Imperium Galactica: Inquisition

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But first, stay true to the doctrine, so that you may be able to hold yourselves true and correct. If you wish to remain blessed by the Piatha, gladly do the things that you know will please Them. Let all matters that pertain to the church be governed by the church. And be careful that iniquity and falsehood does not take root among you, lest those who stray from the path be harried and scourged by the powers of the Gods, and driven out into the place of shadows where dwell confusion and destruction.

Second Pentanomos, Book of Faith: Chapter 12, Verse 9

Valoras Kor,
The Grand Cathedral of the Piatha


Blood cries for blood. The words of the god Marmas still rang true centuries after their transcendence at the hands of Tyran. Blood had been spilled in the imperium. Even now, months after the devastation of the Battle of Taer Atlos, the ripples of that bloodshed were spreading across the imperium.

Tales and rumors of the events had transpired. Among those were that Alecto Rian had conspired with heretics. Survivors of the Starfleet's ill fated power grab had confessed to such. And word had reached back to the Grand Patriarch.

He had long despised the tolerant stance of the former emperor. His allowance of blasphemous and heretical doctrine. Pagan faiths had even grown in strength, preaching their own vile beliefs. And now that tolerance had been repaid in heresy, treason, and insurrection.

For months the Grand Patriacrh deliberated on this news, sending out investigators. He attended the enthronement coronation of the new Emperor, attempting to feel out what kind of man he would be. And still he deliberated as to what course to follow, praying to the Piatha for guidance, even calling upon Tyran and Tyral to guide him forth from this uncertainty.

And then at last news reached him that steeled his resolve. His investigators from across the imperium sent their reports of old heresies returned, of the explosion in the numbers of new cults, and of alien pagans performing human sacrifices to their demonic dieties. No longer would he pray. He knew the path.

And so, a grand conclave was called. All Patriarchs from across the imperium and thousands of archbishops gathered on Valoras Kor, the first such an event in nearly a millennium. All in all over twenty thousand men and women, leaders of the church, came to gather in the grand and ancient halls of the Grand Cathedral.

“The faith has grown complacent,” Patrivus II spoke accusingly, his baritone voice booming across the room filled with Patriarchs. “Evil and vile heresies have spread their roots deep in the imperium. We have allowed apostates and liars to lead our congregations astray. Alien pagans lure humanity away from the true faith and perform sacrifices upon mankind. Those who are the chosen children of the gods are given up to false idols. The Piatha watch us from the afterverse and judge us ashamedly.”

“The imperium, the very seat of secular Piathan authority, was nearly overthrown by a man who consorted with the Cathedral of Aramay. We all…” and his eyes fell across the assembled patriarchs as if staring into their souls, “…allowed this to happen through our inaction. What we tolerate, we explicitly allow. And we have allowed the pollution of this holy empire by wicked tongues through our tolerance. No more I say!”

“It is time,” his voice rose in tone and volume as his surety and righteous anger rose. “The church shall restore the inquisition, and root out this growing corruption. Enemies of the church and the imperium shall know the fear of the gods. Against the dark we shall set a firey sword and we shall cut down the enemies of the faith without mercy.”

There were murmurs of shock, and many in support. But the Grand Patriarch was not yet finished. “I will send a message to the new Emperor, and to all the great houses, calling for them to join us in this fight against heresy. But regardless we will root out this growing evil, with or without the Emperor or the Imperium’s support!”

No One WIll Save You - Aviators
 
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The ship dropped out of warp then entered the starlanes on its approach to the planet. Thousands of ships passed to and from the hundreds of Star ports in orbit. But the ship didn’t make towards any of those, instead passing into a less crowded lane, one making for the green and blue planet below.

It dropped through the atmosphere, passing into storm clouds and coming down into a heavy rain. The Royal palace of Drof-Antier, set between its opposing peaks, waited darkly below.

The ship touched down on the landing pad and it’s passengers disembarked. Faizal was accompanied by his wife as awaiting droids carried rain shields over their heads, keeping the nobles dry.

He found his father in his study, busy reading agriculture reports. His fathers regular chair was pushed off to the side, instead he was sitting in his electric wheelchair. He’d not yet regained his full mobility despite months of physical therapy.

“Hello father,” he called cheerfully as he entered the study.

He looked up giving his son a warm smile. “Spare an old man a kiss,” he said to his daughter-in-law.

Izzari laid a peck on his cheek. “How are you doing, dear father?” she asked.

“In good health all things considered,” he answered, giving the woman’s hand a squeeze. He turned his attention back to his son. “How is life on the capital?”

“Hectic,” he answered. “The rebuilding is going to take a fortune, and the planetary garrison is two thirds it’s strength.”

Hiram merely gave him a bemused smile. “You accepted the job of Magistrate when you put your support behind this new emperor.”

“You’re enjoying this aren’t you?”

Izarri interrupted. “If you two are to talk politics I’d prefer to find my daughter.”

“Of course,” Hiram said with a warm smile. “She’ll be attending her lessons. Give her a kiss for me.”

After she was gone the two men continued their conversation. “The emperor will probably purge the Starfleet.”

Hiram nodded, the news didn’t surprise him. “His other allies are the ones to push for that. Replace the top brass with lesser sons of their households.”

“There’s still at least three hundred ships unaccounted for after the battle. That’s a massive force just to disappear into thin air.”

“Hopefully they fled the Imperium and never come back. Though that’s just wishful—“

He was interrupted by his coms signaling an incoming call. Orbital control had been patched in directly, a very odd thing to do.

“This is Hiram.”

“Sorry to bother you, your grace,” a very intimidated sounding voice said. “But a church Battle-Cathedral just arrived in the system and is demanding an audience with you.”

“On whose authority?” he asked, outrage and bewilderment in equal measures in his voice.

“By the authority of the Grand Patriarch. They claim to be the High Inquisitor of the Imperial Core.”
 
Oduduwa

Capital world of House Oragbade

For forty generations my family has held the reach, in that time we have watched dynasties rise and great men fall. Through our wealth, the Piathan’s raised a thousand bejewelled edifices on one hundred worlds in praise of their gods, through our support the house of Khor gained the throne and through our blood they kept it.

Forty generations have my great ancestors' banners stood firm in the orange light of Oduduwa, sentinel positions disturbed only by the gentle caress of sea winds. We Oragbade have been as a rock, a citadel of faith and might standing as a bulwark against the ravages of time and empire. In the past I took comfort in that longevity, I told myself that no matter what happened to me, my people would still be here long afterward. However, that time is gone, the Imperium has been shaken to its foundations and the position of my house has never been more precarious.

I gaze down at the city below, from up here in the tower it seems minuscule and fragile as though it were a child's plaything. But down there in the vast sprawl of longhouses, stilt towers and chop dens my culture lives and breathes with aggressive vitality. Fishermen hawk their wares loudly from atop the decks of ageing hover schooners, crowds dressed in vibrant robes of silk and wax print wander the processionals eager to spend credits, smoke rises in tail-like clouds from the countless food halls and street vendors whose greasy fare sustains a city of millions.

Life continues on oblivious to the dangers that lurk in shadows, it is well that they do not know how precarious things have become, the situation is now truly dire. The arch-traitor is dead, slain at Taer Atlos as he attempted to seize the imperial capital, but the wounds he left live on. Thousands died in the fighting at Taer Atlos, fleets and armies we could not afford to lose, all wiped from the face of existence by Rian's fusion weapons.

The civil war left both Starfleet and the forces of the great houses gutted and in disarray, vultures now circle the wounded Imperium and look to make opportunities from our weakness. My own house is no exception, we lost many irreplaceable ships and crew when we defied the traitor and now the reach is paying the price for our loyalty. Pirates and barbarians plague our trade lanes and worlds once loyal to the house drift ever closer to sedition.

“it's too nice a day to be ruminating in this drafty tower!” Oba says interrupting my thoughts as he enters the chamber

Oba has changed little in the months since Taer Atlos, my consort remains my right hand in all things and his cool head is proving indispensable in these times. He regards me with a curious expression, frowning as he realizes I have been in the tower for several hours.

“it's the only place I can come to think without distraction!” I snap irritably

“And when thinking becomes a distraction from living?” He replies softly with a knowing smile

“I would love to pretend everything was fine, more than anyone here, but they aren't, are they?” I say raising my hands in exasperation

“We’ve survived worse, Sedeko has the insurrection on Shango contained for now and I have been making headway in establishing security on the trade lanes, we will restore the peace” he replies in a placating voice

“it's not just our internal situation that is concerning,” I say wearily

“What then? Surely you're not worried about the missing Starfleet vessels” he asks with a reassuring smile

“Worse Oba, the imperial government is weak and forces that were previously reigned in are starting to assert themselves” I reply in an ominous tone

I sometimes wonder if Arnu Khor has yet come to regret his ascent to the imperial throne, he has inherited a fractured and battered realm. The imperium may yet right itself but I suspect only after the great houses have torn it apart in their quests for self-advancement. If only it was the other houses alone that I had to worry about.

“The church?” he asks

“Indeed” I reply grimly

They left us alone once, content to take our donations and look the other way, our precious stones and metals line their extravagant temples and our credits were well spent lining pockets and earning Favour. Under Shiram there was tolerance and our support of the moderates in the church ensured that the Patriarchate never gazed too closely at our affairs. However, the hardliners are rising, zealots eager to root out the corruption that led to Taer Atlos being scorched and we can no longer count upon baubles to turn the churches sight.

“We don’t know that this new inquisition will target us,” he says trying to sound convincing and not entirely succeeding

“Perhaps not but the possibility is very real” I reply darkly

They have already made overtures to other great houses, the church has plans in motion and I suspect it is only a matter of time before those designs ensnare the reach as well.

“What would you have me do then?” he asks straightening his posture and adopting the manner of a soldier awaiting his orders

“Go to Shango and aid Sedeko in returning the planet to compliance” I reply my voice soft but containing an unmistakable tone of authority

Shango fell into rebellion not long after the end of the civil war, angry lightning farmers resenting the new taxes levied as we sought to rebuild. I cannot allow dissent to spread to other worlds, disunity now would be the death of us all.

“And what will you do?” he asks the frown on his face deepening

“I will look to the defence of our home, if the inquisition comes here, I intend to make sure that they do not find easy prey waiting,” I say in a determined voice
 
Coarin Surface,
House Drof-Antier


The High Inquisitor entered the great hall. He was a thin and wiry man, his dark eyes darting from each corner of the hall, from each piece of art to each tapestry. From statues to columns, as if he could pierce out any hidden secrets at a glance.

Hiram and Faizal awaited him, along with a dozen house retainers and the seneschal, Chaob Bashir. The inquisitor, accompanied by lesser inquisitors and a large retinue of Church Guardsmen made their way across the painted tiles.

“I’m sorry I’m not standing to greet you,” Hiram said in a jovial tone, patting his hands on his wheeled chair for emphasis. “But the House Drof-Antier welcomes all officials of the church.”

The Inquisitor stood silently before the Archduke, his eyes darting across every face there, lingering on the seneschal for a few beats longer. At last he turned his full attention to Hiram. “I am Aldo Harranbach, High Inquisitor of the Imperial Core, servant of the Gods and their Holy Church,” he introduced himself. Then fluently from memory he spoke aloud the Grand Patriarch's orders for an inquisition. His voice was high pitched, and nasally, but a cold strength backed it up.

When he finished Hiram spoke. “House Drof-Antier is loyal to the church. We harbor no apostates here, nor allow any gospel not in communion with the great Church to be preached.”

“I have no doubt you believe that,” the High Inquisitor retorted derisively.

“What does that mean?” Hiram asked.

“It is my job to find out the truth.”

“Why are you here? Why not on Taer Atlos? What makes you come here to start your inquisition?”

“You were the cousin of the late emperor, yes?”

Hiram nodded his reply. The inquisitor pulled out a datapad, gave it a cursory glance and returned his attention to Hiram. “There are concerns that you may have been involved in his death, making a play for the throne. Possibly in league with the traitor and heretic, Alecto Rian.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Hiram protested, his voice angry. “My forces fought against the traitor. I lost hundreds of ships and tens of thousands of people.”

“If you have nothing to hide then you have nothing to worry about. And once we are finished here we will use Coarin as the staging ground for our investigations in the Imperial Core.”

“The church is overstepping its authority here. They have no right to—”

“Chaob Bashir,” the Inquisitor said, turning his attention to the seneschal. “Your mother was Jazil Arhatta?

“Yes, she was,” Bashir answered bewildered.

“And she was the daughter of Amit Nasar, a Yizanni priest?”

Hiram interrupted. “How is this relevant? The Yizanni heresy was eradicated two hundred years ago.”

“We will determine the truthfulness of that,” the high inquisitor said. “Chaob Bashir, you will submit yourself to interrogation. We will take you aboard our vessel, the Repentant Sky. Resistance will be an admission of guilt.”

He waved to his guards and then moved to seize the seneschal. “What is this?” roared Hiram. “You have no authority.”

“I have the authority of the gods,” the Inquisitor responded coolly. “The church has supreme authority in all matters spiritual. I will do my duty, regardless of your feelings, your grace. I’d prefer your full cooperation. I’d rather not bring in an entire fleet to pacify your territory.”

Hiram gritted his teeth. He had realized there was little to do. With the loss of the bulk of the house fleet there was little he could do to resist. He would need to address the Emperor, and maybe even the church. But for now he had no play to make.

“Seneschal Bashir,” he said at last, defeated. “You are to cooperate with the Inquisition. Everything will be alright.”

The guards led away the startled older man. The Inquisitor gave the Archduke a satisfied smile. “I’m glad we could make this process pleasant. Now,” and he swiped his thumb across the datapad screen. “We ask that you tell us where we can locate these other people so they may submit to questioning before the inquisition. “ And he began reading off a long list of names.


Planet KZ-289-R
Imperial Colony
“Svezny”


Sheriff Higgurum dashed across the muddy streets but still got drenched in the heavy downpour. Once inside he took his hat off, shaking water off it.

“What do you got, Ben?” he asked the balding middle aged man sitting alone in front of beat up and cobbled together communication equipment.

“Transport ship Igneous dropped out of warp. They’ve made no attempts at communication.”

The sheriff peered at the screen which showed a single dot moving towards the planet. “You tried to raise them?”

“Yeah, nothing,” Ben said nervously. “Thought maybe something might be wrong with the sat, we’ve had issues before, but…”

“But what?”

“The transport came out of warp 200km off point.”

Higgurum wrinkled his brow. It might be nothing…
“Who’s flying the Igneous?”

“Don Wertz.”

“Don would never be that far off his mark. Try raising them again.”

Ben turned a dial, pressed a few buttons, and then flicked on the coms. “Svezny colony to Igneous. Please come on. You’ve failed to transmit a landing request.”

There was no reply. Higgurum started to feel a strange tightness in his gut. Something was off. “Is she accelerating?” he asked.

Ben checked the screen. “Yeah a few kilometers a second.”

“Can you plot where she’ll land?”

“It’s too early to tell.”

Higgurum scratched the back of his neck. He considered bringing up defenses, but what could he do with that except shoot down an unarmed freighter. “As soon as you can get me landing coordinates let me know.”

He then moved to the corner of the room where another, smaller communication device was waiting. This one bore the emblem of the Imperial Starfleet, and while it was in better condition than their regular equipment, it was covered in a thick layer of dust.

He searched in a drawer for a scrap of paper with a handful of numbers on it. Turning on the communicator he dialed up the numbers.

A young woman in uniform came on. “Frontier watch station 0019. State your business.”

Higgurum gave his name and title. “I’m trying to get ahold of Cruzier Antier.”

She nodded. “I’ll try raising him.”

A few minutes later a middle aged man with tan brown skin and graying hair came on. “Sheriff Higgurum,” the Cruzier said with a smile. “It’s good to hear from you. What can I help you with?”

Higgurum explained the situation and Antier listened intently. “Where is this transport originating from?”

“KZ-2245-X1. It’s a small rock. Doesn’t even have an official name.”

The Cruzier typed something into his console, likely checking the coordinates. He looked up, his dark eyes alert. “Listen to me Sheriff. I need you to destroy that freighter. Don’t ask any questions. Just do it. You may very well be in serious danger. Twelve colonies in that area have gone silent. This makes thirteen. Destroy that ship and wait for the cruiser I’ll be sending.”

Higgurum obeyed. Once the communication was terminated he got out his key and armed the colony’s defense network.
 
Korhal
House Malchediel


Duke Argelus pulled his seat up closer to the dining table, his breakfast laid out before him. The blessings had been said repeatedly. Five times, to be precise. Argelus contemplated saying them a sixth time but he ultimately decided against it. Helgen muurthyr, cooked to perfection and seasoned with the finest Alathenian spices, a side of Betharian cabbage, and a goblet of Trakeran wine; undoubtedly some of the finest in this part of the Imperium save that of the Church.

Argelus picked up his fork and knife, eager to dig in now that the prayers had been said repeatedly…

He heard a door open and shut towards his left, followed by the sounds of footsteps clapping their way towards him. As Argelus turned to see who it was, expecting it to be some lowly page or messenger at whom he intended to shout and dismiss, it was instead his son, Dante.

Argelus sighed and Dante came to a stop before him. Dante’s appearance was prim and proper, as was perpetually expected of him. He was dressed in a fine uniform decorated with silk sashes and medals and ribbons. His dirty blonde hair was neatly combed to the side, not one hair out of place.

“What is it, boy?”

“Father,” Dante addressed him in somewhat of a whisper. “The Representative of the Most Holy Inquisition has arrived from Valoras Kor. He requests your presence.”

Argelus felt his spirits lifted high and a smile spread across his lips. He sprang to his feet and turned to his son. “I must prepare my appearance. Go and inform our esteemed guest that I shall meet with him right away.”

“Yes father,” Dante gave a slight bow of the head and went on his way. Argelus abandoned his food and the dining table, rushing to his wardrobe room. He had been waiting for this.

