, she hasn't done anything bad. I thought, if I could get the Emperor to love her, then she wouldn't become bad when she grows up and… make the Emperor mad again…" His voice faltered and he averted his eyes as his cheeks flushed with color.
"You have told me why you wish her to be blessed, Louey, but not why you do not ask the same for yourself." Rickard said, causing the boy to squirm a little.
"I… well… cus I thought you'd think I was selfish and not bless her if I asked for it too…" His voice grew smaller and smaller with each word he said. Had Rickard been mortal, he would not have heard the boy's final words, but his Emperor-given gifts allowed the chaplain to hear Louey's words as clearly as if he had shouted them.
"Remain here, Louey." Rickard said, then turned around and began to walk toward the burning art gallery. He stopped at the edge of the blaze. The heat was intense, but his holy armor protected him, and his post-human physiology would allow him to endure it easily. Reciting one of the litanies of disarming, Rickard removed his right gauntlet and knelt down. Fastening the gauntlet to his belt, the chaplain reached into the pile of ash growing around the fire with his still armored left hand, scooping out a small handful. Rickard then rose and made his way back to the children. As he did so, he noticed that his brothers had halted in their labors to watch him.
Rickard looked to the nearest one of them. "Brother Errich, to me," He called over the vox, and the assault marines broke off to join the chaplain.
The woman had since moved closer to the two children, but she was still too overcome with fear to place herself in the chaplain's path. She watched, a hand protectively gripping the boy's shoulder, as Rickard stopped in front of them. Rickard looked to Errich, then to the boy, Louey. "Give the infant to Brother Errich."
Louey seemed hesitant to obey and held the infant girl close to his chest. He was not afraid to approach a chaplain of the Black Lions and make demands of him, but a simple battle-brother gives him pause? "Brother Errich, remove your helmet for me."
Errich looked at the chaplain but did not question the order. He sheathed his chainsword and holstered his bolt pistol before reaching up and, with the hiss of releasing pressure, removed his sacred Mark II helmet. His head was shaved bare and tattooed with lines of holy scripture. He had the strong, blocky features of all Space Marines, and carried a scar that ran from the right side of his chin to his ear.
And like the boy and infant girl, Errich had golden eyes.
Louey stared with open awe at Brother Errich, as did the woman beside him and the crowd further back. They muttered and whispered to one another. Perhaps they thought the Black Lions were some kind of automata or that they were one with their armor. Rickard did not care enough to pay their prattle any mind though.
"Give the infant to Brother Errich," Rickard repeated, snapping Louey back to the present. "She will not be harmed." The child looked between the two Black Lions, then to his aunt. The woman looked down at her nephew, shaking her head and mouthing 'no'. Louey turned back to the chaplain.
"Will you make sure the Emperor loves her if I do?"
It was such an absurd question, almost blasphemous, and yet Rickard found the corners of his mouth lifting in an amused smirk. Such courage in one so young. "You have my word, young Louey."
The boy gave a nod and, against the silent pleas of his aunt, approached Brother Errich and held the girl up for him to take. With great care, Errich took hold of the infant, cupping her in his armored hands. She looked even smaller somehow now. Errich presented her to Rickard, like an offering. The chaplain brought up his unarmored hand and placed his thumb into the ashes he carried, collecting a small amount on the digit. "What is her name," he asked.
"G-Gloria," Louey answered.
"Gloria," Rickard began, pulling his thumb out of the ashes and toward the baby's face. "With the ashes of the fallen, I christen thee." He pressed his thumb against her forehead, gently. "With the ashes of heretics, I inure thee." Rickard carefully drew his thumb across her brow, first right, then left. All the while, she silently watched, her golden eyes wide. "With the ashes of redemption, I strengthen thee."
Rickard pulled his thumb away from the bewildered babe, revealing the crude aquila he had made upon her forehead. "And with His mark, I bless thee. Oh, holy Emperor, may you accept young Gloria into your great flock. May You shield her from evil and strengthen her in hardship. May her life be one of joyous service and devotion to You on Terra." He placed his hand over her head, and even unarmored, it showed just how massive he was compared to these mortals. She wriggled an arm free of her cloth wrappings and grabbed at his index finger with her tiny hand. "In the name of the Emperor, and the Primarchs, and the Nameless Saint. Ave Imperator."
"Ave Imperator," repeated Errich and his watching brothers. It was a brief baptism by his standards, but Rickard had been forced to make do with what he had available. Were it like the baptisms he had performed on Evangela during his training to join the chaplaincy, it would have taken place on sanctified ground with an hour's worth of hymnals and he would have used the ashes of the holy dead instead of the soot gathered from an iconoclastic pyre.
Still, one must work with what the Emperor gives them.
"She is now blessed and has been baptized in the Emperor's name," Rickard proclaimed as Errich passed Gloria off to her aunt, who all but snatched the infant away from the Space Marine, bowing her head and muttering terrified thanks. Louey regarded his sister with amazement, his golden eyes shining with wonder.
"Step forward, Louey," Rickard said, "and receive His blessing."
The woman froze, Louey turned to the chaplain. The shock on his face was plain to see as he lifted a hand and pointed at himself, mouthing the question, 'me'?
Rickard nodded, taking a knee in front of the child and reaching his thumb into the ashes once again. This seemed to confirm it for Louey, and the young boy stepped forward. Even kneeling down, Rickard loomed over Louey. As he did with Gloria, Rickard spoke the sacred words and placed an ashen Aquila on Louey's brow.
