The trial, as far as I could tell, was going well. While I did believe Zha that Inquisitorial Agents had served their Inquisitors as representatives in such a trial, I do not believe those Agents have ever been savants. I got the sense that the tribunal, consisting of van der Skar, Caliman, and a third Inquisitor Lord, Govan Hargro, very much wanted to forbid my savant from serving in this capacity, as she was thoroughly outwitting them. At the same time, though, they did not want to go against established procedure, and so appeared to reluctantly suffer her presence for the full extent of the trial. All I needed to do was stand attentive and responsive for any questions of direct examination.
And I gather this was much the case of the other trials as well, for Mirena, Silas, and Penitent, who all happily accepted Zha’s assistance. I did not sit in on the activities of those trials, nor did I ask my cadre how they were going, as I wanted to remain as hands off as possible for their proceedings so as not to appear to be interfering, in Caliman’s paranoid eyes. But occasional drinks and evening meals together found my retinue in persistently high spirits, so I assumed Zha was performing as admirably in their trials as in mine. Zha herself kept to her quarters during such periods of time, keeping herself occupied with the task of our defense. As ever, she enjoyed having something to work on. Were we strangers to serving alongside Zha, we may have felt a bit guilty about offloading the brunt of the task of our defense onto her shoulders. As it was, however, we knew her desire to understand and complete the task on her own was genuine.
Our trials were intrinsically connected. Details revealed in one were relevant to the others. For that reason, the tribunal decided to wait for all four trials to conclude before doling out sentencing. That took twenty days, which was considerably fast for Inquisitorial tribunals. I had seen trials for a single individual take several months, though ours was not a life-or-death situation. Hopefully. I suspected everyone on the tribunal wanted to get things over with as quickly as possible, as every Inquisitor involved undoubtedly had better things to be doing than policing one another.
At the end of those twenty days, the four of us on trial were summoned to before the tribunal to receive their verdict and, if applicable, sentencing. I was the last to arrive—the others were escorted in earlier by the tribunal’s staff, whereas I was offered the courtesy to arrive of my own accord, albeit expected at the provided time. I sat at one end of a table in a great hall I had been in two times before; once to be inducted into the Inquisition from the Black Ships and then appointed to Thaddeus Scayn, and once to be given the rank of Inquisitor. White columns lined the hall, braziers burning whilst wielding tapestry of the Inquisition and Imperium alike that hung affixed to their undersides. At the far end of the hall, opposite the table at which I sat down, a tall booth shrouded much of van der Skar, Caliman, and Hargro from us, only their shoulders and heads peaking out from above its intricate hardwood design.
To my right sat Penitent, then Silas, then Mirena. To my left stood Zha, who gave me a gentle, welcoming smile as I arrived, but otherwise stood attentive to the tribunal with her hands folded behind her back. Penitent put a hand atop mine on the table shortly after I sat down. Though we had seen each other at least daily since the start of the trials, I had not felt her touch once within that time. It, as ever, gave my mind some semblance of peace and rest.
“Ms. Trantos, the tribunal has reviewed the cases of your clients thoroughly and arrived at a preliminary judgment,” Hargro spoke. “However, we would afford you the opportunity to make a general closing statement, if you so desire, as is the right of your position and that of your clients.”
“Thank you, Lord Inquisitor,” Zha nodded. “I will close things only by noting that the Inquisition is the final line of defense for the sanctity and security of the Imperium. It is easy to understand, then, why a substantial degree of scrutiny is maintained within its own organization. But I will also note that Inquisitors are not infallible. The affairs on Hestia Majoris revealed as such of two Phaenonites. So I charge you with that which you already know to be your responsibility: to hold the line in protecting the Imperium. To accept suitable allies where they are found. And not to mistake scrutiny as a means of acquiring or maintaining power where it is not needed. We submit to and recognize the authority and judgment of your tribunal, in the name of the Holy Inquisition and the Beneficent God-Emperor of Mankind.”
“Caliman,” van der Skar uttered without much show of emotion.
“It is not unheard of for an Agent of the Throne to act in defense of their Inquisitor in this capacity as you have, Ms. Trantos,” Caliman recognized. “However, it is unheard of for that Agent to be a savant. Your kind is a difficult sort. To your credit, Ms. Trantos, you are well-spoken and do not miss the vagaries of social cues, as is often the case with savants. This makes you more dangerous. Tell us, prior to your involvement with our Ordo, what was your field of employ on Thantalus?”