* * *​

High Inquisitor Grekory Thalmas du’Harclan was a bloated, stubby man whose fat was held up by a mechanical suit which he needed to walk properly. His fingers were chubby, his neck was nothing but excess skin that jiggled whenever he’d speak. Accompanying him were a number of other inquisitors from the Church and at least a hundred-or-so Guardsmen of the faith. They waited in the lobby of the Ducal Palace, a gargantuan chamber of lavish decoration. Crimson rugs covered the floors while banners of House Malchediel and the Imperium were hoisted overhead.

Dante stepped out to see them and speak with the High Inquisitor. Du’Harclan dwarfed Dante in size, though the Duke’s son would not be so easily intimidated. Dante gave the man a slight bow of respect upon approaching.

“Ah,” du’Harclan spoke in a deep tone as he returned the bow as best he could. “Your Highness, it is a pleasure to meet you in person.”

“You as well, High Inquisitor.” Dante lifted his head up, as did du’Harclan. “I hope you find the skyline of the capital to be to your liking.”

“Oh, indeed I do, Your Highness. Such a fine city your house has constructed over the ages, a true example to the rest of the Imperium.” Dante knew it was all just flattery, but he didn’t say anything of it. “And I know for a fact that the Holy Church too is pleased with the devotion and resonance of the works of House Malchediel.”

Dante smiled. “I am happy to hear that. His Holiness the Grand Patriarch may find great comfort in knowing that House Malchediel will forever serve the one true faith of our Imperium.”

“Where is His Highness the Duke?” Du’Harclan was finally getting to the point.

“He is preparing himself in his quarters. He was not expecting your arrival for another few days, High Inquisitor.”

Du’Harclan nodded, squishing together the fattened blubber of his neck as he did so.

Suddenly, the great doors behind Dante opened to reveal the Duke, Argelus Cahren XXIII of House Malchediel, flanked on both sides by crimson-armored Knights of Korhal. As Argelus approached, Dante backed out of the way, allowing Argelus and du’Harclan to speak face-to-face.

“High Inquisitor du’Harclan,” Argelus gave a bow before the fattened chunk of sentient meat before him. In his own palace, no less. Dante mentally rolled his eyes. “Welcome to Korhal. We are all honored to be graced by the divine presence of a representative of the Holy Church.”

“Your Highness,” du’Harclan returned a subtle bow in kind. “I come on the authority of His Holiness, the Grand Patriarch. He has sent me and my fellow Inquisitors to root out any and all elements of heresy within House Malchediel’s domain, particularly this ‘Cult of Vytu’ and any who harbor loyalties to the heretic and traitor Alecto Rian. Seeing as House Malchediel is known for its devout reputation, His Holiness would expect nothing less than total cooperation from House Malchediel. Am I incorrect in such an assessment, Your Highness?”

Dante became irritated at this. Did this lowly choir man seriously have the balls to demand loyalty from the House Malchediel? He couldn’t show his frustrations, though, lest disaster ensues.

“Of course not,” Dante’s father replied without a semblance of hesitation or second thought. In fact, he sounded eager to hand Malchediel over to the Church’s men. He shouldn’t have been surprised, but this time he was. He just barely stopped himself from speaking up.

Du’Harclan smirked. “Very good, Your Highness. Let us discuss details over third lunch. I am famished.”

“Right this way, High Inquisitor,” Argelus bowed his head and moved aside to let du’Harclan proceed. Dante did the same, though he was fuming inside his own head. As the inquisitors and their troops passed by, Dante caught up to his father.”

“Father, are you sure it is a good idea to hand our House over to these-” a harsh slap cut him off.

“Show respect and devotion, boy. These are holy men of the Church. They stand above us. Watch your tongue before I cut it out and hang you from it. Understood?”

Dante collected himself and gathered his posture. “Yes, father.”

“Very good,” Argelus growled. “Don’t speak that way again or you will be executed for heresy. Now come, we must treat our most high guests to a lavish feast before the purging of heresy can begin in earnest.”

Argelus stormed off, and Dante followed. He had a bad feeling about all this.
 
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Omordan City,
Planet Athelharad
Archduchy of Coarin


“If they are gods, how then could they be killed? The Holy Scriptus tells us that their deaths were transformations. That the gods needed to be destroyed to move beyond the flesh into a higher state of being. But then why did they fight the Godslayers? Should they not have embraced their destruction? Why did they fear death?”

Adammar Taschal sipped his bitter Rishji tea, listening intently to the old man preaching from across the square. He’d climbed up onto the raised pedestal which once held a statue in the distant past. The old man waved his arms about, animating his religious musings.

“The gods were not gods. They were aliens. Powerful beings, yes. But still aliens. Our devotion to long dead gods is madness.”

“Blasphemy,” hissed Taschal’s companion, a gruff and weathered man whose skin seemed to have dried and stretched over his skull. “We should kill him.”

The Count merely held up his hand, gesturing for him to wait. The old man continued his ramblings. Taschal was not interested in the perverse heresies of some crazy old man with sand madness. Instead he was more focused on the crowd which had gathered.

“There’s always some fool, charlatan, or opportunist preaching their nonsense, Aqbih,” Taschal said calmly. “They are only paid attention to as some kind of attraction, a crazy curiosity that breaks up the mundanity of existence.”

Aqbih Al-hrebb gave the Count a startled look. “So you wish to let him continue? While a church inquisition is within our space?”

“Look at the crowd,” Taschal told him. “What do you see? Curiosity? Amusement? Disdain? I see many faces that are in agreement. I see heads nodding. I see acceptance.”

Aqbih’s gaze moved from the old man to the crowd, and he indeed saw that they were listening. “They should all be arrested.”

“Why are so many enamoured of these heretics? And not just here, I have seen it on other worlds. Has their faith in the Church been that shaken recently? Was Rian so popular that his death has led to such disquiet? Or was it always there and we are only now noticing?”

Aqbih, a man who had little in the way of imagination, said nothing. What he lacked in reasoning he had made up for in loyalty and brutal efficiency. Which is why Taschal had always trusted him to serve as planetary overseer. Now though, Taschal wondered if the job would be better suited for someone with a greater capacity to see the world as more than black and white.

“There is some truth to what the church says. Something is rotting in the Imperium. Heresies have always been a thing, but their numbers have grown exponentially of late. Even in the most pious of houses, the appeal of the Gods has dwindled.”

“So what do you command of me?” Aqbih asked.

“Give it another half hour, then disperse the crowds. Arrest the old preacher, and put him to work in some dark pit in the deep desert.”
 
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Oduduwa

Capital world of house Oragbade


The imperium is a wretched, odious thing, a bloated corpse that grows more decrepit with each passing day. We have been shackled to this husk for 40 generations, at Taer Atlos we bled to preserve it and now in return, the imperium sends its zealots to our home. Like maggots emerging from rotted fruit, the church’s inquisition spews forth onto the wider galaxy intent on rooting out all its real and imagined enemies.

In times past a gentle word in the ear of a moderate cardinal and a sizeable donation to the church's coffers would have been enough. However now these deluded fools will not be so easily swayed, their patriarch has grown drunk on his own imagined holiness, an old dogmatic eager to spread the bile of his hateful creed. The blood spilled at Taer Atlos has whet the church's appetite and now they spread across the stars eager to root out the heretics.

Now they have come to Oduduwa, but if they think I will scrape and bend like the other lords they will be disappointed. I watch on the vidscreen as the inquisitorial retinue descends the landing ramp and enters the palace proper. I turn to the captain of my guard and with a nod signal him to clear the throne room, they will deal with me alone this day.

“Mother, what is going on?” Oranyan asks in confusion

I had hoped when the traitor rian had fallen that my son might be spared further danger, at least for a time, but the chaos has followed us home. The boy survived the bombardment of Taer Atlos and bore witnessed to the subsequent relief effort as bodies were pulled from the ruins of the capital. He has already seen more than any 14 year old should be expected to, I will not subject him to this horror as well.

“I need you to go to your quarters and remain there, I have business with our guests that I must conduct alone” I reply placing a gentle hand upon his shoulder
“Will you be alright?” he asks fearfully

“I will be fine my son, now go, I will call for you when it is time,” I say with a warm smile

Oranyan is then escorted from the throne room by my guardsmen, their boot falls echoing down the corridor as they leave. Soon it is only myself and my personal bodyguards still present in the chamber, we await the inquisitor like warriors at a splintering fortress gate. The doors swing open and an attendant enters and bows low.

“Your grace! I present the churches representative, inquisitor Jon Brynd” the servant says trying to hide the nervousness in his voice, he seems relieved when I nod and dismiss him

“Inquisitor! Welcome to Oduduwa, to what do I owe this pleasure?” I say feigning a jovial tone

The inquisitor steps forward, he is surprisingly young given his rank, tall and gaunt his dark hair is neatly tonsured and his severe blue eyes only add to the impression of cold rigidity. His uniform is a dark black suit with a red cloak, the seal of valorus kor is visibly emblazoned upon the pin. He says nothing at first, instead producing a vellum parchment that he unfurls and holds aloft for all to see.

“I come to this world on orders from the holy church, an inquisition is declared that will root out all traces of heresy in the imperial realm! You are obliged by the will of the gods most high to cooperate and submit to all of our requests” Brynd declared in a loud voice, his tone one of arrogant self-assurance

The false smile fades from my lips and I regard the man before me with a quizzical expression. I was of course expecting all the bullheaded posturing that is typical to men who believe their actions are sanctioned by a higher power, but now the question begs? What form will his presence here take?

“And what requests would the church make of house Oragbade?” I ask in mock submission

“We have heard disquieting rumors of apostasy, syncretism and blasphemous practices, I have been sent to ascertain how valid these claims are, I will require access to every home and every person upon this world, my agents will be given all the necessary authority to root out and pass judgment on any they deem to be in error” He says bluntly

And so the penny drops, a witch hunt to make the long-dead church fathers proud, I need to move quickly. I produce another false smile and bow my head in mock reverence to the fool below. I was told by my father many years ago that to successfully deal with the imperium one must “appear as meek as a lamb and plot with the ferocity of a dusk adder” it is advice I now take to heart.

“My realm is at your disposal inquisitor,” I say in an obedient voice

Brynd nods his face never shifting from the look of cold disapproval that all inquisitors seem to bear “my inquiries will begin tomorrow, my retinue will relay all I require from you as needed” Brynd said before turning and without another word exiting the room his guard in tow.

I wait until he is gone and then turn once more to the captain of my guard “clear the room and send for my seneschal” I say
************************************************************************************
Agonizing moments that seem like an eternity pass before an aged woman in brown and gold linen robes appears and kneels before the throne. I smile and bid her rise, Yejide does so her greying braids flowing across her face as she does so. though at first glance old and frail, this woman is revered amongst the families of the capital and wise to its many secrets.

“You summoned me your grace?” she asks in a withered but determined voice

“I did, the inquisition is at our door and they seek to turn our home into their hunting grounds” I reply gently

“what would you have me do?” she asks with another bow

“Spread the word to all the old mothers, delay, mislead and hamper the inquisitor's efforts by all means necessary no matter how trivial they may seem. And order tell the faithful to be ready to conceal any the inquisition would seek, we may not be able to enact open defiance but we can slow their progress” i reply in a determined voice

The old mothers represent the heart of all the clans and families of the capital, a vast informal network of respect and familial obligation that might prove as byzantine as the inquisitions own organization. Where the church might have found navigating the social orders of the other great houses straightforward, they will find the Yoruba reach a greater challenge, I am counting on it.

“And if these methods do not bear fruit?” Yejide asks curiously

“Then I will be forced to take more drastic actions to protect our people,” I say grimly

For the inquisitor's sake I hope that he finds nothing and leaves quickly
 
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Ernikaadt,
Homeworld of House Serthozzia
Sometime around noon


Enrann has never understood why this planet was chosen as the capital of his house. Within hours breathing on the atmosphere without a mask, one could die due to the toxic levels of chloride dioxide. Even with that prospect, life has developed and thrived on this place. Was this fact what made his family stay here through the ages?

"Damn, the food will cool down", thought him after he realized that it has been half a hour since they served it to him. While bringing the dishes into his mouth, a rushed servant entered the room and said to an highly annoyed Duke:

- Your Grace Duke Enrann, I have important news! - the servant knew that he would be annoyed and backed out of his way when he got up - It is a High Inquisitor from the Church and he is "asking" to meet up with you on this moment.
- Does anyone have any respect by people's eating habits? - he asked to nobody in particular, as he just wanted to vent out his frustration - Bring the man here, please. It's not like I can refuse, right?

The Inquisitor arrived at the banquet hall, where Enrann was impatiently waiting for him. His complexion was of a very old man, his prominent hunchback being a sign of the years passage. With short and slowly footsteps the once very tall man was still approaching when the Duke said:

- I would say good afternoon, but I'm too annoyed to do that. - said Enrann while looking at the old hazel eyes of the Inquisitor - Don't you know that it's extremely rude to interrupt someone's lunch?
- The Church's matters are above all things, eating whatever is this thing on the table included. - calmly pointing to the strange meal the old man completed - I'm here to talk to the Duke of House Serthozzia, not to a child.
- That one, Mister High Inquisitor, was the second, maybe third if I count not even presenting yourself properly as rudeness, error of the afternoon. - annoyance was turning into angriness as Enrann was being more and more insulted by this man - Were you not a Church's Official, you'd be already on prison for insulting Your Grace, the Duke Enrann Piteroos Haygoni!
- Pardon me for my lack of politeness, Your Grace. - the Inquisitor then addressed coldly - I've never expected a young kid such as you to be a Duke. However, talking about you isn't the reason I came here. My name is Kotaro Jarakibuwah, High Inquisitor sent by the Church to discuss some matters here.

The old man started to explain everything they were supposed to do on the House's territory to Enrann. They should search the planet to find out any heresy and purge all the heretics. "It isn't my job to discuss their ways, even being annoyed by their sudden appearance.", thought the young Duke as the Inquisitor continued to babble for what seemed to be an eternity. When he was almost falling asleep, he heard one thing that made him jump on his seat: "...one of the traitors that killed the late emperor were yours mother."

- What on the whole damn universe is this supposed to mean? - he shouted at the Inquisitor but immediately realized his mistake when the guards drew closer to them - I'm sorry for shouting, but this is simply impossible. My mother passed away when I was little!
- Apparently not, since she was on the reports concerning the attackers data. - Enrann was so surprised that he forgot his plate was still full of food when he smashed it - Calm down or my guards will have to calm you down, Mister Duke.
- I can't just believe that, my mother is still alive? - said Enrann a few moments after trying to process what just happened.
- Yes, and we have reasons to believe that your father knew that and was helping her to flee away from her crimes against the Church.
- My father died on the behalf of the Imperium and the Church, you can't just accuse a dead man! - the Inquisitor just looked coldly at the Duke - I will help you guys, without hesitation, so that my family don't be a pariah of the noble houses.
- That was what I was expecting to hear from you, your father would be very proud of such a man you has become. - Enrann rolled his eyes as the man said this words, his father and him were never that close - Have a nice afternoon, our agents will now search your home and after that, the rest of the planet.
- Farewell, High Inquisitor. - the young Duke said as he dismissed the man and went back to his dorm.

"My lunchtime was ruined by this man, damnit!", thought him as he launched himself on the bed. "Could any of this nonsense to be real? My mother isn't alive, is she?", his empty stomach was making harder the thinking process but he remembered his father's last words: "Son, if I don't return this war, you must find out the truth. And the truth hides wherever the stars meets their end. Farewell, Enrann."

Trying to make sense of this words, the young Duke fell asleep on his comfortable bed. He had a strange dream about an alien eating a red star. Afterwards the alien looked at him and said: "Here's the ultimate truth: look outside of yourself and you'll see it."

When he finally woke up, hours later, his father's words finally made sense: the old man was talking about Hanguk'no Sharnah (Stars' End), a region near a big black hole where everything, even stars, were bound to meet their end. What secrets his father was hiding? He shall find out everything now, and he knows exactly where to go.​
 
Hadrox, House Phelcia Capital.
Hadrox Had Been a Place of Mystery Before the Imperium Arrived, even to the Inhabitants. The Planet had lots of Oxygen. But still was a Retinal World and Hardly Livable by Human Standards,Humans had only lived there since 39 Generations ago,Just to keep check on the Native population and Make Sure it does not Rebel, it did not, and for the 39 Generations , Both Native and Human Populations had Grown, On the Outskirts of the Galaxy, Many Strange Lifeforms developed on Even Stranger worlds. The House Phelcians had been Moving Hardly Slowly,Development had Been Steady, but it remained A Poor House, one of the Poorest.

"Xanderia, Kneel" Said the High Phelcia Governor Nightwatcher, the Night fury Huffed as he Said so, the Orange sun of Hadrox casting rays of Light around it.

"You have Done well, The Knights Tradition ended 35 Generations ago" Nightwatcher said "You Shall Be the first one in many Centuries"
Xanderia Sighed.

"I am the first In Many Years of my Kind, i shall be Worthy, Sir" He said.

"There is No Shame, i have Trust and Belief in you as we Do the Holy Text:"

"I Shall Bring those against the Empire and the Text to the end' He said.

Nightwatcher Stepped away, Xanderia stood up

"You Will Do well"

Helvika

The Desert world was Inhabited by the Unholiest of Humans.

and Needed Policing...
 
Sanctarium Indagatum,
Grand Cathedral of the Piatha
Valoras Kor


“Archos is a god's loving fool,” spoke the hierarch, Emanuel Chaced, in his gravelly voice. He was a very thin man, and very old. Yet his voice still held the gravitas of his youth, even if he looked like a light breeze would blow him to dust. He wore his extravagant white and gold robes, having just come from another meeting on the course of the inquisition. The robes threatened to swallow the man whole.

The young man next to him gave a wry smile but said nothing. He wore more modest, but no less refined garments. His garb was obviously not that of the church, but spoke of wealth, a member of a great house, or of a lesser cadet branch.

The last of the three in the room snorted in derision. He sat in partial shadow, only his lower jaw and body illuminated from the desk light. He was a large man, but not fat. He was broad in shoulder and the definition of his muscles could clearly be seen even beneath the crimson and black robes he wore. “And yet his actions play right into our hands,” spoke the Inquisitor Sumpremas. “And everything will move quicker now.”