"…and with His mark, I bless thee. Oh, holy Emperor, may you accept young Louey into your great flock. May You shield him from evil and strengthen him in hardship. May his life be one of joyous service and devotion to You on Terra." He placed his hand over the boy's head. "In the name of the Emperor, and the Primarchs, and the Nameless Saint. Ave Imperator."
"Ave Imperator," repeated his brothers once more, as did Louey. When Rickard pulled his hand away, the child was beaming up at him. His smile was huge, showing off clean white teeth that contrasted sharply with his grimy appearance.
"Thank you, Mister Angel!" The boy said with such genuine sincerity and lack of fear that it caught the chaplain off guard. "I promise, me and Gloria will make the Emperor super happy. Ave Impuraptor!"
Before the boy could say more, his aunt reached down and grabbed his arm, pulling him away from the Space Marines and back to the crowd. Louey looked back and gave an enthusiastic wave farewell to the chaplain, while the infant Gloria simply stared at them from over her aunt's shoulder.
"That was unexpected," Errich said, donning his helmet once again.
"Indeed, but not unwelcomed." Rickard rose to his feet and turned back to the fire. Maybe this planet was more than heathens and monsters after all. He still believed it deserved worse than what it had received, but perhaps only most of the planet deserved to be washed in flames as opposed to all of it.
And besides, it was only right that he bless two of Salem's distant children. He reached to redon his gauntlet, when Errich spoke.
"Chaplain," the Marine's tone caused Rickard to turn back around where he saw several of the mortals from the crowd approaching them, many of whom had children with them. A man and woman reached the two Astartes first. The woman carried a young boy in her arms, older than Gloria but younger than Louey. His eyes were bright blue.
"Please… can you bless our Robby too?" The man asked, hope and fear tainting his voice.
Errich looked at Rickard, but any comment the Marine might have made was silenced by the glare the chaplain gave him through his helmet's eye lenses.
~o0o~
Qrow prodded his scrambled eggs with his fork, absently pushing them around the plate. He knew he should eat; a Huntsman needed his strength after all, but the events of the last twenty-four hours had robbed him of his appetite.
Not to mention, the hot sauce bottle at his table was empty. Just his luck.
Qrow desperately wanted to take a swig from his flask, but he'd already emptied its contents yesterday and hadn't had the time to refill it. Not that he'd find anything to refill it with here at Beacon.
Thankfully, his family were able to eat their breakfast, no problem. Ruby and that Arc boy were practically inhaling the food right off their plates, not that Qrow was surprised. Compared to whatever slop they were being fed on the Dauntless, this must have been like eating at a five-star restaurant for them. Tai and Yang ate slower and constantly shot glances toward the other two, probably out of fear one of them would take too large a bite and start choking. So far though, that hadn't happened.
Qrow turned to look out at the massive hall that was the Beacon Academy cafeteria and resisted the urge to sigh. At this time of day, the cafeteria would be filled with scores of students eating breakfast, chatting with friends and classmates, a few maybe even trying to finish some last-minute homework before classes started. For a kid who had been raised in a tribe of bandits that had, at its highest, numbered no more than around forty to fifty people, it had been an eye opener to just how big the world really was.
Now, of the hundreds of tables that lined the hall, only a handful of them were occupied. Academy students who had sided with the Imperials sat in scattered groups with teammates or friends. Some were alone. They were from Beacon and Shade mostly, a few he saw wearing Haven uniforms, but he saw none in Atlas uniforms. It still surprised Qrow, just how many of Beacon's student body had been a part of the Imperial Cult, especially considering Ozpin's stance on the religion itself. Had the Headmaster actually been unaware of how many of his students worshiped the emperor, or had he just turned a blind eye to it, like he had with Ruby and Summer?
There were other people besides the students, men and women in uniforms the Huntsman didn't recognize, pouring over books and old-looking, Scroll-like devices as they ate. They had sequestered themselves to the tables nearest to the cafeteria's eastern exit, which Qrow remembered was the fastest way to the Academy's library. Machine-stuffed skulls floated around them, and Qrow glared at one as it caught his eye. He didn't want to know what their function was.
There were soldiers too, clad in armor that somehow looked both advanced and archaic at the same time. They honestly looked more like medieval men-at-arms than modern soldiers, especially with those red tabards they wore that depicted a roaring black lion's head. The soldiers were standing guard at the exits and entrances of the cafeteria, or patrolling along the isles in pairs, weapons out. Some were sitting down and eating, though not before they had bowed their heads in what Qrow could only assume was prayer.
Not for the first time this morning, Qrow resisted the urge to sigh explosively and turned back to his yet to be touched food.
They had spent the night at Beacon, Ruby, Yang, Tai, Arc and himself. After Ruby had finished telling them about her and Arc's imprisonment and release from Jimmy's flagship, and after Yang's tearful apology for her role in it all, they had retired for the night in the now unoccupied dorm rooms. Ruby and Yang had naturally stayed in their Team's room, while Arc had gone to his own team's dorm across the hall. He had invited Qrow and Tai in order to give the girls some privacy, and while Tai had accepted it, Qrow turned the offer down, opting to sleep outside in the hallway instead. He'd be lying if he said it was comfortable, but he'd slept in worse places.
And someone needed to keep watch.
