The Leopards and Sororitas in the Governors Palace ready themselves as they receive bad news from their commander. But with their new comrade more prepared than ever, they decide to make their move.
Across the city, Roger moves toward the Mission of Saint Roque in a desperate attempt to stem the tide of rebellion about to reach its crest. But at the eleventh hour, as he rushes to stop his enemy through violence or whatever means available, a new situation arises...
It is always strange to find oneself in a place they know so well and thought of as safe becomes the exact opposite. Sister Xena, moving slowly and hidden through the halls of the Governor's Palace, felt a mix of familiarity and unease that she had never experienced before. Having spent a Terran year walking these halls, discussing matters of political importance, escorting Karl from the schoolroom to his father or personal quarters, she now was forced to stalk them like an outlaw. It had taken some convincing, but her new companion, who somehow had a knack for moving with little to no notice, snuck alongside her.
"So, where's your room again?"
"Down this hallway."
"Must be nice living in a palace."
"When one spends their early years scrounging the streets of a Hive, their early adulthood being drilled relentlessly, and their life in Spartan piety, you do not take such issues with living in opulence."
"That's not what I meant. I just thought it's fairly good living."
"Ah. Apologies."
She did not notice Hawke rolling his eyes. There may have been a time where being alone with a Sororitas, even one not in a tight-fitting leather getup would have been an enticing offer to him. Those days had been left behind as he had found a stable relationship and something approaching discipline from the Guard.
"Watch it, we got two coming ahead."
They pressed onto the walls, hidden by dim light and tight corners. The two guards were focused on moving wherever they were required to notice, even if they had not taken special effort to be indistinguishable. The pair noticed that they seemed to be the closest to actual PDF soldiers they had encountered since all hell had broken loose in the tunnel. As the troops in question vanished around a corner, they started moving again, the blackjack firmly in the Anglois Guardsmans hand.
"They had placed guards in front of my door last time I was here. You may have to use that."
"Will do."
As they neared their destination, Xena cursed with the realization that the guards were still there.
"What should we do?" the Famulous asked.
"You Sisters are all fairly strong even out of your armor, right?"
"What does that have to do-"
"These floors are nice and polished. Noisy. I'll make a distraction, you take the one closest, I'll take the other. You'll know what to do when the time comes. Trust me. Or don't, as long as I survive this, I don't give a damn."
She weighed her options before shaking her head.
"Very well."
"Get into position first."
Hiding close by, she watched as the Guardsman snuck closer and closer. Then, only a few feet away from the two, both completely unaware of their guests, she noticed something shine in between his fingers. He placed it on top of his thumb and flicked it, the object flashing in the air before hitting the ground with a noisy report.
"What the hell?" the closer and younger one asked.
"Stay here," his shorter and older companion said, unslinging his lasgun.
The other guard, instead of focusing on his area, watched the other one move to the disturbance. Xena looked over to Hawke, who returned her gaze and nodded. She stepped from the shadow and went behind the younger one, covering his mouth and wrapping her arm around his neck as Hawke moved forward. He closed in, a dull thud coming from his direction. She pinched her targets neck, making the squirming and confused man go limp.
"You got a key, right?"
"Yes. But I am unsure of anyone else getting inside."
"Probably safe. Look at those scratches and dents. Fresh. Probably couldn't get in and not for lack of trying."
"Well, at least I still have some of my secrets."
She swung out her key, unlocked the door and dragged her unconscious target in, dropping him on the floor and scanning the corners. To her relief, the assessment that no one had gotten in was correct. All her belongings, though few, were untouched. Hawke followed her, dropping his victim next to hers.
"You have anything we could tie them up with?"
"No, but I am fairly certain they will not be an issue by the time we reach the Governor. Can you disable their lasguns?"
Hawke pulled the battery packs out of the weapons and pulled the guns apart, placing the essential firing pins in his uniform pocket.
"Done."
"Good. Now watch the door."
"Why?"