“This new emperor hasn’t bothered to make an official statement yet,” the young man spoke, his glee evident. “Will he support the church, or condemn their actions? Every minute that passes without him spreads further chaos.”

“And that excites you, does it?” Emanuel asked in a chiding tone.

“Only because it helps us.”

“But chaos, like fire, can get out of control and burn us all,” the Inquistor reminded. “This situation is a boon for us, but let’s not gloat until we have what we want, young lord.”

The young man nodded, but the gleeful smile remained on his face. The Inquisitor turned to the hierarch. “I have overseen the assignments of many of the inquisitors. As best I can I have sent those who will hinder or aid what great houses as we need. It will be your job to continue to obscure our goals within the synod.”

He then turned to the young lord. “Your time will come soon. For now, I caution patience. I have sent a very specific inquisitor to oversee your enemies. He is very devout and zealous. Wherever he looks, he will find heresy. It will hopefully divide the house’s strength before we make our move.”

“I am tired of hiding in the shadows like a damnable Watchful Brother,” the young man pouted.

“I do understand,” the Inquisitor said, sympathetically. “But we are working to bring down a great house, and the Drof-Antier’s are one of the greatest in the imperium. So patience will need to be your greatest virtue.”
 
Helvika, House Phelician World
The Desert World of Helvika, One of the Most Populated Worlds in Phelicia, With Millions Laid upon its Surface, twice Hadrox mass and gravity makes it a Hard world for Weaklings to stand on, some dare not even enter Helvika for its Gravity well was strong. City lights strung Upon the Darkside like Jewels in the Casted Sunlight Beams, The Rings of the Planet arcing over the World like a Arch over a Person.

The Pod Came in through a Flash, the Person in the pod smiling as the Planet approached,Helvika slowly filled up the window like water in a Bath, the Arcs of Flame around P.O.D (Personal Operational Delivery) as it entered the Atmosphere.The Sky turning blue and Parachutes Open up.

---

He Steps out of the P.O.D

"Eyo, YOU" Said a Local farmer, "Yousa crackpot senta By Governmneta?"

"Do you have Faith?" He asked.

"Faith, noho, Thats a Crackpota by Governmant-" He started, But in seconds, upon the Reveal of his Anti faith treachery. A Bullet penetrated him at speeds that turned him into Fleshy Debris.

"Wrong answer" Xanderia said. He had been released onto this World , and the Faith would be restored.

Or there would be no one to restore it too.
 
Sanctarium Indagatum,
Grand Cathedral of the Piatha
Valoras Kor


There was general disgust and outrage at the news. Eyewitnesses had seen it. An inquisitor, without tril or offer of penance, had murdered a subject of the Imperium against both secular and spiritual law.

“Who appointed this Pudak*?” the Inquisitor Supremas demanded of his staff. He’d delegated many appointments to his deacon subordinates, those that hadn’t required his personal attention. Before today he’d not given a godsdamn about the House of Phelcia, but today it drew his full eye.

They were randomly assigned,” said one of the deacons under his command. “Apparently this Xanderia was made inquisitor simply by their name appearing on a list. Apparently he was also knighted into some kind of order, or cult, by a governor called Nightwatcher in some kind of heretical ceremony.”

“So aliens are attempting to manipulate the inquisition to their own ends. And allowing them to kill other aliens without trial?”

“It appears so.”

Anger crossed the Inquisitor Supremas’ face, darkening his complexion and adding a dangerous glint to his eye. “Damn those alien scum. That they should be allowed to hold the titles of count is an abomination. And that they are getting a human to do their dirty work in the church’s name. I should send a full armada and burn these fury fools to ash and dust, but…” and he let his anger subside. “I will give this false inquisitor, and this governor Nightwatcher, one chance to come to Valoras Kor and stand before me. If neither of them do, I will declare them heretics against the church and bring to bear the full might of the church and its armada.”

The deacon went immediately to draft a letter and send it off to the accused parties. Not even an hour had passed and the summons was sent out.


TO THE MURDERER XANDERIA AND THE SUSPECTED HERETIC GOVERNOR NIGHTWATCHER,

THE CHURCH INQUISITION HAS SUMMONED YOU BOTH TO VALORAS KOR TO FACE AN INQUISITORIAL TRIBUNAL IN REGARDS TO THE COLD BLOODED MURDER OF AN IMPERIAL SUBJECT IN THE NAME OF THE GODS. THIS ACT OF WANTON AND SENSELESS VIOLENCE IS IN VIOLATION OF SPIRITUAL LAWS, BUT ALSO SECULAR LAWS OF THE IMPERIUM. THESE ACTIONS REFLECT POORLY UPON THE CHURCH. IF YOU DO NOT ANSWER THIS SUMMONS IMMEDIATELY, THE HOLY ARMADA SHALL BE LAUNCHED AGAINST ALL OF THE WORLDS OF THE COUNTY OF PHELCIA IN THE NAME OF THE GODS AND THE EMPEROR, AND ALL SHALL FACE THE HOLY WRATH OF THE CHURCH.

RIGHTOUSLY,
THE APPOINTED SWORD OF THE CHURCH
INQUISITOR SUPREMAS JOHANN ADELIA BACHASTRUS​


*Pudak: a mythical demonic being, an unholy creature said to have attempted to overthrow the Piatha and were cast out into the abyss, an offensive slur.
 
Sulla sat at his desk, a pearly white construct in the shape of a horseshoe with the top translucent, revealing his lower body. The whole room shared the color of the desk with the occasional statue of former war heroes of the Imperium and paintings of past glories. Behind him a glass pane window revealing the skyline of the capital, swarms of ships full of pedestrians and civilians beaming in the background.

He’d been a busy man since the Pretender had been executed by his hand and the forces loyal to the Pretender had either scattered or surrendered. Sulla had been appointed Strategos by the Emperor, overseeing the behemoth that was the Imperial Legions and husk of the Imperial Navy. It was undoubtedly a political appointment to secure his loyalty after his attempt for the throne had failed but Sulla was a well seasoned military veteran and commander from a house with a martial prowess that was unrivaled in the whole Imperium. Either way, he was devoted to his new role, leaving the management of Solios and of House Livia’s internal politics to his son which gave him the time to make several reforms to the Imperial Military already.

His reaction to those loyal to Rian who had surrendered after the Battle of Taer Atlos was as swift as it was brutal. The officers were immediately stripped off all positions and titles in the Imperium and promptly tried in military tribunals. Whatever their fates was left to the tribunal but what was certain was that Sulla would not tolerate betrayal in his ranks. Those in the Legion that had decided to stay loyal to the Throne enjoyed many promotions and recognition for their honor. With most of the officer corps of the Navy being removed however, it left a large vacuum that needed to be filled. Sulla in turn had those positions filled with seasoned and competent veterans from his years of experience that he knew were loyal to him and could be trusted. While these were veterans that Sulla had been very familiar with and knew their loyalty was assured, while some might decry nepotism it was still very much meritocratic.

Besides the punishment and replacement of officers, Sulla had also started the grand reconstruction of the Imperial Navy. This process had began with newly appointed commissions for men of talent and trustworthiness, but also accompanied by the vast expansion of the current fleet's capabilities. This meant a drastic increase in the Imperial Navy's current arsenal in order to regain the strength that it had once lost. This new Navy was going to be bigger and more grand than any other fleet that the Empire had known.

With the fleet being rebuilt, it also raised questions of new leadership since Sulla had removed the last one’s head. He chose Posnas Tasmen as the new Grand Admiral. Tasmen was a decorated hero of many campaigns and battles, his skill or quality could not be denied. His character was just and of upstanding, but most importantly, he was a loyal man and Sulla knew that with an uncertain future for the Imperium, that was one of the best qualities that any man could have. Especially in this gaping pit of trickery that some call a capital.

While working on the issues of financing the construction of new ships for the Imperial Navy, his was interrupted when one of his aides opened the doors to alert him of the arrival of a High Inquisitor of the Church. Not knowing what the purpose of his visit was, Sulla ordered to promptly have him sent in.

When the doors next opened in came the High Inquisitor flanked with two Church Guardsmen. An obese man who when he walked it was more of a waddle and his belly mirrored the ocean with every step he took. He wore elaborate and decorative jewelry that covered both of his hands on every finger, resembling more of a twine around sausage and a golden trimmed white robe that was stretched to its limits from his stomach. His beard and hair were a fiery red with his beard being surprisingly well groomed.

Sulla got up out of his chair to shake the High Inquisitor’s hand which was extremely sweaty and sticky, an odd combination but one he didn’t question.

“To what do I owe this pleasure High Inquisitor” Sulla asked with a smile, attempting not to give an impression of any fear. It wasn’t ordinary for a High Inquisitor to just “stop by” for pleasantries.

“The pleasure is all mine Arch Duke, it is not everyday that I get to meet with men as famous as yourself” the High Inquisitor said jovially in a deep broad voice, shaking his hand. “Do you mind if I take a seat before we begin?”

“Of course, Your Holiness.”

The High Inquisitor then seated himself in front of Sulla’s desk followed by Sulla himself.

“I am High Inquisitor Levensgenieter, sent on behalf of the Grand Patriarch himself. I assume you've heard the decree by the Grand Patriarch regarding the formation of the new Inquisition to root out heresy?”

Sulla nodded.

“Good, I will be assisting High Inquisitor Harranbach in purging the Imperial Core of any and all infidels. I have been chosen to root any heretics in your territory. I expect full cooperation from you, any dissent will be met with further scrutiny from the Church. I have no doubt that you are a good man though, not harboring any apostates among you” he said with a deep booming laugh accompanied by Sulla’s slight obligatory chuckle.

Sulla took a moment to respond while he realized the impact of what was unfolding in front of him.

“I would be more than happy to aid the Church in any way that I can High Inquisitor. My resources and men are at your disposal for anything that you require."

The High Inquisitor greeted Sulla’s smile with his own sly grin. “Fantastic. I will depart to Solios shortly. Before I leave for your territory, I require a list of names of servants and soldiers in service to House Livia for questioning. No need to fret, just pleasantries as I'm sure you understand"

“I will have the list sent to you, High Inquisitor”

“Excellent”, the High Inquisitor said. He had difficulty getting up out of his seat as he required the aid of both of his guardsmen to lift him up and after began walking towards the doorway but before he could go Sulla had an idea and stopped him.

“Before you leave, Your Holiness, I have a humble request to ask of you. We all know of the Pretender Rian’s pagan sympathies. Whenever the Pretender was defeated, a large chunk of his forces that remained surrendered to us but there were still many of his forces that fled the battle. Despite the efforts of the Imperial Military we cannot find their whereabouts. Our resources are already spread thin with the reconstruction efforts of the Imperial Navy. It is my fear that these traitors who might’ve fled harbor the same pagan sympathies as Grand Admiral Rian. This would pose a threat to the Imperium and the Church. Would the Church be willing to assist in efforts finding the remnants of these traitors?"

“The Church would be happy to aid the Imperial Military in rooting out these infidels. I’ll send word of this to the Grand Patriarch.”

“Thank you, Your Holiness” Sulla said sincerely before the High Inquisitor walked out the door and Sulla slumped back into his chair, exhaling a large sigh.
 
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Sanctarium Indagatum,
Grand Cathedral of the Piatha
Valoras Kor


The deadline had passed. Neither of the accused had turned themselves in to face justice from the Tribunal. The only response came from the Phelcian Count, Dusk Brethreius. It stated simply:

WE DO NOT FEAR THE CHURCH!​

The Inquisitor Supremas stared at the note for a long time, his face emotionless. Finally a grin spread across his face. “By the right of the church I declare House Phelcia apostate. Inform the Grand Patriarch of the situation. I will send the ninth armada to humble this alien count. And so as not to upset the noble houses, we will invite them to send their own fleets as well”

“What shall become of their territories?” One of his assistants asked.

He rubbed his chin, his smile spreading even further. “I will have the Grand Patriarch get permission from the Emperor to divide their territories up among those houses which participate. That’ll keep the houses (at least the ones supporting our inquisition) firmly on our side.”
X Gon Give It To Ya (Dirty) - DMX
 
Spire Complex Uur
Moon of Aamun, orbiting Saardil
House Nazdi


The Inquisitor's footsteps through the spire complex's halls echoed coldly. At first glance, the austerity of this temple-palace disquieted him, seeming more like an ascetic's monastery than the grand hall of one of the Great Houses of the Imperium, but further inspection indicated intricate artwork, bas-reliefs, geometric designs, and even holy scripture carved into the walls of the hallway. The golds and whites of his Inquisitorial garb stood out like a snowflake in a pool of ink, and he was struck by the chill in the air. His retinue was comparatively small to the parties of other Inquisitors - the Inquisitor did not think it necessary for a large show of force given the nature of House Nazdi, but backup, should it be necessary. Pondering this decision briefly, he realized that he had seen only a bare minimum of individuals on this visit, though it was known across the Northern Marches that commoners, scholars, nobles, and the clergy alike were welcomed in the Spire Complexes of House Nazdi's capital.

Approaching the doorway what he presumed to be the throneroom where he was to greet the Margrave Baas-Karazur in, he found it silently opening with no apparent prompting but his own arrival. Further disquiet struck him, as well as the itching feeling on the nape of his neck that he was being watched with a close gaze that was altogether unfriendly. But still, when the doors opened, he and his retinue entered the throneroom and found it more similar to a private office below a stunning observatory. There was no throne, and the Margrave, darkly silhouetted in their striking robes, sat in the center of the room on a dais covered with cushions. A few screens rose out of the floor of the dais around the Margrave, but were turned off at the current moment. The Inquisitor wondered what had been on them.

Without fanfare, Ayyal spoke up. Their voice crackled through the respirator covering the lower half of the Margrave's face with some intensity, but betrayed no emotion, "Inquisitor Vaerloga, House Nazdi greets you. What brings the Church and its Inquisition," Inquisitor Vaerloga thought he detected a hint of disdain, but wasn't sure, "to this far-flung corner of the Imperium?"

The Inquisitor gave a slight bow, more a formality than anything, noting to himself that the Margrave did not so much as rise to greet them. "Lord Baas-Karazur, the Inquisition has dispatched me on a mission of holiest importance. It has come to light that, under the previous emperor, heresies and apostasies flourished with abandon. It is my belief that this tolerance is what encouraged the Archtraitor Alecto Rian to revolt upon the passing of the previous Emperor. As such, the Inquisition has been commanded to root out all traces of blasphemy from the various Great Houses. That is why I am here."

A brief crackle sounded from Ayyal's respirator. The Inquisitor didn't know if the Margrave had chuckled or was simply breathing. He continued, "As we both know, House Nazdi and its territories have long been quietly devoted to the Church, if austere in the manner in which they worship. While this has caused some friction, I am sure that with your cooperation we will prove House Nazdi's obeisance to the Piathans to be pure and true. My concern lies mainly in the whispers of a certain cult of decay that is heretical beyond compare coming from this region of the Galaxy," that same respirator crackle struck Vaerloga's ears, "and the rooting out of these blasphemers for good. I trust you will support the Inquisition in these matters?"

Ayyal spoke again in the same level tone, "But of course, Inquisitor Vaerloga. House Nazdi's resources are at your command. It is my opinion that these whispers of this so-called Cult of Decay are pointless drivel by the House's Critics, but the Inquisitor should feel free to investigate to his heart's content. Any and all members of my House are at your disposal for questioning, as well."

Vaerloga replied, "Very well. Our investigations will begin immediately. The Inquisition thanks you for your compliance." He gave another slight bow, and turned with his retinue, marching out of the room. Though the meeting had on the surface gone well, he could not shake the continued disquiet. Perhaps he was simply not used to House Nazdi and their mannerisms and culture yet. But as he left, he noted the doors did not close to the Margrave's room, and he felt many eyes on the small of his neck all the way onto his ship.
 
Private Hunting Retreat
Baylon-graj, Archduchy of Coarin


The transport sank into the warm mists of the forested moon. Only the tips of the tallest trees could be seen over the expanse of the thick fog. The viewer-screen showed only gray, with the faintest outlines of dark to mark the surrounding evergreens.

Landing was mostly done automatically, but Faizal trusted his skills enough to land without the computer, relying solely on instruments and his own innate senses. The transport landed with a soft thud.

He met his wife at the gangway. She rarely sat up in the bridge, preferring instead to stay in their quarters and read whenever they flew somewhere. Aram Valgurhros was also waiting there, looking dashing in his dress uniform.

“It’s good to be home,” Aram said cheerfully. He was a native of the small moon, so for him it was truly a homecoming. For Faizal and Izarri it was merely a short vacation. They had been ordered to stay away from the house capital for the time being. The church was zealosly poking about Coarin, the orbital stations and habitats, as well as the few cities and towns on the surface.

Hand in hand, Faizal and Izzari exited the ship down the ramp. Two people waited for them. One a girl of fifteen with the features common to the Mulhraads. Straight dark brown hair, gaunt narrow features, and piercing green eyes. The other was a girl of about nine, her hair a sandy brown and curly, a round face, and a softer jawline.

The young girl rushed to meet them “Mama! Papa!” she cried, giving her parents both a hug.

“My little dove,” Izarri said warmly, returning the embrace. “It’s so good to see you my dear.”

“Why were you gone so long?”

It was Faizal who answered. “Because duty called us away, Fulian.”

Fulian made a face at his reply. “Why can’t duty ever keep you here?”

Her father chuckled. “You’re in luck then. For duty demands I spend time with my children.”

“Hooray!” Her mother then picked her up and planted kisses all over her cheeks. Faizal then turned his attention to the other girl who was waiting dutifully at the foot of the ramp. “Can you spare a hug for your father?” he asked with a smile.

The girl smiled back and took a few quick steps forward up the ramb and embraced him. He returned the hug and planted one kiss on her forehead. “Have you been keeping a well managed house?”

“Yes, father,” Jazil answered. “Governess Serenna would be proud.”

“Yeah, she won't even let me stay up late,” Fulian said, telling on her sister. “And she wouldn’t let me have a pet, neither.”