Qrow had kept Harbinger at his side, hand wrapped around its hilt, ready to lash out at anyone trying to sneak into either room. Tai and Ruby might think that they were safe now, but Qrow knew better. People were dead. Hundreds of people, maybe even thousands in Vale alone. The swiftness of their conquest was only matched by the brutality of it, showing no mercy to anyone that so much as looked at them wrong while burning down anything they didn't like, which seemed to Qrow like pretty much everything that didn't support their insane religion.
It would be years before Vale resembled how it used to look, maybe longer if Grimm attacks increased. Qrow could only imagine how the other Kingdoms looked. He wasn't stupid enough to think they hadn't been hit too. Vacuo he was sure would probably get off the lightest, they didn't care about what you worshipped there as long as you could take care of yourself. Atlas would get the worst of it, given their almost fanatical hatred for emperor worshipers. Mistral… he wasn't so sure. He knew the eastern-most kingdom had a few cults of the emperor hidden within its borders, and that they survived thanks to the unbelievable level of corruption present in Mistral's government, but he had no idea whether that would matter to the Imperials or not.
That being said, he wouldn't lose any sleep if a few corrupt officials suddenly found themselves at the business end of the Imperials' guns. Instead, what kept the Huntsman from a good sleep last night had been his paranoia toward their conquerors and thinking about what sort of future now awaited them.
Something that Qrow pushed to the furthest corner of his subconscious when he heard Ruby inhale sharply. His gaze shot up to his niece, was looking at him with an open mouth and wide eyes. Confused, he quirked an eyebrow and looked down at himself. "What, I got something on my-" Then he heard it, loud and steady, echoing through the cafeteria like the thumping of an industrial metal press.
And Qrow realized that Ruby hadn't been staring at him.
He turned around and there he was. One of the so-called 'angels', marching his way into the cafeteria like he owned the place. There was another figure with the angel, clad in blue and silver clothes with one arm in a sling, but everyone's focus was on the angel.
To Qrow's relief, it wasn't the skull-faced monster from yesterday. Instead, it looked more like one of their regular troops, as far as anyone could call an eight-foot tall, powered-armored death machine 'regular'. He wore the same black armor with golden trim and crimson shoulder pads, – one depicting a grey arrow with a 3 inlaid in it, the other a roaring black lion's head – Qrow had seen the others wearing, decorated with strips of paper sealed with wax and lines of tiny scripture etched into every panel of armor plating, but there were two things that stood out about this particular warrior. The first was the giant gauntlet on his left arm tipped with taloned fingers the length of swords.
The second was that he wasn't wearing his helmet.
Qrow was surprised by how much the sight shocked him. When he first saw these angels in the streets of Vale, he had thought they were some kind of highly advanced war robots. But then he heard one of them speak, watched how they fought and moved. No machine, however advanced, could move like that, but neither could any human being. Not without Aura, and definitely not while wearing such bulky and heavy armor. But then, those suits of armor had all been decorated differently, hinting toward a unique personality, and therefore a living person beneath all that heavy plate.
Still, he hadn't expected the angel to look so… well, so unlike an angel.
Sure, he wasn't very familiar with the fine details of the Imperial Faith, or most religions for that matter, but the ones that featured angels in their artwork tended to depict them as benevolent and beautiful with gentle features and kind expressions.
Kind was not a word Qrow would use to describe this angel's features. They were hard, broad and sharp. A pair of metal studs sat over his right eyebrow, over what looked to be scar tissue from a gunshot if Qrow was any judge. He was bald too, save for a small blonde mohawk that ran along the center of his scalp. In all, he looked more like some roided-up street thug than a divine warrior.
Almost like he had heard the unflattering thought, the claw-armed giant made his way over to their table, his companion taking long and hurried strides to keep up with him. As they drew closer, Qrow was able to make out more details, see the hard frown on the warrior's lips, the twin-headed eagle tattoo on his forehead, the-
Qrow tensed up and would have started choking on his food if he had actually eaten any of his breakfast, when he saw the eyes of the giant.
Silver eyes…
Just like Ruby's…
"Hail, noble warriors! I thought we would find you here!" Greeted a cheerful, but also regal voice. Qrow tore his gaze away from the silver-eyed giant and toward the speaker. It was the giant's blue and silver companion.
They were a man, a normal, human man. He was clad in fine clothes of blue laced with silver that were somehow both simple and regal, reminiscent of some medieval nobleman. A blue hood hung around his shoulders, revealing a sharp and handsome face that was used to smiling. His eyes were brown, and his hair was glossy black. His right arm was in a sling and cast. His head too showed signs of injury, though these were covered by bandages and patches of medical tape.
Guy looked like he just came out of a bad bar fight.
"Uhm, hello," Tai greeted back, though with clear confusion. Yang stared at the blue clothed man; eyes narrowed as if she were trying to remember something. Ruby and Arc were looking up at the angel with a big smile and shock, respectively.
"Its you!" Ruby nearly shouted, all but jumping from her seat to go up to the giant warrior. "Sergeant Jorran!" She did that silly hand gesture, the Sign of the Aquilla, which to Qrow's surprise, the giant returned, though only with his right hand.
"Greetings," was Jorran's response. Brothers of Light and Dark, he had the deepest voice Qrow had ever heard. "You are both fully recovered?"
The two teens nodded, "Yup! Our Auras healed us right up once we got out of those cells!" Ruby answered, raising her left arm to flex. "We're both fit as fiddles!"
"… Good," Jorran replied after a moment. Then his gaze traveled to the others sitting at the table. Qrow felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end when those silver eyes landed on him. He felt like a mouse being stared down by a hawk.
