Remove ads

His Will Be Done, A Warhammer40k/Kancolle Story

Reader mode
Remind me what the techpriest did that required it to be buried face-first in the decking with its own manual?
 
Huh, your conception of the fairies is close to mine. Not exactly the same, but close. So, Will has to learn how to Girl, or atleast I suppose that's the conclusion she's gonna reach from this, ridiculous times ahead.

CV12Hornet said:
Remind me what the techpriest did that required it to be buried face-first in the decking with its own manual?
Click to expand...
Click to shrink...

I'm betting a suggestion about the daemonweapons that was of... let's call it "dubious purity" so as to not get Inquisitor Headsmash all riled up.
 
Last edited:
You know, the inevitable Inquisitorial Interrogation is going to be absolutely hilarious when every physical means of interrogation totally fails to have any impact on Will. I suppose the Inquisitions best bet is to resort to Psychic interrogation, but that leads to the question of what shipgirls looks like to a psychic sense and the potential hilarity that stems from there.
 
Yeah the captain was a might annoyed that the Magos wasn't apparently using the knowledge he had access to in order to keep the damn ship up to spec.

Bit of a swap. Normally it's the engineer trying/wanting to kill the captain for making the ship do things it's really not designed for.
 
This is... an interesting story, to say the least. Most impressed with the Fairy Crew on the His Will ship (or in Miss Will's body - for that matter). It seems so... serious, yet so hillarious and surreal in the same time.

Looking for an update here. Keep up mate, this a wonderful take on the grim dark future of Mankind.
 
Remove ads
Part 8
  • Threadmarks


    • Hello my Bois, Here's another dose of HERESY! Courtesy of yours truly. Enjoy.

    ----====][====----​

    The first thing that Lord Admiral Quarren realized upon regaining consciousness was that he was in his bed and in his quarters.

    The latter part made sense, he had remembered that much. He had returned to his own quarters after relieving von Saeger and pointing to the next in charge - Commander Matoi, the Legacy's 3rd Officer - and proceeded to sit down at his desk to compile what he imagined was going to be the most unbelievable report of his career. And flicking on the screen of his desktop cogitator was the last thing he could recall. How he ended up tucked into bed…

    He pulled himself out of bed, bare feet landing on the carpeted floor of his bedchambers. He was still in his undershirt and undergarments from the day previously, and the Lord Admiral concluded fairly quickly what events regarding his person had transpired. He had passed out from sheer exhaustion while sat at his desk and that somebody - most likely one of the Stewards - had disrobed him and relocated him to his bed. He looked at the clock on the adjacent wall and was pleased with the time. A few minutes shy of seven in the morning. Later than his normal wake-up time, but considering it had been his first actual restful night of sleep in… probably weeks if not months now, it was forgivable.

    He noted a full change of clothes, waiting for him on hangers as he approached the doorway to his bath. His dress uniform, so freshly laundered and pressed he could practically smell the crispness. As he walked through the archway, he ran a hand across his face. Almost five days' worth of stubble, desperately in need of shaving. Had he looked this… unkempt to Will?

    Will. Oh…

    Yes, yesterday had... happened. The Planet Killer. Miss WIll. All of it. Quarren regarded himself in the mirror above his bathroom's sink, and the weathered face that stared back at him with a single piercing blue eye. The thin scars that denoted the injury that had cost him the other, so many years ago now. At the very least he looked well-rested, if in need of a shower and shave. Quarren felt disappointed in himself, that he'd allowed himself to look so terrible in her presence. He regarded the time again, just shy of seven, and decided on what to do to get ready.

    Quarren had two separate morning routines, depending on the circumstances he could expect to encounter in a given day in regards to his morning preparation. The first was the most straightforward: Use the bathroom, brush his teeth and shave his stubble, followed by a brief hot shower. The first routine all told took roughly fifteen minutes - a little longer, if he felt luxurious and wanted to spend a few extra moments letting hot water run across his skin, or wasn't particularly pressed for time. The second was a longer routine. First a brief steaming-hot shower, then the teeth and the shave and necessities, followed again by a second, longer shower. The second routine took thirty minutes and was one he reserved for special occasions, or when he needed the added clarity of mind that an extended morning routine granted. But no matter the situation, he always walked out of his bath a half-hour later and for the most part refreshed.

    Thirty minutes after stepping into his bathroom, Quarren stepped back out feeling far better than he had before walking in. With expert practice he began donning his uniform. Undergarments and shirt, trousers and jacket, the latter weighed down with selected medals from his long and storied career with the Navy. His boots and sash came next, followed by his weapons belt. He was adjusting his holster and checking his laspistol when three brief raps rang out on his bedchamber door.

    "Come in," he spoke, knowing already who it was.

    "My Lord," his personal Steward, Raoul began, "Commander Matoi is waiting for you just outside in the foyer."

    Quarren nodded. "Excellent. Does she have anything to report?"

    "I believe she does Sir."

    "Good, inform her I'll be outside momentarily." He fetched the red monocle from atop his vanity, his sole external augment, before carefully inserting it into his empty eye socket. Instinctively he blinked, and the device promptly connected to his ocular nerves and restored the sight the eye that had once preceded it provided. "What of breakfast?"

    "I took the liberty of arranging a light meal, as per your habit my Lord."

    "Good, good," The Lord Admiral replied. "A light lunch this afternoon as well. Although that may be subject to change."

    "Of course my Lord. Will that be all?"

    "It is." And with that, Raoul silently left, closing the door just as quietly behind him.

    With those preparations out of the way, Quarren once more regarded himself in the full-length mirror in his chambers. Stared at the man in the mirror, in his ornate Navy uniform, took measure of the other's seemingly indomitable gaze. The man in the mirror stared right back, just as unwaveringly. "I'll have to do," Quarren spoke to no one save himself, before striding to the door and leaving the room.

    He strode through the hallway leading towards the central foyer of his quarters, past massive paintings portraying the past battles and glories of the Savon's Legacy. Past nearly as massive portraits of many of the ship's previous Captains and Commanding Officers. He would likely join them on the wall, one day. Strolling into the foyer, he came face to face with Matoi. Or rather, Commander Matoi, after her recent promotion.

    She turned and crisply saluted him, and he just as crisply returned it. "Sir," she began, "I came to-"

    "Walk and talk," Quarren replied, walking past her towards his dining room. "You can brief me over breakfast."

    "I- of course, my Lord." She fell into step beside him. "I came to give you a tactical update and to report. In regards to system security, there's nothing immediate to report regarding the Heretics. Aside from a handful of skirmishes with the remaining system monitors and warships under our command, the vast majority of the heretical fleet has fled the system."

    Right to business. "Good news," he replied as they entered the dining hall. Raoul and a stewardess, whose name he didn't quite recall had just finished placing an arrangement for two. "Have you eaten yet?"

    "I-" The Commander was cut off by the distinct sound of her stomach rumbling. Quarren caught a smirk briefly gracing Raoul's normally stoic face. "I have not Sir."

    "Care to join me then? We can discuss anything else that needs my attention." He took a seat at the end of the table and she sat to his right and front, as the stewardess began pouring them both mugs of recaf.

    "My Lord and Lady, may I present ambull sausages and rakka eggs with apple-peach pastries," Raoul spoke. "Served with recaf, of course."

    "An excellent meal Raoul," Quarren said. "That should be all."

    "Of course, my Lord." Raoul bowed, before he and the nameless stewardess quietly left.

    "Now, Commander," Quarren began, taking a sip of the steaming Recaf. "You mentioned a report?"

    "Yes sir. Or rather technically it's your report."

    "Oh, right." He never got the chance to even compile it on the cogitator on his desk. To his surprise the Commander pushed a data-slate across the table to him, with what appeared to be a completed outline of events from the battle the day previously. "Myself and the Fourth Officer drafted an outline of events." Over the next minute he glanced across the text, well written and concise as he and the Commander ate. He stopped reading when he came to an acronym he didn't immediately recognize. "VTU?" he asked.

    The Commander placed her fork on the plate before her while dabbing at the corner of her lips. "'Void Traversal Unit,' my Lord. It was mine and Fourth Officer Owell's conclusion, based on my own observations of the Battle with the Planet Killer. They are a form of equipment that enable our ship's ratings and crew to more easily work around the exterior of our ship in the void. The most common devices are functionally a set of thrusters that attach to a given Crewman's voidsuit, allowing them untethered movement beyond the ship."

    "An... interesting conclusion, Commander," Quarren replied. He noticed then that the Commander's plate was spotless, even when his was barely half-cleared. A bite of pastry, and he asked, "What of her… unusual appearance, on the Legacy's Auguries?"

    "I have no immediate explanation from my own experience, Lord Admiral. I initially sought his guidance from the ship's Tech-Magos, but he was apparently preoccupied."

    An eyebrow rose on Quarren's face. "How so?"

    "According to his subordinate Techpriests, he has been, and I quote, 'ceaselessly working to placate the ship's machine spirits,' un-quote."

    Quarren rubbed his temples, before taking another sip of recaf before letting his gaze wander towards the opposite end of the dining hall and towards the general direction of the Noble's Quarters. "Our most recent guest is certainly proving to be a headache for some."

    "Perhaps Sir."

    "Perhaps indeed." Another long sip, draining his own mug and he scooped the last morsel of sausage into his mouth. "Right. The report here is as good as any. No matter how either of us could possibly phrase it, I doubt any word or phrase in either high or low Gothic can adequately describe what has befallen us." He pushed the data-slate back to Matoi. "Give that to the Astropath Liaison for transmittal to Segmentum Command. Let them figure out how to get it to where it needs to go. Then go get some sleep Commander."

    "I shall. Thank you, my Lord."

    "There is nothing to it." The Lord Admiral rose, pushing in his chair before proceeding to the entrance to his quarters with the Commander right behind him. "Before I forget, what of the other Bridge Officers?"