“Certainly you could let the heir of the house keep one small animal,” Izarri chided. Faizal couldn’t help but hear the cold tone with which she said it.

“She wanted to bring in a Frellark she’d found in the gardens, My Lady,” Jazil explained. She stiffened up after the rebuke from the Comtess.

“Then you did the right thing,” Faizal said proudly. “Those things don’t make for friendly pets.” He turned to his wife. “Would you take Fulian inside. This misty air isn’t good for one so young. I have things to discuss with Jazil.”

Izarri gave Jazil one last scornful look and then huffed off into the fog, following a glowing walkway that would lead her to the resort from the landing field, still carrying Fulian. Aram gave his lord a curt nod and then followed the lady of the house. Faizal watched her go until he couldn’t even make out her shape in the fog, and then he waited a good two minutes extra as well. Jazil didn’t even look where she’d left, choosing instead to focus on the hull of the transport. Once he was sure his wife was far enough away to not be overheard he spoke to his daughter. “I’m sorry for that,” he apologized. “I’ve spoken with her about the way she treats you, but I fear nothing I say will matter.”

“She hates me,” Jazil said bluntly.

There was a time where Faizal would have denied it, but his daughter was becoming a woman and the time for comforting lies had long passed. “She hates you because she can’t hate me.”

“It’s not fair,” Jazil pouted, still very much a child in many ways.

“I loved your mother,” Faizal reassured her. “Had she lived longer I would have even married her. But the gods had other plans.” He took his daughter by the shoulder. “Come, let’s go find something to eat. I want to hear about everything that’s happened since you’ve been here.”
I Am A Man Of Constant Sorrow (Instrumental) - Norman Blake
 
Interlude

The days and weeks since the end of the rebellion had been, in the eyes of the Emperor, unpleasant. Purging the Imperial military of dissidents and rebuilding were tedious processes. More tedious still was repaying the hundreds of favors the House of Khor had called in to ensure the continuation of the Empire. When the dust settled Arnu proclaimed the following Officers of the Empire:

House Valin: Patrician
House Drof Antier: Magistrate
House Sulla: Strategos

This left the positions of Treasurer, and Justicar vacant for the time being, and truth be told Arnu was in no rush to fill them. For the time being his household staff under the keen watch of Azuari were maintaining those duties. As for his son, The Emperor sent Minras back to Armintarik to rule in his stead, and until a proper ceremony of ascension to Dukedom could be performed. Together father, daughter, and son were working diligently to cement themselves as the new power in the galaxy.

Taer Atlos

The room of the Celestial Throne had been one of the first to be rebuilt and renovated in the wake of the rebellion. While no changes were made to the Throne itself, Arnu had the room catered to his vision of rule. Screens and holo-projectors allowed him to be anywhere and talk with nearly anyone in the Imperium at a moments notice. This was used to great effect as the image of the Emperor and of House Khor was projected across the galaxy. The new Emperor took pains to remind his nobles they ruled their own lands, but ensured he was ever present. In keeping with that theme, above the throne now loomed the figure of House Khor, and along the great hall were the symbols of the Archduchies. At the left of the Celestial Throne was a smaller place of honor for Azuari who now minded the Household staff, and served as advisor. At his right and one further step down was a place for the Magister of the Imperial Demesne should he attend the Emperor's court, and lower still were places for the remainder of the Imperial Council. Unbeknownst to most, this all was done in the style of the Ducal Palace of the Oasis, to give Arnu some semblance of home and comfort. Today however the Emperor was not comforted. The Inquisition, and its implications were on his mind. He had not overtly condoned such a thing, but certainly had not discouraged the Church. They were after all a through line of the galaxy, a symbol of unity in a recently fractured world. Now however, after hearing of the rogue inquisitor on Helvika he was worried about the Church's ability to control such a thing. The Imperium was still on the edge, the past conflict was too recent to openly start a new, unless against true and unabashed heretics. The Emperor sighed. "Kardin, raise the Patriarch."
 
The Grand Patriarch finished his meal and wiped the crumbs from his face. “Most delicious,” he decried placing his napkin down. The plates and silverware were immediately whisked away to be cleaned and a hot cup of tea was placed in front of him.

“Your agenda,” his aide said, handing him a tablet. It had all his appointments planned out by the hour.

“What’s the first thing?” he asked not even glancing at the tablet before putting it down on the table.

“Inquisitor Var Opny wishes to discuss the troubles on…” the aide was interrupted by his communication device beeping. He checked it. A surprised look was on his face. “The Emperor is requesting to speak with you.”

The Grand Patriarch was less surprised. “That took him long enough,” he chortled. “Very well, let’s not keep him waiting.”

But he did not rush from his small dining room to his office, taking a brisk stroll down the high vaulted hallway. He sat himself in his large cushioned chair and accepted the call. The face of the new Emperor filled the screen.

“Your High Majesty,” The Grand Patriarch greeted. “Blessings of the gods upon you. We have much to discuss, yes?”
 
Margrave Vermillion Therro's Private Estate
Draconus, Capital Planet of House Therro
0300 hours


The sound of rain pattered softly against the roof of Therro Estate, as Caesonia Therro read quietly to herself. Wife and loyal companion of Margrave Vermillion Therro, Caesonia found herself spending more and more time alone each and every day. Oh, how she missed her children! Tiberius hadn't visited in months, and only the gods knew where Amulius had run off to. In her younger years, she had despised the unending work of raising two rambunctious young men. Now, she would trade all the wealth and power in the world just to spend some serious quality time with them.

At least she still had Vermillion, her loving and faithful husband. Such a thought was enough to console her, to get her through all the constant politicking and political infighting that plagued her house. Yet, as of recent, her husband had begun acting rather strangely, disappearing for hours at a time, coming and going at odd hours of the night. Caesonia sighed to herself. What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he just have an affair like a normal husband?

Caesonia set her book down onto the exquisitely carved reading table. She scanned the interior of the room until her eyes settled upon the briefest shimmer of air, the slightest distortion of the atmosphere. Most people wouldn't have even batted an eye, but Caesonia was no ordinary woman. She rose from her chair, her veins throbbing, as she began to speak:

"Oh, blast it, Vermillion! Would you please shut off the dammed cloaking?"

Silence greeted her in reply. For a few moments, nothing happened. Then, the air around Vermillion began to distort and shimmer as the light ceased to bend around him. He appeared before Caesonia as if he had appeared out of thin air, for Therro Stealth Suits were unparalleled in their ability to hide their user. Of course, Caesonia had been doing this for a long time, and Vermillion could never seem to put one past her, no matter how advanced the technology he used.

Clad from head to toe in his black stealth suit, Vermillion removed the helmet off his head. His flowing silver hair came tumbling out behind him as his pale blue eyes regarded his wife with a mixture of surprise and fear.

"Caesonia, please, just listen to me. I-"

Caesonia angrily slammed her hand onto the reading table.

"Save it, Vermillion! We talked about this! You're no longer a young man, you know how dangerous these trips are! I cannot fathom why you insist upon going personally! You have literal legions of assassins at your disposal, why do you even bother paying them?!?!"

"Please, Caesonia, hear me out. You don't understand, I hadn't seen that much action since the Battle of Taer Atlos! What a splendid sight it was!"

"I don't care Vermillion, it's reckless and you know it. The head of House Therro should not be running about the streets like some common criminal!"

"Please, Caesonia, if only you were there you-"

"NO! Enough! I forbid you from going on any more side trips'! This cannot continue, Vermillion! Please, tell me you'll stop! You can't keep going out on your own like this! You have a house to lead, a family a support, a...a..."

Caesonia began to tremble as she glared at Vermillion.

"Caesonia..."

Vermillion stepped foward toward his wife. He grabbed her hand and embraced, a look of remorse clouding his face.

"Caesonia, I am sorry, truly. I cannot abide by your request. You know we have an image to uphold, a reputation to protect at all costs. I cannot sit idly by as events transpire around me. To do so is against my very nature. But...if stopping these trips of mine is what pleases you, then I shall do just that. I swear to you that I shall refrain from going off on my own. It is true that I am no ylonger a young man, after all. Now, look at me, and wipe the tears from your eyes."

Caesonia looked up at her husband. He seemed geniue in his answer.

"Oh Vermillion, I can't stand the thought of losing you! We've lost far too much as is, just promise me you'll stay safe?"

Vermillion smiled.

"I promise."

He hugged and kissed his wife, embracing her tightly. They slowly let go, savoring the moment for as long as they could.

"Thank you, Vermillion, that sets my mind at ease."

Caesonia went back to her reading as Vermillion begant to unload his weapons and remove his armor.

"Did any of the guards catch you on your way back?" Caesonia asked as she idly flipped through the pages.

"What do you think?" Vermillion responsed as he grinned.

"I thought as much. By the way, we had a rather interesting visitor today. An inquisitor, of all people."

"Really now? What did this 'inquisitor' have to say?"

"Not much. He asked if he could speak with you. I told him that you were away on bussiness and that I did not know when you would be returning. He apologized for the intrusion and promised to come back in a few days."

"Did he now? Thats a bit...concerning. Have the guards double their patrols, just in case."

"I will. Now, lets get off to bed, I'm sure your exhausted from your little trip."

"Indeed, lets. I'll meet you upstairs?"

Caesonia nodded as she went up ahead. Vemillion finished changing and went off to join her, glancing back at the now discarded armor. Could he ever truly give this life up?

Probably not.
 
Above Helvika
Aboard the Nightmare Dragon

Flagship of House Rhodes

"Are you a religious man, uncle?" Thor 12051509 asked.

"Hm?" Aaron replied.
"That came out of left field."

"Left what?" Thor asked. His uncle's terminology confused him.

"It's a reference to..." he began but shook his head. There would be plenty of time to introduce Thor to the sports scene on Holseta.
"Never mind. Sorry. I'm just curious why you'd ask."

"Oh," Thor replied, a bit embarrassed.
"I'm sorry if I offended..."

"You didn't," Aaron replied with a smile. His nephew needed encouragement at times.

"Well," Thor said, as he looked out as the fleet of House Rhodes tore apart the defences of House Phelcia.
"We are here, fighting the Church's battles. And I've read about your victories for the Empire over the Rebellion of the Three Fold Path. I was wondering..."

"...if I'm a man of the gods?" Aaron asked, completing his nephew's question.

"Exactly."

Aaron smiled. He'd promised Thor that should they survive Rian's attempted usurpation he'd be there to guide the boy. He was, like him, a Margrave. But he was just a few years older than his own oldest son. He needed someone to help him. He needed family.
Aaron had kept that promise, and now Thor was here with him. And this question...it begat a lot of answers. Answers Aaron hoped Thor could take to heart.

"House Phelcia is a den of fools," Aaron answered and he watched the bombardment of Helvika's surface defences begin.
"Not only were they foolish enough to make an enemy of both the Imperium and the Church at a time like this, but in general their stewardship of their lands has been lacking. We do everyone a favour by answering the call to wipe them aside."

"I hope that the Emperor recognizes your contributions then, uncle," Thor replied.
"Maybe House Rhodes will be rewarded...this time."

Aaron's lips curled into a smile but he wanted to hear what Thor would say.
"What do you mean?"

Thor, though, wasn't biting.
"You know damn well uncle," he said with a chuckle.
"You were Regnier and assured his election. And you led the fleet that defeated Rian's. But the Emperor put Sulla in charge of the Imperial military."

Aaron shrugged.
"I dare say you're more upset about this than I am."

"You're family, I want to see you being treated fairly," Thor replied. Aaron smiled. He'd endeavoured to look out for Thor. It seems Thor wanted to look out for him.

"Sulla is very capable in the role the Emperor gave him. He's doing what's necessary. As for the Emperor's favour, well His Majesty and I have always gotten along, but we here on the Galactic fringes have always been uneasy at the centre of imperial politics."

"Are you saying you turned down appointment uncle?"

"No, I merely told the Emperor that my charge was, as always, to guard one part of the Imperial frontier. If he needed more from me he was free to ask it."

"Well," Thor said, "I hope he at least rewards House Rhodes with spoils from House Phelcia."

"We'll all cross the bridges laid before us when we arrive at them," Aaron said as he leaned over a map of the surface below.

"Begin the troops landings," he ordered.

"Right away, Your Grace," Brodie Fisher said with a nod before relaying orders to begin the drop ships.

"It looks hot down there," Thor grumbled. His own home was cold. His uncle's homeworld was lush. But this place was a desert world.

"We're properly equipped, Your Grace," Brodie replied.

"Yes, I know first hand what desert warfare is like," Aaron added.

"From your time as a Legionnaire?" Thor asked, his voice tinged with excitement.

"Yes," Aaron nodded.
"But it's nothing to be excited about I assure you."

"Well it's just that I want to hear your stories," Thor replied, his voice shaking with a bit of self-conscious nervousness. He didn't want to offend Aaron. Aaron, though, just nodded.

"What we do here is necessary. But war is never grand. I learnt that the hard way, Thor."

"Even the war against Rian? Or the Rebellion of the Three Fold Path?"

"All necessary. All brutal," Aaron nodded.
"Practically though, war represents instability. And that's the real danger."

"We've seen a lot of that," Thor replied, sullenly.

"Yes we have," Aaron said, his tone growing serious.
"This little scruff with this joke of a House is but one part of a much larger pattern. You're too young to fully appreciate it, but Emperor Shiram's reign was one of quiet stability. He hasn't been gone long, but the time since has felt like a century already. Come," he said as he led his nephew off the bridge before telling Brodie "you've got command."

"Where are we going, uncle?" Thor asked. Aaron, however, didn't answer until they arrived at his office on the ship. It was, being the House flagship, suitably styled to Aaron's tastes. Reflecting a sort of provincial charm you would find on Holseta.

"We're somewhere private," he said as he secured the door and took a seat. Not at the desk but in one of the old, comfortable looking chairs. Thor took a seat in the other. But whereas Aaron sat back, Thor was on the edge of the seat.

"Is...I mean...are we in danger?" Thor asked.

Aaron could answer that any number of ways but he chose not to alarm his nephew.
"Not at the moment. But what I'm about to tell you is between us."

Thor nodded eagerly.
"Of course, uncle."

Aaron sighed.
"The Imperium is, when it works as it's supposed to, as beautiful as clockwork. The Houses keep the peace, the Imperial centre keeps the administration going, the Church provides guidance for the souls of men, and the Starfleet and Legionnaires assert the Imperial will if necessary. Ideally trillions of lives peacefully move about their paths and destructive conflict is kept to a minimum. But like clockwork the Imperium's systems can be damaged by one small misalignment."

"Rian was more than just a small misalignment, uncle," Thor said softly and Aaron nodded. His nephew picked up on things.

"Exactly. Shiram dying without an heir was a threat to the Imperium's stability but had the selection of a new Emperor gone smoothly the disruption wouldn't have been so bad. But Rian attacked with the Starfleet and super weapons...the systems that ensured peace are weakened. And now the system is going to be unravelled. By vultures looking to strengthen themselves at the expense of even more lives."

"Who would do that?" Thor asked, more amazed than anything.

"The Church," Aaron said bluntly.

"But you fought..."

"I've fought for the Emperor. Two emperors at this point. And the belief that the Imperium, when run correctly, is a force for peace for our peoples. But think Thor. The Church suddenly sends its ships and Inquisitors out? Just when there's a new, untested Emperor on the throne? When the great Houses and Imperial military are reeling from Rian's attack?"

"So they strike when everyone else is weak?" Thor asked.

"Yes," Aaron said with a nod.
"They can hide behind their robes and scripture but I'm a military officer. I can see what they're doing clear as day. And they'll end up killing more, and disrupting a system that has kept the peace for generations upon generations, to advance their own power."

"I know I asked if you were a religious man earlier uncle, but...I know you're not a heretic."

"To the zealot the casual believer may as well be a heretic," Aaron replied.

"But you fought Rian's fleet, who was a heretic," Thor retorted.
"And you crushed the Three Fold Path heresy."

"They are also poking around Drof-Antier, and Hiram is a friend of mine," Aaron said.
"The Inquisition will draw its own conclusions. Our work here, answering their call to crush this heretic house, and my own past crushing heretics will not spare me the Inquisitor's scrutiny. Once we're done here we'll return to Holseta. And I'll have to deal with their prying intrusions."

"What will you do, uncle?" Thor asked, nervously.

"Give them a good outer rim welcome," Aaron replied with a smile.




OOC Note: Use of House 1205's characters granted by @Kyle
 
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“My patience has worn out,” Hiram said menacingly. He proved an imposing figure even confined to his wheelchair. His beard, which he had long kept neat and short, had been growing out since the attempt on his life and it was now giving him a more intimidating look. “The arrests of my subjects without warrant or cause is unacceptable. The confinement of my seneschal without allowance to legal counsel is unlawful. You are treading on very dangerous ground here, Inquisitor!” The last word was said forcefully, nearly spat out.

Aldo Harranbach kept his bored expression throughout the whole conversation. “The church’s business, My Dear Duke, is above that of the mundane.”

Hiram furrowed his brow. “The church is still beholden to secular law.”

“Hmmph,” Harranbach reacted. “For how long?”

Hiram chose to ignore the implications of the question. “For the last two millenia. And while the Grand Patriarch seems keen to ignore my demands, perhaps the Emperor might not be so stonewalled.”

“Very well,” Harrancbach said, straightening up to try and tower even more over the injured old man. “I shall release your Senescal back to you. We are content that he is not a heretic.”

“Of course he isn’t.”

“However, arrests will continue as the church sees fit.”

“Unacceptable!”

“But the majority arrests are for aliens,” the Inquisitor explained, disbelief in his voice.

“Regardless of their species they are subjects of the house Drof-Antier and as such carry the full protections of this house.”

Harranbach’s bored expression immediately turned to one of disgust. “How the mighty truly have fallen,” he mused. “Perhaps the inquisition shall call upon you in the near future.”

Hiram curled his lips into a predatory smile, leaning forward just a little in his chair. “I look forward to it. With all my heart.”
 
CLASSIFIED DOCUMENT
CRUZIER OR HIGHER RANK CLEARANCE REQUIRED
Subject: Intel Report on Parasitic Organism
Date: Noverus 11, 2022 3SA
Description: A Letter From Cruzier Markus Antier to the Office of the Starfleet High Command.