"I need to change into my armor. Contrary to popular belief, this leather uniform is not an undersuit."
"Alright."
"You take a peek, I assure you the Emperor will send your soul to hell."
"Well you certainly have a high opinion of your looks. Can you get armored up before these two arseholes wake up?"
As Hawke dutifully watched the door, she felt the air on her bare skin as the well worn and ripped clothing fell to the floor. She wore nothing under them, a trait that seemed to only belong to the Sisters of Esperanz. There was nothing to be ashamed of after all, so what did it matter? Moving over to the dresser, she felt relieved as resplendent green and silver armor filled her vision, flanked by Boltguns and pistols. Whatever advantage the rebels believed they had would quickly disappear, and vengeance for forcing her out of the palace was about to arrive.
XXXXXX
"You think the Governor actually read any of these?"
Parky was asking the question out of curiosity rather than insult, but it still annoyed Evita.
"Parky, would you believe that the Imperium would allow uneducated and incompetent people to rule over their planets?"
Davie, who had been looking out one of the windows towards the angry crowds at the gates, looked to the young Guardsman and cleared his throat.
"Boy, don't answer that."
"Well, I mean, the last few campaigns we fought on, the Governors were-"
"What did I say?"
"Right. Sorry sarge."
"Bob, anything from the tunnel?"
"Nope."
"Well, we're at least doing well on that front."
They had quickly assumed a defensive position, feeling secure, almost deceptively so. It had been a few minutes since Hawke and Xena had left, and they had somehow been either ignored or unnoticed entirely. As a leader, Davie was satisfied with this but was prepared at any moment for something bad to happen. Experience had taught him that, and more than a few scars had been earned for laxity.
"Bloody savages," he grumbled at the protestors, facing off against a phalanx of bayonet tipped lasguns held by an increasingly nervous palace guard.
"Do you not have such disturbances on Anglerre?" the Sororitas asked.
"We have a social contract," Parky answered. "The knights let us about our business, they protect us, and they serve the king."
"We've had some uprisings, but those were over taxes and bad harvests. Don't let anyone tell you a feudal world is all beat down peasants being constantly kicked into the mud. Well, War of the Lions was an exception, but that was between the nobles. Fights between them always seem to be the ones that go the worst."
"I heard about that from Prince Edmund. He is very privileged to have a father like King Edward."
"Aye. Thankfully, he spared anyone who fought against him. Merciful to his foes as he was vicious to the man who tried to take his throne."
"How do you know about that, Davie?"
The old warrior went silent, continuing to look out the window. Bob was staring into his back, having known a bit more about him but keeping quiet as he always did.
"Don't worry about that, boy. Just make sure you get home so you don't make mistakes like Tholom the Tyrant did."
Before the young man could ask a question about the serjeants knowledge, they all winced at a tapping on the window.
"How the-"
He lifted his Hellgun in preparation, worried about what he may face. His face turned from one of grim soldiery to shock as he recognized the blue and white armor hanging upside down in front of him.
"Throne above!" he muttered, looking for a latch.
Finding it, he swung the window open, a figure soaring through the air and landing next to him.
"Moire! How the hell did you stay unseen?"
"We have skills beyond the average man, serjeant."
The Avenger stood proudly, even without her mask and high crested helmet. Evita took offense at her presence almost immediately but quickly checked herself.
"Roger is at the Cathedral of Sacred Light. His suspicions were correct, and the priest in charge is the leader of these troubles."
"What is their status?"
"The priest is dead. Heart failure."
"Emperor protect us," Evita said.
Even with the revelation of rebels in the Holy Church, to be waging war on it still disturbed her. The death of one of its priests also affected her despite the questionable loyalty.
"More importantly, though news of his death is kept secret, he prepared a plan to execute the Governor and his family should he die or this rebellion fails."
"That's not good," Davie said flatly.
"However, the news of his demise would also cool tensions with the protestors and crowds across the city. In other words, have you contacted the leader of this planet?"
