Laughter and conversation filled the activity hall outside the monastery. Everyone had gathered there: the Devout Society's priests, monks, medical staff, frontline soldiers, and countless believers. It had to be said that everyone was in a rather good mood today.
Laughter and hymns echoed throughout the hall, while the scent of wine and Crimson Essence hung in the air. Everyone was singing together or laughing heartily. Even the monks, who usually wore nothing but grim expressions, had managed a rare smile. The festive atmosphere was infectious.
Marshall leaned beneath the entrance arch, watching the men and women celebrating inside. They seemed a little wild, but they had every reason to be happy. After all, taking the Hammer Factory had brought them much closer to the "Great Crusade" and "Final Redemption." So yes, everyone was happy.
He himself had nearly died in the battle at the factory. Mosley's fanatical followers deserved praise for their fighting spirit and courage, but they clearly had no grasp of tactics. Simply put, they charged forward in a mob, firing wildly at anything and everything. It looked like the result of having just inhaled a hefty dose of Crimson Essence.
Marshall had nearly been shot by some fanatical idiot. Maybe it was because he was dressed so neatly, with clean armor and clothes. To those madmen, he probably looked like "an Upper Hive heretic, plain as day."
Marshall sighed wistfully and folded his arms, looking toward the golden statue of the Lord of Redemption. Suddenly, someone appeared beside him, without a sound or warning.
He turned his head in surprise to look at the man, then turned back again. "Where have you been, Vito? You missed quite a show." "Taking care of a few problems. I hope I haven't missed too much." "Not really. Besides Henry's victory speech and the priests' appalling religious declarations, there wasn't much to miss."
Vito smiled as a cheerful believer approached, carrying a censer filled with Crimson Essence that gave off a dusty haze. "Brothers! Come on! This is the finest Holy Dust we saved for you!"
"Praise your great deeds, Brother Vito!" the man exclaimed excitedly. Vito smiled and took the censer, glancing around. "Where's Brother Mosley? Didn't he come out to say a few words?"
"No, he isn't here. I don't know where he went, and no one's seen him, but I'm sure he has something important to attend to!" the believer said with certainty, then handed another censer to Marshall.
The latter looked at Vito in surprise. Vito merely shrugged, put the censer's mouthpiece to his lips, and took a deep drag. After a moment's silence, he handed it back to the believer.
The fanatical believer grinned and passed it to Marshall, who took a couple of drags as well. The believer's eyes were bloodshot. Laughing like a madman, he took another hit himself. "Did you hear that? The gods are pleased! They're laughing with joy! Praising our victory!"
"Of course, of course, brother. Keep celebrating. May the Emperor guide you." Vito smiled and patted him on the shoulder. The man paused, then gave a clumsy grin. "Then I won't bother the important men! May the Lord of Redemption bless you."
The believer walked off. Vito tilted his head slightly to signal Marshall to follow, and the latter gave a small nod before walking out of the activity hall with him.
They didn't stop there. Instead, they walked straight through the long, silent hall. The sounds of joyful celebration gradually faded into the distance, as if they came from another world. The bright lights, too, slowly lost their color, giving way to a dull, cold hue.
The silent corridors of the monastery stood empty. A chill light shone through the floor-to-ceiling windows on one side, falling across the statues and outlining their lifeless forms. It made the place seem all the more like a graveyard of time.
Vito leaned against a statue. It depicted an Astra Militarum soldier holding a spear with a fluttering banner in his right hand and a Lasgun in his left. The banner streamed behind him, and his expression seemed to proclaim victory in some great war.
But unlike statues elsewhere in the Imperium, every Imperial symbol on this one had been erased. The Imperial Aquila, the Astra Militarum insignia, and the military insignia were all gone.
Watching Vito, Marshall realized something was wrong. Vito was no longer wearing his trademark sarcastic smile. His face had gone completely cold, just like those of the monks.
"What's wrong, Vito? What happened?" "All right, Marshall. Time to come clean. I know you're an undercover agent sent by the Upper Hive. If I'm right, the Lord Arbiter sent you?"
Marshall froze, then frowned in confusion. "What are you talking about?" "Come on. You inhaled the Crimson Essence, but you didn't go crazy like them. That means you have filtered lungs like I do, so you can filter out the harmful gases. They can't affect you mentally or turn you into a religious fanatic like the others."
"Besides, I can tell you don't believe in the faith at all. You're not particularly devout toward the Emperor, either, and you don't seem to have many worldly desires. So yes, I know you're undercover." "And then there's your marksmanship. Don't try to fob me off, Marshall. You're clearly trained as a sniper, and a long-range one at that. You served and fought for a long time in open terrain. A Hive City can't offer that kind of environment."
Marshall frowned and slowly reached for his holster. Vito gave an amused smile and waved a hand. "Relax. I'm not going to expose you. In fact, I'm undercover too."
