As the Cathedral of Sacred Light burns, Davie Camp and the others fight to protect the governor of Haikk One, only to learn that the most dangerous threat is closer than any loyal Imperial would like. Roger and the Sisters of Sacred Avis push towards the Palace, too late to play a part in the machinations inside. But the questions arising at the end of the day are many, including one from a certain Ranger that involves a certain knights precious dagger...
"A conspiracy within the Church? Ludicrous!"
Xena frowned as she listened to the colonel, his fine uniform still immaculate despite the situation. She felt better in her power armor but would certainly be happier if she was not forced to wear it.
"The Guardsmen who protected me said as much, and I have a reason to listen and take their word."
"Where are they, by the way?" Governor Joseph Mylice asked, nervously tapping the desk he sat behind.
"They are watching the hallways leading towards this office, Lord Governor. Where is Karl?"
"In the panic room I have. Are we safe here Xena?"
"As much as we can be. Your palace and personal guard should be enough, along with the Anglois."
"Thank the Emperor that my dear Jess is far away from this madness. Anglois, rebels, heretics? I want to ask what's next, but I dare not."
"We still are in communication with her guards, she is safe and well protected."
The last few minutes had been more chaos for an already confusing and nightmarish day. Joseph first dealt with his son rushing to him, nearly in tears as he described his attempted kidnapping and the Famulous having to flee to their secret escape tunnel on short notice, only to reappear fully armed and ready for war. And the news of him being targeted…
"And the Anglois just told you this?"
"Their leader was busy. I have been with his head NCO at least. Their officer is a knight and is currently attempting to aid my dear sisters in the Mission."
"A knight?" the PDF general asked, almost laughing at the suggestion.
"That is what they told me. And if they have a fellow Sororitas with them, I will admit to trusting them more than anyone I have met in the last few hours."
"Understandable."
Outside the window, the mob was prepared to break down the gates, and the Vox operator in the room seemed ready to collapse from sheer exhaustion.
"Is it true that the Cathedral of the Sacred Light is burning?" the colonel asked the poor guard.
"Confirmation from multiple units posted around Melstram… crowds are dispersing from the Mission. Father Abel, head priest of the cathedral, is dead."
"That confirms your new comrades' information Xena. I think we can trust-"
A few roars came from the secured door that exited into the halls of the palace, sending all inside the office on alert.
"Bolt gun. Our friends are engaged."
"I pray they are good enough, Sister."
"I have seen them in action colonel, I can assure you they are as good, if not better, than any of the men you have in your ranks."
XXXXXX
"I think we found those attackers! Give 'em hell!"
Davie roared the words before his Hellgun tore into the rebels that had charged towards them. Parky was hunkered down behind furniture "donated" by the governor as an impromptu barricade, Evita next to him as Bob continued to give them suppressing fire. Hawke had been sent up to the roof and kept watch for anyone trying to come in from the top of the building. Wide open spaces like that were his specialty, not being crammed in a hallway.
"Why do we have to be here in the front and those fancy looking guards get to stay behind?" the boy grumbled, loading another battery pack into his lasgun.
"Because our job-" Evita said before standing up and firing a few Bolter rounds into the attackers, "Is to ensure his survival. His guards ensure his safety."
"Same bloody thing," Bob grumbled before picking off one of the larger rebels.
"Incorrect Bob, there is a difference. The definition-"
"Would you two focus on killing the arseholes trying to blow our heads off!" Davie roared.
His Hellgun overheated, the machine spirit seeming to hiss in anger at the work it was forced to do as a lasbolt chipped a piece of a chair used to make their defenses, making the serjeant curse. These men were much better than the ones in the tunnels, seeming to use tactics and focusing their aim. They were even wearing PDF uniforms, and he started to feel sick to his stomach that he was having to fight brothers in arms.
"Emperor curse them! Their aim is getting better!"
"You notice that too Sister? I think they've started sending their best. Stand firm lads! And lass, apologies."
The fire suddenly got heavier, entirely lasbolts now. The earlier weaponry had been a mix of shotguns, stub guns, and all sorts of scrounged weaponry. He was now certain: they were the PDF, and if they were in on the conspiracy…
"Death to traitors!" one of the rebels yelled down the hall.
"Death to heretics!" Evita called back.
But instead of receiving further insults and fire, the lasbolt fire slackened, new voices calling out down the hall. Not cries of defiance or curses, but one none of the Leopards expected.