"Not yet. We're waiting on a Sororitas we contacted and helped us get in here. She's with Hawke trying to find them."
"Our comrades at the cathedral are prepared, but Roger wants you to be as well."
"Right. When those two get back here, we'll figure out a plan."
Just at that moment, a knock came at the door, followed by another, and another.
"She said three, right Bob?"
"Aye."
"You need to hide," Evita said hurriedly.
"And why is that?" Moire asked indignantly.
"Because Sister Xena is as hostile and hateful of your kind as a member of the Sororitas can be. At best, you will be eating a Bolter round, at worst, she will assume we all are compromised and kill everyone in this room."
"Understood."
"Why do Sisters of Battles hate abhumans so much? Well, except for you, Eve."
"Because Parky-it is complicated. Please, stay out of sight."
"Very well."
As Davie went over to the door, to Evita's concern, the Eldar vanished totally. Her forced tolerance was always on the verge of being overridden, but the slight fear of what the Xenos were capable of, even heard from rumors, was enough to control herself. Davie opened the door and looked at the armored figure, impressed at the upgrade the Famulous had undergone.
"Well, you look better than before, I'll say that."
"Appreciated sergeant."
She stepped into the library, holding a Bolter with a chainsword attached to her waist.
"Evita, I bear gifts."
"Oh?"
She pulled a Bolt pistol off her opposite side, handing it to the fellow Sororitas with two magazines.
"I would give you the Bolter, but considering you are out of your armor, I do not wish to risk you injuring yourself."
"Appreciated all the same."
"Sarge, we need to move now," Hawke said quickly. "There's not many guards out, and as far as I can tell, we got a straight shot towards the Governors office."
"Aye. Are you both sure he's there?"
"He must be. Hawke, the guards down the hall, were their uniforms a bit… flashy?"
"Very."
"Palace guards. We can trust them, but I must take the lead."
"Well then, we better get moving. Lead on."
Xena nodded and turned on her heel, moving out the door. Bob, Hawke, Evita, and Parky followed, Davie holding back for a moment and looking into the library.
"Tell Roger to make his move."
"Very well David," Moire said, echoing through the room but still unseen.
As he moved into the finely carpeted hallway, he started to feel something approaching concern, not for his mission or commander, but Moire. How many humans, mutant or not, were able to stay that well-hidden? Before he could question any further, he heard a guard let out a loud challenge in a hallway ahead. He cursed and rushed to get to his men. However it turned out, he had a fight ahead of him.
XXXXXX
"Well command should pull their head out of their ass and tell us what to do! We have an entire crowd here, and they're getting as nervous as my men. Something goes wrong; it's going to be a massacre!"
"Understood captain, but continue to hold. Await further orders."
"Motherfu-"
The captain was not happy as the radio went dead. How could he be? He and his tank squadron had been sent to ensure those gathering in front of the Mission of Saint Roque were peaceful, and that bloodshed could be avoided if possible. But as night fell, what was an already tense situation became almost unbearable. Even under the metal of the hull, he and his crew could feel the tension in the air. He could hardly imagine what it must have been like outside.
"What do we do sir?" his gunner asked.
"We just wait private. They haven't attacked us, and we have no reason to fire. Hopefully, they get tired of standing around and yelling at the Sisters of Battle and go home. Then we can go home too."
"What a mess," the driver spat, watching the city folk through his viewport.
The commoners had ignored the tanks, unfazed or not frightened by their presence. The captain had been initially worried about moving in, as the sight of military vehicles could be as much of a trigger point as a way to put down rebellion. Thankfully, no one had made a move and were staying peaceful, the guns staying cool. But how much longer could that last? He quietly prayed for an answer to his predicament, hoping the Emperor could send someone or something to help him out of-
The rap of metal on metal through the turret nearly made him leap from his command chair.
"Throne!" one of the hull gunners swore. "Dammit, I pissed myself!"