"What?" Marshall asked, still trying to keep his composure. Vito gave a sarcastic smile and folded his arms. "I'm on the Imperium's side too. Let me make one thing clear: I'm not a member of some Upper Hive noble family, and I wasn't forced into exile here."
Marshall looked Vito up and down, still keeping his hand on his holster. Vito smiled and folded his arms. "Here's a riddle for you. Who do you think would travel from one end of the galaxy to the other, be shrouded in mystery, and enjoy pulling schemes and meddling in local affairs?"
"A traitor?" "No." "A follower of Tzeentch?" "The Emperor above, can't you think of a profession that won't get me shot on sight?"
Marshall studied Vito's exasperated expression. His eyes slowly widened, and he immediately took his hand away from his holster and snapped to attention.
"Lord Inquisitor!" he exclaimed. Vito smiled teasingly and patted him on the shoulder. "You got it right this time. Allow me to introduce myself. I'm an Inquisitor of the Ordo Xenos, and by the way, my name isn't an alias. What about yours?" "Neither is mine, sir. At least, not my name." "Good."
"Allow me to introduce myself properly, my friend." Vito smiled. Marshall nodded solemnly. "Lieutenant Marshall Cops, an enforcer with the Victoria System's Adeptus Arbites."
"You served in the Astra Militarum, didn't you?" "Yes, sir. The Cadian 758th Regiment. I took part in the Victoria Suppression Campaign, then transferred to the Adeptus Arbites on loan."
"The Suppression Campaign? Was the Devout Society behind that one too?" "No, sir. Chaos Cultists."
Vito's expression turned a little strange, but he soon laughed and rubbed his neck. "Well, things certainly are lively around here."
As he spoke, he walked over to another statue and looked up at its angelic figure. "Lord Inquisitor Hegart sent me. We received an astropathic message from Victoria, so I went undercover first."
"Have you discovered anything, Lord Inquisitor?" "Yes. Something very important. I need to meet with your superior, and soon—the sooner, the better."
The Inquisitor stood with his hands behind his back, gazing at a painting on the wall. It depicted Imperial warriors, rendered in a mosaic, battling some enemy of the Imperium. The image was indistinct, worn down by time, and their faces were hard to make out, but the scene was still recognizable.
"Tell the Lord Arbiter that a threat—a tremendous threat—is emerging from the other side of the galaxy. I must meet with him as soon as possible and deal with the urgent problems at hand."
As he spoke, Vito turned and looked seriously at Marshall. "Lieutenant, pass on the message as quickly as you can. Understood?" "Understood, sir."
He walked up to Marshall, then suddenly turned his head toward the empty end of the corridor. Only after staring into the profound darkness for a while did he turn back and speak in a low voice.
"There are heretics and traitors in the upper reaches of Victoria Hive City, and they hold high positions. You must keep this secret and ensure that only the Lord Arbiter learns of it."
Marshall frowned slightly, but didn't seem surprised. "I know, sir. We've long suspected there are traitors among the Upper Hive elite, but we still don't know who they are. Have you learned anything?"
"Not yet, but I will soon." Vito said. He patted the empty Bolter holster at his waist. He hadn't brought a weapon. "Mosley is dead. My partner and I took care of him and read a great deal of important information from his brain. My companions and I will deal with some of it as soon as possible. The Arbites needn't worry."
"Now that Mosley has been dealt with, an important position in the Underhive Convent has opened up, and—" "You'll soon be summoned by the Devout Society's leadership and promoted. Then you'll be able to see their faces."
Vito smiled appreciatively at the young undercover enforcer before him. "Exactly. You've got a bright future, kid."
Vito spoke with the air of an elder, even though he didn't look much older than Marshall. But, my friend, he was an Inquisitor. They generally didn't live as long as their youthful appearances suggested.
Especially the female Inquisitors. Of course, I seriously advise you not to ask their ages. I'm serious. Do you really want a Bolter round for lunch?
Marshall smiled too and nodded firmly. "I'll notify the Arbites Judge as soon as possible. If there's any news, I'll let you know right away, Lord Inquisitor." "Good."
Vito patted him on the shoulder and headed toward the end of the corridor. Marshall thought for a moment, then called after him, "Sir! What kind of threat are we going to face?"
"A really, really damn big one, so hurry it up!" Vito called back, waving a hand as he disappeared into the darkness at the end of the corridor. Marshall turned to look at the mural Vito had been studying. It was battered and worn by time.
Yet a line of High Gothic text could still be read on it, naming the great war depicted in the image.
The Ultramarines' Great Victory: the Battle of Macragge.
Marshall's expression suddenly stiffened. He took a deep breath, then looked up at the towering statue of the Astra Militarum soldier. More statues would soon be erected here.
If the planet was still standing by then.
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