"Cease fire! Cease fire!"
After a few moments, the sound of battle turned to an eerie quiet.
"Sororitas?" a voice called out.
"Yes!"
A few more moments of silence followed.
"We mean you no harm! We're trying to stop whoever's going after the governor!"
Davie looked above his cover, and considering he was not being shot at, it was a better sign than most.
"Good news, but I don't trust ya! Send one of your officers, I want to talk to him!"
A few more moments of silence followed, before a man in a PDF uniform with epaulettes held up his hands and walked cautiously towards the barricade.
"L-lieutenant Voss Grusman, 12th Infantry Regiment, Haikk PDF."
"Serjeant David Camp, 4th Anglerre."
The officer looked at him in confusion.
"Anglois? What are you doing here? A-and you're a sergeant, you have no-"
"I have big fuckin' Hellgun ready to tear a thousand holes into you, wanna argue this?"
The lieutenant, barely in his twenties, swallowed nervously and nodded.
"What are you doing here?"
"Defending the governor and his family. What the hell are you doing?"
"We were on standby to assist the palace guard if the mob broke the gates, but just as things were getting worse, we got orders to pull out!"
"That makes no sense," Parky asked before being shushed by Evita.
Grusman nodded and tried to calm himself, a tricky thing to do while having a Hellgun poking you.
"Which is why we didn't leave. Then we saw what looked like gangers sneaking into the palace… I was certain that something had happened inside here and they were trying to get Governor Mylice killed!"
"How many men have you got here sir?"
"My platoon, about fifty troops."
"That is all the PDF sent to help in case of a riot?" Evita asked.
"Yes, Sister. Something is wrong. And under emergency powers, we can only get such an order from certain ranks, none of which I directly report to!"
"And how high would you need to be on the chart to issue such?" Davie sniffed.
"A general, at least."
"Did a general issue that order?"
"Yes."
"And where would this general be?"
"It's General Keiswanger. He's with the governor right now!"
Bob, Parky, and Evita looked back at him in horror as Davie's eye twitched.
"Sir, you need to come with us."
"Gladly, serjeant."
The barricades were disassembled to make a path, Davie taking point.
"Is something wrong?" the Lieutenant asked.
"I've not met anyone in that room, but I have no reason to trust them, especially one who wants to make this place even weaker. Would he know about any escape routes for the governor?"
"I would assume so, he's the PDF advisor to him."
"Which means he knew about the tunnel-" Evita said grimly.
"And the guards inside here."
"He knows everyone posted, far as I can tell. Practically lives here except for when he must go pray."
Evita looked at the lieutenant.
"Where does he pray?"
"Cathedral of the Sacred Light. Is it true that it's burning?"
They turned another corner, moving hastily towards the governor's office. The hall that led to the door was guarded by ten palace guards, all of whom stood to and readied their arms, knowing to hold fire for the Anglois, but not identifying the new arrivals.
"Halt!" their leader cried out.
"Serjeant David Camp, we're with Xena."
"Who are the others?"
"PDF platoon. We need to get inside that office, now."
"We are under strict orders to keep the door secure-"
Davie got in the man's face, his bowl-like kettle helm nearly knocking the guards' finely made uniform cap off.
"Look, there's a serious threat to the governor, and the blood'll be on your hands if we don't get in there."
"Tough. I don't trust you, and I certainly don't trust those PDF troops either. So why don't you go back to your position and-"
Davie raised his Hellgun, pointing it directly at his challenger's heart. His comrades quickly found themselves staring down lasgun barrels, with one extremely unfortunate palace guard looking at a Bolt pistols business end.
"Unlock. The. Door," Davie growled in his thick West County accent.
XXXXXX
On the other side of the door, General Blas Keiswanger stared through the window at the crowd that nearly broke down the gates, starting to thin out and calm. He had been able to hide outrage at the burning Cathedral, sorrow at the death of his religious confidant in Abel, and despair at how the protests to remove the hated Sororitas from his home planet had led to nothing. Worse than nothing: defeat.
"General?"
He snapped out of his thoughts and turned back to the governor. Yes, he had once been a barely noticeable contender for the leadership of Haikk One, but had come to enjoy his company. It pained him to have to do what was necessary for the true faith, but he found some comfort that his sacrifice would free his people from the false Church, and though his son would be left fatherless, the people would rally around him. And more importantly, he would be easily influenced.
