“You cannot know of the Emperor’s will!” I protested, slamming a cup of Gleece on the table. The statement should have been abundantly obvious, and so it came paired with a chuckling guffaw.
“I never claimed to,” replied Thaddeus Scayn, defensively raising two hands ahead of himself from across the table. “For such a thing is too vast indeed.” Scayn’s appearance had grown weathered since I had known him last, blonde hair having slightly paled and frayed, and his skin had grown more taught, which struck me as odd, as he was not old and it had not been so long ago since our previous meeting. Yet for my Inquisitive role, I saw no need to pry into his appearance uninvited; perhaps he had chosen to lessen his rejuvenat treatments. Why was his decision, and not for me to know.
“Then what are you saying?” asked Hans Okustin. Okustin was a trainee of mine, once an Acolyte and now a fully-fledged Interrogator, and was the second largest member of our table, taller and broader than myself or Scayn. He reminded me of myself in my formative years; sterner, and quicker to judge. He was not as amused by Scayn’s philosophies as I was. He sat to my left, with his arms crossed, and had not touched his amasec.
Scayn’s defensive hands unfolded as though making an offering to the rest of the table. “Merely that whatever His plans may be, we see them come to fruition daily from His loyal subjects. Five of which sit at this table now,” he suggested.
“I’ll need you to run that by me again,” I suggested, grinning. I knew Scayn well. He was, after all, my former mentor, as I was now acting the part for Okustin. I knew Scayn believed in the Ardentite philosophies and theories. And I knew some small part of that way of thinking, as much as I disagreed with it.
“I am always baffled by the confusion. If our Lord is as almighty as we five know Him to be, how could it not be so that His citizenry are extensions of His will? Think of it like this, Cal—how often have you said that your crew are extensions of yourself?” Scayn replied.
While I answered, Scayn returned to his amasec. “The difference, my friend, is that I am not a being of divine import. And my crew are only as you describe for as long as they wish to be, and only in the sense of their authority,” I said in retort.
“I am well aware that you are not the Emperor, Cal,” Scayn laughed. “It was a metaphor. Alright, consider this—all the good we do in the Inquisition, all the evil we purge from the Imperium, is that not also becoming of the Emperor’s will? I posit that, in time, His greatness will one day shine from all loyal Imperial citizens and servants. You, Cal, among others, have been known to shine rather brightly.”
“Is that why you brought me to the Black Ships to begin with?” I asked, now needing to take a sip of my Gleece at the thought of that period.
Scayn chuckled before and throughout his response. “No, I brought you to the Ships because you were a bratty zealot who seemed deserving of refinement. And look how well that turned out.”
“Oh Throne, Thaddeus, thank you,” I said in jest, taking another sip of my Gleece. As I did so, our Destroyer shuddered and rocked in its orbit over Hestia Majoris. We had some hours yet to go before the world spun on its axis to present us with a viable landing approach.
“And what do you think of all of this, Malkyle?” Penitent asked of Scayn’s current Acolyte, Leylle Malkyle. Penitent was my most trusted associate, and my personal bodyguard, a Sister Repentia from the Adepta Sororitas. As a Sister Repentia, she had been previously stripped of her belongings, save for an Eviscerator blade, and cast out from the mainline Sisterhood to repent for a transgression in her service. I alone knew her name and her sin, for I demanded as such when our accord was crafted. And I alone knew of her endless devotion to the Throne and loyalty to my cause. She was the most physically imposing of the five of us at the table, the tallest and likely the strongest. Repentant and faithful, she abided by her Order’s ways, and was clothed only in simple, crimson cloths and leathers that exposed much of her light skin, though concealed shaven blonde hair.
Malkyle, meanwhile, was the smallest at the table, and seemed immediately intimidated from having been addressed by the Sister. He stumbled on his own words for a moment, then meekly replied, “I believe it is not my place to question my master.”
“Nonsense!” Okustin shouted. “Masters are often full of themselves and missing something critical. I would know,” he suggested, gesturing to me. I raised my glass to him and smiled, allowing the jab. “Go on then, speak your mind,” he invited of Malkyle.
Malkyle looked to Scayn for permission, who also nodded invitingly. Then the Acolyte shot his glass of Gleece down his own throat in its entirety, which widened my grin for a moment. After wiping the remnants of his drink from his lips, he spoke with a bit more confidence. “I find the notion that all of mankind serve as vessels for the Emperor’s will to be a bit unlikely.”
“A bit?” Okustin smiled.
“Were it so, then it would seem to me that even the heretical were acting on the Emperor’s will, which is itself a horrible thought I cannot bring myself to entertain,” Malkyle explained. I raised a hand toward Malkyle and nodded in agreement, eyes locked with my former mentor.
“Oh, a simple misunderstanding, and one I should think you of all people, Cal, should not have fallen into,” Scayn replied.