"Oh, let me introduce you to my family," Ruby said as the giant surveyed those gathered. "This is my dad, Tai Xiao Long."
"Hello," Tai blurted out.
"My older sister, Yang."
"H-hi," Yang squeaked.
"And my uncle, Qrow!"
Rather say anything, Qrow just gave a nod and grunted, which Jorran seemed to find acceptable. Then, Ruby turned to face her family and gestured to the massive warrior.
"Everyone, this is Brother-Sergeant Jorran of the Black Lions Third Brotherhood! He's the leader of the squad that saved me and Jaune." She looked back at his companion, and her smile became a little embarrassed. "Oh! Sorry, I didn't mean to ignore you, mister…"
The handsome man chuckled. "It is no concern, young lady, so fret not. I am already acquainted with your family." He gave Tai, Qrow, and finally Yang a knowing look. "I am glad to see you reunited with your kin, Lady Xiao Long."
It was then that Qrow realized he recognized the man's voice. It lacked the booming volume from when he had last heard it, but it still carried that regal, slightly pompous tone from before.
Yang recognized it too. "You're the mech pilot," she said, a realization more than a question.
The man bowed, though the movement was hindered a little by his wounded arm. "Freeblade Artoris Ollacile, pilot of the noble Knight Abysswalker, at your service, my lady."
Yang, still reeling from all the excitement and emotional stress from the day before, could only nod her head in return. "Yang Xiao Long, at yours, I guess." She said, cheeks flushed at her uncharacteristic uncertainty.
"You know him, Yang?" Arc asked, and Artoris looked at the boy.
"We fought alongside one another against the Grimm dragon that sought to destroy this city," The Freeblade said. "They saved my life and distracted the beast long enough for me to deliver the killing blow. Your city would be in ruins were it not for them."
Qrow wanted to scoff. Vale was already in ruins thanks to your Angel buddies, he thought bitterly. But one of those Angels was standing right next to him and he knew it wouldn't be a good idea to antagonize someone like that.
"Artoris told Yang where we could find you," Tai told Ruby, then to Artoris said, "thank you again."
"It was the least I could do in return for Lady Xiao Long's valiant display." He gave Yang an approving smile. "To willingly charge a beast of that size with only those shotgun gauntlets of hers, it is a thing worthy of song."
"I was just doing what a Huntress is supposed to do," Yang replied, petting her long hair and looking away, embarrassed. Qrow narrowed his eyes at the man.
"So," he interrupted, with a voice that made everyone look at him, "was there a reason you came over here?" He was careful with his tone, but he couldn't help keeping some of the hostility he felt from his voice.
Ruby and Yang winced. Arc went pale. Tai gave him a warning glare. Artoris seemed unfazed, though his smile was now gone.
"I wanted to see the girl." The answer came from the giant, Sergeant Jorran. Qrow looked up at him, and felt his blood go cold. The man's silver eyes bore into the Huntsman, calculating and cold. It was like he could see right into Qrow's soul and was judging him for what he saw there. Qrow felt his heart pounding faster in his chest, and the Huntsman pulled his gaze away from the giant, though he could still Jorran's eyes glaring into the side of his head.
"a girl?" Ruby said, and Qrow felt the oppressive feeling of the giant's gaze leave him as it focused on Ruby.
"You." Jorran answered simply. "I heard that you were given over to the Inquisitor after your landing. I wanted to make sure you were not… harmed in the experience."
"That was when I found him searching the halls like a lost puppy," Artoris put in. "I took it upon myself to lead him here, figuring it the most likely place to find you."
"I was not lost," Jorran corrected him. "And you were as unsure of her location as I was, Freeblade. It is thanks to the Emperor's guidance that we found her so quickly."
Artoris relented with a bow of his head to the giant. "Of course, it was the Emperor's will, as it is with all things," he said, but with a hint of bemusement.
"Uhm," Ruby piped in, cheeks reddening as both men's eyes fell on her. "I'm honored you wanted to check in on me, but why? I-I mean, I'm really grateful, b-b-but I… D-don't you have more… important… things… to… do…?" she asked, her voice growing meeker and higher pitched with each word she spoke while she did her best impression of a turtle retreating into its shell.
Despite her faith and experience with this particular man, even Ruby couldn't help but quail under Jorran's intimidating gaze. After what was probably just a second or two, but had felt like hours, Jorran said, "I have already told you why. Inquisitors are not gentle creatures and often zealous in their work."
"And I'm guessing that would have rankled your sense of 'honor' to know the kids you just saved were being tortured by your boss," Qrow muttered, unable to keep the venom from his words.
He blinked. The tip of a bladed finger hovered, upturned, suddenly an inch from his face.
"Take care with your loose tongue, mortal, lest it suddenly fly free and render you mute." The threat was as sincere as it was flowery.
Qrow tensed instantly. He had seen firsthand how powerful these warriors were, but the speed in which Jorran had moved still baffled him. It shouldn't be possible for something this big to move so quickly. Even with Aura, a Huntsman would need a moment to prepare, tensing muscles, shifting posture, briefly betraying the action before it could even be made.
Qrow shifted his gaze from the talon to the man wielding it. He met those silver eyes again. They regarded him with contempt, pure and disgusted. Qrow was used to the contempt of others, from the other bandits in the Branwen tribe when he was a kid, and as Huntsman by his more formal-minded colleagues. But this was different, and terrifying.