To the office of Grand Admiral Alecto Rian, Supreme Commander of the Imperial Starfleet. Protector of Taer Atlos and loyal servant of the Imperium.

Being my sworn duty as officer of the His Imperial Starfleet, I hereby begin my report of the happenings among the frontier colonies. I believe that we are facing a truly unique threat as many of these reports will show. I will provide as much detail for each incident as I can.

Argus 9, 2019 3SA - Asteroid OH-476-A2 - Garbled transmissions were received from this location. The exact nature of the distress is unknown. They reported a collision with another asteroid. Later transmissions though made it seem as if there had been an attack and fighting inside the settlement. Our listening post attempted to contact them, but they never answered. Settlement is outside our patrol zones, and previous attempts to offer aid were met with threats of violence against Imperial personnel. No craft was sent to investigate.

Margus 23, 2020 3SA - Planet GG-253-S - Families of colonists had reported loss of communication. Imperial patrol could not be sent out for three weeks. Colony had been settled only two years before. Planet is lifeless so settlers had built bio-habitats. When patrol arrived the colony was destroyed in an apparent explosion. Investigation showed that their fusion reactor had gone critical. Attempts to recover the colony's logs proved mostly futile, but what could be recovered spoke of some kind of parasitic attacker.

Jantimus 3, 2021 3SA - Planet OX-333-Q - Patrol arrived in the system answering multiple distress calls. Colonists were under the influence of some kind of parasitic organism and seemed to be attacking each other. Patrol commander sent his marines down to provide aid. The marines were unable to provide assistance and reported the situation untenable. They retreated back aboard the patrol ship. Commander requested orders from local command. Local command provided instructions but patrol did not respond with confirmation. Patrol did not respond to any further attempts at communication. Another Patrol was sent out, this time led by a heavy cruiser. The first patrol vessel’s location could not be ascertained. Colony had been destroyed by obvious orbital bombardment. Colony had over 200,000 settlers on it.

Aprisus 3, 2021 3SA - Asteroid KZ-2245-X1 - Garbled static burst picked up by listening post originating from this colony. Technicians attempted to clean the message up. Very little information could be gleaned except for fragments of sentences and one phrase repeated: “Gods have mercy.” No patrol sent as another incident followed right after.

Aprisus 7, 2021 3SA - Planet KZ-289-R “Svezny Colony” - Local sheriff contacted my office to report a ship having arrived from Asteroid KZ-2245-X1 on a collision course with colony. No one aboard was answering hails. This was the first time where I was directly made aware of the threat. Without knowing the whole picture, but enough evidence to go on that something is happening in the frontier, I ordered the sheriff to destroy the ship and not allow it to make planetfall. I immediately sent a patrol to Svezny colony but by time they arrived the planet was already infected. A parasitic organism had infected the colony. The approaching ship had been destroyed by the colonists, but it’s wreckage touched down a few kilometers away. Our patrol arrived six days after they contacted me but already the entire colony had been infected. I ordered an orbital bombardment of the colony but the organism also seems to have infected wildlife. Recommend quarantine procedures for the entire planet.

It is obvious that there is some kind of parasitic alien threat spreading among the frontier colonies. I have ordered all my staff to comb through reports from the last three years for any other indication of infections. It is not uncommon for colonies to fail or be abandoned, and most are never followed up on if the settlement’s are located outside patrol zones. Further evidence will be forwarded to your office as we uncover it.

I have made a number of attempts to contact my immediate superiors, but cannot get ahold of any of them. I can only apologize for this breach in protocol as I jump all the way up the chain of command. We eagerly await your response.

Dutifully,
Cruzier of the Frontier Fleet
M. Antier

OOC Note: this report was sent just after Emperor Shiram's death and it arrived the day that Alecto Rian disappeared with the Imperial Starfleet. The report has not been read by Rian's replacement and because of the backlog of things to do likely will not be gotten to for some time.
 
On the Ernikaadt solar system
Aboard the Star Jumper

Spaceship 7G2938-PD of House Serthozzia


The loneliness was incredibly relaxing for Duke Enrann, almost like spending the day on one of the Zula's hundreds of spas. The quietude was everything he could hope for. However, his mind was still disturbed by the Inquisitor's words:​
"...one of the traitors that killed the late emperor were yours mother."​
For sure, it was a surprise to know that his mother was alive, but what shocked him even more was the fact that she was a murderer. While his father was fighting for the Imperium, she was fighting to destroy it. This simply didn't make sense for him, as he had thousands of questions and that was what he was trying to find on Hanguk'no Sharnah, answers. Unfortunately, at least for now, that wasn't what the gods had planed for him.

Rightly before the jump, he received an Imperial Com that made him stop on his tracks. It was about some random noble House that was deemed heretic because their leader killed people for fun. "What the hell?", thought Enrann, "Did they really thought they could get away with such treacherous acts?". He pondered how one could be so stupid to defy not only the Church, but the Empire itself. However, this event was the perfect opportunity for him to prove himself to the Church. He should come back to Ernikaadt and lead his house to the war against those traitors.

When he descended from the spaceship, his advisor already was gathering all soldiers of the planet. She was preparing them for the upcoming battles that they would have to fight:

- Your Grace, Duke Enrann, welcome back! - she shakes his hands and bows to him before talking again - I guess your trip had to be cancelled, right?
- Yes, Vannie. - he rolls his eyes at her snarky remark - As you see, I'm back and ready to fight against those stupid traitors...
- Eh, those Phalcians are so dumb... - she stops for a second to think - Is this how they are called, isn't it?
- The truth is, I don't care what is their name. - she agrees - Let's just destroy them all.
- Now that's something I will do with pleasure. - he looks at her with a strange look - Uh, I mean... All I do for our wonderful House is with the utmost pleasure!
- Oh Vannie, stop with the crap. - he says on a joking tone - I know you do it for the money...

They resumed their conversation and kept preparing to fight and purge the heretic Phelcians. After all, their duty was with the Empire and the Church. After mocking the Phalcians for what seemed to be an eternity, the soldiers got inside of the Sky's Driller, the biggest flagship of the House. A long, but with high rewards, hard battle was up ahead but Enrann was read for it. He would won no matter the costs.

OOC: An especial thanks to @Thunderclan for making this specific "purging House Phelcia" arc possible.
 
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Office of the Lord-Steward, Yventral Station, Andal-Vedar

Baron Jenevis sits in silence in his office a holographic display in the center of the room. It had taken quite a lot of political favors to track down footage and enough sensor data from a dozen different houses ships to reconstruct it into holographic representation. The middle-aged Anduri a tired look on his face looks down at the piles of reports as he dejectedly pushes the button on his terminal to play the hologram he has now watches hundreds of times yet again.

The slightly silver tinged ship starts to move forward slowly. The once almost mirror polished metallic alloy on the outside horribly tarnished from the battle, bulkheads shorn off from small hits that had made it through its shielding small fires immediately terminating at the end of the bulkheads as the atmosphere on small sections of ship ignited from the impact of kinetic batteries. The ship refusing to go without a fight angles it's hull slightly as one of it's main batteries faintly glows and erupts in two beams of dull purple overwhelming the shields of two approaching frigates and burns a hole through their armor plating. As it limps forward the the last recorded message from the ship captured from some Imperial comms array or nameless ship plays [Alert: REPORTING CATOSTRPHIC DAMAGES, DECKS 2/6/12 LOST, PRIMARY ENGINES UNRESPONSIVE. ASDV VEDAR INNIATING EMERGENCY WARP. WILL RETURN WITH ANDURI FLEET]. The pulse of energy washes over the ship as it starts to accelerate and like every other time the baron had watched it the shock wave of the fusion device knocks the ship off its heading going into warp in an unknown trajectory.

"You old bastard" he mutters to himself. "Leaving me to clean up your problems just like always."

He picks up the reports from the dozens of analyst report all concluding one thing 'Ship Status from data known - Unknown' before immediately throwing them into a trashcan at the far end of the office. The Baron needed to collect himself for the Council Meeting. Being named regent had been the last thing he wanted, it gave him the power to act with near impunity and direct the resources of the Anduri Systems but also came with the weight of billions of lives while dangerous monsters circled their rich lands.



Throne Room, Yventral Station, Andal-Vedar


Jenevis slowly sat down on the almost clear solid throne of crystal that he had stood next to for decades as Mekonis held council on the matters of state. A moment of fear gripping him as the first of the holographic lords of the Anduri appears in the chamber. Quickly centering himself to make sure to reassure the other members of the council.

"Members of the Consolidation. I have called you all here to discuss the current situation we find ourselves in. Not sense the destruction of Andellia has our species faced a threat of the current scale. The Chancellor is missing, presumed dead. The heir to the Henreves Line is but a child unable to guide our people. The flagship of the Henreves clan is still unfound amongst the stars. And the new matter that brings us here today." The Baron stands from the throne slowly making his way amongst the the holograms.

"Orthodoxy is on the move." An eruption of mutter as the figures start to talk to each other, Jenevis quickly putting his hand up and saying louder "My lords please, I am not finished."

"The Anduri Piathist Church has long held a very tenuous communion with Valorus. Our alignment and faith in Tastol the Deliverer has always put them on edge. And now we find ourselves with whispers the Inquisitors have been taken off their leash and given free reign. Non-Hume have been a particular focus and it's not outside the realm of possibly that Anduri in the Hume worlds are part of the group being corralled but there is no concrete evidence." The man looks at the faces of several of the assembled councillors as he walks back to the throne. Seeing in them the same fear he was hiding from them just minutes ago.

"We have to be very careful moving forward. To openly defend ourselves would be tantamount to declaring open rebellion against the emperor, but to do nothing could mark the end of our people. I am issuing my first directive as regent. Any of the cathedral-ships or missionary vessels of the Orthodoxy that enter our space have the personal protection of the Clan Henreves. Any Inquisitor that enters our space is also given personal invitations to tour the Andellian Temple with myself. I have no illusion that this will assuage them. But if we are to have any support from the outside, it has to be crystal clear we are cooperating and did everything to comply with their demands." Jenevis sets his silvery circlet on the arm of the throne signaling the end of the council, that there shall be no debate on the matter or argument to be hand. One by one the figured disappeared leaving three figured in the room.

"Tremond. Hentrell. Maitren. We were his inner circle. One of the last things I was directed was to work on continuity of civilization. This stays within us. Project Bastion must move forward."
 
Upper atmosphere of Shango

Edge of the Yoruba Reach

House Oragbade territory




The transport shuttle rattled and shook violently as turbulent forces hurled it about like a child's rattle. Most of the passengers clung to holy icons and lucky charms as they whispered fearful prayers from clenched teeth, Oba just frowned and tightened his grip on the railing. For the other passengers this was a potentially lethal descent into a benighted world, For Oba it was simply a homecoming.

In a galaxy filled with places hostile to human life, Shango was amongst the most inimical. great storms wracked the world's upper atmosphere and tore across the rocky plains below. What life did endure did so by the most tenuous of means, existences were eked out in the shadow of a horizon blighted by forked lightning and were seldom spent far from fortified shelters.

For three-quarters of the year the incessant lightning tore across the surface, fires charred the already barren landscape and anything not adapted to the brutal environs was promptly immolated. Despite all these terrible features the planet was considered indispensable to the great house Oragbade, the very same lightning which made the world so inhospitable also provided the perfect source of easily attained energy.

For nine generations the so-called “lightning farmers” of Shango had harvested the power of the storm, great pylons ringed every settlement always ready to trap the violent surges. The house had grown wealthy from the endless supplies of energy that were shipped across the imperium; the farmers merely survived on the scraps. It was into this unenviable world that Oba had been born, his early life spent in fortified shelters and around the collection fields.

His family had tried everything to help him achieve this goal, sending a child away was considered a sign of success on Shango. On the day the legion shuttles had descended from the raging skies above Oba’s prayers were answered, even the next two decades he would spend fighting on distant worlds would be paradise in comparison. His father, like most Shango, was a practical man and had given his son straightforward instructions.

“Go and find something better” the old man had said in a somber tone

Oba wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry, he was returning home and as the consort of an Arch-Duchess no less! And yet? This was not the homecoming he had imagined. Discontent raged on the world of storms, old grievances and indignities were flaring up in the wake of the civil war. The House of Oragbade was weakened, its numbers bled white by the battle of Taer Atlos, its dissenters sensed this and now were rising up in open rebellion.

“We are making the final approach to the dome, hold on to your seats and say a prayer to the gods!” the pilots voice crackled over the announcement system

Oba’s frown deepened even further, as though he intended to use its length to pave roads, trouble awaited him below. While his beloved fought for survival against internal enemies, he would have to do his part to ensure that their external ones did not finish what the inquisition had started. His thoughts were interrupted by a heavy thud as the ship entered the dome hanger and made an inelegant descent into the waiting lander cradle.

The engines of the battered shuttle wound with a gentle whirring as the stink of superheated metal and ozone stung the nostrils of the disembarking passengers. Oba forced down a momentary flicker of amusement as men who had survived Taer Atlos kissed the ground of the landing bay and thanked the Orisha for their mercy. He made no such prayers; the people of Shango were far more straightforward in their faith.

“If you die it is willed” was all anyone in the colony ever said

Oba stared out of the shielded bay doors, the horizon beyond was a mass of black clouds and barren plains, lightning streaked across the heavens into multi-celled processions always followed by an angry roar of thunder. Nothing had changed in the decades he had been gone, the people still hid in great metal shelters and the storms above ensured they stayed put.

“When our esteemed duchess said that she wanted a world pacified I had hoped for somewhere a little less dramatic” A familiar voice called out in amusement

Balogun Sedeko, the victor of Taer Atlos, awaited Oba at the edge of the landing pad, she had a knowing smirk across her normally stern face. She was dressed down, her pristine white and gold uniform replaced by sandy-colored fatigues. It must have seemed a demotion, to go from fighting the arch-traitor to chasing angry colonists across a hateful world.

“Shango is like that I'm afraid, the only thing not dramatic around here is the people, less so lately by the sound of things” Oba replied matter-factly

“It's good to see you Oba, my cousin has always been fortunate to have you at her side, may my luck be equally so for your presence,” she said with genuine warmth

They clasped hands in a warrior salute as he hauled a kitbag over his shoulder and followed her down the ramp. They moved through the cramped walkways and corridors of the ancient dome, passing a vast sea of humanity as they did so. Vendors hawked questionable wares to tired-looking men and women, everything seemed worn and battered by the oppressive atmosphere of Shango.

“We have our work cut out for us out there Oba, everyone on this world seems a few missed paychecks away from rioting” Sedeko explained coldly as they moved through the crowded walkway

“People here are tough Sedek, but not without needs, the war made everything more scarce and harder to purchase” Oba observed, noting the pitiful selection of goods being sold

The ration shops were sad-looking things, many shelves bare, off-world shipments were getting less frequent thanks to the resurgence in pirate activity. With the merchant clans badly mauled following Taer Atlos there simply wasn’t enough security to cover every convoy anymore. On the ground it was showing, people were skin and bones, their overalls hanging loose on malnourished frames.

“Yeah, and now the outlying regions are bombing spaceports and demanding independence” Sedeko replied in a frustrated voice

Oba had read up on the militia groups now tormenting the Oragbade presence, the sons of Shango were a loose coalition of men and women who had grown weary of Oduduwa’s dominance. They had bombed spaceports as Sedeko had said, they had also sabotaged freighters and kidnapped off-worlders. Oba couldn’t argue that things were tough, but the sons didn’t seem to care who they hurt in their war for independence.

“Let's hope between us that we can calm things down quickly, things back in the capital are bad,” Oba said ominously

“Those pigs from the church, right? Piathan scum!” she said spitting in disgust

Back in the central regions of the reach, the polite détente with the church was staunchly maintained, no one spoke openly in opposition. Out here on the frontier's typically muted opinions were voiced and any notion of pleasantries discarded. Oba took in the scene on the walkways, people in dirty overalls and heavy environmental suits shambled to and from the various stalls and chop houses, they reminded him of stories of the undead.

“This is not the world I remember,” Oba said wearily

“I suppose it was a paradise of palm wine and silks before?” Sedeko quipped with a mirthless grin

“No, it was always awful, but this...these people are broken” Oba replied grimly

“I hope we can fix them, welcome home” Sedeko replied dryly

They said nothing after that, the walk to their quarters continuing in silence. Oba was home and yet he could barely recognize what he had returned to.
 
Hadrox,
House Phelcia
embattled


Constantan Rumorra didn’t even know what the name of the planet they were assaulting was. He’d been told the name, but cared so little he hadn’t retained that info. They were heretics and enemies of the church. That was all that mattered to him.

“Hey sarge, how many aliens you think waiting for us?”

Rumorra looked at the fresh faced young man in the black and red armor of the Church Chapel-guard and gave him an quick snarl. “Just one would be enough to kill you, sorry sack!”

The young man just laughed. “I’m gonna get the head of the biggest baddest one I can find and bring it home to my pa. Hell mount it above the mantle.”

“That’s a little morbid, kid.” One of the other guardsmen in the transport said.

“They’re just dumb aliens,” he retorted.

The transport rocked suddenly, slamming everyone against their restraint harnesses. “Those dumb aliens are trying to blow us out of the sky,” Rumorra warned them all. “Because they ain’t dumb. Their killers and barbarians, but they ain’t dumb. So shut the hell up and get ready to land!”

The landing was rough. The transport didn’t come down soft, it slammed hard into the ground. One of its landing struts must have bent in the impact because the deck slanted towards port as they scrambled out of their harnesses and readied their gear.

“Dropping rear door,” came the sound of their pilot over the comms. “Good luck, guardsmen.”

“Alright you mother lovers, you know the drill. Move out.”

The rear hatch dropped with a thud. Guardsmen with heavy shields poured out first with the regular troopers behind. They’d landed in an open area of a city. The city had been bombed to shit and all around concussive and energy weapons were going off. Someone opened fire on the troops as they came out of the transport, but the building they were hiding in was obliterated by the ship’s heavy gun.