"Apologies, Lord-Governor. The crowd is thinning, so I think letting that Voxman relieve himself was not a bad idea."
"Agreed, general. I think we have won today."
The Palace Guard seemed amused with himself, Sister Xena looking relieved. His blood boiled at the sight, the symbol of everything wrong with the Church, nay, the Imperium at large, being able to relax. He desired nothing more than for every whore in her miserable organization to live in constant fear and terror, not just for their souls, but their health as well.
"Open the curtains, wouldn't you?"
The general did so and looked back, scanning the room. Xena was adjusting her bolter as the colonel poured himself a drink, his hand slightly shaking. Illumination from the streetlights that wrapped around the palace lit up the room as he looked out, his worst fears confirmed. The crowds were now leaving in droves, barely anyone staying to continue the fight. His fist clenched as he decided to finally act as he moved away from the window. He got behind Xena, acting as if he was inspecting something in the office.
"What do you think general? Should we recall the PDF?"
"The night is still young, Joseph. Who knows what could happen."
"True. Well, I think I can let Kurt out of the panic room. Poor boy needs some sleep. Xena, would you mind taking him back to his room? Watch over him for the night, I'm sure he'd feel better about that.
"Of course, Lord Governor," she replied with a bow.
Just as she stood up again, Keiswanger pulled his pistol and hit the back of her uncovered head, not knocking her out, but stunning her so that she dropped her Bolter. Despite her power armor's weight, he quickly grabbed one of her legs and pulled, unbalancing her. She toppled onto the ground as he fired a shot into the colonel's gut, his face twisted in shock and pain as he collapsed. Placing his uniform boot on her head to keep her down, he struggled to lift the Bolter and pointed it directly at the startled governor.
"Blas?"
"My apologies Joseph, but this is all necessary to create a holy Imperium that follows the true faith."
"Blas, what the hell did you do!"
"For what it is worth, I am sorry."
His finger lowered to the trigger, but then the door behind him swung open. Before he could turn and fire on the new arrivals, a bright flash, almost like lightning, shot in through the window and hit the Bolter, throwing it out of his hands. Before he realized what was happening, an ugly looking man in a bowl helmet and a blue-red uniform rushed towards him. As he pulled his pistol out to kill this newcomer, a steel mace swung with full force into his skull, sending chunks of brain and bone onto the wall across the room. Predictably, he was dead before landing on the floor.
"Bastard. You all right My Lord?"
"E-erm f-fine. Who are you?"
"Serjeant David Camp, 4th Anglerre, and I am getting blood well tired of saying that. Sister Xena, are you all right?"
She lifted herself up slowly, holding the back of her head.
"I think I need to invest in a helmet, but I am fine otherwise."
"Good to hear. Sir, do you have medicae in your platoon?"
"You mean a field chirurgeon?"
"Are you fuckin' kidding- if they can fix a bullet wound that's all that matters! Get them in here, that colonel isn't looking good."
A woman with three diamonds on her flak jackets shoulder rushed forward, attending to the wounded commander.
"Survivable?" Davie asked.
"He'll need proper treatment, but I can keep him steady 'till then."
"Good."
"You-you saved my life serjeant."
Davie took his helmet off, combing his thinning gray-brown hair with his fingers before he smiled.
"All in a day's work, My Lord."
XXXXXX
Laying on a rooftop across from the palace, Anya Syneoch stared down her Longrifles scope. It had been a good shot, as expected of a Ranger, but she took a certain joy in this one. She stopped a would-be assassin and helped a member of her unit all in one round. As the governor was pulled from his chair and whisked away, David looked out the window, a grin stretched across his face. He had quickly become the closest thing to a favorite among the Leopards Eldar contingent, being dependable, brave, but instead of attempting to be noble and above his species barely animal ways, he was unapologetically crude, brash, and always one to insult or jest at any target. If her kind saw humans as little more than pets, he was certainly a beloved ugly one.
"Excellent shot Anya," Moire said through the communications device.
"Well-timed more than anything."
"Yes, but still a fine shot."
She pulled away from the scope and crawled to the edge of the roof, looking down at the mass of humanity moving in all directions. What had seemed like an imminent civil disturbance had expended itself in only ten or so minutes after the tall cathedral burst into flames.
"What is the situation at the palace?" Kallen asked.