“I served as a contracted librarian and data reciprocator for House Temmeres,” Zha replied at once. “Am I on trial, or are my clients?”
Caliman smirked. “We shall see, won’t we? You are peculiarly fluent in Inquisitorial proceedings. How has that happened?”
“I have, in the Low Gothic, picked it up on the job, in serving Inquisitor Blackgar,” Zha nodded, which was not untrue.
“Does Inquisitor Blackgar have a vested interest in you understanding the inner workings of the Inquisition?” Caliman asked.
Zha turned to me. I shrugged and laid an empty hand forward, toward the tribunal, telling her to respond as she saw fit. “Inquisitor Blackgar has, for some time, considered reassessing my role in his retinue to that of a—then additional—Interrogator. The loss of Hans Okustin has made that once-redundancy more relevant. Given the deeper relations between Interrogators and the roles of the Inquisition, and given the growth prospects of those Interrogators—which Inquisitor Blackgar had acknowledged—I deemed it proper to study such things, and Inquisitor Blackgar made no objection,” Zha reported. Again, not untrue.
“Hm,” Caliman both mused and snorted. “Very well. One final line of questioning for you, Ms. Trantos: what is your unbiased assessment of Inquisitor Blackgar, as a savant of your stature within the Imperium?”
“My assessment of Inquisitor Blackgar?” she asked, a tone of sheepishness I had rarely heard previously then eking out from her voice. It was unlike her to be reluctant to respond to a question. Caliman nodded, smirking, eager to know how a savant would evaluate me. “In two words: disciplined brutality. Inquisitor Blackgar is a militant sort, whose world is one of combat. He is capable, orderly, and largely uncompromising. He is loyal to the extreme, and to cross him is to invite a form of wrath so vicious I have not the words for it. He is immensely talented, brilliant, and dutiful, but not without flaws.”
Caliman paused for a moment, then repeated my gesture of inviting her to speak. “Flaws? Such as?” he asked.
“I understand its relevance to this proceeding, but the personal nature—”
“It’s alright, Ms. Trantos; answer the Lord Inquisitor’s question,” I told her.
“Inquisitor Blackgar possesses a foundation of self-loathing,” Zha reported. She was right, ultimately, and I knew that even then, but I was still taken aback by it. We had never discussed as much before. “It exposes his pride and makes him vulnerable when that pride is threatened. The threat of loss or defeat is perceived as a personal slight and is responded to in aggressively militant measure. The denial of control over himself or his own actions wounds him. He is a gifted man, and not merely in the psyker sense. He is brilliant, even by my standards, capable, and one might even use the word invaluable. But from his gifts he denies himself the opportunity to accept loss.”
“Yes, we’ve arrived at a piece of that conclusion,” Caliman nodded. “One final question: What is your understanding of the events of Thantalus?”
“I understand the divisive intent of that question as much as I understand the meaning of its words,” Zha noted, and Caliman could not help but awkwardly grunt as my savant went toe-to-toe with his questioning. “Forgive me, for as a savant I absorb fact, but I understand the existence of politics—I know there is a difference between what I know occurred on Thantalus and what is alright to say.”
“Within this hall, Ms. Trantos, are only those who know the facts. You will not be punished for their utterance,” van der Skar assured her. “However, your discretion is noted and appreciated.”
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“Thank you, Lord Inquisitor,” she nodded. “I understand that a cult of the arch-enemy infiltrated many of the houses—my own included—of Thantalus. I understand that they wielded heretical techniques to bring forth daemons of…well, frankly, I don’t know the workings of that. I understand the fighting caused by that heresy claimed many lives.”
“Do you understand Inquisitor Blackgar’s involvement?” Caliman asked her.
“I understand he found and destroyed the heresy at its source,” she suggested.
“And initiated the subsequent fighting in the process,” Hargro added.
“You seek for my unbiased opinion on the extent of the violence, and Inquisitor Blackgar’s mediation or exacerbation thereof,” Zha inferred.
“Yes. That,” van der Skar admitted. “A great deal behind the existence of this tribunal to begin with concerns the violence on Hestia Majoris juxtaposed upon Inquisitor Blackgar’s prior involvement in the violence on Thantalus. Where the former Commissar goes, bloodshed seems to follow. It is our role in the Imperium to both make the insinuation and deduce whether there is any weight to it.”