"I'm sorry about Qrow," Tai suddenly piped in. "He lets his mouth run more than he should. He didn't mean anything by it, right Qrow?" He directed the last two words to Qrow himself, sending him a sideways glare. Yang nodded her head vigorously in agreement, as did Ruby. Arc was too busy staring at the outstretched talon to respond, his face pale.
Qrow met Tai's glare with his own, then closed his eyes and through gritted teeth said, "yeah… I speak before I think sometimes. My bad."
"You will refrain from doing so again," Jorran demanded, his voice level and stern. "Or I will kill you."
He flicked the claw upward, the very tip of the digit tracing up Qrow's cheek and leaving a short, shallow cut that his Aura quickly healed. Jorran's nose wrinkled in disgust at the sight but pulled the clawed gauntlet back to his side and turned back to Ruby. The excitement and wonder she had expressed at seeing him was gone, replaced with uncertainty and fear. The others too were on edge. Tai, shooting glances between Qrow and Jorran. Yang, looking ready to either throw herself at the giant or push Ruby out of the way. And Arc, pale as a sheet and frozen like a deer in the headlights.
Maybe now, they understood that these guys weren't the benevolent saviors they thought they were.
"Not the best way to endear yourself to your new charges, Brother-Sergeant," Artoris commented, and the giant merely shrugged his large shoulders, eliciting a chuckle from the Freeblade.
"Charges? What are you talking about?" Tai asked.
Artoris looked at him, "Oh, yes, you would not know." He paused, stroking his chin in thought for a moment before saying, "I suppose there is no harm in telling you, it will be made common knowledge soon enough." A sense of dread immediately crawled its way up Qrow's spine. "To ensure that your world does not slide back into heresy, a squad of Black Lions is to remain on Remnant to oversee your world's assimilation into the Imperium. This duty has been granted to Brother-Sergeant Jorran and his squad."
What little hope was left in Qrow of things maybe, possibly, going back to how they were before, instantly sank. Ruby and Arc visibly gawked, Tai was dumbfounded, and Yang looked like she didn't know if she should be dismayed, angry, or relieved.
"But… that leaves only ten of you for the whole world." Arc pointed out. "How are you-"
"Four hundred Battle Serfs of the chapter will also remain in support of us," Jorran answered, not caring he had interrupted him. "In addition, a garrison force of several Astra Militarum regiments is also enroute to assist in the occupation."
"The Astra Militarum is the Imperium's primary military force," Artoris explained before the question could be asked. "The common soldiery."
"Like those guys over there?" Yang asked, pointing over to some soldiers at a faraway table. They had stopped whatever they had been doing to watch Jorran and Artoris as they spoke with the Xiao Long family – and Arc – and quickly looked away when Yang had pointed them out.
"Yes and no," Artoris answered. "Those men are Inquisitorial Stormtroopers serving under Inquisitor Kress. They are elite soldiers, trained for quick, surgical strikes behind enemy lines and are given the best armor and weapons the Astra Militarum has. Many have no doubt served in the Imperial Guard before their recruitment into the Ordos, but as they now serve the Inquisition, they operate outside its power structure."
"So, they're black ops," Qrow put in, then reluctantly explained what it meant when he saw Artoris' raised eyebrow.
The Freeblade nodded, "yes, that is indeed an apt description of their duties." He then smiled, bemused and repeated softly, "black ops. I think they'd like the sound of that."
Qrow resisted the urge to roll his eyes. This guy and his posh accent were really starting to get on his nerves. The Four Kingdoms had fallen, Vale was devastated, countless people were dead, and this asshole was speaking to them like they were old friends. Did he truly think everyone was going to just accept this new rule of theirs so quickly and completely, or did he just not care about it?
"Is it because of her eyes?"
Qrow turned his head. Arc was looking up at Jorran. "I mean, she has the same eye color as you do. That's why you wanted to check on Ruby, right?"
"Jaune, that's-"
"Correct," Jorran answered, interrupting Ruby's denial and making everyone focus on him again. He did not say anything else at first, but as the five of them continued to stare, Jorran said something that, if Qrow had been drinking, would have made him spit his drink out. "You are a child of Salem."
Instead, Qrow's entire body tensed, and his blood ran cold. Tai reacted the same, becoming as rigid as a rock at the mention of the name of the Grimm's ruler. Tai might not have served Ozpin to the same degree Qrow or Summer had, but he knew about Salem, if only vaguely.
Ruby, ignorant to the terrible significance of the name, cocked her head to the side and repeated, "A child of Salem?"
"It is the name of our homeworld," Jorran answered. "She is home to many kingdoms, great and small, and all her people are born with eyes the color of precious metals: such as gold, bronze," he tapped the side of his head with a gauntleted finger, "and silver."
Qrow had to muster all his self-control to stop himself from slumping forward onto the table and sighing explosively. Tai was more obvious, visibly relaxing his whole body as relief washed over him. Jorran had meant a world, not her, but then the significance of that fact hit Qrow with nearly the same force as the utterance of the name 'Salem' had. He had said they came from another world.
Unaware of Qrow's internal strife, Jorran went on. "When our chapter first came to Remnant, we left behind mortal serfs to guide your ancestors toward Emperor's light. As time went on, they would have bred with the native population, introducing their genetics into the planet's gene pool. Your eye color marks you as one of their descendants."