"Cooling. The governor is safe, David and the others that moved through the tunnel have reached him and seem to have secured the palace."
"Excellent. Roger is moving on foot towards you."
"Should we meet him?" Moire asked.
"I would not advise that, considering he is with members of the Adepta Sororitas."
"Thank you for the warning."
Anya stared down at the thinning crowd again and tapped her fingers a few times on the facade. She could have asked for further orders or any advice but just stayed there in silence. Then, checking her surroundings even though she was certainly out of sight of her comrades, she gently adjusted the communication device that connected her with the other Eldar and Roger. He never had figured out the intricacies of it and he never would, but she was more than able to do so. She fiddled with it to hear everything he was saying and listening to, but she would be completely undetected.
"-thought that they would be more hesitant to be near us."
The voice was human, female, unrecognizable to her.
"Well, even if they truly didn't like any of you, walking around with Bolters and power armor would probably make even the bravest of these troglodytes hesitant to say or do anything," a voice with an Anglois accent said.
"True."
"Destroying the cathedral seems to have dampened their spirits," another female added. "Tragic, even if it aids us."
"It will be rebuilt. The bastard using it to gain followers to kick you off this planet is dead at least."
"Well, we have much to thank you for, Sir Roger."
Anya quickly determined that he was with the Sororitas that had been forced to stay behind their Mission walls. But she felt a slight twinge, both in her mind and chest. She ignored it and continued to listen in.
"I must say, I expected knights to be taller. And more handsome."
"You're welcome for saving your arse, you ungrateful bitch."
"Pardon?"
"Nothing. Well, if there's anything you should have learned by now, expect the unexpected."
"I will not lie," another voice added. "Being saved by a knight is still quite… romantic."
Anya tensed up suddenly, not sure why she did so. There was the idea of being surrounded by women who swore their lives to the very Church and Imperium that swore to destroy her species and secure humanities domination of the galaxy, but there was something else about the comment that bothered her. An urge to find him and take him away from the Sororitas-
"Vaul's bones-" she muttered to herself.
She was jealous. Admitting it was bad enough, but then there was the entire premise of her jealousy being utterly ridiculous and nonsensical. The Sisters were chaste, or tried to be, and the likelihood of Roger being swept off his feet by one of them… astronomically low chances.
"There he is," Moire whispered. "Moving from the bridge towards your position Anya."
She picked up her rifle and aimed it down the road, quickly seeing the crowds parting for a group of tall blonde women led by a man in armor, shorter than them but moving quickly. He began to speak again.
"Get the hell out of the way you ingrates!" he roared. "We have business with your governor!"
She frowned slightly. Roger spoke highly of the lower classes of Anglerre, and treated those of similar social status across Haikk fairly. But now his voice was full of frustration and hatred for the crowds around him.
"I swear to the Emperor, if I have to draw my sword and cut my way through these slack-jawed morons, I will!"
"Sir Roger, calm yourself. I understand and sympathize with your feelings, but we should not become the violent and aggressive savages they make my Sisters and I out to be."
"Agreed."
They stepped in front of the gate, some stragglers loitering around it. Anya lowered her rifle and watched, being right across the wide street. It struck her as grossly negligent that no guards had been posted there, but she would never argue against anything to her benefit. Thankfully, even the die-hards that remained had little interest in stopping the impressive and well-armed group.
"Who goes?" one of the palace guards asked.
"Forces of the Sacred Avis and the Haikk Crusade. The Palatine and I need to speak with the governor."
The guard seemed nervous for a moment, as if he did not know whether to trust them. Even with his back to her and in armor, Anya could tell Roger was about to lose his temper.
"We don't want any damn Sororitas here!" one man barked as he moved towards them, heading directly for Roger who was still at the head of the group. "They aren't true believers-"
"Fuck off," Roger sneered as he grabbed the hecklers shoulder and tossed him back, throwing the man off his feet and a yard or two away.
The guard took this as a sign of truth, opening the gate and quickly letting the group in before Rogers' victim could get back on his feet and do anything worse than shout at them. The gates quickly closed again, the other guards assuming position with their lasguns, bayonets attached and pointed towards what was left of the mob. She let out an involuntary sigh of relief as he entered the palace as the heckler was dusting himself off and walked away, obviously incensed. The last few hundred or so either stood around or melted away as well over the next few minutes.