    "Lieutenant Owell is seeing to the Vice Admiral per my request," Matoi began. As for our Fifth Officer, Lieutenant Goven, I asked him to accompany the young Miss Will to the Bridge, per your orders."

    "Good." Wait…

    Something began to click, far back in the hidden recesses of the Lord Admiral's mind. The very top of the Legacy's Command structure could be boiled down to a chain of eight individuals - Himself and von Saeger, plus six 'Bridge' Officers ranked First through Sixth. The ship's First and Second had been transferred, months before and due to battlefield promotion, and as of yet those positions had either yet to be filled, nor promotions amongst the remainder of his command staff finalized. Which meant…

    One and two were absent. Three, Four and Five were predisposed. Which in turn meant-

    Quarren came to a full stop, mid-step, eyes suddenly wide as the saucers he and his Third-in-Command had just eaten from, said woman narrowly avoiding crashing into her own commander. Oh no. And then he was striding as widely and as quickly as he physically could to the exit of his Quarters, Matoi suddenly forced to jog alongside him to keep up.

    "My Lord, What is the matter?" Matoi asked.

    "There is a Midshipman in charge of a Battleship, that is the matter." He reached the doors, flinging them open and continuing onward towards the Bridge, Matoi in tow. "You never let that happen, ever."

    "Sir, it's barely been twenty minutes since I stepped away, and Midshipman Kevil is competent," the Commander replied. "Surely nothing too bad can hap-"

    They both felt it, simultaneously. The shuddering, jarring sensation, as the massive battleship briefly shuddered. Quarren recognized it immediately, as did Matoi. Every shipman worth their salt would recognize it. The tell-tale shudder of angular momentum, the transference of which from one vessel to another as they attached, as two massive objects abruptly became one even more massive object.

    Something had just docked with the Legacy.

    Something big.

    Quarren resisted the sudden need to turn and glare while looming over his Third Officer, before he simply abandoned all pretenses of form and discipline and began to run towards the Bridge, still several hundred yards away. He'd scold and glare at his Bridge crew later but for now…

    Now he had a Ship to get control of.

    ----====][====----​

    Will awoke at seven in the morning, precisely at the time she had designated.

    It was… strange, this sensation of sleep. Once upon a time she had had no need of it. She didn't need to sleep as a battleship. Always were her systems active, Her crew working their rotating shifts, so at all times she was aware and ready to fight, and there were people on duty while others rested. Always had she been 'awake' in as much sense of the word could have once applied to her, ready to fight for the Emperor at a moment's notice, only ever really 'resting' during her brief stays in a dockyard or moored to a station. Now though…

    It had been almost instinctive, the desire to close her eyes and drift away. And while she somehow imagined that she could prolong sleep indefinitely… It was something else that she was going to have to accept about her current nature. Although having a sort of alarm clock in her mind - or rather on her Bridge - certainly helped.

    She knew where she was: in the Legacy's guest quarters, resting in the spacious bed. Paradoxically inside another ship. Will squashed that thought process and took in her surroundings, the 'Noble's Quarters' as they were called on the Legacy. Every vessel was different, she mused. Carefully she pulled the covers off of her and sat up in her bed, before stepping onto the deck. Felt the carpet on her bare feet. She briefly wondered about her uniform and her weapons before the words of the Stewardess from before came back to her.

    And, right there near the door to the bathroom and hanging on a set of hangers, was her dress uniform, freshly cleaned and pressed. She was going to have to thank Alys the stewardess, she decided.

    She was about to don her uniform before her Bridge crew informed her of another matter - she had to get ready in the bathroom - although she was briefly unsure why. And then she remembered, by calling upon that same nebulous pool of knowledge from which she had drawn her swordsmanship skills - that her crew had had morning routines. Brushing their teeth, shaving and showering if need be. She walked into the bath and found a set of toiletries laid out for her, probably by Alys. There was a toothbrush and toothpaste, a bottle of face wash and, to her surprise, a razor and tube of floral shave cream. She had to pull on her knowledge to learn that many women shaved their legs, as had several of her distantly-past officers. Will looked down at her own long, shapely legs, muscular and powerful and completely hairless. Shaving seemed to be a task she would not need to partake in, at least for now.

    Still, after twenty minutes of figuring out how to put the items to use to the satisfaction of her helpful Fairy crew, she felt marginally more refreshed. Not quite taking-a-bath-refreshed, but close. Will was quick in donning her uniform, only briefly held up by the clasp on her bra. With a helpful pointer from a Fairy on her Bridge she was quick to figure it out, and in moments she was once more resplendent in her uniform, once more looking as a proper Warship of the Imperial Navy should. And feeling it as well, come to think of it.

    It was as she was adjusting her golden aquila breastplate that someone softly rapped on the door to the room, startling her.

    "Umm, come in?"

    The door opened quietly, and Alys stepped in. "My lady," she began, "You are awake."

    Will nodded. "I am. I slept pretty well, I think. And thank you for the ah, things in the bathroom."

    She nodded, smiling. "Of course my Lady. There is a gentleman here to meet you. Lieutenant Goven."

    "Oh. Okay, I'll be just out to meet him."

    "Of course," she bowed and turned before departing.

    Will regarded herself in the nearby vanity mirror. She still looked as she imagined herself to look - tall, beautiful, proud. The very picturesque definition of a Battleship. She stood a moment longer, admiring her chest and her curves, before deciding that she had to go meet the Lieutenant. Presumably, he was going to escort her to meet her Admiral. Satisfied that she was dressed to her own satisfactory standard, she turned and left walked out of her bedroom.

    He stood at the doorway to her quarters, just inside the entrance to the foyer. The Sergeant from the night before - Cantrell, she remembered being his name - stood to his right. She recognized her weapons belt, held in his hands.

    "My Lady," the Lieutenant spoke and saluted her, his voice calm and even, "I was ordered to accompany you until you met the Admiral." Will noted his right arm, as he saluted; it was augmetic, the hand metal and reflective.

    "Yes, of course," she replied. "As for my effects…"

    "Of course," the Sergeant spoke up, holding up the belt to Will. "My apologies if I deprived you. You had already retired for the night when the Stewardess informed me of them, so I took custody of them for safekeeping. I meant no disrespect."

    "It's okay, Sergeant, thank you." Will took the belt, fastening it quickly and deftly to her waist. Once more she was whole, although if she had been truly desperate she felt that she could have called out to them somehow and they would have come. "There's still an amount of time before the Admiral asked to meet me, though."

    "I believe breakfast might be in order then," Goven spoke

    "Breakfast?" Right, people needed to eat, she mused. And according to her Quartermaster Fairy, her supplies were running low. While a Battleship of her class could go for… quite a long time without the need to resupply, It wouldn't hurt to restock, so to speak. "Lead the way," she smiled.

    "Certainly, My Lady." He turned to leave, before stopping briefly to address the Sergeant beside him. "Sergeant, relieve your men for the day. Get something to eat and get some rest."

    "Thank you, Lieutenant." He saluted, before turning to leave ahead of them.

    "May I recommend the Officer's Mess?" The Lieutenant asked. "They began to serve breakfast a short while ago."

    Will nodded. "That is perfect." Her words were punctuated by a sudden, unexpected growl from her stomach. She somehow imagined it to be the grumblings if her Fairies, disgruntled due to the prospect of reduced portions in her Mess halls. "More than perfect."

    The Lieutenant chuckled. "Then we should make haste then, follow me."

    ----====][====----​

    The Legacy's Officer's Mess was situated in the superstructure of the battleship, just a few decks below those for the Officer's Quarters. And it was every bit as palatial as her own had been.

    As the Lieutenant led her through the entrance, Will audibly gasped, suddenly bombarded with the sights and sounds and most importantly tastes and smells of what lay within. She almost kept going, felt herself being attracted towards the serving areas before Lieutenant Goven gestured towards the hygiene stations by the entrance - even the Officers were subject to the standards of cleanliness set by the Ship's Chirurgeon. Still, after that minor hiccup and with her hands freshly washed, she found herself with a tray of plates, mouth salivating at the variety of food. It… All of it...

    ...Was incredible. A riot of sight and sound and smell and color and taste. Serving stations both manned and self-serve, filled with food of all sorts. Several kinds breakfast meats, various baked goods in the form of pastries and bagels and tarts and biscuits. There were fruits of all kinds, and toppings and condiments and drinks. She even saw three different kinds of recaf on tap at the drink dispenser. Such a bounty, such a wonderful bounty...

    "My Lady?" Goven tried to say to her. "Are you unwell?"

    "It's… it's amazing…" Will stammered.

    "I… suppose it would be for some," he replied. "Although they're a bit light on rations as of late. Usually there's greater variety, but with the state of affairs in the Sector so to speak-"

    "G- greater variety?" She asked, shocked. Her… her crew, even her Officers, had never had food this good. Not even in her days when she was alongside her two Sisters and defending Terra. It… It was too much.

    "Can… can I?"

    "Help yourself," Goven replied. "I believe you have probably earned a full meal."

    And so she did. As Will worked her way around the buffet tables she grabbed a little of everything, and before long she had piled her tray high with food of all kinds - If she had the opportunity to sample such a variety of foods, she was going to do her best to enjoy it.

    And enjoy it she did. Quickly she ate, clearing the plates on her tray with remarkable efficiency. She drained both mugs of recaf, and in what felt like no time at all, she felt something else new: Satiation. It was… interesting, feeling what was called being 'full.' She sighed, rubbing a hand across her belly. Will thankfully didn't have the same supply requirements some of her other warships had, being an all-Lance warship. No endless stream of macro shells and torpedoes to feed her nonexistent guns and tubes. However, her Fairies still needed food, and her reactors needed hydrogen, and occasionally her point defense batteries and Nova Cannon needed reloading...