"Calm down, all of you!"
"What do we do sir?"
"I… I'm gonna see what they want."
"What? Are you nuts?"
"Possibly, but no one's bothered us until now. And to do so like this, there's got to be a good reason. No one sits on top of a tank pointing everything its got at them and not have an excuse."
The gunner looked at him in disbelief.
"What if someone tries to throw a grenade down in here-"
"My body's big enough that it won't get down there. And I doubt many are strong enough to pull me out. How about this, pistols locked and loaded-" he pulled the autopistol from its holster and nodded. "I'll be ready. Rest of you should be too."
The crew prepared for whatever would come next as their commander took a deep breath and opened the hatch. He peered out to see people still in front of his vehicle, but no attackers. He was confused and was about to climb back inside when a cough from behind made him turn. Whatever he was expecting, it was certainly not a man wearing metal armor, seeming like he had stepped out of a fantasy novel. It was almost comical how much of a knight he looked.
"You're in command here?"
"Er… yes?"
"Right. Judging by that look on your face, you weren't expecting me, and you have no idea what's going on. I don't blame you, but I've been looking into everything that has been happening in the last few hours."
"Uh, ok. What's going on exactly?"
"Well… captain, this entire situation was started by a priest at the nearby Cathedral of the Sacred Light."
"That's ridiculous, why would a man of the cloth go against the Sororitas?"
"It's a long and very uninteresting story. Doesn't matter, he's dead now, and as it turns out, a complete traitor to the Imperium."
The captain was more baffled than anything else. All this information came at once, both sensible and ridiculous. He did not know whether to trust this newcomer, but he had a feeling that the sheer lunacy of this scenario had somehow been involved with his prayer to the Emperor. How else could one explain it?
"Well… that's good news."
"Not really. Bastard had a plan set up for his most ardent followers to attack the Governor and the Mission. The Governor is protected, I made sure of that, my men there are quite aware. But I need to find the worst offenders hiding in this crowd, and fast."
"Who-who are you?"
"I'm a knight in the service of the Imperium and its commanders in this system. This is all very confusing, but I need your assurance to hold fire and let me do what I need to so this mess can finally end."
The tank commander thought it over, and despite nothing making sense, he decided that it was in his interest to obey the no fire order of his superiors and whatever this mysterious knight was saying.
"All right. Do you need us to ID any targets?"
"Taken care of, but I appreciate your willingness to help. Just tell your men to hold fire and let me get to work. And turn those headlights off, the less they can see, the less they notice, the happier we all will be."
"Yes, very well. What rank are you, anyway?"
"I have direct connections to Crusade command. Do you want to argue about this? Or do you want me to finally make sure this city isn't about to explode?"
"Point taken. Best of luck, sir knight."
"Cheers."
The hatch closed as the captain was somehow even less sure of what was going on than before.
"Everything alright captain?"
"Erm, maybe? I think."
"Well, that's assuring."
XXXXXX
Roger dropped off the side of the Malcador, grunting with slight pain as he did so. His chest was still hurting, but at least he was alive for a bit longer
"Alright everyone, my fate is in your hands."
It was dark now, the flickering streetlights and flaming torches held by the protestors the only illuminating objects around. The flood lights and whatever the Sororitas used for ensuring their Mission was safe were not activated, having their electricity and water cut off early in the siege. He had left his helmet behind, lacking good visibility and an easy way to get attention. He put on a cape after moving from the tank, hiding his armor but allowing for free movement. He pulled the hood up and moved through the edges of the angry, or at least involved, citizenry.
"I see you Roger," Kallen said from a comfortable hiding spot on the roofs above. "Esild is on the opposite side of the crowd, and Anxo is hidden on top of one of the Missions turrets."
"Risky, Anxo. I don't think they will approve of that."
"I think they approve of being massacred by an angry mob even less."
"Point taken. Just stay alert. And for Throne's sake, don't get caught. Now who am I looking for exactly?"