And as the Cathedral of Sacred Light burned, the near rebellion in Melstram died with a whimper.
XXXXXX
Roger rubbed his eyes and looked up at the clock in the corner of the impressive chamber, usually for the government of Haikk One to meet and discuss matters of great importance. He frowned at the sixteen hours on its face, so that with a thirty-two-hour day he was both exhausted from his actions, but suffering from a vicious form of chronolag as well. He had left his helmet and cape at the room graciously provided by the governor, but this meeting was important enough that it was all he could do instead of getting well needed rest.
"So the leader behind all of this was Father Abel?"
Roger shuddered slightly and nodded.
"Yes, Lord-Governor, and we have good reason to believe that this was an isolated incident."
It was a lie of course, but the less aware his mysterious enemies were of his true knowledge, the better. Who knew what other conspirators still lurked on Haikk One?
"Why would they specifically target me and my Sisters?" asked Beatriz. "I do not understand."
"For fu-" he whispered as he buried his hand in his face, raising it as he sighed. "Palatine, you and your Order are the most loyal and faithful on any planet you are on. Why would rebels not attack you?"
"The last set of rebels left the Church alone," the governor said politely.
"True, but those rebels were thoroughly defeated with the help of our Crusade. This is another rebellion entirely, one that even infiltrated the PDF."
"Yes… it is a shame to lose Keiswanger. I had no idea… but the fact he was a frequent visitor to the Cathedral and praised Father Abel makes his betrayal easier to digest. I have ordered all officers close to him and his family to be detained for questioning."
"Good idea."
The last two hours had been tortuous, a gathering of information that would be handed over to Edmund and eventually the Inquisitor and the Bishop. The scribes also present were feverishly writing all the information down, not missing a beat. He was about to ask whether to trust them or not, but realizing they were servitors, he did not bother. He could simply ask their maintainers to wipe the data after the fact and leave a few copies to survive with those he trusted.
"Your serjeant came in at a very dark moment. I am glad you both accepted the offer of being awarded the Order of Saint Mouamet. You deserve it as much as him."
"Of course, My Lord," Roger said before he yawned, trying to hide it. "My apologies, the honor is not boring, I've been up for a long time today. Terribly busy."
"No offense taken; you deserve rest Sir Roger. I am glad you are satisfied with the room we spared you.
"And I should take my leave, Lord-Governor," the Palatine said. "My Sisters have repaired the electrical and water systems, so all will return to normal by first Mass tomorrow."
"Expect me there, Palatine. I have much to be thankful for, such as that miracle the Emperor provided for me today."
The two armored figures looked at Joseph curiously.
"Oh?" Beatriz asked, somewhat excited.
"Did Sister Xena not tell you? Or your serjeant?"
"No, My Lord."
"When Keiswanger picked up that Bolter and was about to shoot me, a bright light flew in through the window and knocked it out of his hands, allowing him to be… eliminated."
"Truly? I wonder why Xena did not speak about such a divine intervention!"
Beatriz formed an Aquila across her chest plate and bowed her head in thanks.
"A bright light?" Roger asked.
"Yes, through the window. We can't even find a hole! If you look across the street, there's the Administratum building. Whatever hit the Bolter was tiny to the point of barely being anything at all, but powerful enough to knock it out of the traitors hand."
The Anglois knight stared blankly at him, not saying anything as he hid a smile. Beatriz did little to help.
"It could have only been the result of a Saints protection, or even… the Emperor himself."
Roger snorted in laughter, quickly checking himself at the angry glare of the Palatine and the confused look of the governor.
"Forgive me, I've always been a bit cynical, but thinking about it… between you and me My Lord, we've been blessed with safety and health."
Joseph nodded and stood up, the other two doing so.
"Well, we should depart and get some rest for tomorrow. Plenty of celebration and cleaning. We covered most of the days excitement."
"Certainly," the Palatine said.
She led the trio heading out, the governor stopping Roger.
"Sir Roger, I wanted to once again apologize about our first meeting."
He nodded briefly, trying to forget it. Having gathered the Leopards, they were presented by the Sister Famulous Davie and the Lads had helped while he was punching Father Abels teeth out. Governor Mylice decided to shake the hand of the knight who saved him, showering him with respect and admiration. The problem was, instead of approaching Roger, he made a beeline for Parky, whose tall stature, handsome face, and blonde hair, even if it was cropped, certainly made a knightlier figure than the short, brown haired, plain looking man in armor.