    "Uhh… wha…"

    She looked up, suddenly aware of the people around her. Goven sat across from her, his food barely touched. As was that of many of the others seated around them. He, and his fellow Officers had been watching her in rapt awe.

    "Lieutenant?"

    "Where… did it all go?"

    "I don't follow."

    "You… just ate… just put away two platoon's worth of rations," The man spoke with a notable degree of awe in his voice.

    Will blinked. "I was hungry," She was suddenly aware that she was beginning to blush now.

    Some, then most of the people seated around them resumed eating. Goven did as well, quickly working his way through the rest of his grox-bacon and potatoes. "I don't think I've ever seen a lady manage something like that before Ma'am," the man said between bites of food.

    "I was thinking of dessert. They had apple-peaches. I never heard of those before."

    Goven swallowed. "Those are good. Hard to keep fresh for any length of time though."

    "Oh. I'll go try one then." Will moved to stand up and bus her tray when she and everyone else in the Mess Hall felt it - something docking with the Legacy. Something big. Eerily the Mess Hall went silent, every set of eyes looking up at the sound and the feeling of the shuddering vibrations. Will's head pivoted to the Lieutenant's, her eyes locking with his. This wasn't normal.

    He was up at once, as was many of the other officers and NCOs in the Mess Hall. Will bee-lined for the tray turn-in area, placing her empty plates and tray on the rack before making haste to the exit, Goven right beside her. "I was an idiot, Emperor's damned it," he muttered.

    "Lieutenant?"

    He dropped his tray next to hers before outpacing her out of the exit. "Midshipman Kevil, I thought it would be a good idea. A half-hour, no more than forty-five minutes. See if he could hold his own in the Captain's Chair unassisted."

    Will blinked, realizing the implications. "You left a Midshipman in charge of a Battleship?"

    "It was a terrible idea."

    "It very much was, Lieutenant."

    "Hindsight has such clarity. Quarren is going to space me."

    Will had nothing to reply to that. The tone had changed around them. A sudden air of unease, an extra degree of urgency in the crew moving around them. Will could see it easily, being heads-and-shoulders taller than everyone else.

    The entered and climbed the central staircase going up to the Bridge. The lifts would be crowded and packed and temporarily overwhelmed, and they needed to be there as soon as possible. And in moments they were, stepping off onto the Command deck and passing through gilded double doors into the very brain of the Legacy.

    Will took in the sight of the Bridge - dozens of people, manning just as many information stations, parsing data from Gunnery, the Auguries, the Enginarium and numerous others. There was an elevated dais at the center of the chamber, holding the displays for the Ship's Captain and a large spherical holo-sphere. Before her, through meters-thick transparent arma-plas screens was the world of Cadia, so close yet so distant, and more distant still the swirling, angry red of the Eye of Terror. Despite something like this being a core part of her, it was still breathtaking seeing it first-hand, witnessing the buzz of activity that infused this part of any given starship.

    As she followed behind Goven as he angrily marched up towards where a single young man stood on the dais, several things happened all at once.

    Admiral Quarren - her Admiral - marched onto the Bridge, with another female officer in tow. Followed in turn by von Saeger, who himself had an officer of his own behind him. And as her head pivoted to acknowledge them, she saw out of the viewscreen the vessel with which they had docked.

    A Grand Cruiser, its hull nearly jet-black, a hole against the swirling red clouds of the Eye of Terror. It was illuminated only by the light cast from its own view ports and by the lights shone against a colossal seal, easily five hundred meters across and affixed to the side of the vessel amidships.

    The red and black skull-encrusted 'I' of the Inquisition.

    Her Admiral, she realized, had seen it as well, and at the same time she did.

    "Oh, frakk," he spoke.

    ----====][====----​

    NOBODY EXPECTS THE INQUISITION!

    But on a more serious note, I hope the breakfast scenes didn't come off as too weird. It honestly took me a while to work around it. Also, I still don't have any solid numbers as to how many daily calories Will needs - I'm just going to go with "lots".

    Anyways I hope you enjoyed that. As a side note, The next installment of With Friends Like These is on its way. Expect it by Halloween.
     
    Last edited:
  • Threadmarks
    • Let's see... Another excellent, and hilarious, chapter of this story... and then we're told that With Friends Like These will most likely be updating within a few days...

    'does dance of joy' Yessssssss!!!!!!!!!!!!
     
    H-H-H-HERESY!

    BLAM!

    And then His Will is completely intact because Bolts don't do anything to ship-level adamantium.

    Also, does Will have any Inquisitors on board her?
     
    Why do I have the mental image of that poor inquisitor lord cowering in a corner as the Battleship His Will rants and raves at him, listing each and every crewman who ever served aboard her, their births, their lives, and most importantly their deaths in the Service of the Emperor, how her entire -being- has been consecrated, literally, to His Will. It isn't a name, or even a title it is her very being, and the fact that he dares to question that is, in her eyes, DAMN CLOSE TO HERESY!

    (also, having a Nova Cannon pointed at your head focuses one's thoughts like nothing else in the universe.)
     
    Part 9
  • Threadmarks

    • Well, this update was absurdly delayed. I won't hassle you with HERESY! for now, so enjoy that YouTube clip above. Now, on with the show.

    ----====][====----​

    Everyone began shouting all at once.

    "My Lord, I can explain-"

    "The Inquisition Kevil? How in the Warp did you-"

    "By the God Emperor, why are those bastards here-"

    "Emperor save us, we're done for-"

    All at once many people were shouting, their voices mutually drowning out each other's. Suddenly, a single voice rang out, an order of magnitude louder than all the others.

    "SILENCE!" Vice Admiral von Saeger bellowed. "Allow your Captain to speak!" By his order the cacophony was abruptly silenced, and the Lord Admiral stepped up to the central dais where a quivering and all-but-terrified Midshipman stood.

    "Midshipman Kevil," The Lord Admiral asked, "Why is one of the Inquisition's warships currently moored to mine?"

    "They- She appeared there, demanding to dock without warning," the man stammered. "I- I could not refuse."

    "I understand. Very well Ensign, you are dismissed. Return to your post."

    "Y- yes, my Lord." With that the Ensign saluted and quickly hurried off the podium, and the Lord Admiral took his place.

    "Comms, hail the Inquisition's warship. Commander Matoi, prepare a delegation to meet their party at the starboard moor," the Lord Admiral began to bark out orders. "von Saeger, Will, remain here with me."

    "Aye, Admiral."

    "Of course."

    "Yes, my Admiral."

    "Do you have any idea why the Inquisition would be interested in the Legacy, my Lord?" von Saeger asked. "If they came to join the fight, they're most certainly late to it."

    Quarren said nothing in reply for a brief moment. "I suspect that their interest lies not with us, but with Will."

    Von Saeger seemed surprised. "You don't think-"

    "I dare not know what any Inquisitor may be thinking," Quarren spoke. "I dare not hazard so much as a guess, believe me. But barely a day after the Arch Heretic's forces have been broken? Well… they may very well be interested in the why of that endeavor."

    Both of the men turned their gaze to her, and for a moment, Will almost felt herself wilt under their combined gaze. Her mind was awhirl with thoughts as she contemplated her situation. The Inquisition, interested in her. Any mortal would tremble at the though of being pursued by them, both Loyalist and Traitor alike. And she was no different. Why- no, what would an Inquisitor want with her? Did they think her a heretic? Would they?

    The answer came as her Admiral spoke. "Yesterday, someone single-handedly blunted the spear of the Great Enemy and drove the lot of them all back. Anyone of such power would draw their attention, I suspect. Especially if they claim to be something that is impossible to them."

    "I've done nothing wrong," Will stated.

    "No you have not," he replied. "But to an Inquisitor, everyone has done something wrong, from the lowest rating to the most revered Saint. They just don't know it yet."

    Will couldn't help but grimace at that thought. The idea that she had done something praiseworthy, and by doing so would be rewarded with only scorn and ridicule and accusations of heresy and treason. No good deed, as the old saying went.

    "Sir, the Stone Overturned is replying to our hails," one of the Comms Officers spoke. "Audio and visual."

    "Good. Ensign, relay it to the central display."

    "Aye sir." Both of the men and Will turned to face the holo-projector behind them, and Will worked to suppress her nervousness. The projector came to life, lights briefly flickering and dancing in the air above the lens before resolving into a two-dimensional image before them. And all at once, the stern, overbearing visage of a woman appeared in the air before them.

    The face of the Inquisitor was seemingly at odds with what Will was expecting of someone of such a high and lofty title. Rather than a wizened old man, the face that bore down upon them was that of a woman seemingly still well within her prime. Deep brown hair, brown eyes, and a face that seemed almost exotic. "Lord Admiral Quarren," The woman spoke, eyes staring down into all three of them. "I am Lord Inquisitor Ivana Strasbourg, of the Ordo Hereticus. And I must say, it is quite the honor to finally meet you."

    "My Lady," The Lord Admiral gave a short bow in reply. "Please pardon my absence. Our vessel has been short-staffed as of late. I am sure you can understand."

    The Lady inquisitor's eyes continued to bore down into the man, and to Quarren's credit he did not waver in the least. Nor did von Saeger, as her eyes drifted over to the Vice Admiral. And Will did her best to stand tall, despite the all-but-frightening woman that now stared down at her. "Hrmm, so it may seem. But I care not for your matters of personnel. I believe that an individual of sorts has boarded your vessel, one whom has fallen beneath the Inquisition's gaze." Her eyes narrowed as she focused on Will. "Or rather, my gaze."

    "Ah, of course," Quarren spoke. "I concluded as much." With a breath he turned and gestured to her. "Lady Inquisitor, may I introduce Lady Will, of the Imperial Navy."

    Without hesitation, Will gave a short and polite bow. "Ma'am," she spoke, as calmly as she could manage given the circumstances.