"Abel informed me that they had agents with firearms posted amongst the humans here. We left Abels body on the Cathedrals steps before we departed, so the news is bound to spread soon."
"So they have guns. What gives?"
"Fire into the crowd, at the tanks, at the Sororitas. Their fire of rebellion did not light naturally, so they are trying to create a spark."
Roger grumbled as he moved in deeper, looking around the thousand or so faces.
"Like a needle in a bloody haystack."
"Do not fear Roger," Esild cut in. "Our helmet visuals allow us to identify those armed."
Haikk One had made ownership of firearms illegal and hard to procure through illicit means, making their possession easy to explain with no good intentions.
"Good to hear. Maybe I should have brought my sword."
"You are more hidden this way. I understand your concern, as a Scorpion without his sword is as useless as an Exodite without a dragon."
The knight stopped in the middle of the storm of humanity, which was carnival like in its atmosphere.
"Did… you just say dragons?"
"Yes. What, your world did not have any?"
"Emperor above, I hope not."
"Roger, on your left."
He snapped out of his thoughts on dragons and turned to find a tall, well-built man. Bald, and with the look of one who did not want to speak.
"Thanks, Kallen," he muttered, closing alongside the Chantry Guard.
The man was standing still, scanning those around him. Roger bumped into him, apologizing for the error.
"Er, sir?"
The guard looked down, his face blank.
"You got something on your scarf."
The red piece of clothing covered his neck, and he dimly looked down to inspect it. As he did so, Roger saw that only a few feet away was an unoccupied bench, part of the impromptu park outside the mission. He felt a twinge of sympathy for the poor Sororitas who would have to fix the mess the protestors made when this was all over.
"Right there. Maybe you were eating something and it got on your scarf."
The guard pulled at the garment, revealing a single white scar running along his throat. The man grunted in acknowledgement.
"Yep. Got it."
Then, looking around to see the people around them too busy to notice the two, Roger pulled a dagger strapped to his waist and drove it into the flesh between the heretics jaw and the throat. His body tensed up, but the strike was so sudden and the blade so sharp that it pierced right into the brain. He was dead before he could attempt a response. The knight cursed, trying to be inconspicuous as he dragged the body and placed it on the bench. Surprisingly, little blood trickled from the fatal wound, quickly covered and staunched by the scarf. Stealthily disconnecting his victims holster and pistol and attaching it to his belt, he sniffed without emotion and patted the corpses shoulder.
"Thanks mate."
"Very nice," Kallen said with approval. "That dagger of yours is quite something."
"Never left home without it."
It was true; he had carried the dagger ever since he had left Anglerre, a gift from his father after his first hunting trip. But even as a boy he could recognize that the make and style of it was beyond anything a local smith could make, or any Imperial for that matter. And ever since he had received his Eldari sword, buried in the ruins where Ducaish found a relic of one of their dead gods, he realized that it was of similar material and make. But the fact it originally was owned by his mother… that bothered him more than anything else.
"There are about ten armed humans still in the crowd."
"Damn!"
"If you dispatch them as smoothly as that one, you will be fine."
"Yeah, great. Where's the closest one?"
"Normal looking woman. Leaning on a wall. Dark skin."
"Can't see it."
"Go forward, I will tell you when to stop and look."
Esilds offer was welcome, but it did not take much for Roger to question if this system of communication was going to work. He continued walking forward, getting as close to the line of houses nearby. He was honestly surprised at how unaware and oblivious the citizens of Melstram were, but remembered something D'Uxford had told him shortly after the move to the Starfort, teaching him lessons in spy craft and psychology.
"The average person has a room temperature IQ. A couple of people? The same, maybe a bit lower as a whole. A group? You could chill a drink at that temperature. A crowd? Forget IQ, about as intelligent and emotional as a three year old."
D'Uxford always seemed to have a cynicism about his fellow man that would make even a scholar collapse into manic depression. But when he was right, which he often was, there was little he could be faulted for. Roger briefly wondered how he was handling his mother.