“Unbiased opinion?” Zha started, then slid her arms from her backside to her front, crossing them over her chest. She then paused and looked down. It was also unlike her to pause. “In my studies of Inquisitors, I have come to understand that the nature of how they wield their power varies greatly. Some of you are a gentle breeze that quietly whisks away the heretic in assuming obscurity. Some of you are a world-shattering firestorm of obliteration.” She then looked up to face the tribunal again. “Inquisitor Blackgar is, true to his time as a Commissar, a blade. Its edge is tempered in warfare. But the blade can be stayed. It has, in the past, been stayed. Like a surgeon, Blackgar cuts out an infection and all it has reached. The collateral damage of such a process may be ugly and costly. But that cost is not often measured in the context of the whole. I do not believe Inquisitor Blackgar has, since becoming an Inquisitor, ever once been responsible for extraneous damage. It is my assessment, given what I know of the situations, that the damage to Hestia Majoris is a minimum of what was possible. The damage to Thantalus, the damage that rid me of my House, is a minimum of what was possible.”
The tribunal mused over that for a time, then Caliman nodded to van der Skar. “No further questions,” van der Skar decided, and then rose from his seat. “Phaenonite Inquisitors. A dreaded Heretek of possible connection to a Traitor Legion. A traitorous defector of a Rogue Trader. Tremendous resources funneled into Hestia Majoris for a most vile, debased operation. The five of you, and others of your cadre, defused and destroyed that operation. Understand that in our judgment to follow, we do not deny the success of your activities. Understand that we do not neglect the personal cost—bodily or of your allies’ lives. You have all served the Imperium greatly. What we judge today are minutiae. The smaller toils that did not prevent the greater success you realized, but may have possibly inhibited it, or may run the risk of doing so in the future. It is not this council’s goals to punish you; rather, to purge your flaws, that you may best wield your excellence against the Throne’s abhorrent enemies.
“Mirena Law,” van der Skar called, and she rose to her feet. “Inquisitor Blackgar saw fit to commute your sentence in return for your service to him and the Inquisition likewise. We will not renege that commutation. And for what it’s worth, following Inquisitor Blackgar’s reports of your background, the man responsible—and others like him—have been dealt with. Their motivations, fueled by lust, venture too far from the light of the Emperor. However, you have struck a superior officer—an Inquisitor; following that Inquisitor’s interrogation of the Canoness—and have displayed a general lack of respect for authority. You have admitted to being uncaring about the role of respect in the Imperium. This will not be tolerated. You are sentenced to ten years imprisonment, followed by five years required regimental rehabilitation, followed by five years required training of your peers, supervised by an appointee of our own and agreed upon by Inquisitor Blackgar. You may sit.
“Silas Hager. You have served Inquisitor Blackgar well and with honor. But you have neglected to fully recognize the omnipresent superiority of his position, and have disobeyed direct orders or otherwise evidence a reluctance to comply. This, too, will not be tolerated, and is worrisome for a man of your background. Furthermore, it is vital you understand that the nature of the entity you killed in Abseradon is kept secret to the extreme. To speak of anything you saw or were informed of by Inquisitor Blackgar beyond these halls will see you killed without hesitation. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir, it is,” Silas nodded.
“Very well. For your insubordination, we sentence you to ten years further training with the Schola Progenium, followed by five years of you instructing would-be Inquisitorial Tempestus Scions, supervised by an appointee of our own and agreed upon by Inquisitor Blackgar. You may sit. The Penitent. While it is within our authority to punish you, it is not of our desires to. However, we acknowledge the conflict of your faith and your desire, so this may seem like a punishment unto itself: We are arranging for you to return to your Sisterhood, and to seek judgment from them. You may plead your case as you see fit once you arrive. We will not interfere. You may sit,” van der Skar told her. As Penitent sat down, she placed a hand on my shoulder, as the aforementioned ‘not-a-punishment’ was meant to be as punishing for her as it was for me.
“Inquisitor Callant Blackgar.” I took a moment to stand, having heard Penitent’s ‘not-a-punishment,’ but rose eventually. “You may well be Thaddeus Scayn’s greatest legacy.”
“Thank you, sir,” I nodded.
“That is not necessarily a compliment,” Hargro shot back at once. “It is up to you to ensure it becomes one.”
“I understand,” I nodded again.