    "Lady Will," the Inquisitor said. "Of the Navy, yet lacking any sort of visible rank. Curious." Abruptly, she turned back to the Admiral. "My sources inform me, Lord Admiral, that this is the individual that was responsible for yesterday's… incredible victory. What do you say to this statement?"

    "I would say that it is accurate, yes," Quarren replied with a small smile on his face.

    "And I am told that this young woman, while adorned in little more than her uniform and a void traversal unit managed to single-handedly engage the flagship of the Despoiler, before boarding it and besting him in single combat. And then she sabotaged it through unspecified means, resulting in its destruction outright before escaping. Would you consider these statements to be true?"

    "I would agree that that information is… accurate," he said.

    The Lord Inquisitor's face filled the projection, as she seemed to lean forward into the recorder and indeed, towards the three of them. "Then I am sure that you would be able to arrange a meeting between this young woman and myself, as well as a gathering of my peers. And I would advise you to attend at your earliest convenience, now that I am sure you've rested and dined to your leisure."

    "Certainly, Lady Inquisitor."

    "Excellent," the Inquisitor smiled. "My Chief Interrogator will be waiting for you at your vessel's starboard mooring. It would behoove you to not keep him waiting." The hologram flickered out and disappeared.

    Von Saeger sighed heavily. "Bloody Inquisitors, damn the whole lot of them."

    "I would advise you keep that opinion to yourself, my old friend," Quarren spoke. "Lest you end up strapped down for one of their famous 'interrogations.'" He glanced over to Matoi, who had been talking with one of the armsmen. "Commander, belay that earlier order. I'm going to attend to this personally, it seems."

    "Of course, My Lord," she quickly replied. The armsman nodded silently before departing.

    The Lord Admiral turned to face Will, a look of concern on his face. "It would seem you've become quite popular as of late."

    "I-"

    "No, no apologies," he cut her off. "Let's focus on figuring out what she wants to hear. Walk and talk. Matoi, you have command."

    "Of course," the Commander said, stepping up to the command dais to take the Lord Admiral's spot. Quarren began walking, back towards the rear exit of the exit of the Bridge and both von Saeger and Will followed wordlessly. Only when they were in the hallway beyond did Quarren resume speaking.

    "I don't know the Lady Inquisitor personally, but I know of her. She arrived in-system shortly after Abaddon's Crusade formally began and Cadia came under attack," he began. "Ivana Strasbourg, Lady Inquisitor of the Ordo Hereticus. As far as I've been aware, she and the rest of the Inquisition have been on Cadia and elsewhere in the system, rooting out heretics and traitors hiding in our ranks. It seems she's starting to run out of prey. Typical of them, to suspect a heretic under every rock and behind every blade of grass."

    "Not as bad as the Malleus," von Saeger said. "I've met a few of their ilk in my life, and every last one had a screw loose. You could tell from their eyes."

    Will silently agreed with the Vice Admiral's statement. She remembered a couple such individuals, when Armageddon's issues concerned… something. She was also thankful that her long legs and Mars-pattern positional thrusters could keep up with her Admiral's stride. As they walked, she lost herself in thought. She'd 'seen' and 'heard' many Inquisitors in her long life, from two Segmentum. Dozens of men and women from all walks of life, over ten thousand years. Malleus, Xenos, Hereticus, and a dozen other smaller Ordos all working towards safeguarding the Imperium. She knew the dread, the fear that would settle in men's hearts when they knew that the Inquisition was about, the nervousness they associated with their mark. Even the most loyal of servants of the Emperor would take pause, because as her Admiral had said-

    "Are you alright Will?" Quarren called to her. She raised her head from thought to look to her Admiral.

    "Apologies, my Lord, I was just lost in thought for a moment."

    "Understandable," he said. "I don't envy you, or myself for that matter." They approached a lift, the one that would take them to the level the mooring buckles were on. "Falling beneath the gaze of an Inquisitor is not a fate I wish upon anyone. At least not those that are loyal, of course."

    They stepped into the lift, the ornate doors closing behind them. Von Saeger pressed a gilded button on the panel beside the door and at once they were moving down. "She looks young," the Vice Admiral spoke.

    "Looks can be deceiving, old friend," Quarren replied. "She could be the elder of both of us combined with rejuvenat treatments."

    Von Saeger merely grunted. "The boy, Kevil, he said the Inquisition's ship 'appeared' there. And it's a grand cruiser. Inquisition or not, they're not the quickest ships around."

    A beat, before Quarren spoke. "You don't think-"

    The Vice Admiral nodded. "Some arcane stealth device perhaps. Something one-of-a-kind, and capable of hiding even a spaceship from sight. I've heard stories that such relics exist, or at least they used to. Sounds like just the kind of toy the Inquisition would keep to themselves."

    "Hmm," Quarren hummed. "Your thoughts, Will?"

    Will had remained mostly wordless. But she had once more become lost in thought. A memory of a battle far in the past, memories that by all right belonged to a past Admiral. Heretic Astartes, laying siege to a largely defenceless planet. Her Admiral leading an armada from her Bridge, even as the Heretics redoubled their efforts. The battle had turned against them, warships all around her falling and dying.

    And when it had seemed all but lost, They arrived.

    A fleet of warships. Battle barges and strike cruisers painted jet black, and each proudly showing the silver emblem of their chapter: a bird-of-prey with its wings outstretched. They had appeared from nowhere amongst the very ranks of the heretical warships, firing salvos of lances and macro cannon shells directly into their vulnerable sterns and flanks. In moments the battle had been decided outright as traitor ship after traitor ship detonated in flashes of light and heat…

    Will had remembered the sheer relief that her once-Admiral had felt when he had seen the Emperor's Angels, but he had never questioned their method of arrival. A method that seemed identical to that of the Inquisition's.

    "I… have a memory, of long ago," she spoke. "One of my past Admirals witnessed Astartes warships appearing from nowhere, like the Inquisitor's cruiser apparently did."

    Neither of the men said nothing for a long moment, the silence broken only as the lift reached its destination and the ornate doors slid open. "Fascinating," Quarren spoke.

    "Difficult to believe, but there are stranger things," von Saeger said.

    Will said nothing in reply as she followed the two men out of the lift. "You believe me?"

    "Without question Will," her Admiral replied. "But I'm not the one we have to convince."

    ----====][====----​

    They arrived at the starboard mooring of the Legacy without incident. And as the Lady Inquisitor had said, someone was waiting for them all.

    Will, despite her best efforts, couldn't help but feel nervous. She had good reason to, as she was about to come face-to-face with one of the most powerful individuals in the Imperium of Man: An Inquisitor, and a Lord Inquisitor at that. And her nervousness became even more pronounced when she saw the group standing inside the chamber.

    All told, there were several dozen people there. All but one of the group Will recognized as Adeptus Sororitas - the Sisters of Battle. They were easily recognizable from their compact bolters and the slim power armor they wore, their faces obscured behind featureless helmets. She knew from the knowledge of her long life that they were the Chamber Militant of the Ordo Hereticus, but she couldn't quite name what order this group came from.

    The man that Will decided was the 'Chief Interrogator' stood in front of the assembled Sisters, power-armored hands resting on the pommel of a truly massive power sword stood on end before him. His face was rough and angular, almost as if it were chiseled from stone. His eyes bore down on them all as the three of them entered the chamber.

    "Lord Admiral," the Interrogator spoke, his voice every bit as deep and weathered as Will had expected, "I have been waiting for you. I am Hugo Krass, and I am to escort you to my Mistress." He looked from Quarren to von Saeger and Will. "You, I know your name. What of the others?"

    "To my right is Vice Admiral von Saeger, my number two and the Captain of Savon's Legacy. To my left is Lady Will, a servant of the God Emperor."

    Krass' eyes fell on her, and Will couldn't help but feel that he was sizing her up. Not for a fight… but for the shackles and restraints in an interrogation room. She decided that she didn't like him one bit, but kept that thought to herself. Instead she nodded and called upon eons of experience regarding customs and formalities, giving a small bow and smaller smile. "I am Will. His Will. A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

    Krass said nothing for a moment, the Sisters a few paces behind him as motionless as statues. "The Lady Inquisitor is waiting for you. That is a bad thing."

    "We understand," Quarren said. "Let's not keep her."

    "Yes." Krass lifted his sword and turned to walk back through the airlock of the docking ring. Half of the assembled Sisters broke away, stepping through the locks ahead of the four of them while the other half stepped aside to wait and watch as they passed.

    As Will stepped from the Legacy into the Stone Overturned, she couldn't help but feel as if the air itself had become heavy with a sense of menace. As if the ship itself was bearing down on her, scrutinizing her every action. And considering what she was, Will couldn't help but feel there was a mote of substance to that suspicion. As she expected they would, the remaining Sisters wordlessly fell into step behind them. A dozen in front and two dozen more behind them. Escorting them. And there was no doubt that both her Admiral and von Saeger recognized it as well.

    While their escort had come out in force, Will noticed that the halls of the Overturned were… empty. At least compared to the Legacy. Instead of countless officers, sailors and ratings going to and fro, the halls were largely devoid of human activity. Another difference was the architecture: If Will had thought the atmosphere of the ship was oppressive, the almost menacing walls and ceilings definitely were.

    They continued on in silence, the only sounds being their footfalls, both normal and armored. The lockstep rhythm of the Sororitas, the irregular steps of the rest and herself. In what felt like moments, they had rounded a corner, coming face-to-face with a pair of great golden doors that Will knew was their destination.

    "I will wait here," Krass spoke, his sword once more coming to rest on the deck with his hands atop its pommel. No doubt the pose was well practiced. "The Lady Inquisitor is inside. You may enter."

    Quarren wordlessly nodded and stepped towards the golden doors bearing the mark of the Inquisition. He was quiet for a brief moment, before he looked over his shoulder to her. "Will, front and center. von Saeger, to her left."

    "Aye, sir."

    "Of course, my Admiral."