"Don't worry about it My Lord. Parky is a very handsome individual. His father was a farrier, but his mother must have been quite something judging by his looks."
"My son Karl, who I hope you meet tomorrow, hopefully has the same affliction. His mother is much prettier than I am. Good night. Thank you, once again."
The governor moved off as Roger went to his room, which was thankfully nearby. Unfortunately, standing in front of the door was Palatine Beatrice, her arms crossed and a judgmental look on her face.
"Your lack of faith bothers me, Sir Knight."
Roger frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"The lightning bolt from a clear sky?"
"With all due respect Palatine, I am in close contact not only with your Canoness, but the Bishop of Chelmster, one of the highest ranked Ecclesiarchal members in the Crusade, and an Inquisitor as well."
Her look of admonishment turned to surprise as he spoke. He could not hide a smirk as she was quickly and ruthlessly put in her place.
"If they thought I was an unbeliever, would I be trusted by them? Or be sent to save you and your Sisters?"
She bit her lip, looking down at the floor before clearing her throat.
"I was… not aware."
"Secrecy is our watchword."
"I will deliver a report to you before your unit departs this planet, and I will also give one to the Canoness. Different in minor areas, such as internal matters."
"Understood."
She looked at him awkwardly for a moment before speaking again.
"You and your unit are most… unconventional. Your lack of a commissar disturbs me slightly and Xena informed me that your unit is not all you say it is. Your arrival with no notice is also quite odd."
Roger slowly moved his hand towards his dagger, indiscreetly as he could. It wouldn't do much against her, but he would go down fighting. Then, to his surprise, she extended her armored hand.
"But you did save my Mission, my Sisters, both Xena and the others, and Governor Mylice. For that you have my thanks."
He took the hand and shook it, nodding as he looked her in the eyes.
"I apologize for not stopping this little rebellion sooner."
"I want you to have this as well-" she said as she let his hand go, pulling out a necklace with the green, dagger-like cross. "It is the symbol of our order, and I believe that you deserve it in recognition of your deeds, for your souls protection, and a reminder that you are among the faithful."
"Ah. Well, duty is its own reward, and I thank you but-"
"I insist."
He wanted to refuse it, preferring to have his faith be private and left to his own devices, but his Susich-bred manners and his fondness for the unique symbol meant that upon the second offer, refusal was impossible.
"Of course I'll accept. Thank you, Palatine."
He took the necklace and put it on, the cross dangling onto his breastplate.
"It looks excellent on you, Sir Roger. If I can not be at the ceremony tomorrow, I wish you glory and to walk with faith."
He made the sign of the Aquila and bowed his head.
"The Emperor protect you, Palatine."
She responded in kind and headed down the hall, disappearing around a corner. He waited a few moments before he was certain she was well away and groaned.
"Thought she'd never bloody leave," he grumbled.
He opened the door and stepped into a finely kept room, a large queen-sized bed with an awning the main object of interest. A sole, medium sized window looked out into the palace's central courtyard. He stared at the bed, his eyes burning as his eyelids felt like they were pulling down towards his cheeks. He was fairly certain he could flop down on the bed in his full armor, but decided against it as even with everything he did for the governor, to break his furniture, so kindly offered, was rather rude. He pulled off his gauntlets, feeling the rest of it begin to power down. He was never sure how the armor was able to give the advantages it did or its source, but he never cared much if it worked. With both hands free, the vambraces followed along with the pauldrons. All of them were strong, but light. It felt heavier when unpowered, but compared to most feudal worlds, Anglois armor was efficient, light, and protected its user very well. He felt a twinge of pride in his home world, but was able to refocus before it turned to homesickness as he lifted his arms to disconnect the chest plate. He stopped as he heard a click on the left.
"Let me get that for you."
The voice was soft, calm, and all too familiar.
"I guess the governor was wrong about this room being well-protected."
"Maybe from humans," Anya mused as she uncoupled the other strap to let his chest and back plate fall. "But not Eldar."
The two pieces slid off him, opening like a clam shell before he pulled them apart.
"Nice shot," Roger said while pulling off his boots.
"Pardon?"
"Hitting the Bolter and allowing Davie to crush that bastard's skull in."
"Ah. I was hoping to stay incognito."
"Well, the governor and the commander of the Sororitas here believe it was some saint or the hand of the Emperor himself."