“We can only hope you do,” van der Skar replied. “Ms. Trantos was not incorrect in praising your talents. But you are not invaluable to the Imperium or the Inquisition, as she suggested. You know this. Your retinue does not appear to. It is important they learn to know it as well as you do. No single man or woman is worth the Imperium. You must ensure your retinue understands the full extent of that statement. Tell me, Blackgar, once and never again: was it your duty that killed Holicar Espirov, or your rage?”
“Can it be both?” I asked, and managed to get a chuckle from him. Only him—Hargro and Caliman were not as amused.
“You tell me,” van der Skar replied.
“The Imperium teaches its citizenry that rage is their duty and their most vital resource. So yes, perhaps it can be both,” I suggested.
“Ah, but you are not the Imperium’s citizenry,” van der Skar noted, shooting me down. “Perhaps I might suggest a third option which I believe you are quite familiar with, but may not recognize its role.”
“Please,” I welcomed him.
“I think you killed Holicar Espirov out of love,” van der Skar offered. “You have, by your own admission, spent some time musing about the role of love in the Imperium. You have acknowledged that without it we would not be here to have this conversation. You have acknowledged that despite the Inquisition’s best efforts to hide it, love enraptures even the greatest servants of the Imperium. Commissars, Inquisitors, Ecclesiarchs. All find it eventually. Many, in their zeal, deny themselves it. But you, Callant Blackgar, have wielded it. I think you have mistaken your love for hate, as that is as the Imperium would want of its citizenry. But you are not its citizenry, so it is important that you learn better. Hatred is a resource, yes. Love can wield it. Learn to, for it is in doing so that the heretics will have no shield from your blades. The heretics do not love. It is—among a great many other vile things—what separates them from us. They will not understand the extent that love will fight them. They will know your hatred, and will think themselves capable of defending against it. But they cannot defend against your love for the Throne, nor the Throne’s love of you. And that, of course, is the important part. We will not discourage the romance within your retinue. That is on you to police as you see fit. But do remember what you have already discerned—love for the Throne must be absolute and ultimate. Your love for each other can exist, but it must never exceed that, nor can you allow it to twist into lust, as Ms. Law’s assailants had. Do this, and your excellence within the Inquisition will continue.”
“Thank you, Lord van der Skar, but I do not imagine my sentencing is merely to receive and contemplate your wisdom,” I suggested, bowing to him.
“Wise as ever, Blackgar. And yet, ever so slightly wrong,” van der Skar replied. “Your sentence is forced reflection. We demand you think about your years. Reflect upon your actions. Come to grips with who you are, and toss aside the self-loathing Ms. Trantos identified in you. You will not be imprisoned, but you will be required to be here, on the Dawnshadow, for the next thirty-five years. Well in excess of the sentencing for Ms. Law and Mr. Hager. Use that time well. Purge yourself of your weakness. You’re going to need to.”
“Sir?”
“The Phaenonites?” van der Skar replied. “The traitor Warband? You will hunt them. It is no secret that this is your goal. We will not allow you to do so with your current mental faculties, nor would we risk you igniting the Sector in greater bloodshed. Become more like the unassuming breeze Ms. Trantos described, hm? Wage your war, but quietly and cleanly. You risk a loss you—and, possibly, we—will not recover from otherwise. We will assist you in some capacity, too. Beyond this station your sentencing will be one of death. We will tell the galaxy that Inquisitor Callant Blackgar was killed for his reckless behavior on Thantalus and Hestia Majoris. To know otherwise will be heresy and that knowledge will be expunged. This will give you room to maneuver. Moreover, your days of borrowing Naval vessels are over. Antonius Sigird had a fleet for his Warrant of Trade. That Warrant may be dissolved, but the fleet isn’t. It’s yours now. Find a suitable captain and reliable personnel for it and deploy your forces with Sigird’s former vessels. Do you understand, Blackgar?”
“I do, yes, thank you, sir,” I nodded, still dismayed from the loss of Penitent but impressed with the council’s generosity otherwise.
“Good. Do not disappoint. And Blackgar?” I looked to him. “Your suspicion of a Fifth being involved in orchestrating Hestia Majoris is not unwise. Find and kill them.”
“I swear to, sir,” I assured him.
“Good. Then this tribunal is over. Good luck to you in your efforts. May you refine yourself to the Inquisitor that Thaddeus Scayn told us you could be,” van der Skar finished, and dissolved the council, leaving from the hall with the other Inquisitor Lords through its rear exit.