“Move it people,” Rumorra bellowed. “That bastard traitor is in that complex up the street.”

More weapons fire opened up on them as they cleared the transport. They returned fire. The shield carriers formed a semicircle and they fell in behind using the shields as cover. They swiftly crossed the open ground into the mess of rubble that was the city.

They cleared as they went. From ruined houses to blasted offices. Heavy grenades blasting sniper positions. Twice they saw a fury, a big hulking scaly beast, and they were gunned down by immediate fire.

“Damn they’re ugly?” Someone commented.

“Ugly and dead,” came the sardonic reply.

“Focus up,” Rumorra reminded them. “We’re here for the traitor. The damn reptoids don’t mean shit.”

“Yes, sir.”


Xanderia was dragged from his hiding hole crying and pissing himself. “I was doing the Will of the gods!” he wailed.

“Shut up, traitor!”

“Murderous piece of shit.”

Rumorra had to bellow for quiet again. “We’ve got our target,” he said. “Call for evac.”

“Please have mercy on me!” their prisoner wailed.

As his radioman called for extraction Rumorra crouched down to look the sorry excuse for an inquisitor in the eye. “My orders were to bring you in dead or alive. You’re alive because you didn’t put up a fight but please remember, a corpse is easier to transport. So if you don't mind, by the gods, shut your mouth.”

Xanderia only made a muffled wail as he placed his hands over his mouth. The evac transport arrived and they drug their prisoner into it. It lifted off, climbing swiftly out of the atmosphere, a few anti ship rockets trying to trail them. But it wasn’t hard to get away and they were soon back up in space heading towards the waiting armada which was now bombing the surface indiscriminately.
 
Margrave Vermillion Therro's Private Estate
Draconus, Capital Planet of House Therro
1800 hours


"-quite profitable as always. I'm sure you know how Kaeso is, but it wasn't anything that a little...persuasion couldn't take care of. He fell in line once he realized the folly of his ways."

Vermillion Therro and his wife Caesonia were in the middle of their dinner, enjoying both exquisite food and stimulating conversation. Vermillion spared no expense when it came to his meals, as evident by the copious amounts of Zogerian Wine, Wagyu Beef, and exotic vegetables. It was truly a meal fit for a king...or a leader of such a prestigious house. Surrounding Vermillion was all the trappings of intergalactic luxury, along with a veritable legion of Therron Huscrals, sworn to protect Vermillion and his wife with their very lives. Yet, there was also a curious omission, as there had been a third plate set up for dining, despite no one else joining the Therro's for their meal. It had sat unoccupied for the duration of the meal, almost as if Vermillion was expecting a late guest.

Caesonia wiped her mouth and took a sip of her Zogerian Wine. She glanced at the empty place setting and sighed to herself. Turning to Vermillion, she began to admonish him.

"Vermillion, you know that I don't like mixing business with pleasure. Our private lives should be exactly that, private. Who exactly are you expecting at this time of night? I know Tiberius is currently indisposable, and only the gods know where Amilius ran off to. So, who exactly will be joining us?"

Vermillion adjusted his tie before responding:

"Oh, I do apologize, dear, I'm afraid business can't wait tonight. We have quite the important guest arriving, and I couldn't fathom disappointing them."

At that moment, a soft chiming could be heard as the security system activated. A hologram popped up in front of Vermillion and Caesonia, showing a man dressed in flowing robes. A Church Inquisitor!

"Ah, and speaking of visitors, here he is now! I do apologize, but would it be alright if he were to join us for dinner? I promise to give you all the attention you deserve once we've concluded."

Caesonia scowled at Vermillion, but even she knew the right choice. She had already sent the Inquisitor away once, to do it again would spark suspicion and investigation. Having the church as your enemy was in no one's best interest.

"Very well Vermillion, I shall allow it. But I do hope that you'll make it up to me..."

"Oh, my sweet Caesonia, I will do that and more, for you mean the universe to me."

Vermillion then gestured to one of the guards, a Huscarl named Primus. Huscarls were a mysterious bunch, always hidden behind the visors of their helmets. No one was quite sure if they were a human, robot, or something else entirely. The Church, for what it's worth, seemingly has no issue with them, although they have yet to comment on the nature of Therron Huscarls. Whatever their mysterious origin, they were downright lethal in combat.

Nodding silently, the Huscarl hurried off, and after a few minutes, it had returned with the Inquisitor. He was quite young, only around 25 or 26 star cycles old, Vermillion estimated. He wore a simple yet sturdy robe, his blonde hair partially obscured by the large hood around his head. He wore a friendly, if somewhat naive, expression on his face. Vermillion smiled as the inquisitor spoke:

"Forgive me, Margrave Therro. It seems that you are quite difficult to track down!" he said with a chuckle. "I jest, of course, but have I gotten you at a bad time? It seems that you are occupied with your evening meal."

"Of course not, Inquisitor, Church presence is always welcome on Draconus. If anything, your timing is quite fortuitous. You see, my son Tiberius was supposed to join us for a family dinner. It has been entirely too long since we sat down as a family. But alas, I'm sure you know how kids are, Tiberius was unable to make it at the last second. By the time he had canceled...well, dinner had already been set. I felt a bit guilty about wasting such good food, but it would seem that you've solved my moral dilemma! Please, join us for dinner."

"Oh, I couldn't impose Margrave..."

"Nonsense! If anything you do me a favor. What do you say?"

The Inquisitor glanced at the prime cut of steak sitting on the plate, as a savory aroma wafted through the air.

"Well...alright! I suppose it would be a waste to let such a delightful meal go uneaten. I accept!"

The Inquisitor sat down, and after a quick set of prayer, began devouring the meal in front of him. Wine and conversation flowed late into the night as Vermillion Caesonia, and the Inquisitor chatter amongst themselves.

"Now, this has been quite a splendid meal, Margrave Vermillion. I humbly thank you for your generous hospitality. But now, I must discuss matters of Church with you. I'm sure you've heard the news of the Inquisition, yes?"

"Indeed, and I take such news most seriously. House Therro will answer the call any way that we can. It is our noble duty, after all."

The Inquisitor beamed as the wine flowed through him.

"Now that is what I like to hear! I can see that you're both gods fearing people, truly, a model of our most holy faith! I thank you for your cooperation, and I fear that I must impose upon you just a bit longer. I have been assigned to this sector, to monitor any heretical activity. I wanted to stop by and inform you of the duties that have been charged to me. I take it that you have no objections?'

Vermillion smiled once again, and responded to him:

"Of course not, perish the thought! Please, see to your duties as you see fit, I merely ask that you allow me to do my duties as well. I imagine that you have quite the challenge ahead of you, Inquisitor, so I will do all in my power to ensure that my governance does not interfere with your righteous mission. Where exactly are you staying, if you don't mind my asking? I'm sure the Church has set you up but I'd be more than happy to offer you accommodations."

"Your generosity knows no bounds, Margrave, but I'm afraid that I must decline for the time being. Such a decision lies not with me but with the higher-ups. I shall certainly consider it, however. And with that, I believe our business is concluded. I fear that I must retire for the night, as I have quite the schedule ahead of myself. It has been an absolute pleasure speaking with you, Margrave."

"And you as well, Inquisitor. Please feel free to drop by anytime. My Huscarls will escort you to the entrance. Until we meet again!"

Vermilion waited until the Inquisitor was confirmed to be off property, and then ordered an immediate scan for any bugs or listening devices that could have been placed within his house as the Inquisitor arrived. Finding none, he breathed a sigh of relief, and then cursed to himself. Caesonia tried to calm him down, all in vain, for Vermillion knew what an Inquisitor meant. He and his House would have to tread carefully for the time being, but at the very least, he had begun to lay down the foundation of a good relationship.

"Enough of this, my sweet. Allow me to pamper you for the rest of the night. It is the least I can do to make up for our evening."

Caesonia and Vermillion headed up to their bedroom, as Vermillion silently plotted his next move...
 
Mund-Barony Thuldarra
Coarin Space
House Drof-Antier


“I want our ships ready by the end of the week, Captain,” Cruiser Imersa Natal said, brushing off the young officer trying to keep up with her quick stride.

“Half of these ships were up for drydock in need of serious repairs or overhauls,” he shot back. “That we’ve got as many as we have fighting ready is a gods damned miracle already.”

“A miracle would be if all the ships we lost defending that forsaken chair on Taer Atlos came back with their crew alive and well.” She was not in the mood for excuses. No matter how valid those excuses were. She had never failed her house, and she wasn’t about to now. “But since the gods aren't keen to bring back the dead, we must make due with what we have.”

“They’ll never be battle ready. We could get them back online and have their warpdrives charged up, but shielding and weapons would need a month or two.”

“I don’t need them battle ready. They just have to look that way. I want our enemies to think we’re stronger than we actually are.”

“Enemies? Who are these enemies?”

She sighed, coming abruptly to a stop. The young captain nearly crashed into her but came stiffly to attention just in time. “A shark is not an enemy most the time, but when it smells blood it becomes dangerous. And our house has bled gravely and now the sharks smell our blood.”

“Are you talking about the church?”

“Perhaps. Or perhaps there are others waiting to pounce once the church has finished with us. So stop your whining and get these ships warp ready. Captain.” And without waiting for his reaction she turned and strode away.

Private Hunting Retreat
Baylon-graj


Faizal watched the last light of day fade away and the evening mists began to flow out over the lawn. It had been a warm day, but he had felt cold throughout. His father’s last message had been short but chilling.

THE CHURCH CALLS ME BEFORE THE INQUISITION.
IT MAY BE BEST TO TAKE YOUR WIFE AND CHILDREN AWAY.
FAR FROM THE IMPERIAL CORE.​

Had it truly come to that? He had always considered himself a devout servant to the holy church of the gods. But his faith had been shaken in these last few days. He had prayed to the gods for council, to Syta who it was said loved mankind.

If his father sensed a threat to their house, once which warranted sending his family away, then the threat must be real. He considered where to send them. They still had friends among the other noble houses. But could he truly trust them? Each great house looked after their own, and many would do anything to advance their positions. Even if it meant selling them out to the inquisition, should it come to that.

He considered House Rhodes. They’d always been trusted friends. And they’d served faithfully as Regnier during the succession crisis, navigating the feckless inter-house politics. And they were far enough from the Imperial Core that his family could be kept hidden. But the house of Rhodes had put down a heretical rebellion within living memory, and their loyalty to the church could be stronger than their loyalty to friends.

No, he would send them somewhere more radical. But they would be safe. And hidden. And knowing they were safe would give him the strength he would need for what was to come. He would not abandon his father or his house. Not to the inquisition.

The Shortening of the Way - Hans Zimmer
 
Phelcian Space
Planet [REDACTED]
0800 hours


For the first time in nearly 24 hours, the railguns abord the T.N Andromache finally fell silent.

Admiral Drusus Cosmas observed the carnage below from his vessel’s observation deck. Even up here, aboard his ship, he could tell that the planet had taken quite a severe beating. On the order of the inquisition, House Phelcia had been deemed heretical and therefore had been consigned to total destruction. While House Therro had no love for the inquisition and had nothing against the aliens of Phelcia, they also weren’t foolish enough to miss such an opportunity for increasing their power and prestige. They would gain favor with the inquisition and loot Phelcia for everything that had, and perhaps even additional territory, should everything go according to plan. After all, it wasn’t anything personal, it was merely business.

And yet, Admiral Cosmas felt a certain amount of sympathy for the aliens below. The actions of a single individual had doomed an entire civilization to ruin. Of course, the fact that Phelcia tried to protect their man rather than turn him over to the Inquisition was rather telling to the Admiral. They had created this disaster of their own violation, and anyone stupid enough not to foresee the consequences of their actions certainly had what happened next coming to them. Admiral Cosmas shrugged off the thought. The time for reflection was over. Now was the time to begin the invasion.

He gave the orders: begin landing on the planet’s surface and destroy any resistance with extreme prejudice!



INCOMING!

Trooper Aulus Aquilius barely escaped the blast radius of the explosion, diving into a nearby ditch as he was showered with bits of rock and metal. Someone, or something, had fired a rocket at his squad as they made their way down the remains of what had once been a city block. The Therron bombardment had turned the city into little more than a bombed-out husk of what it once was. It had also created a fair number of hiding places for enemy troops to seek refuge. While House Therro had considered simply glassing the planet, they wanted to extract as much wealth and treasure as they could before completely annihilating the surface. Thus, the Terrestrial Forces had been sent in to clear up all resistance.

Aulus’s squad of 12 was being supported by a Scorpion Drone Tank, a medium-sized unmanned ground vehicle. These tanks were heavily armored for vehicles of their size carried heavy firepower in the form of their Burst Cannons, although they could no longer carry any soldiers or supplies within their armored hulls. They were, nonetheless, an important part of the Therron Armed Forces, as they could provide heavy fire support in relatively confined areas. The Scorpion turned its Burst Cannon toward the general area of the rocket attack, a rather dilapidated-looking high rise, and began indiscriminately shooting in that general area, its Burst Cannon pulsing at an intense rate. Aulus crawled behind the tank, dusted himself off, and returned fire with his M1 Laser Rifle, as his squad did the same. Some were able to seek refuge behind the tank, while others were lying prone in the dirt.

The building roared to life in response, firing scores of projectiles from every available opening. Unfortunately for it, and the aliens inside, it had taken heavy structural damage from the orbital bombardment. The Scorpion’s Burst Cannon made quick work of the building, causing it to collapse in on itself. Aulus’s squad picked themselves up and checked for causalities, of which they were miraculously zero. They then slowly approached the newly made rubble, looking for any survivors, but found none. Therefore, they continued their painstakingly slow advance into the city.

By nightfall, elements of the 3rd Therron Army had advanced into the center of the city, although control had only been established around the edges. It would take weeks, if not months, to completely secure everything, not to mention a heavy loss in lives. But, the riches House Therro would obtain from sacking the planet would more than make up for it. At least in the eyes of the Therron leadership, for they would be the ones reaping the most benefit. They would gain the riches of Phelcia, and leave little else for the common populace.

Aulus looked up at the sky as reinforcements were coming in, landing all sorts of heavy vehicles and artillery on the planet’s surface. Somewhat farther away, several squadrons of F-53 “Spectre” Fighters were escorting a number of Q-71 “Raven” Gunships, undoubtedly with the intention to blow enemy fighters out of their hiding places. Aulus wondered how much longer he would be here for, and when he could go home again and see his young wife and child. Having grown up on Draconus, he had been lured away by the promise of wealth, adventure, and benefits that the Therron Terrestrial Forces could provide for him. Of course, the constant threat of imminent death had somewhat dulled the luster of the Armed Forces for him, but he was determined to provide for his family one way or another.

He just hoped he lived long enough to see them once again…
 
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Coarin
Palace of Drof-Antier


The inquisition’s transport touched down on the landing pad, its weight cracking the hand painted fresco that decorated the pad’s surface. Aldo Harranbach, the High Inquisitor, marched purposely from the landing ramp as soon as it had come down. He was followed by a half dozen other inquisitors and Church Chapel-guard.

Behind him came the Hierarch of Coarin, a fat sniveling man that Hiram had detested. He’d managed to weasel his way into the good graces of the inquisition. He was followed by his own retinue, mostly church deacons, but also one young man dressed in frilly silks who looked out of place among the Chapel-guard.

And finally, being led out of the ship between two power armored guards, was the haggard form of Hiram’s seneschal, Chaob Bashir. He looked worn out but he gave Hiram a half-smile as their eyes met.

“I return your seneschal,” High Inquisitor Harranbach said, presenting Chaob to the Archduke as if he was a trophy. “The inquisition has not harmed him as you can see.”

“So your accusations of heresy were unfounded,” Hiram said with uncontained contempt. He’d forgone the hover chair he’d been confined to the last few months, and had chosen to hobble out with a cane to meet the inquisition.

“He has not been cleared of heresy yet,” aldo clarified, his voice lingering on the word yet so that Hiram would know it was a threat. “But you did refuse to stand before the Inquisition’s tribunal without the return of your man. So here he is. Make sure he does not attempt to flee as we may need to call him again.”

Hiram motioned his own people forward to receive his senescal. The chapel-guard handed him over quietly. “Take him to the house doctor,” Hiram commanded.

“He has not been harmed,” Aldo repeated with indignation.

“My people will make sure of that.”

A cold silence fell over the crowd as Chaob was led away. Hiram’s personal guard and the inquisition’s forces eyed each other suspiciously. Hiram focused all of his contempt at the Hierarch. The fat man could not even return the gaze, choosing to pretend to be looking at the High Inquisitor.

“Are you behind these accusations, Pollop?” the Archduke asked.

The Hierarch scoffed. “I am just showing my loyalty to the church and cooperating with the inquisition.”

“This man is a snake,” Hiram said to the High Inquisitor. “Whatever he tells you is all lies or half truths.”

“Father Pollop is a high ranking member of the clergy,” Aldo said. “His loyalty to the faith is not in question.” He then waved for his chapel-guard’s to move back into formation. “You requested this tribunal take place in your palace. So we await your hospitality, your grace.”

Hiram nodded and ordered his retinue back to the palace, and the inquisition followed.

Jedi Temple March (Medieval) - Samuel Kim
 
Hadrox,
House Phelcia's homeworld

During the battle



The battle was nearing its end, however, Enrann still wasn't tired, despite being in battle all day. Killing those heretic aliens was like his so needed therapy for all that was going on at the moment. It was so fun to see how many dragons, or whatever the Phalicans* were, he could kill without being hit by them a single time. Those animals wanted to go against the Empire and were pretty dumb if they thought they had a chance of winning. Of course the Church would find out what they did and send whoever they could to avenge it.

Now, he was in front their strongest warrior, or at least it's what it seemed to be. The battle was long, as those things were actually a bit hard to kill and he wanted to mock it before killing them.