"There. Right next to you."
He stopped, coming back to reality. He found himself looking at a disinterested woman, staring at the protestors and others milling about.
"Am I looking at her?"
"Correct. I would not kill her so brazenly as your last target."
"Good idea. Any suggestions?"
The only noise he heard was the dull murmur of the throng around him, realizing that if he wanted an answer, he would have to find one himself.
"Use your knightly charm," Kallen said, sarcasm dripping from the words.
Something rose in Rogers throat, as if he had been challenged and had to respond. Maybe it was pride, his new position, or to get one over on the Scorpion. He grinned and walked towards her, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible.
"Evening sister."
"Evening. Hell of a night."
"Oh, certainly."
The fact she was speaking to him made him slightly suspicious of her allegiance. What if she was just someone who needed a weapon to defend herself and had nothing to do with any of this? He quickly thought of something to get an answer out of her.
"It is certainly heartwarming to see Father Abel to raise such a crowd. And for a worthy cause as well."
"Agreed."
"I just came from the cathedral to get some inspiration from him."
The woman nodded before leaning in towards him.
"What is the news from him? This crowd is not attacking, they need to be… pushed forwards."
He looked at her grimly and spat on the ground.
"We need to move now. He's dead."
"What?" she gasped.
"I'm not sure what happened, but his corpse is lying on the steps of the Sacred Light. He does not seem to have been attacked, but he has gone to the Emperors side."
"You… you bastards! All that talk about how you were the aid we had been waiting for, and you couldn't even protect him!"
Roger was almost delighted in how easily he had earned her trust, and how she was revealing everything about this plot. His father always told him the life of a bailiff was made simpler by criminals being some of the dumbest people to live, a true statement if there ever was one.
"It's not my fault, and I resent the accusation."
"Our friends from this system and the rest of the sector came to protect us and the Hoard, and you can't even do that!"
"But it is protected."
"By the grace of the God-Emperor. What should we do?"
"Why are you asking me?"
"I was only told to work with the Chantry Guards. I don't take orders. None of us do. What, did you forget?"'
"It's been a long day, sister."
He looked around, realizing there was a darkened alley nearby.
"Follow me, I need to speak with you alone, and away from unwelcome ears."
"Right behind you."
The two stalked off into the alley, with him figuring out she was about his height. As they got in the middle of the dark pathway, he turned to face her. Her brown eyes and dark hair stared back at him, a mixture of anger and confusion.
"Okay. We're going to find the Chantry Guards and get them to stir up trouble. I thought that was the plan."
"Me and the others were not told the plan."
"How did you get involved in this?"
"I don't like the Church how it is now. Never have."
"Right. So-" he moved his hand towards the crowd, pointing in their direction. "If we can get them to try and attack the mission like we want, and those damned tanks, we'll be able to avenge our fallen Father."
He held out his hand towards her, as if he were telling her to stop.
"But we need to be careful. Blend in."
"Well, duh."
"And then from there-"
He smiled slightly, almost smirking. Then, using the full strength of his powered armor which made him stronger than a few men on top of his initial strength, he stretched his fingers out and slammed it into her unsuspecting face. The sheer force of her skull slamming against the wall behind her would have been enough to kill her, but his armored hand crumpled her face like paper. It was over in a moment, her bodies last, futile gasp tearing out of her lungs in a haunting death rattle as her body toppled to the ground. He pulled his hand bank, satisfied that no gore had covered his palm. He looked at his index finger, cut short in an explosion half a year before, but unnoticeable when covered by the armored gauntlet.
"Sorry about that," he grunted, quickly moving out of the alley and back into the noisy crowd.
"Taken care of?" Anxo asked.
"Yep. I need you to find those who are armed, bulky, and bald. The others have no idea what the plan is, only those ugly bastards do."
"Understood. There is one disturbingly close to the Mission and myself."