As he pulled off his knee and shin guards, the Ranger could not hide her smile.
"I almost wish to tell them the truth, just for the sheer delusion."
"Not delusion, faith. The two are remarkably similar in many cases, but while the former is a danger to whoever suffers it, faith is a core component of human beings."
"It always amuses me when you, or humans in general, attempt to speak with wisdom. It is always quite humorous."
"Thanks," he said with slight annoyance. "This is going to hurt."
There were three layers to every set of Anglois armor: underclothes, a set of chainmail that fitted ones form like a shirt and pair of pants, and then the armor itself. The chainmail was as essential as the rest but was one of the easiest parts to put on and take off. He took a breath as he stood in his underclothes, a literal massive weight off his shoulders. The armor's power source was as much for ensuring its wearers protection as keeping the weight unnoticeable, but those brief moments where it was deactivated felt hellish. Anya was facing him as he put a hand to where the shotgun blast had hit him, his face crumpling in pain.
"I do not see any blood."
"Yeah, but I bet I got a nasty bruise."
He took off the undershirt, revealing his bare skin. Anya's face of amusement melted away as she looked at it, turning away for a moment.
"It… does not look pleasant."
He turned to face a mirror and sucked air through his gritted teeth. Across his entire chest and reaching down to his abdomen, a massive dark purple stain stretched across his flesh.
"That was as much the slug as the armor slamming into me. But it was undamaged except for a few scratches."
"Wraithbone is superior."
He shook his head as he put his shirt back on.
"Throne I'm bloody tired. Wish I had your kinds ability to stay awake as long as you do."
"Me and my kin still feel exhaustion, and we do need sleep eventually."
"I guess we humans are weak and fickle creatures," he grumbled as he lifted the bed covers. "I apologize for not involving you all more on this mission, but the circumstances made it impossible."
"We understand. And the less I must be near the Sororitas, the better."
Still wearing her armor and robes, she slid to Rogers side. He was looking up at the awning, his body screaming for rest but his mind still alert. He knew she was looking at him, trying to read his thoughts, literally and metaphorically. He blinked and reached under the covers for something.
"What is wrong Roger?"
"I just thought of something. Do you remember that first mission I was on with you and the others?"
"The fight in the village."
"Yes. Do you remember when I took that big bastard down?"
"How could I forget it?"
"Do you remember how I ended it?
"You put a dagger through the brutes helmet."
He pulled the weapon out and held it in front of her.
"You never got a good look at it."
She had removed the gloves from her hands, running her fingers across the blade. Flipping it over once or twice, she sat up, stifling a gasp.
"Roger, where did you find this?"
"It's Eldari, isn't it?"
"Wraithbone construct, and the style… unmistakably of my species. Once again, where did you find this?"
"My mother."
"The one you called Fae?"
"Aye."
She pondered the weapon for a few more moments, instead of giving him an answer or confirmation, there were only more questions.
"Who exactly was your mother?"
"I don't know, and I have a feeling I'll never be able to ask."
"We could speak to my mother about this. Ask how or where yours would have received this."
Roger was about to answer before going quiet, a part of him wanting an answer, but also fearing it. He still remembered his mother, her bright smile, gray eyes, and flowing golden-brown hair. The memories and the version of her he created in the aftermath… Was he willing to challenge or break them?
"Let's save it… for another-" he yawned. "Day."
His mind finally gave out, his eyes finally closing to rest.
"Good night, fin naryad," she said before gently kissing his cheek.
He mumbled something in response before she felt his body go still, the only sign of life being his chest rising and quiet breaths. She looked at the strange yet familiar dagger again. Much like the sword he had been gifted, deep in the ruins where Vaul's Hammer had been found, it was certainly crafted by one of her kind. Using the Wraithbone so familiar and essential to them, but fitted for human hands and decorated in a style that none of her species would ever find fashionable. That was human too, much to the Rangers' confusion.
"Maybe I will speak with mother," she whispered in Eldari.
She stretched over him and placed the dagger on his nightstand alongside the bed. He was firmly asleep now, and Anya briefly thought about waking him to let him know it was nearby in case he needed to protect himself. She quickly thought against it, not only to let him rest, but to enjoy this private moment they had to themselves. She moved closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder before closing her eyes.
When it came to his safety, the dagger was the least protective Eldari object in the room.