- Ayo, draggy! - shouted him at the warrior, while it was trying to avoid his attacks - I really thought you guys would be stronger and stuff. Like, you tried to go against the Empire itself!
- Schum! - said the dragon, with a deep alien accent that showed how uneducated they were.
- You can't even pronounce scum correctly, scumbag. - Enrann managed to cut one of the thing's arms out - Ha! You're being so easy to kill.
- Shut up, kid! - it tried to slam down the Duke, but he ducked away in time - I'm gonna end your and everyone you're love.
- Learn how to speak my language first, then we talk about killing each other. - the Phelcian was getting more and more angry, as it was losing the battle and the argument - I can't even understand what are you trying to say. I guess I'm just gonna end this here. Now!

He successfully stabbed the thing's heart, and it fell into the ground, still alive. Then Enrann started to laugh at the scene, their strongest warrior lost to a kid. A young Duke who has never been in any war before easily killed it. Perhaps he was stronger than he thought. Or those things were just pretty weak.

- Surrender and I may spare your life, scummy dragon. - said him while looking to the warrior's eyes, or something that at least resembled eyes
- I would never betray mine friends. Never! - Enrann then spat on the Phelcian's face
- Do you know what that means? - the dragon didn't answer as its breath became more shallow - Well then, let me explain. Back in my home, Ernikaadt, we have a tradition to spit on the faces of warriors we don't respect. It shows their inferiority, just like you are. Inferior to us.
- I... hate... you! - said the dragon in between short, difficult, breathes - Schum!
- Tsk, tsk. A real warrior would have more respect. - he takes his ceremonial sword and stabs the warrior's head - Now die, traitor!

Blood leaks from the dragon's head as it finally dies. It seems that they weren't as tough as they wanted everyone to think. However, it is not like if he cared about them. He was just following orders and it wasn't his duty to ask questions or judge them. He had things more important to do and there was nothing valuable in this arid place anyways.

"Time to go, Enrann". He thought while boarding the Star's Driller. There was things he needed to do back home, but these would have to wait. He was going to uncover the secrets that are hidden in the Stars' End, by whatever means.



*Phalicans - nobody really knows how to call those cringe traitors
 
Oduduwa

Palace of the Arch-Duchess




“Men drunk on duty! Patrols lead on endless loops! Your realm's capacity for insolence and sacrilege seems endless!” Brynd roars as he paces the throne room like an enraged peacock

It takes every ounce of my energy to resist the urge to burst into laughter, the fool's impotent flailing is perhaps the most entertaining thing I have ever witnessed. I feign concern, nod, and play the part of the demure maiden, Brynd thinks me another coreward noble that will roll over at the slightest gesture of rage, he is sadly mistaken in this assumption.

“I am the church's loyal servant inquisitor,” I say in a placating tone

“Your people's actions over the last two months leads me to believe otherwise! Perhaps your grace requires greater motivation” Brynd replies in a disgusted voice

“And just what motivation do you intend for me? my good inquisitor” I say in an Icey tone the words flowed from gritted teeth

He glares at me, the entire court seems to hold its collective breath, inquisitors have been known to scour entire worlds when pushed, what action will Brynd choose? a poisonous smile crosses the sanctimonious bastard's face, it’s the first time I have ever seen his facial muscles contort into anything other than a scowl, I do not find the expression much to my liking.

“My men will be granted immediate access to the ducal apartments” Brynd snaps

“To what end?” I reply quizzically

“This world is sorely lacking in discipline, as the churches representative I am empowered by the gods to root out heresy BY ANY MEANS, I hereby claim the ducal heir as the inquisitions guest until such time as investigations conclude to my satisfaction "He declares with an imperious wave of his hand

I am lost for words, my hands grip the arms of the throne with white knuckles, this fool has crossed lines even his predecessors would have avoided! The church has shed any pretenses of reason or civility, the wrinkled demagogues of Valorus Kor have finally shown their true faces. They send this barking fanatic to bring me to heel, but I am not Piathan dog and unfortunately for inquisitor Brynd, I do bite.

“No” I growl back

“You dare deny an agent of the church!!!” he shrieks in an incensed tone

“Oh, I do more than dare inquisitor!” I say with a vicious smirk and the slightest nod to my guard captain

The royal bodyguard fills the chamber, the inquisitor's retinue a tiny speck of black surrounded by the white and gold of my guard. A sea of blades block the inquisitor’s force from any exit and in the galleries above countless marksmen take careful aim.

“HERESY! TREASON!!! I WILL HAVE YOUR HEAD FOR THI...” Brynd’s screaming is drowned out as the shooting starts

The air burns with the reek of ozone as white-hot projectiles of pure energy tear into the doomed inquisitorial retinue, all that polished Armour and self-righteous arrogance afford little protection against a pulse harquebus. Men fall in droves, bodies aflame with gaping wounds, the rest are hacked to death, decapitated by practiced sword arms, and disemboweled by barbed halberd thrusts. A pool of mutilated bodies soon covers the orange marbled floor, entrails, and steaming trails of blood staining the ornate ground.

Brynd lies slumped at the center, shoulder horrifically burned by a glancing rifle shot, his eyes are wide with another expression, horror, I find this one more to my liking. He stares up at me in disbelief as I descend the dais and step delicately over the slaughtered bodies of his retinue. I draw a dagger from its concealed scabbard and hold it to his neck.

“The church will eradicate your house for this crime! You have doomed yourself!” He hisses his voice a mixture of rage and desperation

“Perhaps and perhaps not, that is not a problem you need to concern yourself with” I reply utterly calm

“You cannot do this; I am an agent of the chur...” he protests

I bring my vambraced hand down with such force that his lip splits and a stinging welt is left on his face. He goes silent at this, aware now that the time for protest is over.

“This could have been so simple, you could have come, taken my assurances as genuine, and left without issue, but your rabid masters filled your head with delusions of self-importance and you made the ultimate mistake” I explain in a blunt voice

“Which was?” He asks

“You threatened my child inquisitor, I don’t much care for your wretched faith, I find you and your entire rotting imperium little more than a nuisance I must humor with occasional tribute, a bribed cardinal here, a glittering spire on Valorus Kor paid for by my generosity there, your politics and prejudices are beneath me, a thing best left at arm's length. But you have forced my hand, your arrogance I could tolerate, your impositions I could endure but inquisitor” I say leaning in so close that only he can hear me

“I will cast down your faith stone by stone, I will drown out your dogmatic ramblings in a sea of priestly ichor, I WILL WATCH VALORUS KOR BURN...Before I let you harm so much as a hair on my son’s pure head, but I will not be the one to kill you” I say rising and sheathing my blade

“You wish to take me, prisoner?” He asks with what seems like a slight hint of hope in his tone

“I do not require you alive, but an Arch-duchess of the empire does not dirty her hands, that is why I have servants,” I say nodding to my captain

Folarun strides forward and points his pistol at Brynds head, he pulls the trigger without hesitation a flash of burning light tearing through Brynd’s skull. The inquisitor that had thought to command a duchess falls back dead, the captain spits in disgust as he holsters his pistol.

“Folarun, have the palace placed in lockdown, block all outbound communications and seek out and kill every last piathan dog still infesting my court!” I say in a commanding tone

“It will be done, my lady!” Folarun says enthusiastically before saluting and leading his men out of the hall

Moments later my seneschal, Yejide, enters the hall her aged face contorted in a rictus of horror and astonishment. She looks down at the mass of slaughtered humanity and the color drains from her face, she stares at me with fearful eyes and no small amount of accusation in her expression.

“Your grace...what have you done?!” she asks forcing each word from shaking lips

“What I had to Yejide and I will need to do worse before the day is out,” I say grimly

“Your grace?” she asks puzzled

“The inquisition will be expecting a report from its lapdog” I reply matter-factly

“My lady...you just had him put to death,” she says in a confused voice

“I don’t need him alive for what comes next, I shall send one clothed in his flesh” I reply ominously

“Surely there must be another way... you can't mean to wake...” she says her voice a mix of disbelief and terror

“Have the surgeons ready to thaw him out within the hour” I say turning to regard the slaughter I have just wrought

A look of pure horror covers Yejide’s normally stoic face, she knows what is about to happen and it is an event to be rightly dreaded. For the most part, the stories of heresy and darkness that get bandied about the imperium whenever the Oragbade are mentioned are little more than prejudice and fanciful storytelling, but there is a terrible grain of blood-soaked truth hidden amidst the lies. Brynd has forced my hand and now in order to drive the church from my world, I must wake a devil from its cold sleep.
 
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ODUDUWA

HOMEWORLD OF HOUSE ORAGBADE

BENEATH THE PALACE OF THE ARCH-DUCHESS


The turbo-lift carries us down into the bowels of the earth, the warmth of Oduduwa vanishing as we descend into the darkness of the underworld. Far below the palace something that has been hidden for generations waits, sleeping in deathless silence and waiting for its chance to rise again. The inquisitor has forced my hand and now the only path to my house's salvation is to wake a devil and unleash it upon the cosmos once more.

“Your majesty we cannot do this! Surely there must be another way, you know the stories, you know what this man did” Yejide says her tone pleading

Stories are a conversation with the long dead, a wellspring connecting us back to the source of wisdom, the story of Ashe Dubaku though is a warning to all future generations, a warning I will now ignore. Not that there is any choice left to me, risk death at the hands of a terror from another age or wait for the inquisition to come searching for its slain representative and see my world reduced to dust. Death is death regardless of the guise it wears.

“I know the stories Yejide and I also know that if we do not do this, we will be destroyed like every other power that defied the church” I explain in a sorrowful voice

The lift shudders to a stop as we arrive at our destination, a dimly lit corridor greets us as we exit, the air so far beneath the surface is damp and feels like cold fingers flowing across the skin. We follow the passage, glittering lumens embedded into the ancient rock our only guide, they lead us through the catacombs, ever closer to the place where that thing slumbers. We come at last to a final arched path, it opens out into a vast hall.

“Orisha preserve us! This place is even larger than the stories claimed!” Yejide exclaims in amazement

“My ancestor built this place to be impregnable” I explain as we move toward the great door

And unseen, the very rock beneath this palace was one of the reasons Theodore Oragbade chose this place to make his home. The very stones here are virtually invisible to deep space scans, anything hidden in their embrace stays so, the vaults of the Oragbade bear many hidden things that are better left in darkness. the great adamantine door up ahead beckons.

Ancient carvings run across the darkened metal, ancestors descending from stars to establish the first cities, warding sigils and protective charms have been subtly inscribed along the face of the great bastion, as much to keep things in as out. Beyond this door, it awaits, my surgeons already preparing for a procedure that every Oragbade had hoped would never come to pass. We move toward the door and the scanners immediately detect my presence, the doors heaving open in obedient response.

We pass the great portal and find ourselves within a circular room, the walls are lined with moldering tapestries whose subject matter has long since faded beyond all recognition. The floor is pure red clay, off-world materials found in one place in the entire imperium, our erstwhile home world of Gidi. This chamber had been constructed to resemble the ancient comforts of that benighted realm, comforts that the vaults a single inhabitant would never need.

The vault is awash with activity for the first time in forty generations, surgeons busy themselves with administering cocktails of sickly chemicals into the stasis pod at the Centre of the room, the lone figure within floating silently in the oily black liquid. The late inquisitor lies in an open freezer, body on ice in preparation for what is to come, I feel a wave of disgust wash over me as I consider what is to come.

A white-robed head surgeon greets us as we approach the pod, an older man I recognize as one of the elder physicians of the palace college. He bows low and attempts to appear calm, but his hands are visibly shaking, and I worry the man might pass out not from fear but too much excitement. For him this is the opportunity of a lifetime, for me, it is the greatest risk I have yet taken in my reign as Archduchess.

“My lady! The procedure is underway, assuming all goes well he should regain consciousness shortly” the surgeon explains trying and failing to hide his underlying excitement

“Did you prepare the necessary sedatives?” I ask in a serious tone

“Yes majesty, he will be too weak to even think about raising a hand against us” the surgeon confirms

“Let us pray you are correct, commence the procedure, wake him up” I nod giving the order to begin

A glowing blue chemical is pumped into the subjects' veins via the mass of complex wires and intravenous tubes that sustain the sleeping occupant. Electro-convulsant charges follow, rapidly at first and then increasingly more sustained, the body within the pod begins to writhe and spasm as the arcane technologies force life back into the hibernating form. The vitals on the pod's interface begin to blare into life as heart rhythms spike.

“Give it another dose, we need to bring the heart rate down!” the doctor says in a commanding voice as another injection of cardio stabilizers is given

“Heart rate is coming down...looks...stable” a medic holding a monitoring instrument replies

“Okay let's pop the lid,” the doctor says

The code is keyed in on the pod console, warning klaxons roar into life as everyone moves back and the pod begins to crack open, fluids draining out of the vein-like pipes. Smoke flows free from the doors as they unsheathe like flower petals. The being inside stirs and then begins to climb free from the casket that has contained it for untold centuries. It pulls itself forward with shaking arms and sits on the edge of the pod.

Ashe Dubaku opens his eyes and glares out at us with a look of pure menace, eyes of glowing scarlet that regard us with cold, machine-like intelligence. His face contorts into an approximation of a smirk as he begins to comprehend the situation, that smile instills more fear in me than any glare. His body glitters with flowing energy as his synthskin becomes active again, he reminds me of a great serpent, beautiful but utterly lethal.

Once he was a man, mortal and fallible like the rest of us, but he chose the path of the machine and so began a process of change that left him utterly inhuman. When my ancestor Theodore raised his expedition on old Gidi, Ashe was one of the first to join, weary of the scrutiny and fear he faced on the ancient home world. Together the two journeyed across the stars, eventually founding the Oragbade demense.

Brilliant, technologically adept, and insatiable in his curiosity, Dubaku and my great ancestor discovered world upon the world and spread the empire's reach to the far stars. In those ancient days, the reach represented the conquest of a domain at the edge of the imperium, and it made both men fabulously wealthy. Dubaku for his part shunned wealth and took up residence as my ancestor's advisor and resident inventor slowly becoming more inhuman as he turned to self-experimentation with increasing vigor.

Dubaku was not satisfied with the immortality that came with making history. He delved ever deeper into the dark science of augmentation and with each new upgrade a part of his soul was lost. Alien technology, dangerous prototypes, and heretical secrets all gradually wove themselves into the makeup of this terrible new being. My ancestor turned a blind eye for a time, then Dubaku became hungry.

“So....you finally see fit to wake me...tell me little Oragbade...what year is it?” his voice seems to flood the mind, booming and resonating even though little more than a whisper

“It is 2021, in the third solar age” one of the surgeons blurts out nervously

“I did not ask you worm!” he hisses, the words stinging the air like thrown needles

“2021...has it really been so long...Theodore actually kept his word” Dubaku muses with an amused chuckle more to himself than anyone in particular

One thousand years imprisonment, punishment for a crime so heinous that only the memory of past brotherhood was enough to spare Dubaku the executioner's blade. One thousand years since Theodore discovered the horror of the massacre at the shrine, bodies desiccated, and their very essence picked clean by the very beast I have just awoken. His hunger will return soon and when it does how many will he kill? Dozens? Hundreds? Entire colonies? It does not bear thinking about

“For the crime of killing the faithful you deserve to rot in that pod for all time,” I reply sternly lip curled in disgust

“Ah, there is that old Oragbade fire! So self-righteous! So, Regal! And so utterly without insight...you would still be rooting among the scrap heaps on Gidi without my aid...i am beyond your simplistic judgements now” He says in an amused and mocking tone

“And yet it was by my hand that you are released at all,” I say coldly

“And to what do I owe this act of generosity? Countess” he asks with a venomous smile

“Try Archduchess" I snap

“Oh, haven't you done well! If only Theodore had taken my offer, he would have lived to see such glories...all the same...why have you woken me...Arch-Duchess” he replies with genuine surprise and false reverence

“Because as much as I would like to keep you in a dreamless sleep for all eternity, fools threaten my domain, and you alone offer a means of salvation,” I say trying to sound commanding

“I take it this is why you brought the dead man?” he replies motioning to the inquisitor's corpse with a clawed hand

“I need you to feed upon him...take his essence, wear his skin, and then leave my domain "I explain

“You offer freedom.... a wise choice...” he replies his tone menacing

He drops from the pod, his speed terrifying and more so because he has enough sedatives in his system to dope a small whale. My guards move forward with weapons raised...but he seems to blur as he lunges at me, a metallic hand wraps itself around my throat, firmly but not so tightly as to draw blood, I feel my heart pound. Perhaps this is truly where I die, not in a bunker on Taer Atlos but within the confines of my own bloodline's greatest folly.

“And what is to stop me from killing you and wearing your skin!? I could rule the entire reach as my own and After all, I did help conquer it” he says gleefully and with a murderous smirk a mile long across his face

I begin to laugh, the adrenaline going to my brain as he notices the heat rising across his skin and beginning to burn every cell in his body with searing pain. He recoils back to the pod in a blur of agonizing howls and slumps against the ancient casket, smoke rising from his body as the heat begins to recede.

“Did you really think my ancestors were stupid enough to imprison you without a failsafe...no descendants of the Oragbade house can be harmed by you and if you try...well...that was just a taste of what could happen” I mutter in an admonishing tone

It had taken a small legion of men to subdue him or so the legends say, witch doctors and technomancers battering Dubaku into submission with forbidden science and methods darker still. Before interring him in the pod the Oragbade had infected him with a viral contagion, a countermeasure that could only be triggered when in the presence of one bearing Theodore’s genetic lineage, insurance in case a day like this came. I rub my neck and mutter silent thanks to my ancestors for their foresight.

“Now, I am done playing games, take the inquisitor's body and inform his superiors that he found nothing in Oragbade space, we are loyal and devout servants of their church. Do this and disappear, you will have your freedom so long as you never trouble my realms” my tone now that of an imperial decree

Dubaku begins to laugh, it sounds like twisting metal and rupturing pipes, but laugh he does as he rises and strides over to the frozen body, the crowd of guards and medics pulling back in fear as he advances. He gazes down at the slain inquisitor, Brynd’s expression of fear and agony frozen across his face even in death. Dubaku raises his hand and needle-like protrusions sprout from the ends of his fingers.