    Will stepped forward, standing before the double doors with her Admiral and von Saeger flanking her. She understood instinctively, why she was the first and not either of the men to her sides. She was the star of the show, after all.

    She took one more deep breath, and without hesitation pushed the doors open and stepped into the room beyond.

    ----====][====----​

    Commander Matoi looked out into the void of space from the dais. To her right, the great bulk of the Inquisitorial Grand Cruiser Stone Overturned, attached to the ship like some sort of bloated parasite. To the left and off in the distance was the green-blue orb of Cadia. The nightside was visible, a crescent of darkness partly encircling the dayside. Even from the vast distance where the planet was no larger than her thumbnail at arm's length, she could still imagine seeing the fires burning in the dark there: Whole hive cities alight, battlefields awash with fire and flame…

    She leaned on the railing overlooking the Command Bridge and sighed heavily. "This was not how I envisioned today to go."

    "Agreed," Goven spoke from next to her. "I was expecting a more celebratory atmosphere. It would seem the Emperor willed differently."

    "Speaking of," Matoi began, "The woman, Will. What's your opinion of her?"

    "She can out-eat a platoon of stormtroopers and looks like she doesn't fit in the uniform she's wearing," he said. "Aside from that, I think she'd make a good officer."

    "Her uniform doesn't fit?" she asked. She had finally seen her first-hand, and aside from her height, lack of rank insignia and a bust she herself was envious of, her Segmentum Solar-issued uniform fit perfectly.

    "Oh no, it's not that it didn't fit her. It's that she didn't fit it. She looked, how can I say it, out of place. And she has the decorum of an officer but her body language says otherwise. Like she didn't know how to be herself," he shrugged. "It's hard for me to explain. The closest example I can really think of is this idiot Scintillan Fusilier Colonel I once had the displeasure of meeting that got his rank through family… connections…"

    Goven trailed off, And Matoi looked over to see him wordlessly step backward, eyes fixed on the void beyond the bridge. She followed his gaze out through the viewscreens, and she too went slack-jawed.

    Two more ships were approaching the paired vessels. And Matoi recognized both of them.

    The first was steel gray and utterly massive, even larger than the Legacy. An Astartes Battle Barge clad from bow to stern in every weapon imaginable. From lances to macro-cannons, to vast batteries of torpedoes and point defenses. Despite the apparently-dormant state of the weapon batteries that she could see, The approaching warship filled her with no small measure of dread.

    The second was smaller than the battle barge but no less formidable. Matoi recognized the red and gold warship as an Ark Mechanicus, the Cogboys' idea of a battleship. It was outfitted with a mixture of lances and macrocannons, not unlike the Legacy. But Matoi had no doubt that thanks to the arcane sciences and technologies the Mechanicus liked to both hoard and incorporate into their warships, the Ark would come out on top in any such engagement between the two with ease.

    "Comms, hail the vessels approaching. Now. And will somebody tell me why in the Warp did the Auguries not see them!?"

    "Ma'am, our Auguries appear to be malfunctioning," the Ensign at the relevant console stated. Readings appear normal, but-"

    "But?"

    Wordlessly, the Ensign gestured to the approaching vessels, as if to emphasize her point. "Ma'am, may I offer a theory?" she asked.

    Go ahead, Ensign… your name?" She leaned down over the railing. "You're new. I don't recognize you."

    "Ensign Aurelia Voss Ma'am," she spoke, standing straight and saluting Matoi. She was blonde, blue eyed, and seemingly quite tall, about as tall as herself, and Matoi couldn't help but take note of her chest and the tightly-fitting blouse struggling to contain it. "I was transferred aboard a week ago. And I believe that the Grand Cruiser is subtly disrupting the Legacy's Auguries."

    "You… suspect," Goven said, speaking up. "When were you going to inform us of this?"

    "Right now sir," she told the Lieutenant.

    Goven opened his mouth to reply, but Matoi cut him off with a gesture. "How?"

    "Unsure, Ma'am, I started noticing irregularities in the power readouts the moment the Inquisition's ship moored with ours. I've spent the last few minutes troubleshooting the system to rule out a glitch."

    "Alright. Keep at it Ensign, and good work." Once more the Ensign saluted before sitting down and resuming her work. "Comms?"

    "A brief message from both vessels, audio only Ma'am, the relevant Ensign spoke with an edge of nervousness in his voice. He looked over his shoulder and up at Makoi. The Ark of Mars has informed us that it's here at the behest of Lady Strasbourg."

    "And the Astartes vessel?"

    "The Comms officer aboard the Allfather's Honor says the same, Ma'am." Beyond the armorplas viewports, the two warships had come to a relative stop. Flares of light appeared from hangar bays on each of the ships as they disgorged shuttle craft. Matoi breathed a small sigh of relief as neither of the groups vectored toward the Legacy, instead vectoring toward the Stone Overturned. She didn't have a clue as to what was going on. The battle was long over, so what would require the presence of not just the Inquisition, but the Astartes and Mechanicus as well?

    "So, Matoi," Goven asked, "Do you have any idea as to why the Space Wolves and Mechanicus are here?"

    "No," she answered. "But I suspect the Lord Admiral and Captain are about to find out. And Miss Will as well."

    ----====][====----​

    So, 3.7K words. As things often go for me, a decent chunk of this was sitting in my GDocs folder for months, unfinished. Until I managed to get the willpower to finish it properly. I have a decent chunk of the next chapter done as well, so maaaybe the gap between chapters won't be as bad. Anyways, see you next time, Space Battleship.
     
    Last edited:
  • Threadmarks
    • TheMadmanAndre said:
    "Looks can be deceiving, old friend," Quarren replied. "She could be elder than both of us combined with rejuvenat treatments."
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    He said, while standing next to a woman who is either ten thousand years old or was born yesterday, depending how you count it.

    Anyway, both of these guys are very high ranking officers in the Imperial Navy, and rejuvenat treatments are within the means of the middle classes on developed worlds according to the Lexicanum, so it's a little weird that their discussion of rejuvanat hints that they're not receiving it themselves. Anybody important in the Imperium has access.

    Looking forward to Inquisitorial reactions to honest answers from Will. "Because the Emperor told me to when he talked to me yesterday." "Because I'm a battleship." "Yes, really, I've got my IFF transponder on." "I use a bit of everything, and a bit more than I probably should."

    I mean, in a sense I kind of want to see them try to force the issue. "Are you bringing a power sword to a lance fight? I mean, if you really want, I can make a hole from here to the outer hull, and we can take this outside and settle it with proper space combat..."
     
    Pax_Empyrean said:
    Looking forward to Inquisitorial reactions to honest answers from Will. "Because the Emperor told me to when he talked to me yesterday." "Because I'm a battleship." "Yes, really, I've got my IFF transponder on." "I use a bit of everything, and a bit more than I probably should."

    I mean, in a sense I kind of want to see them try to force the issue. "Are you bringing a power sword to a lance fight? I mean, if you really want, I can make a hole from here to the outer hull, and we can take this outside and settle it with proper space combat..."
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...

    Yeah....I honestly do too. Let's just hope that their isn't a Death Watch kill team onboard.
     
    Part 10
  • Threadmarks


    • Well, this one's been a long time coming.

    In truth, I had a few lines of this written out for about six months, and I only just wrote the bulk of it in the last two or so weeks. That seems to be how a lot of story posts go around here, sadly... :p

    Still, I'm here with another shot of Heretical HERESY! Courtesy of His Will. Amazing thanks to Tegler, my current and only Patron so far(thanks for the coffee!). Also, special and much-belated thanks to BigBoom550 for his help a while back, with some thoughts and questions regarding this chapter

    Now, with the accolades out of the way, lets get on with the show.

    ----====][====----​

    As Will strode into the room, flanked by her Admiral and his Number Two, she took in the space before her.

    It was an impressively vast chamber, sparsely furnished and brightly lit by overhead torch-sconces. Before her at the rough center of the room was a plain looking steel table, in front of which were three steel chairs waiting for their occupants. To her left and dominating that side of the room was a single massive ornate throne, far too large for a mortal man or even Will herself to comfortably sit. In the center of the backrest was an embellishment: a stylistic wolf's head in black, emblazoned on a round yellow field. Something tickled the back of Will's mind, a sense of familiarity. On her bridge, her Captain Fairly barked an order to fetch the thick book that listed all of the various groups and organizations of the Imperium from the Ship's Librarium.

    To her right and opposite the throne was a table and chair, both painted red and gold. Will didn't need a reference book to recognize the mark embellishing the chair's back; the cybernetic skull of the Adeptus Mechanicus, resplendent in the chamber's harsh light. Both table and chair were plain and utilitarian, identical to those in the room's center save for the color scheme.

    Occupying the far opposite wall was a colossal, ornate dais of polished wood, upon which was emblazoned the mark of the Inquisition. It was massive, almost as long as the chamber was wide. At either end were squads of armored Sisters Sororitas, their bolters held low and ready and faces obscured by helmets. And upon the dais itself and flanked by two of her subordinates sat the Lady Inquisitor herself. Lady Strasbourg, of the Inquisition.

    Will didn't recognize either the man to her left or the woman to her right, but she had no doubt that introductions would occur at some point soon. The man had a sort of look about his face; high cheekbones, sharp haircut and shifty eyes that all screamed high-born to her sensibilities. The kind of person that thought they were better than everyone else. The woman seemed to be the polar opposite, with her blazing topaz eyes and lightly-scarred face, and a rough and sloppy haircut that made her almost look like someone from a primitive or uncivilized world. The seemingly opposite of what an Inquisitor should be in Will's experience.

    "Welcome," the Lady called out and down to them from the dais. "We were just talking about you. In fact, you happen to be the subject of the hour. Please, take a seat," she gestured to the three steel chairs in the room's center.