“Me of all people?” I asked, eyebrows raised, genuinely curious what he meant by that.
Scayn nodded. “You are so quick to remind others—such as this fine agent of yours,” he suggested, gesturing to Okustin. “Of the fourth tenet of the Creed.”
“‘Every Human being has a place within the God-Emperor’s divine order,’” Penitent quoted, nodding resolutely.
“Even the heretic?” I asked.
“In His universe, we are tested. Those who fail such a test are detestable as you describe. Those who succeed become worthy of His divine warmth,” Scayn answered. “His light is in us all, I believe, until such a time as we fail Him. If we do not, then we act as He wills, and if it is so, are we not acting as Him, to the best extent that we can?”
The table fell silent. Contemplative. I leaned back in my chair, eyes still locked with Scayn. “That is a dangerous road,” I declared solemnly.
“I agree,” nodded Okustin.
“The heretic often knows not the error of his ways. Often, he believes in his own righteousness. Even those of our ordos succumb to such delusions. Who was that fellow from Scarus?” I asked the table.
“Eisenhorn, I believe,” Malkyle suggested.
I nodded. “Yes, him. And look upon the heresy his surety wrought.”
“I am certainly not going to defend his actions,” Scayn shook his head. “Not as I’ve read them. But there was a time when he, like us, carried out the Emperor’s great work.”
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Okustin shook his head. “Sure. However, that time ended long before he did. I can acknowledge your point. And I think there is some wisdom to it. But I worry, Master Scayn, that you have not thought your beliefs through to their ultimate conclusions.”
Scayn looked toward Okustin with warm appreciation, then, which I recognized as an acknowledgement of Okustin’s youth. “You will make a fine Inquisitor one day, dear Interrogator,” Scayn nodded in surety. “When Cal invites you to join the ranks of our ordos, I look forward to vouching for you. But I sense there is a lesson of mercy that you have neglected to grasp from your teacher.”
“Mercy? For the heretic? I will have none,” Okustin shook his head again, appearing offended.
“Not for the heretic. But for those amidst their test. This universe is trying. Those of weaker will oft succumb to our archenemy. Do not push them there, Interrogator. Recognize the gift of your own strength, and leverage it to better ends. It is very easy for those in the ordos to maim our fellow man in our duties. If we do not account for that, if we are unwilling to accept responsibility for that, then we are in the process of failing our own test,” Scayn explained to my Interrogator.
“On that, I can agree,” Penitent nodded. She did not have a drink like the rest of us; instead, her hands had been folded upon the table equidistant from her as we were keeping our drinks. But as she replied to Scayn, she folded her hands into the Sign of the Aquila over her chest, and bowed slightly toward my former mentor.
“As can I,” I nodded, beginning to better understand my older friend’s teachings. I still did not agree with the Ardentite beliefs of his at all, but I could at least comprehend some of the rationale. “In any event, I think we have roasted my dearest teacher’s beliefs enough for one sitting. So then, perhaps to busier talk—what brings you to Hestia Majoris, my friend?”
“Malkyle?” Scayn suggested, asking of his Acolyte to answer.
“We received insight into a missing persons investigation near to the Underhive of Abseradon,” Malkyle explained. Abseradon was the sole Hive City of Hestia Majoris, with a population of 122 billion. While Hive Worlds were known to have populations orders of magnitude larger than Abseradon across multiple cities, as a single city Abseradon was quite densely populated. “Ordinarily missing persons, even on the order of which is described in the report, would not be too uncommon for an Underhive. But there are…anomalous details that caught our eye.”
Intrigued, I tugged on the fact that my mentor was of the Ordo Malleus. “Warpspawn?”
“Unlikely,” Scayn shook his head. “I’ll keep the specifics close to my chest for the time being, my friend. You understand. Suffice to say, I think my search will not prove worthy of my ordo’s time, but I think Hestia Majoris is due for an Inquisitorial presence anyways,” he shrugged. In Scayn’s time, he had thwarted many daemons and their cultists throughout the Ixaniad Sector, some with me as his Acolyte. Yet I knew that he, like me, needed simpler tasks between larger investigations too. “Yourself? What brings the great Hero of Thantalus here?”
“No one calls me a hero for my work on Thantalus,” I rolled my eyes, and took another sip of my drink. “And, frankly, that’s why I’m here. Need something smaller to work on to get some pressure off my back from the ordos. So there’re some irregularities with the numbers of the tithe here. Might be clerical error. Might be someone skimming some profits off the top for themselves. Either way, should be boring and absolutely uninteresting. So let me know if you need help with the Underhive, could give me something to do.”
“Ha, if you’re that pressed for excitement, I may,” Scayn laughed, and then he nodded past me. I turned to follow his gaze and found one of my crew, Silas Hager, standing behind me. Silas was a military man, and always carried himself as such. Even now, he was clad in most of his carapace armor, save for his helmet, which as consequence revealed his short sandy hair and pale blue eyes. While I took no pleasure in putting him in harm’s way as my point man, I would have preferred to be working a case that would be more demanding of his skillset than I expected mine to be.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Silas nodded cordially.