Ruby stared at Jorran, then down at her own hands. She looked at them like she was seeing them for the first time in her life. Arc put a hand on her shoulder, and she looked up at him, then her father, then Yang, and then Qrow. The old Huntsman could see a dozen different emotions swirling around in those silver eyes of her, something he couldn't really blame her for.
"So… Ruby's part… alien?" Yang asked. Like Qrow she had picked up on the whole 'came from a different world' part of the sergeant's speech.
Jorran's talons twitched, and he glared at Yang with barely controlled outrage. "She is not some abominable xenos half-breed," he snarled, breaking Ruby out of her awestruck state and making everyone wince. "She is human."
"G-got it," Yang amended, but Jorran continued to glare balefully at her.
"You would do well, all of you, not to accuse any other citizen of the Imperium of such heritage," Artoris said, his tone serious for a change. "It can be forgiven this time, as you are still largely ignorant of the wider Imperium and the universe, but just because a human being is born on a different planet from your own does not make them an alien."
"So, there are aliens out there too?" Arc ventured. "Real ones, I mean."
"They are a blight upon the galaxy," Jorran answered. "They forever seek Mankind's annihilation and take pleasure in nothing save death and destruction."
"Good to know," Arc said, gulping in fear. Qrow thought it certainly was. The conversation went on for a little while longer, stilted and awkward, until Artoris and Jorran finally left. His family was silent in their absence, processing or trying to process all the new information so casually thrusted upon them.
There was a lot to be concerned about, if even half of what those two said was true. The part about aliens though…
It was strangely comforting to know this massive empire wasn't the only thing out there in the stars. He doubted they were the big baddy Jorran seemed to think they were, the man talked way too much like those racist bumpkins who still thought faunus could turn into animals for Qrow to take him at his word. And besides, if they were enemies of the Imperium, they couldn't be all that bad.
~o0o~
As the planet of Remnant spun its slow celestial dance around the sun, the crew of the Solaire's Light made ready for departure. Ensigns moved along the bridge, relaying orders from the captain and bridge officers to other areas of the ship. In the enginarium, Tech-Priests and their thralls stoked the plasma heart of the ship's engines in preparation for propulsion. In every deck chapel, priests led the crew and non-essential personal in prayer for safe travel through the Warp.
All the while, Kress stood on the observation deck, silently watching the world below and tuning out the ordered cacophony of the bridge.
It had been three weeks since the Black Lions had invaded Remnant, yet the scars still showed fresh upon the world. Smoke clouds still swathed much of the Mistral continent, even with most of the fires now put out. The pristine white of Solitas had turned black around the ruins of the once proud kingdom of Atlas, now an empty and broken shell. Continent Secondus had been remade. The force of the bombardment had shattered the drake's head peninsula, leaving a huge crater that was visible from orbit.
There were lesser scars. Fires that glowed on the planet's night side where villages had burned and left to smolder. Great fields where artillery and airstrikes had annihilated tens of thousands of Grimm, leaving behind thick quagmires of mud and debris.
And still, Remnant was in a much better state than most planets that had suffered an Astartes invasion. Kress estimated it would take the Kingdoms most heavily affected only a few years to get their infrastructure back to its post invasion state, perhaps faster once the garrison force arrived.
The one squad and four hundred serfs would have to do till then. The vast chapter fleet of the Black Lions had left a week ago, squadrons and induvial ships breaking off to answer calls for assistance in other systems where their strength was sorely needed. Apart from the Solaire's Light, only the Gladius Frigate, Hammer of Sabaton, remained in the system to provide orbital support for squad Jorran.
"I got to say," the man standing next to him said, "I never thought I'd get a window view this good."
He tried to sound only mildly impressed, but Kress heard the slight tremor in his voice, noted the way he forced a calm tone. He was in awe; he just didn't want to admit it. It was a common enough reaction. Seeing one's homeworld from orbit left many people dumbstruck, especially if they were from a culture with no experience in void flight, like Remnant.
Despite its advanced technological state, Remnant possessed no artificial satellites. Something to do with their primary fuel source not working outside their planet's atmosphere. The highest they could reach was the thermosphere, and even then, their craft had struggled to stay aloft. They knew their world was round and orbited the sun rather than the other way around, but they had no true understanding of scale or grandeur. Knowing something and seeing it were two different things, as the saying went.
"An interesting choice of words," Kress told him, "For the first man on Remnant to enter the void to say, when seeing his homeworld like this."
Roman Torchwick, donned in his long white coat and black bowler hat, shrugged. "Sorry to say, but I was never a big fan of those cheesy 'it's more beautiful than I could imagine' type of speeches." The former thief answered, then looked back at the world of his birth. "Doesn't mean I don't like the view. But going into space isn't something you think about when you're a famous thief, right Neo?"
His diminutive companion, perched atop the deck railing, one leg crossed over the other, looked over to them for a moment before going back to watching the crew. Neo had quickly lost interest in gawking at her homeworld and had instead chosen to study the men, women, and servitors of the lower bridge deck scurry to-and-fro.
Torchwick nodded like the look had been agreement and leaned forward on his cane. He tracked a patch of clouds moving along the southwestern coast of Mistral, then, with a bemused chuckle said, "the Big Man really does work in mysterious ways."
"Of that, there is no doubt," Kress agreed, turning as a bridge officer approached them.
"Lord Inquisitor," he said, bowing his head, "We just received word from hangar bay beta that the last of the shuttles have docked and begun unloading their cargo."