“i usually prefer my meals warm, however” he says as he stabs the needles into the body

Heat and a vile stink like burning meat follow as the body begins to blacken and wither, every cell and nutrient extracted from the corpse by the Dubaku’s twisted artifices. When the process is finished the corpse is nothing more than a charred husk and Jon Brynd’s arrogant face is staring up at me from beyond the grave.

“Orishas this man's brain matter was as dull and tasteless as gruel, are all Piathans in this age so repellent” he asks in a quizzical, dissatisfied tone

“Usually, they get worse the closer you get to Valorus Kor... they've gotten nosier of late” I reply in weary agreement

“I have devoured his memories; this one would have destroyed your entire world...he was planning to justify such an act even before you had him removed” Dubaku explains as his synth skin shifts into an exact approximation of the uniform of an inquisitor

“Well in that case I feel all the more at ease with killing an imperial inquisitor, you have what you need and will make the necessary arrangements?” I ask suddenly amused

“Our business is concluded, I will return to my ship now and deliver my report to the council...goodbye little Oragbade,” Dubaku says in a poisonous tone, the last word feeling all the menacing when whispered in the tone of a dead man

He leaves the chamber, boots making the distinct clicking sound that Brynd's real soles had made when he first entered my chambers. The fact that Dubaku has perfectly imitated the man down to his overly stiff walk fills me with a sense of utter dread, I may have just saved my people...but how many more have I just doomed by releasing this? Thing...Orisha preserve me.







https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P5LlUe-lKRQ
 
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On the Stars' End Region
Aboard the Star Jumper
Spaceship 7G2938-PD of House Serthozzia


Enrann realized he was wrong as soon as the ship completed the jump. There was absolutely nothing noteworthy there besides the massive black hole and a bunch of scattered probes here and there. Probably a few unlucky explorers who got too close to the horizon event to get out in one piece. It doesn't matter, though, as these people are long gone. Or perhaps not. Who the hell knows how black holes really work? Whoever the species is that unveils its secrets first will master space travel and, probably, the entirety of the universe.

"If this isn't what my father was talking about, where should my mom be?". The Duke couldn't stop thinking there was some missing piece, he could clearly remember his father saying something about stars. Could it be? No. It can't be. Right? Was his father talking about the S.T.A.R.S* secret program? However, this thing was shut down eons ago, wasn't it? He did say, "where the S.T.A.R.S meet their end." Perhaps he was referencing the planet they were moved to after the program being so successful it was a failure.

"That means the truth is hidden closer to home than I thought." He said to himself while setting the ship's course towards the planet. If his mother was alive, if his mother was there, she had to explain lots of stuff. Funnily enough, the planet where the remains of the S.T.A.R.S program rested was located on a red star system, just like his dream from the day that odious inquisitor came disturbing his lunch. "It feels like eons ago, yet no more than a week has passed." The lights signaled the ship was ready for the jump. "Such craziness shall end soon, I am really tired of not being in my comfortable bed."

When he finally got up to press the button, he received an emergency call from home, looking at the channel they were calling, he knew it was Vanie. "Ugh, no one really wants me to do my thing", he thought as he answered.

"What's going on, Vanie?" He said in an annoyed tone. "I remember telling you not to call me unless the skies were falling."

"Well, huh." She pointed to someone near her, a man he immediately recognized much to his disgust. "The Honorable High Inquisitor Jarakibuwah summons Your Grace."

"Does he now?" The Duke said with a contorted face. "My deepest apologies but I will not-"

"Your Grace, you dare disobey a direct order from a high official of the Church?" Enrann's eyelids twitched for a moment when the Inquisitor spoke, his disrespectful tone full of malice and arrogance. "I must advise you that this act shall be considered a direct opposition to the Church!"

"I beg your pardon?" The Duke was really angry now. What an asshole this man was. "I, as a Duke from the Imperium, have no obligation to the Church more than I do have with the Imperium."

"Mister Enrann, you shall be considered a traitor if you do not come now!" The Inquisitor raised his voice disrespectfully at the Duke, which angered him even more.

"You WILL wait until I come back." Enrann shouted at the Inquisitor. "Your lack of respect shall not be forgiven, High Inquisitor."

The man looked astonished and fearful, which made Enrann smirk. "Your Grace I-"

"I do not want to hear it anymore, you are now a persona non-grata* to House Serthozzia." The Inquisitor suppressed a scream, he was now terrified. "When I return, I will address any concerns the Church has towards me, then will treat you accordingly to your actions.

Kotaro, the Inquisitor, was now on his knees, begging, without his usual arrogant look. "Please, have mercy."

"I am merciful." Enrann addressed, and Kotaro's eyes showed a spark of hope. "The fact that you will not be thrown into prison right now, nor die, shows how merciful I am."

"Deal with him accordingly, Vanie, will you?" He told his Advisor while the Inquisitor's desperate look delighted him. "End communication."

Now that the matter was settled, he could finally leave to Yumera'a*. It finally was time to uncover the truth, whatever it is.



*S.T.A.R.S: Sentient Trained Agents of Robotic Species, or STARS Program, was an operation meant to create the perfect spies, sentient, living, robots. However, their sentience was the cause of many issues, including rebellions from rogue robots who didn't want to do spy jobs.

*Persona non-grata: Any persona non-grata is treated as criminal and is prohibited from setting foot on any Serthozzian territory. Failure to do so will result in prison and, ultimately, death.

*Yumera'a: This planet was chosen by its remote location within the Serthozzian space, and it also does not appear in any map, with the route being set manually by the few ones who know about it.​
 
INQUISITION: OLD BLOOD.
Titan, Penates System - Throneworld of House Lares
Morcannis Palace District


The acid storms of Titan are a sight to behold - massive, terrifying, and deadly in a way that few things in the galaxy can compare. The dark clouds of one of these storms were on march towards Morcannis, the city in the mountains, where Margrave Reidon Lares-Vathe watched the advancing tempest in silence from behind the thick glass windows of his great hall.

The hall was a bare, utilitarian space that lacked any decoration aside from two skinny pillars on the dais that made up the farthest third of the room and a red running carpet from the dais’ steps to the doors of the hall. There was an unknown luxury to it, though - on Titan, such a large space being dedicated to nothing at all, more often than not sitting empty and unused, was about as extravagant of a waste as they come. Furthermore, the windows alone with how securely they must be made and how thickly they must be plastered in UV-protective coating to counteract the solar radiation that bathes the surface cost about as much as a private interstellar yacht. The space, despite its lack of aesthetics, is also designed to look sleek and minimalistic, to seem as if it is intentional that the space was so unimpressive, which ran in stark contrast to the almost industrial designs seen in all of the rest of the planet’s architecture. In a way, the space itself was a commentary on just how out of place House Lares was on Titan, and how unsuited it was to be a capital. But Reidon had his reasons. None but the most advanced scanners in the Imperium could penetrate through the thick, reflective atmosphere to the planet’s surface, and even then, such a caustic and hostile environment would deter any attacker in their right mind. At the time of naming it his throneworld, when he was single handedly facing a xeno empire with weapons on par with that of the Imperium, it was a much more reasonable decision. He had told his kinsmen on Laresia this many times, but still they failed to understand why it was necessary now. He hoped they never would have to understand.

Suddenly, the bow of a great Muadi warship pierced through the grey-green clouds. Its horns blared, audible even from within his hall despite the ship being miles away. Massive blue banners of House Hared hang from nearly every surface of the vessel. Immediately it reminded Reidon of the days of his conquest, when the Muadi Emperor’s ships descended upon his virgin colonies, and the great battles he had against these fleets of warships. One such ship of a design not too dissimilar to the one before him now was actually present at the Third Battle of Caynis Mar, when the world finally fell to him. He could see the battle now; from the world’s surface, seeing the ship close as it was, it seemed impossibly huge. He then remembered how the ship looked broken and burning, half smoldering on the once-pristine beach, the other half partially submerged off the island’s coast.

The ceremony of the Haredi ship’s arrival was to be expected, even despite the fact that this was no occasion worth celebrating on its own. No member of House Hared had ever before stepped foot on Titan. It was a symbolic day. It was no place of Reidon’s to prohibit them from honouring themselves - they were paragons of the Muadi race, or at least what was left of it, and being summoned to Titan meant being seen in the halls of their overlords as true members of the Imperium and all that it entailed.

It was not long until the large doors at the far end of the room parted silently, folding back to reveal Reidon’s guest; Dressed in extravagant lapis blue armour, the Muadi titan himself, Lord-Regent Mauul of the Thadan Regency, stood tall at the threshold. His suit was a traditional Muadi pattern, with strong geometric plates paired with sweeping organic rows, all layered in a way that seemed byzantine and impractical to the untrained human eye, but in fact offered the Muadi form unparalleled mobility and protection of vital organs. The pauldrons of his armour, the only part that was in fact impractical, formed twin insignias of House Hared, and from his waist hung four of his house banners on either side, each nearly as long as Reidon was tall.
The Lord-Regent marched forward, in only a few strides standing before the dais and locking eyes with Reidon. The Muadi were massive bipedal creatures - Mauul was slightly shorter than average for a male of his race, owing at least partly to a life spent mostly offworld, but he still stood at easily twice if not more of Reidon’s height. His eyes glowed with a red-orange flame, the inky black pupils and sclera digging into the Margrave’s human skull. His mouth was covered by his helmet, which had become customary as the cleft lips that exposed the Muadis’ permanently-snarled teeth tended to rub humans the wrong way. Still only a young adult, his tusks were no more than a foot in length each, but still sharpened to a lethal point as custom demanded, and lacking the metal caps that had, for the same reason as mouthguards, become a new standard in court appearances.
The two held the gaze for a few uncomfortable moments, before Mauul bowed his head and took a knee before the Margrave. To the Muadi, this locking of eyes was known as “warrior meeting.” To break eye contact was to acknowledge the other as your superior. To bow your head even more so, and to bend the knee, almost complete humiliation. These had in the past few decades become increasingly common displays by the Muadi. Their dignity had died with Mon Thaaud.

“Lord Mauul of House Hared. You may rise.”

He did as was commanded, once again meeting Reidon’s eyes. The Margrave had become used to the intricacies of interacting with the Muadi. It was rather easy when they acknowledged you with the regard he had earned through subjugating their entire species.

“You honour myself and my house by summoning me to your throneworld, Reach-Lord. I offer my most humble apologies that we did not bring sufficient tribute for this grace - we were informed that this was a matter of immediate urgency.”

Mauul’s words are spoken with a slow, deep guttural accent. Reidon’s wife, Lady Lisat, had once described it as “a voice like the deep sea.” The Lord-Regent begins to kneel again, but Reidon dismisses the gesture with a waving of his hand.

“No need,” he says, turning to walk to the window. The Hared warship still floated idly in the air before the storm. He stood there in silence for a moment, thinking. Mauul approached the window after a while, looking at his house’s ship with satisfaction. In the days of the Muadi Empire, it would have been among the largest of capital ships.

“Taer Atlos,” Reidon said suddenly. “Even there is not safe from the reach of war.”

Mauul turned to the Margrave. He saw then that the aging man grimaced. Even as near-impossible as he found humans to read, he had learned this expression. He was besieged by thoughts, racing through his mind like a horde of tenoc.

“I have heard,” comments Mauul. “The church makes its move on the Imperium. The clans are uneasy at the news. We are likely the first to be questioned.”

“Allow me to be first, then,” Reidon replies. “When my scorch-ships descended on Mon Thauud, when I had the Emperor - your own grandfather - slain, you still swore your oaths as vassal to me. Even when more of your own blood died and thousands of rebels were captured and executed. Many across the Imperium believe it was a practical decision in defense of your own life, nothing more. Others, a last attempt to preserve your alien traditions and Imperial line. Before then you had no knowledge of or care for the Piatha. You have every reason to resent them as much as you would me and the rest of mankind. So I ask you, Lord Mauul, and I implore you to answer truthfully - Do you truly hold faith in Oridran and manifold gods of the Imperium?”

Mauul hisses slowly and deeply, an action analogous to a deep breath in humans, and thinks for a while before he responds.

“My Gods died with Mon Thauud,” he says flatly. “My people have always believed in the right of the conqueror above the conquered. As your kind put it so eloquently - It is the victors who write the histories. We have robbed countless peoples of their Gods, their cultures, their names, their very lives - just as mankind has to us. We have done as you are now many times, and see this as no more than a test.”

Reidon’s eyes are wide at Mauul’s words. In his mind, this was a very different conversation that went in a very different direction.

“To answer your question, Reach-Lord,” Mauul continues, “The hypocrisy of maintaining our old ways now, when we have met the same fate to which we subjected so many, would be the greatest disgrace of all to the Muadi. We remain true in our worship of the Piatha.”

Reidon swallows, and without thinking looks away from Mauul’s eyes to digest what he had just heard. A faux pas that will be easily forgiven and forgotten. Just as, it seems, the destruction of a civilization. Before he realizes his slight, Mauul has already turned to leave.

. . .

Cathane, Homeworld of the Order of Menders
Somewhere in the Elysian Belt


In the darkness between stars, where even the Emperor cannot reach, the greatest secrets of the Imperium, many unbeknownst even to it, are hidden. In such vast nothingness, almost anything could be lurking in the shadows.

It is fear of this unknown, this winnowing darkness that festers in the cold void that leads many to the Piatha. For those with few prospects in life, or those whose fear overwhelms all else, there is a second chance for them in the form of the many holy orders scattered across the galaxy. Here, on Cathane, a lonely world orbiting a weak star, one such collection of the devout has made itself at home.

Standing in a circle are eleven members of the Order of Menders. Among them, Grand Adherent Adriel, First Adherent Immica, First Adherent Vulkald, and First Zelator Vashidae, along with several Thralls - the nameless novitiates of the order. They are gathered in the main prayer hall, a large empty space bathed in the dim, bloody red light of the world’s parent star.

“Praise Tereshay,” Adriel calls out.

“Praise Tereshay,” the others respond in unison.

Perfectly on cue, the doors on the right side of the room open, four Neophytes rolling in a black body bag on a gurney.

A relatively nearby world had recently experienced a particularly lethal outbreak of a disease known as Red Pox - infamous in this region for spreading quickly and undetected, until it causes sudden death within a matter of days after infection, converting the corpse into a breeding ground of invisible airborne spores.

Truly, Adriel thought, one of Tereshay’s most ingenious creations.

The Neophytes place the bag on the slab before Adriel, hitting a button to close the shutters on the glass ceiling and activating several bright white lights that illuminate the space before quickly exiting the room.

Adriel summons a small censer from the pocket of his robe, which he opens to reveal a small pool of black liquid. He turns to Immica, drawing a strange sigil on her forehead and placing a small dop on her lip. He repeats this for each of the individuals present, then handing it to Immica, who does the same for him.

“Praise Tereshay,” Adriel calls out once again. Once again, the others respond with the same phrase in unison. The Thralls open the body bag, revealing a seemingly pristine corpse of a young female human. Thin cloths are placed over her to protect her modesty while they operate. Aside from her discoloured greyish skin and complete stillness, not a single thing appears to be wrong with her

“Before we begin,” Adriel says in a flat and practiced tone, “Let us sanctify the body in the name of our Lady-Patron of the Affliction.”

The Thralls assemble behind the head of the dead woman, beginning to recite their prayers in a deep, guttural tone. As they speak, Adriel and the others don gloves and protective equipment and prepare a variety of medical tools, ranging from the commonplace such as laser-guided needles and body scanners to the archaic and strange. First Zelator Vashidae passes over her body with a scanner, quickly showing that everything is as it should be - her bones intact, save for evidence that she broke the second metacarpal of her left hand some years ago, and her vital organs are mostly in good shape - for a dead person, anyway.

Just as the Thralls complete their prayers, Adriel and Vulkald approach the body.

“Cause of death: Red Pox infection. Time since death: Three days, fourteen hours, seven minutes. Name unknown. Registered as Jenane Doe #338.” Vashidae reads the information aloud clearly for the capturing of the recording devices.

“Praise Tereshay, she almost looks alive,” First Adherent Immica comments.

“Indeed our Lady-Patron has been merciful with her,” Adriel says, examining her body for any possible imperfections.

“If I may be so bold,” First Adherent Vulkald begins, “I would ask why we are operating on this individual. Surely a routine collection operation would be better suited for a team of Acolytes. Perhaps even some promising Neophytes could shadow. Much can be learned from the Red Pox.”

“A fair enough question. But you’re missing a crucial point, First Adherent.” Adriel looks up from the body at Vulkald. “One that I have purposefully omitted from any record. This is not just any Jenane Doe with a simple infection. She survived nearly a year with an active infection of the Red Pox. It is still in its active phase, even now after the host has expired. She may have single-handedly spread the infection across her homeworld without so much as a cough or sniffle before it took her.”

First Zelator Vashidae furrows his brow in confusion.

“The infection is active even after its kill phase? How would it have gone back?”

“I believe she may not be entirely dead,” Adriel states matter-of-factly.

“Impossible,” First Adherent Immica interjects. “Vashidae read the report. He scanned her body. Her heart has been still for nearly four days. She has passed into the afterverse - nothing can bring her back now.”

“Tereshay has gifted us in a manner never before imaginable,” Adriel begins, walking to the front of the slab and placing his hands beside the woman’s head. “She has granted us a cure to the greatest affliction of them all.”

Adriel whispers something over the woman’s body, and her eyes shoot open.

“Death.”

. . .

Message to Margrave Reidon Lares-Vathe, from Grand Adherent Adriel of the Order of Menders

To the honourable Lord Reidon of House Lares,

Forgive me the trespass of not being able to introduce myself in person. My responsibilities at the moment demand that I be present elsewhere, but I could not afford to delay in contacting you.

I am Grand Adherent Adriel of the Order of Menders. Do not bother researching into our organization - We are a minor collection of the faithful that has done little to earn ourselves a place in the record.

I am writing you to most humbly ask that you would grant us the honour of hosting us on your Throneworld, that you and I might discuss the potential of us extending our services to your realm.

We understand that these are most uncertain times, and would humbly suggest that the presence of an order such as ours within your territory would reflect most positively on the Church.

May the Piatha find you and your house in their eternal favour,

Grand Adherent Adriel
Order of Menders
 
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