    Will hesitated, but her Admiral tugged her along ever so gently. Wordlessly the three of them approached the table and one by one they took their seats, first Will and then her companions. The seat was uncomfortable to say the least, the hard steel surface and straight rigid back a far cry from the plush conference chair from the evening before. She sensed the veiled discomfort from the men seated to her left and right, and Will somehow understood that every aspect of the room was designed to make those seated in the center feel as uncomfortable as possible. She also noted something else that she had overlooked upon first glance; that the throne, the Mechanicus-branded chair and the thrones above all looked down or upon those seats in the center.

    For a brief moment after they had taken their seats it was quiet, the gaze of the Inquisitors boring down into them from on high. "I imagine you have a plethora of questions," Lady Strasbourg finally spoke, breaking the silence. "Many of which shall soon be answered. To start off with, I called this meeting to address a question that has appeared before not only myself, but the Inquisition and the Imperium as a whole. A question that I seek to answer before it becomes a potential problem." The implication was left unspoken, but Will understood well enough. "And to help me answer this particular question, I called upon the aid and advice of several other servants of the Imperium. Servants whom I hope can help provide me with a satisfactory answer today."

    Will said nothing. She wasn't even sure what to say that would be construed as appropriate in that setting even. Her inner nervousness seemed to permeate all throughout her hull and decks, filling her compartments and corridors with a heavy air of dread.

    "If my actions are in question Lady Inquisitor, I stand by them. All of them," Admiral Quarren stated.

    "As do I," von Saeger also said.

    A brief chuckle escaped the Inquisitor's lips. "Of course you do, Lord Admiral, Vice Admiral. I would expect nothing less from the men that tend to the Cadian Gate." Her gaze shifted from Quarren to von Saeger, and a smirk spread across her face. "No, I suspect your actions will not be called into question today."

    Quarren said nothing else, and neither did his Number Two. Ultimately, Will managed to quell her nervousness enough to summon a degree of confidence to speak. "My Lady, whom is it that will be joining us?" she asked with every bit of confident decorum she could muster.

    The woman's smirk grew all the wider. "The sorts of people that don't want to be here of course," she replied. "I personally find them to be the best sorts of critics. Speaking of…"

    On cue, a plain door recessed into the far wall behind the throne to her left swung inward. And through the door stepped somebody that managed to make Will feel genuinely small.

    An honest-to-Emperor giant strode into the room, his great sabatons clanging loudly against the polished floor. Will could hear the quiet and subtle hymn of the armor's servos, the soft pressure cycles of its hydraulics, the relaxing and tensing of synth-musculatures beneath the slabs of adamantium. His armor was ancient, perhaps as ancient as her own hull, and was decorated with animal bones and the hide of some sort of beast, draped across his shoulders and back. His face was every bit as ancient it seemed, weathered and hewn from living stone. His eyes told a story all on their own, of hard-fought battles and wars waged between blazing stars. A flowing white beard framed the lower half of his face, itself intricately braided. Will realized that the man striding into the chamber was no mortal man at all but an Astartes, clad in ancient terminator armor and armed with an absolutely massive battleaxe clasped to his waist.

    And for some reason, Will couldn't help but feel that he was familiar somehow.

    ----====][====----​

    Deep within the confines of one of His Will's Hangar Decks, a daemonsword finally spat out the infernal wad of cloth that had muted it so, much to the alarm of its guards. "Huh, so that's the guy that beat Morkai into submission. I was wondering who it was that finally managed to get the best of hiEARGHBLBGH-"

    The daemonsword was abruptly silenced once more as the accursed garment was quickly reapplied by one of the nearby creatures, this one wearing a peaked Commissar's cap and uniform.

    ----====][====----​

    Without a word, the giant strode over to the throne, followed by an honor guard of Astartes. Each were clad in lighter but still-imposing Astartes-grade power armor, their bolters held at the ready. And without a word the ancient Astartes sat down, his gaze passing across all of the others in the room in an instant. Will, her Admiral and Number Two, the Inquisitors and their own Sororitas bodyguards. Finally after a long moment he spoke. "Well, I'm here Inquisitor, somehow," the ancient Astartes said. "And away from duties far more important than the inner meddlings of Inquisitors."

    "Hardly, Master Grimnar, I think you will thank me for requesting your presence here today, whatever may come from these proceedings." The Inquisitor's smile never wavered. "After all, your Wolves are the Emperor's Executioners, are they not?"

    "Thank an Inquisitor? Hrmph," was al the old warrior had to say.

    Within Will's bridge, the Fairy that had departed to find the book had returned, a comparatively gigantic tome carried precariously above its head. Overburdened by its load, the Fairy abruptly tripped and fell, face-planting the steel deck of her bridge. The tome sailed through the air and landed directly at the feet of her Captain Fairy, the giant book opening to the page that Will needed the most.

    Her Captain Fairy leaned down to where the tome had landed at his feet, reading the text beneath the wolf's head sigil. And all at once, Will remembered.

    The war for Armaggeddon. Not the Orks, not the Waaagh! of the Beast of Armageddon, The First War. The war that nearly broke that world in a tide of daemons and blood, in a way the Orks never could have hoped to do. The Imperium had held the world, only just, and its armies had prevailed over the tide of blood and gibbering daemons. But the Inquisition had deemed those whom had fought and survived to be corrupted, to be beyond salvation.

    The Wolves had taken exception to this, had taken exception to such callous disregard of life, especially the lives of those that had fought and bled for the Imperium. Rather than stand by and watch their allies slaughtered, not by daemons but by Inquisitors, The Great Wolf had ordered his Chapter to protect the Guardsmen and civilians the Inquisition had condemned.

    Her Captain and crew had been compelled to fight the Wolves, the remaining Imperial Navy warships co-opted by the Inquisition. The Wolves had been chased all the way back to Fenris, back to the very doorstep of their Fortress Monastery before the Lord Inquisitor responsible for all of the madness fell in battle. With his death, so too did the crusade against the Wolves die.

    Will had forgotten until now. No, not her, but her Captain, her crew. Her crew had been made to forget. How?

    Astartes in terminator suits, similar to that of the Astartes in the room with her. Their ceramite armor unpainted, their force weapons flickering with psychic energy. They had stood on her Bridge and then…

    And then she and her crew had forgotten. Had been made to forget their actions and terrible deeds with a psychic suggestion. Will realized she had been staring at him. Logan Grimnar, the Great Wolf of Fenris and the Chapter Master of the Space Wolves. The Emperor's Executioners, as The Lady Inquisitor had put it. And with the realization of who he was, Will suddenly understood why he was there. In case the Lady Inquisitor judged her poorly.

    His gaze flickered to her and met hers head on, and for a moment Will seemed to wilt in her seat. His eyes lingered on her for a moment, until a sound echoed out across the chamber. The sound of a door opening from the side with the lone table and chair drew everyone's attention.

    Through the door and into the chamber strode a slight, hooded figure, a stark contrast to the Great Wolf. They were short, very short, and Will suspected they might have come up to her chest if they stood on their tip-toes. Behind the figure marched a squad of soldiers dressed in red, their cybernetic legs and various augments readily apparent. Skitarii, she realized, the militant force of the Adeptus Mechanicus. Behind them floated a strange, almost bizarre construct. It was rounded, almost egg-like in its shape, and Will got the impression it had an assortment of weaponry concealed within it. A servitor of some sort perhaps? It kept its distance, and everyone in the room glanced warily at the strange object as it floated to a spot in the air just behind the solitary chair.

    Without prompt or ceremony, the robed and hooded figure stepped up to the table and chair before them and took a seat. From within the hood, Will got the impression that he or she was sizing up everyone in the room, Her, her Captain, the great Wolf and the Inquisitors. And with the firepower concentrated in that chamber, herself not included, any disagreement would likely quickly escalate to a bloodbath.

    Will hoped it didn't come to that.

    "Well, now that everyone is assembled, I believe we can begin," Lady Strasbourg spoke. "And I feel that the majority of the people here are familiar with each other, or at the very least know of each other's names." She gestured to the two men flanking Will. "Admiral Quarren of course, and his second-in command, Vice Admiral von Saeger." Her arm swung to the Space Wolf sitting on his throne. "The one and only Great Wolf, Logan Grimnar, the Master of the Space Wolves and the High King of Fenris." Finally, her arm swung back to the robed techpriest, sitting in a chair that seemed comically too large for them. "And last but not least, Archmagos Ebin Sorrik, the wandering Archmagos and the self-proclaimed Disciple of Land. Thank you all, for taking the time to come."

    The Space Wolf only grunted in reply.

    "Of course," a surprisingly normal and young voice spoke from beneath their hood. "From what you told me, I wouldn't miss this for the galaxy."

    "And with those acknowledgements out of the way, there's only one more person that I feel hasn't been properly introduced. Lady Will," Strasbourg's gaze fell squarely upon her, "Please introduce yourself properly to everyone? You're the star of the show after all."

    "Of course," Will replied. She rose from her seat, standing as straight as her spine allowed her. "I am the Apocalypse-class Battleship His Will, the third of my class and the former flagship of Armageddon Sector. Currently assigned to Battlefleet Cadia, under the command of Admiral Quarren."

    It sounded strange, saying it out loud like that, stating simple facts. For a brief moment, nobody in the room said anything at all, her words echoing to silence. Had she said something wrong? Had someone expected an answer other than that simple truth? She wondered. To her left, the Great Wolf cocked an eyebrow, his gaze falling upon her intently. To her right, the Archmagos made no indication of acknowledgement, at least not one she could tell.

    "A… battleship," the male Inquisitor said. "As in the spacefaring kind?"

    "So it would seem, Inquisitor Vrak. So it would seem."

    "Is she mad?" The woman to her right asked.

    "Hardly, my dear Lady Laeryn," she replied to her apparent subordinate. "I suspect she is quite sane indeed. If a bit reckless and excitable from her, how should I say it, fervent banter with a professed traitor."