"I'm nearby Anxo, point him out to me."
"Come to the main gate."
Roger started to do so and started to feel a twinge of panic as the atmosphere around him changed. Everyone was talking to one another, but one main topic became increasingly discussed.
"Father Abel is dead!"
"Impossible!"
"Murdered?"
"How could the Sisters have done it? They're all cooped up here, they can't have escaped."
"They have assassins, everyone knows that!"
He picked up the pace, the rumors spreading faster than his feet could take him. There was a bit of comfort in the paralyzed nature of the mob, but that meant that the spark he so dreaded was about to happen.
"In front of you," Anxo chimed in.
"I see him. This one will be a bit harder to do. And hide."
"Do it quickly," Esild said. "A few of them have suddenly become nervous or are ready to act."
"Bloody hell, there's no way I'll get to them all in time!"
"Move Roger," Kallen quickly responded. "If we must get involved, so be it!"
He readied his dagger as he closed in on the next Chantry Guard, one with a hideously scarred face. His build and the distinctive scar on his uncovered throat identified him, and with no time to lose, he was at the mans back, ready to dig the blade into his ribs. Then out of nowhere, a collection of gasps and screams came from behind. The guard turned, but despite the armor, Roger was quicker in hiding behind a group of protestors. He turned back to see where the shouts had come from, terrified that the attack to drive the crowd into a riot had begun. The fear vanished as his jaw dropped at the sight in front of him.
"Emperor above!" one man said.
"Preserve us!" A younger woman added.
The Cathedral of Sacred Light, once imposing and filling the skyline of Melstram, was burning. Smoke poured from its belltowers, almost looking like a pair of industrial chimneys as the flames lit the sky.
"Where in Terra's name are the firemen!"
"We need to get to the wells, bucket brigades!"
The Chantry Guard watched in grim silence as the Cathedral burned, not noticing the crowd filing into the streets, past the tanks and away from the park in front of the Mission. Within a few minutes, what had been the site of a near riot turned empty.
"Where are the other big guards?"
"They seemed to have followed the crowd," Anxo said.
"Kallen, tell me you and the others weren't involved in that."
"We merely left the priests body out. Someone else started that fire."
Roger looked at the brute near him and sighed.
"Abel pissed himself when he died," he said.
The Guard turned, looking down at him with eyes suddenly filled with rage. As he pulled at his pistol, Rogers dagger once again did its work, right under the eyes of the Sororitas no longer under siege. As the man gurgled, his hands desperately attempting to staunch his bleeding throat, the knight walked towards the gate.
"Is there anyone there?" he yelled up, ignoring the wet gasps behind him.
Silence finally came, but the fact the Sororitas had not answered him was a bit irritating.
"Hello?"
"Who are you?" a voice with the strange Esperanz accent called out.
"I'm the man who saved your Mission. I would appreciate a bit of civility."
"You just murdered a man in front of us, why should we trust you? And were you the one who has burned a holy cathedral to our God-Emperor?"
"I've been trying to figure out why the priest of that very cathedral had men like the one I just killed in his service. And why he's been trying to raise a rebellion against you and your Sisters."
A few moments of silence followed.
"RW?"
"Sir Roger Wessyng! At your service."
There was no reply for a minute or two, then the impressive gate of the Mission began to rise, stopping high enough so he could get inside.
"Enter, Sir Roger. Palatine Beatriz would be most interested in speaking to you."
"I believe she would," he said with a slight grin.
He looked up at Anxo, still on top of the stone turret that connected the gate to the walls of the Mission. He winked at him and received a nod before stepping under the gate. Under the eyes of multiple Bolter armed Sororitas, he walked into the Missions plaza to be greeted by a group of four in the power armor of Saint Avis, their leader older and showing the scars of war.
"Palatine Beatriz."
"RW. You are a knight?"
"Of Anglerre."
She looked at him for a few moments and blinked.
"You took your damn time."
Rogers' smile melted away as his eye twitched.