"Good. Send the weapons and tech samples to Orbeck's forge, the rest can be placed in the hold." Kress instructed. "Have there been any changes with the artifacts?"
"No, Inquisitor," the officer said, and with that, Kress dismissed him.
"Worried they might up and disappear on you?" Torchwick asked.
"Something like that," Kress answered, and Torchwick shook his head. "You would be wise not to dismiss the possibility. You will see and face many strange and horrible things in your service to the Inquisition."
"Aliens and heretics, right?" Torchwick said. "No offense, but that doesn't sound too bad if all we have to deal with are little green men and some free thinkers."
"If you think that, then I strongly suggest you begin reading up on the various xenos-breeds, start with the Orks and Eldar." Kress told him. "You will have time for it during transit, and I remind you-"
"Yeah, yeah," Torchwick interrupted, exasperated. "We both have our Auras down and will keep them down until this Warp translation thing is over." Kress nodded at this, prompting Torchwick to then ask: "are you finally going to tell us why we can't have our Auras up?"
"It is a safety precaution; one you will understand when we enter the Warp." Kress answered coldly. "Return to your quarters. It will be a few days before we reach the system's Mandeville point. Plenty of time for you to prepare yourselves."
Torchwick looked ready to argue, but Kress turned his attention back to the observation window. The former thief sighed and muttered a colorful native curse before leaving. "Come on, Neo! We got some time to kill, and this is a big ship. I'm sure we can find some fun for ourselves." The young woman hopped off her perch and followed after him dutifully. "See you later, boss-man!" and the two criminals left the bridge.
As they left, Kress gave a silent signal to some navy ensigns working over one of the cogitators. The three disguised Ordo agents immediately broke off from their task to follow after the pair and keep an eye on them. Kress may have seen potential in the two, but he knew better than to assume they would give up their old proclivities at his word alone.
Still, he was sure with time, he could mold them into fine acolytes, maybe even Interrogators. Then again, he could be wrong, and the impressive reputation Torchwick had made for himself could be nothing but smoke and mirrors.
Either way, with Yole dead and Yuria choosing to remain on Remnant, Kress had needed replacements and the two thieves had piqued his interest. At the very least, they would be unable to hamper Remnant's reconstruction while under his employ.
He would miss the twins. They had been with him for twenty years, longer than any of his current retinue save Orbeck. They were the illegitimate offspring of a noble of hive-world Anora, trained in the ways of assassination and espionage. The patriarch of House Lond, their great uncle, had ordered them to kill Kress when he had begun investigating a smuggling ring the family had ties to. Instead, they brought Kress the patriarch's head and evidence linking their house to both the smuggling ring and a burgeoning cult of pleasure. House Lond, and the cult, were purged and the twins, now the last members of that bloodline, joined Kress' retinue.
From then on, they had been his hidden hands, carrying out his will from the shadows. Many of his investigations would have failed were it not for them, so it was with difficulty that he granted Yuria's request to remain.
The request had been a sudden one. In the wake of her brother's death, Yuria had become quiet and withdrawn. She did not tease or smile like she had before and spoke with a cold detachment. Then, without a word, she vanished. Kress had attempted to find her, briefly, but it was clear she wouldn't be found if she didn't want to be. Furthermore, Kress needed to focus on securing the artifacts and so had to put his search for Yuria to the side.
The search was unnecessary anyway. Yuria returned two weeks later, thin, wounded, and carrying a sack full of severed heads. They had been faunus, members of the abhuman terrorist group, the White Fang. Yuria had found them in the northern forest, survivors of the camp her brother had destroyed. They had been planning to take advantage of the situation in Vale when she found them. She killed them, most of them. Two had survived, one managing to flee into the wilds and the other captured by Yuria for interrogation.
It was after delivering the heads and the information that Yuria asked to remain on Remnant.
She delivered her case pragmatically, arguing that she was needed to deal with threats that the Black Lions and their serfs were ill-suited for. Remnant was only newly subjugated and there would be groups who sought to restore the old-world order, or their own regime opposed to Imperial rule. Space Marines could deal with such rebels easily enough, but the collateral damage left in their wake would only cause problems for the assimilation process, whereas Yuria could deal with them discreetly.
Furthermore, the other two artifacts had not been secured.
After a week of comatose slumber, Kara finally woke. The Young psyker had spoken of strange, esoteric things, much of it she herself could barely understand. Yet what was clear was that the Headmaster of Beacon was much, much older than he had appeared. Amber had confirmed this when questioned, and even offered assistance in making sense of Kara's discoveries. This, coupled with some hidden records and documents found within the headmaster's datapad and underground vault revealed the existence of four relics of immense power and representing some abstract concept believed by locals to be tied to the creation of mankind.
Creation, knowledge, choice, and destruction.
Amber also revealed that her kind, the Maidens, acted as living keys to these relics, as only they could open the vaults that held them and that these vaults were built under the four Huntsmen Academies.
Needless to say, the Inquisitor had not been willing to leave such potentially powerful artifacts undefended. With Amber's aid, they were able to locate and secure the relic of choice hidden on the Beacon grounds. Kress pressed the Headmaster of Shade for the second relic, who reluctantly agreed to help, contacting the Summer Maiden and having her unlock the vault for the sword of destruction. The vault to the relic of creation was easily found, as interrogation of the captured Atlas general revealed it to be the power source that kept Atlas aloft. However, the Winter Maiden had died during the Black Lions' purge of the Kingdom and her new 'reincarnation' is a mystery. In Mistral, incompetence had led to a similar situation. The craven Headmaster of Haven had actually lost his charge years ago and had no idea where she was or if she was even alive.