    Oh. She… had broadcast that, to anyone who would be willing to listen, hadn't she? In hindsight that was unbecoming of her certainly, and in no small way embarrassing.

    "Tell me, Master Grimnar, what was your take upon listening to this young lady's… eager discussion?"

    The Great Wolf merely grunted. "Bold and brave, Inquisitor. A lass with a death wish perhaps."

    "I concur, Lady Strasbourg," the now-named Inquisitor Laeryn said. "And the feat of single-handedly destroying a warship such as that accursed heretic's flagship is… a difficult thing to believe. An impossibility, almost. Not to mention the other kills this… young woman managed to make."

    "And yet it has happened," the Lady said, rising from her seat high on the dais. "An impossibility has transpired. One that defies ready explanation." The Lady Inquisitor's eyes bored directly into hers, and Will did her best not to falter. "Tell me, Lady Will, do you have one?"

    "I do," Will answered readily.

    "Oh? Well please, enlighten us."

    "I can show you."

    "You have the room, and a most captive audience," she gestured to the space before the dais.

    Alright, I knew this was coming, Will thought. She drew a long steady breath before stepping around the table where her Admiral sat, allowing herself to relax. Her legs took her to where the Lady Inquisitor had gestured, the center of the room formed by the seating arrangements and the dead center of attention. She closed her eyes and focused on that ephemeral feeling that seemed so distant to her. She felt out to it, imagined herself grabbing it-

    And abruptly, her Rigging sprang forth in a golden flash of light. It materialized around her, cladding and shielding her in a voided shield, in a perimeter of protective armor and offensive weapons. Her person was ringed in a golden halo, and all at once she felt complete. Like this was the way she was supposed to be, like-

    The sound of commotion met her ears. Right, the Inquisitors, she remembered.

    Theirs and the reactions of the others in the room were… about as she expected. Shouts of warning and confusion, everyone holding a weapon raising it at her in alarm, or at others in alarm. Inquisitor Laeryn had jumped up, producing an ornate melta pistol from her robe and aiming it in her direction. Vrak and the Lady Inquisitor herself both remained seated, keen on merely observing her. Behind her, Quarren and von Saeger remained seated, although her Admiral rubbed his brow and sighed. To her left, The Great Wolf's eyes merely widened in surprise at her display, even as his honor guard readied their bolters to protect him. And to her right-

    "Fascinating, simply fascinating," The Archmagos said as they poked and prodded at one of the turrets on her starboard side with a mechadendrite, produced from beneath their crimson red robe. "They're almost like model replicas in terms of scale, yet are somehow fully functional." Sorrik, the Archmagos, was standing there, prodding at the surface of her hull. When? When did she get up and move? "I see, no wonder the ranking Tech-Magos of the Legacy was so panicked when he spoke to me. To auguries you are ceramite and adamantium, but to my eyes," they reached up and pulled down their hood, and a young and cute and surprisingly unaugmented face stared up at her, "You are flesh and blood. Human. Or at least appear to be. Tell me, what are you?" she asked.

    "I am His Will," she grinned. "Or just Will for brevity's sake."

    The Archmagos's gazed up at her, and for an instant, it flickered. "That was the name of a warship that was lost a year ago, in the Segmentum Solar," she recited. It was the temporary flagship of Battlefleet Armageddon, commanded by Admiral-"

    "Parol," Will finished. "I know. He was my Admiral before, if only briefly."

    Confusion seemed to fill the woman's face. "I see. I need to think for a moment," she flatly stated, and her eyes became glassy and unfocused as she looked down at the bare floor. Will got the impression of a servitor or machine with its power supply cut.

    "Laeryn, please put the meltagun down," Strasboug said, in front and above Will.

    That brought her back into the moment, and she remembered that there was a meeting happening around her and about her.

    "But that, that thing," the Lady Inquisitor hissed, the offending weapon aimed squarely at her. "It's a daemon, it has to be."

    "Inquisitor Lae-"

    "What else could it be my Lady?!" She all but shouted, "If not a heretic or a fool?"

    "I don't think she's a fool or a heretic, my dear," the other Inquisitor, Vrak, said. "Not enough ranting and raving about dark gods and skull thrones and whatnot."

    "You don't know that for sure," Laeryn shot back.

    "We have ways my dear of finding out."

    Privately, Will grimaced, careful not to let her imagination run wild at that. "I am not a heretic," Will spoke to the woman aiming a weapon at her. "I killed like, thousands of them yesterday. I almost killed the biggest heretic of them all, except he got away, the bastard." She pointed up at Laeryn, "And I don't appreciate people accusing me of something without cause or aiming a gun at me."

    "Laeryn, for the last time, please lower your weapon," Strasbourg commanded.

    "But I-"

    "Now."

    The Inquisitor gritted her teeth. "Yes, my Lady," she answered, lowering her weapon and holstering it back inside her robes before sitting down.

    Strasbourg sighed. "Well now, with that bit of drama out of the way, what is your take on this, Master Grimnar?"

    For a moment, the Wolf said nothing. "I've been told you fought the Despoiler lass," he said. "And not only fought him but bested him. And impressive feat for a whelp."

    "I'm not a whelp," Will stated, crossing her arms. "In fact, I'm older than you."

    A rumble of what might have been laughter, and Will could have sworn she glimpsed a smile cross the old Astartes' features, if only for a brief instant. "Aye, what with your claims. But claims of victory are one thing. Proving them are another lass."

    "Well, I do have a pict-recording," Will said, grinning. "Of me, kicking the Despoiler's bleached ass all over the bridge of his ship."

    Behind her, von Saeger dropped his head to his hands, and a couple of eyebrows rose up on the dais.

    "Aye? Really now?"

    Will felt something in her hand, small and round and somewhat heavy. She glanced down to find a compact portable holo-projector, resting in the palm of her hand. On her Bridge, her Techpriest Fairy gave her a thumbs up, apparently pleased with her apparent foresight. "Yes, yes I do," she smiled, pressing a button on the side of her device with her gloved thumb and powering it to life.

    Will held the device out, and above and before her a holo-field resolved the pict-recording she had already seen and experienced. Her battle with the arch-heretic played out yet again, this time for all to see. Will again watched herself trading parries and blows with the armored arch-heretic before finally defeating him with a few precision strikes of her cutlass. Swears and exclamations of surprise and awe filled the room, from all whom had seen it unfold.

    Will let out a breath she had forgotten she was holding as the hologram faded. "As you can see-"

    "Well, color me impressed, miss," Inquisitor Vrak said to her.

    "There will be doubts about the authenticity of this recording," Lady Strasbourg followed.

    "Sure," Will replied, holding out the projector. "It's for you," she smiled. She held it out towards the nearest Sororitas, standing off to the side. With a nod from the Lady Inquisitor above, the Sister approached wordlessly and took the device from her hand before stepping back to her posting. "I also have… umm…"

    "Well?"

    "His wargear. And his arms. And his other bits."

    "What do you mean by his… other bits, I dare ask?"

    Will breathed in and out, focusing on the sword and talon and the… stupid bit, still laying in one of her Hangar Decks. She closed her eyes and focused on them, visualized them-

    With a burst of golden motes of light, three objects materialized in the space in front of Will before clattering to the polished floor, to the alarm of everyone in the room. Will opened her eyes to see the Despoiler's wargear, lying there for all to see.

    One again, the Inquisitors jumped from their seats, and Laeryn produced her melta pistol once more. Sororitas and Astartes and Skitarii all raised their weapons in alarm. Sorrik remained standing motionless next to Will, still apparently lost in thought. And Grimnar-

    Grimnar was there, standing over her with his double-headed axe ready and in hand. Will had barely seen the man move, impressive given how cumbersome Terminator armor should have been.

    Before her, the daemonsword twitched on the ground, an offensive eyesore to all who saw it. With a thought, Will dismissed her rigging in a burst of golden motes and leaned down to pick up the weapon.

    "Lass, wait!" Grimnar said to her.

    Will's hand hovered over the hilt. "Chapter Master?" she looked up at him from the corner of her eye.

    "That weapon corrupts and kills all who touch it," he explained, "No sane mortal can-"

    Before he could finish, Will grasped the hilt and lifted the weapon, the daemonsword feather-light in her grasp. The old Wolf's eyes went wide and lifted his war axe, but nothing else happened.

    There, for all to see, Will held the corrupted blade, seemingly immune to its effects. "It's kind of ugly. Well, mostly ugly. When I fought the Despoiler it could barely scratch me, and... I…" she trailed off, noticing the animated crossguard and something stuffed into the mouth of the warped ornamentation there. Carefully, she grasped the wad of cloth, pulling it free-

    "FINALLY!" the sword shouted, its voice unmuffled. "I can finally talk once more! You!" the face looked at her, glaring heretical daggers at Will, "You are responsible for my suffering!"

    "Wha-"

    "I blame you! Only you!" it continued to shriek. "Not even a trophy room, but a floor! A HANGAR DECK! Damn you to the Gardens of Nurgle and the Killing Fields of Khorne for these insults upon insults you foul wretch!"

    The daemonsword continued to shriek obscenities in Will's hand, before she suddenly remembered she was holding something else. She looked at her left hand, at the wad of… underwear? She was currently holding. She looked back at the sword, and began to grin.

    "You… wait, oh no," the sword stammered in fear. "Please, let's be reasonable-"

    "Yes, let's."

    "Oh nononoARGHGARBLGL-" Will stuffed the wad of cloth back into its mouth, thankfully silencing the sword once more.

    "Well, it can talk. He had a talking sword."