“Not at all, Silas. Need something?” I asked him.
Silas shook his head. “Need? No, sir. Zha tells me we have six hours before landfall.” Now serving as my personal savant, I had tasked Zha with following Hestia Majoris’s daily revolution to plot a low-profile course for our arrival on the planet’s surface.
“Ah, thank you, Silas. Have the crew begin loading the Bird with whatever they’ll need, and assist them as appropriate,” I instructed him.
“Right away, sir,” he nodded, and saluted our table before turning and marching away diligently.
“Gotta get me one of those at some point,” Scayn grinned as I returned to facing him and the rest.
“Just be a hero to a planet like Thantalus and I’m sure you could get a Scion. They’ll be less efficient than Silas, of course, but I’m sure you’ll make do,” I replied.
“Funny. He was in your gang long before Thantalus though, no?”
I nodded. “One of my first. Still one of my best. After Penitent, of course.”
“And your Interrogator?”
“Too full of himself,” I shrugged. Okustin accepted the return blow with a grin of his own, raising his glass as I had.
***
My name is Callant ‘Cal’ Blackgar.
What follows is my report of the events of and surrounding Abseradon and Hive World Hestia Majoris, as requested by the ordos. I will attempt to recount this information as succinctly as possible, but given the scope of what occurred, some dramatization is not unlikely. Having said that, if you expect some verbose prose as I tell this tale, you are destined for disappointment. Again, this is a report.
By my own admission, I recognize that my actions in pursuit of the heretic led to the near-halting of Abseradon’s production facilities and the deaths of multiple billions. I maintain that this is a less horrendous fate than had the goals of the heretic been realized, for those goals concerned far more than Abseradon alone.
From the above, you may have begun to paint a picture of a relationship with me and my crew. An Inquisitor cannot find time for friends amidst their work, but close allies are a valuable resource. Mine are more valuable than most, and as Thaddeus Scayn described, I do consider my Agents to be extensions of myself.
For the Inquisitorial scribes that may read this and check it against their existing records, allow me to describe myself, that my understanding of my own existence can be compared to the ordos’ view of me. At the time of writing, I am an Inquisitor of the Ordo Hereticus, and have been for the last 16 years. I was, at the start of the Abseradon events, 54 years of age, though appear in my thirties, thanks to the rejuvenat. It was 812.M41 when these events began to unfold. A decade prior, I had emerged from a mass-casualty cleansing of cultists on Thantalus, which had earned me a degree of respect and resources from my success, but also a measure of scrutiny from the ordos. So it is not surprising, now, that I have been sanctioned for investigation following the ordeal on Abseradon.
I was raised in the Monodominant belief system during my time on the Black Ships, not unlike my Interrogator, who you have met above. I have since begun to accept some philosophies of the Amalathian and the hopes of the Thorian.
I am 6’2”, have dark brown hair and yellow eyes, and gentle, pale skin pigmentation. I was born on Pyrras-3, where I was tithed to the Imperial Guard for a time, rising to the rank of Commissar before becoming involved with Thaddeus Scayn. My approach to Inquisitorial work is militant, but discrete. I surround myself with those of generous combat experience, as it is they that I best know how to wield. Some Inquisitors work entirely within the shadows, others are more overt in pursuit of brazen intimidation. I like to believe I operate in the middle, choosing the right time to strike after enough planning, but hitting the heretic as hard as our ordos are able when I do so.
Like my Penitent, I have an Eviscerator, given to me by my ordo to aid me in my work, alongside a power sword and bolt pistol. My efforts on Thantalus rewarded me, materially, with a Nemesis Falchion, mastercrafted and given the name Drepane, which I treasure dearly, as it is a vital instrument for my work when things go most awry. I am most often clad in black body armor and wield instrumentation with which to communicate with my retinue, notably involving a Monitron for better communication with Silas Hager—he has programmed his own to recognize me as his Tempestor Prime; a great honor for me, though I insist to him that I have not the training the role would otherwise suggest. He is indifferent to my objections.
Not unlike others of our ilk, I also wield the dreadful mind-force of the Warp. I avoid using my psykana if I am able, for I believe it invites treachery. But in the presence of uncooperative opposition, or when otherwise unarmed, I am unafraid to assert my will upon the enemies of the Throne.
I have seen the Xenos filth with the Guard, and the daemon horrors with the Inquisition. Both are an insidious pestilence I have been glad to provide cures to. But it is the heretic, and the hunt and eradication thereof, that I find to be my true calling, for it is they who provide me with the most difficulty in cleansing, they who are the most elusive and deserving of pursuit.
And it was the heretic that almost remade Abseradon into a factory of abominable weapons that would have upended the Ixaniad Sector.