What's more, interrogation revealed him to be an agent of the Grimm's master and a traitor to humanity. His deserved death was made to appear like suicide brought upon by the stress of invasion.
Amber had revealed the existence of Salem, an ironic name in the circumstance, shortly after her revival in the vault. She was sadly not incredibly informed about the subject, only knowing the basic facts. It had been enough for Kress to order a bombardment on her stronghold, the location of which Orbeck had been able to deduce after several hours sifting through Ozpin's private data-looms, and even then, the files possessed few things of actual intelligence.
Kara had been able to fill in gaps when she awoke, and what she told Kress gratified his decision. An immortal witch hell-bent on mankind's annihilation. Relics of immeasurable power, tied to a prophecy of returning gods and final judgement. If he were not an Inquisitor, he might have waved it away as nonsense, but Kress knew better.
And if he had more time, he would have ensured that this Salem was contained, and the relics destroyed or out of her reach. But he did not have more time.
The astropathic message had been received two days ago. Kress had been summoned to stand before the Inquisitorial sector conclave. His fellow Inquisitors had caught wind of his recent movements and become suspicious. They wanted to know why he felt a remote backwater world required an invasion force of seven hundred Space Marines to conquer it, and why he had not alerted them to said world's existence right away.
Kress was not surprised by the summons, but he cursed it all the same for its timing. There was still so much to do on Remnant. The artifacts, these 'Maidens', the faunus abhuman strain, Dust and Aura. Salem. There were so many secrets here, so many mysteries to unravel.
Kress was sorely tempted to ignore the summons. Warp communication was a fickle thing after all. Who's to say he really received the message at all? But no, they would have some means to verify if the message was received, one of them anyway. If he put off his attendance, it would only make them more suspicious and possibly send another Inquisitor to track him down. And there was no telling what sort of Inquisitor they would send. The last thing Kress wanted, after all his work securing this world, was some overzealous Puritan declaring Exterminatus at the sight of a Creature of Grimm.
No, complying with the summons would be the best option. It would reveal Remnant to the wider Inquisition, yes, but he would be able to voice his case for its assimilation into the Imperium as well. Kress was certain that some of his colleagues would see the benefit of such a world or at the very least, want to study the capabilities of Aura and Semblances.
Of course, he wouldn't tell them everything. Kress didn't want to give his fellow Inquisitors too many ideas. He did not want to think what his more Radical colleagues would do if they got their hands on even one of the artifacts. But there was no more time to worry about such things.
He had two of the artifacts secured aboard his ship, protected in warded stasis caskets, while Yuria hunted down the Spring and Winter Maidens on Remnant. She had recruited the Fall and Summer Maidens to aid in her search, deducing their immense power would be helpful in dealing with any obstacles as well persuading the missing Maidens should they prove… reluctant to cooperate.
"Inquisitor," he turned to see First Lieutenant Hammond. "All shuttles and crew secured. All systems are nominal. We await only your word."
"Then let us not waste any more time," Kress said, letting out a sigh that became a static-filled snarl. "Give word to the captain for our departure from the system." Kress looked back out at Remnant, slowly rotating in the void like a lost marble of blue and green. "Have the Navigator plot a course for the Nero system once we are in the Warp."
First Lieutenant Hammond bowed his head and swiftly made his way up to the captain's throne to relay the orders. A few minutes later, the captain was barking orders to his bridge crew and the Solaire's Light began to turn away from Remnant and make for the system's edge. It would be several days before they reached the Mandeville point, and Kress needed to prepare his arguments for the conclave.
Turning his back to the world he had helped conquer, Oscar Kress left the bridge without a word. As he thought over what he should say, a stray thought flittered into his brain. Quintella might be there. The Daemon Hunter had proven a valuable ally and friend over the years, despite the conflicting interests of their Ordos. What's more, she worked closely with the fabled Grey Knights chapter.
It was a slim chance that she would be in Nero, almost nonexistent. But if she were there. If Kress could convince her of Remnant's value…
The Grey Knights possessed the most potent daemon killing arsenal in the galaxy. Even if the chapter could not kill Salem, they surely had something to contain her.
And as Kress thought of how to best approach his old friend, the world that had so beguiled him grew further and further away, until it was just another speck of light in the dark void of space.
~o0o~
Author's Note: FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK! This one took so damn long! I'm sorry everyone for the wait everyone. Life's been rather… hectic lately and it's been hard for me to write more often. But yeah, it's done. The end chapter. I am sorry if its somewhat… clunky. There was so much stuff I wanted to write out, like Jacques POV of things in Atlas, Menagerie's surrender, but a lot of it just felt like padding to me. Even then, I wasn't really sure how to end the story, which is part of why this took so long.
But this story has been one hell of a roller coaster huh? Hard to believe it's as old as it is too. So much has changed over the years from the original plan, like how I was going to have Ruby be part of a million-man march sort of scenario and have that be when the Black Lions show up, or the heavy focus on Kress who was originally supposed to just be the plot device to explain why the Black Lions were on Remnant. I'm immensely proud of how well received this story has been and incredibly grateful to everyone who has followed it over the years. I truly appreciate it. You guys are the GOAT!
As always, Please Fav, Follow, and Review! Thank You! DeadRich18 out!