    The sound of clattering metal broke the dead silence that Will realized had settled in the chamber. She looked over to a melta pistol by the dais, where it had been dropped from above by a slack-jawed Laeryn. Lady Strasbourg was standing, arms resting on the edge of the dais and peering down at Will with wide eyes. Most of the armed people in the room were once more aiming their weapons, mostly at the sword she held. Behind her, her Admiral and his Number Two had jumped from their seats and had drawn their own weapons in alarm. To her left, Master Grimnar stared down at her in amazement, his axe held loosely in his gauntlet, his eyes flickering between Will and the sword. And to her right-

    "Lady Inquisitor, pardon my absence but I have an idea about how we may prove Lady Will's origins regarding... ah…" The Archmagos looked around the room and its occupants, at the bizarreness before her. "Apologies, but did I miss something? Oh, that's a daemon weapon. Fascinating, seeing one up close…"

    A low, rumbling sound began to fill the room, originating from Will's direct left. She looked up to see Logan Grimnar, the Great Wolf of Fenris laughing. He laughed a long genuine laugh, the reverberations of which seemed to shake the very walls of the room. "You my lass," he managed to say between bouts of laughter, "Are full of surprises. Quite the feat to bring the gift of laughter this old Wolf. And what more, you," he glanced down at where the offending object still lay on the floor before resuming a bout of laughter, "You lopped off his top knot!" He threw his head back in roaring laughter. "By the Allfather, I am glad I came here this day." The Great Wolf's mirth seemed to disarm the room, and bolters and radium carbines were lowered. Behind her, her Admiral re-took his seat, although von Saeger remained standing after holstering his las-pistol, seemingly more comfortable standing. Finally, the Great Wolf stepped back to the throne before sitting down. "I would be proud to have you at my side, lass."

    "Those, those things," Lady Strasbourg spoke, "I need to have them all contained immediately. Especially that sword."

    "Nay, Inquisitor, I feel they are adequately contained," the Great Wolf spoke, gesturing to the sword in Will's hand and the items on the floor. "After all," he gestured to Will, still holding the sword, "Anyone who can hold that blade and not succumb instantly to madness? And to... break its will in such a manner?" Will got the impression he was stifling a laugh. "They are more than capable of keeping it under lock and key. Speaking of, the how of it lass?"

    Realizing what he was asking her, Will quickly responded. "I… I can't really explain how," she told him. "I just think about putting them away like my Rigging."

    "Your what?" Sorrik dared to ask.

    "Oh. that's what I call my… ship parts, that I put away earlier," Will explained. "I think about it, and well…" The three objects began to glow, and one by one they popped out of existence in bursts of golden motes. In her mind, Will saw them popping back into existence inside the Hangar Deck, exactly where she had left them previously. "I just sort of dumped them in one of my Hangar Decks. They won't be disturbed there."

    "You, you just…" Vrak stammered.

    "Dumped them on a hangar Deck," Laeryn finished.

    Will looked up at the Inquisitors. "So far they haven't grown legs and wandered off yet," she smiled. "For what it's worth I locked the doors at least." She was careful not to lead into mentioning the security cordon, or exactly who or what composed it - that would lead to a whole other headache. And possibly weapons fire.

    "The… the doors are locked, she says." Lady Strasbourg said, sagging down into her seat. "One of the most infamous daemon weapons in the galaxy, and she mutes it with someone's underwear. Underwear! And then she throws it in a Hangar! And locks the door!" She started chuckling, and the chuckling morphed into laughter, and a distant memory came unbidden to Will from ages past. A piece of wisdom, shared from one of her officers to another. That it was always a bad thing when the Commissar or Inquisitor started laughing. "She says these things, as if they explain anything, of who or what she is. Of any of it. And honestly?" she waved a hand to Will, "I won't contest this. One less headache for my people to deal with, and the ones best suited for the task are stabbing daemons in the face on the other end of the system."

    "My- my Lady, this is irregular," Inquisitor Laeryn said, her melta pistol seemingly forgotten.

    "To the contrary, this is groundbreaking," Strasbourg grinned. "I love the idea of being the one to set policy for a change, it feels so exciting."

    "My Lady, I refrain from interrupting you, but I do have my thoughts that I wish to share," the Archmagos spoke.

    "Archmagos Sorrik?"

    "Yes," she spoke, turning to walk back to her seat. Sitting down, she continued. "Lady Will claims to be a warship, specifically a battleship, and specifically His Will, one of the oldest members of the Apocalypse-class of battleships. Specifically, the third such ship of that class ever constructed by the old Mechanicum of Mars. She even predates the Great Crusade, although only just."

    "Your point, Archmagos?"

    "I shall soon arrive at it," she smiled. "These first three battleships, His Word, His Might, and His Will, are all unique in one very specific aspect. An aspect shared with only a few other warships from that time."

    "Being?"

    "They were the first warships the Omnissiah, the God Emperor of Mankind, specifically and personally commissioned for his great fleets. And while many smaller vessels were completed first, these were amongst the first laid to keel, so to speak." A pause, before she continued. "The Bucephalus, the Omnissiah's own flagship, was the very first, a one-of-a-kind vessel commissioned by him personally. So too were the class of warship called the Gloriana. While a few were technical wonders predating the Imperium and brought into its fold, most were laid to keel before or during the Crusade, their designs based on those recovered vessels. These mighty warships were commissioned for the Omnissiah's great Legions, his Astartes."

    "Hrafknel," The Great Wolf spoke, barely more than a whisper.

    "Yes, your Primarch's flagship was one, Master Grimnar. Finally, to commemorate the creation of the then Imperial Army, The Omnissiah asked of the Mechanicum warships upon which to build its great battlefleets around. And from there, the Apocalypse class of warship was conceived." Sorrik looked at Will, directly in the eye. "You have it, don't you? Your Writ?"

    "My what?" Will spoke.

    "Your Writ of Commission. The document upon which your name was first written."

    Will didn't have an immediate answer. She blinked, realizing her Captain was nowhere to be found on her Bridge, and a hapless rating was wearing his hat for some reason and standing at the Captain's post. She found the Fairy, hatless and deep within her shipboard archive, staring at an ornate gold container held within a dedicated stasis field. The container glowed, before vanishing in a burst of golden motes.

    Will looked down at her hand, the container resting in her palm. It looked so small, and she realized nobody reacted to its sudden appearance.

    "Ah, that… that is probably it," Sorrik told her. "Go ahead and open it."

    Will did as she instructed, carefully un-sealing the container, and from within she withdrew a thick double scroll, carefully wound tight. It was fairly wide, about twice the width of her open hand. She remembered this document, Every Captain who had ever commanded her had looked at this, held this, as a way to remind them of who they were, where they came from. And most importantly, who they were fighting for.

    She carefully unwound the thick parchment, rolling and unrolling the scroll so that it showed only the last page. The part everyone else would be interested in. She instinctively knew every word on that document, every technical and numerical specification that outlined what she was, words and numbers coded into her very being. The last 'page' of the scroll consisted of just three names, two of whom were long dead and one of which technically wasn't a name at all but a position of power. The first was that of her very first Captain, the ink of his quill still as fresh as the day he signed it. The second was stiff and rigid, artificial, the signature of the then-Shipmaster of Mars. And below his...

    ...below his, a single letter, written down the dead center of the page with five beautiful, elegant strokes of a nib: a cross-slashed letter I. And below that, a little mark, a smudge, a dot on the parchment. A single drop of shed blood. Looking at it, Will seemed to feel the air shudder around her, growing close and thick as if before a storm, as if the judgement of the man who shed that drop of blood was about to befall her.

    Will held her Writ there, for the rest of the people in the room to see.

    Nobody uttered or spoke a word for some time.

    ----====][====----​


    Something tells me you probably weren't expecting a twist like that, were you? A writ signed in the Big GE's own handwriting (and blood).

    Anyways, yeah, this chapter was kicking my ass for a good long while. I did my best to keep from veering into crack territory, and I think I only barely skirted that line. Lots of discussion over many pages, carefully outlining all of the ways that Will could be called a HERETIC!!! by anyone and everyone. Pretty much the only thing that would shut everyone up is the literal word of the Big GE of MK himself.

    Grimnar. The Big Dog himself. He was in the AO of Cadia when The Armless Failure launched his thirteenth dark clusterfuck of fail. Pretty much the Top Motherfucker What's In Charge for the most part in regards to combat there, at least during the great time freeze. I feel I got most if his dialogue and reactions right, although any way to check is locked behind a paywall for me.

    Sorrik. A cute little Archmagos that may or may not me a meat puppet. Don't worry, you'll be seeing a lot more of her(?).

    Strasbourg. The Lord(Lady) Inquisitor rapidly approaching nervous breakdown territory. Plus her two little Inquisitor munchkins/pets. You'll be seeing more of them too. Also Krass, in case anyone forgot about him.

    Well, that's about my thoughts for the moment. Ciao.
     
    Last edited:
  • Threadmarks
    • Very happy to see this return. And yeah, whilst it got a bit crazy at parts I don't think it ever hit the level of crack. Admittedly, this may be in part because whenever it was, the reaction and discussion was entirely appropriate for what was going on.

    I mean, if you'd just see someone who looks like a mostly-ordinary woman pick up on of the single most feared sources of corruption in the galaxy, pull a pair of underwear out of it's mouth, and then shove it back in once it started mouthing off at you... You... probably aren't in the sanest mindstate. Especially when you learn where it's being kept, and thus just returned too.

    The bit where she remembered the First War of Armageddon thanks to seeing the Space Wolves, and remembered being made to forget about it was a nice touch.
     
    Oh yeah, a written piece from the Emps himself? That'll shortcut any accusations quite nicely. The most paranoid elements* of the Inquisition may still suspect some kind of deception and those sects in the Mechanicus which hold the Emperor is not the Omnissiah might still suspect technoheresy or technoabomination, but when faced by the weight of support this automatically gives Will from basically the entire rest of the (loyal) Imperium, they don't have the political weight to even try and force the issue.

    *And given how paranoid the Inquisition is by default, you have to wonder how these guys even function in day to day life... assuming they do manage to function.
     
    Reader mode
    You must login or register to reply here.
    Remove ads
    Back
    Top