Chapter Text
Twilight had fallen over Holy Terra, and amidst the seemingly infinite hab blocks, all echoing with the sounds of chants from great cathedrals droned out by servoskulls, cherubs, and distant choirs of servitors. Terra itself never seemed to sleep with its endless lines of pilgrims and queues for the Administratum, agents of the Golden Throne milling about in every possibly direction likes bees in a hive, the ever looming presence of the Adeptus Astartes guarding the planet with jealous severity - all of it added to the imposing majesty of the cradle of humanity, it's bastion and true home.
However, nestled in those endless hab blocks was one apartment that was strangely busy. The doors opened at steady intervals for imposing figured clad in fine robes and power armor, all of them filing in before the gilded doors closed behind them. The home was bedecked in finery that only those with status could afford, and the rich deep colors of the amasec and wine that fluttered within crystal glasses was keeping everyone there occupied. Fine paintings and trophies were covering the walls and made for rather intriguing talking points as everyone waited for the host to arrive. All around the room, silver and gold rosettes glittered in the light from lumen chandeliers overhead, the warm glow making the gathering rather intimate and reflecting off of polished marble floors. Every single man and woman who stood within that space had the exact same insignia somewhere on their body, for each and every one of them was an Inquisitor. They covered the breadth of the major Ordos, each one there at the behest of a single man who was, many of them noted irritably, not even present. They mostly ignored the servants who quietly moved around offering food and drinks, preferring to break into smaller groups to have hushed discussions amongst themselves. Anyone who knew anything about the Inquisition knew where the divide sat: the puritans kept to one another and the radicals did the same. From there, the older Inquisitors kept their own council, pushing the younger ones aside. There might have been some intermingling, but this was the way most of them chose to separate. Experience, rank, and disposition were brutal dividers.
"Presenting Lord Inquisitor Raynes val Hestian of the Ordo Xenos." All eyes turned to the staircase as one of the servants announced their host, and there, coming down the stairs with his greying hair and noble bearing, was Raynes val Hestian, He was, most of his guests noted, flanked by his watchdog - that former Janissary, aep Renault - and, much to their collective shock at the rumors being true, that gilded Aquilan Shield of the Adeptus Custodes. His slight limp made his lighter footsteps lost beneath the heavy thud of the Custodian's footfalls as they descended the steps, and with Achellaeon's power armor over even that, the Lord Inquisitor seemed almost diminutive between them.
But only fools thought that. Every single Inquisitor there knew that Raynes val Hestian was a legend among the Ordo Xenos for more reason than one. His own mentor had fallen prey to the insidious web of Chaos, and it had been through his machinations that Inquisitor Denton had died. He had stopped a Kabal invasion, silenced a tomb world, and eliminated cults of Genestealers all before the age of thirty, and no one dared to raise a hand against him now that he had passed that age well over a century ago, if not longer. Despite the grimness of his image, he cut a regal figure with a handsome face. His gene therapy had done wonders, and rumors of how he had managed to keep his vitality for so long sometimes bordered into heretical gossip. The only thing that plagued him was his limp that he remedied with a beautiful gold capped cane.
He gave a gracious smile as he gestured to the room, "I bid my fellow Inquisitors a warm welcome. I know that many of you travelled far to be here, and you have my most sincere gratitude." He followed the gaze of his fellows to the Custodian and gave a laugh with his deep voice, "I assure you, so long as no one tries to assassinate me, Lord Damocletian has no reason to kill any of you. I am aware that the rumor of my golden guardian here precede both of us, and I can say that the rumors of this are true, as you can see."
"Enough of the pageantry, Raynes." At long last, someone spoke up. All heads turned to an older Inquisitor with a square face and long dark hair. One eye had been replaced with an aiming augmetic, and everyone knew him almost immediately as Inquisitor Typho of the Ordo Militum. He was a hardline puritan, and he stood with most of them. "Your missive said that this was urgent, and here I am, wasting time at a dinner party !"
"The dinner party part of this meeting was a pretense. Have no fear. Once we have the last few stragglers arrive, we can get directly to business. For now, Typho, shut up and drink my wine. It is a vintage, I assure you."
"Inquisitor val Hestian, would you kindly explain why you have decided that now, of all times, you found it appropriate to summon us here?" Lord Inquisitor Rubella of the Ordo Redactus was the next to speak. Her reputation for being neither puritanical nor radical made her a regular mediator, and the fact that she was flanked and flocked around by many junior Inquisitors was an outward testament to her character. One would assume, anyway.
Raynes took a moment to survey who was missing. His eyes briefly met Inquisitor Teagan of the Ordo Hereticus, and she gave him an unimpressed look. He expected that from her. She never did enjoy parties, even less so when they were business meetings in disguise. He shrugged and walked casually into the room, "Rubella, I have set up this entire night here tonight with a proposal for all of you. However, we are missing two of our senior Inquisitors, so I will keep my explanations to a minimum while we wait." He could not help but smirk at how they all pointedly tried to ignore Damocletian's looming presence behind him. The Custode stayed silent, and he could almost feel the annoyed aura radiating off of his golden guardian in waves.
"And who are we missing?" Typho asked irritably, his gilded finger augmetics drumming against the crystal glass in his hand as he narrowed his one good eye.
Before he could reply, Raynes was cut off by the sound of his servant at the door announcing the next of his guests. "Presenting Lord Inquisitor Beryl Markham of the Ordo Hereticus and Lord Inquisitor Tarken Valorum of the Ordo Malleus."
"Oh course the two biggest puritans among us would saunter in here together," Teagan gave her eyes a dramatic, sardonic roll as Raynes caught her grumbling the complaint from across the room.
The two names made Typho shut up, however. The two expected guests walked in together side by side as servitors took their coats from them. It had been a long time since Raynes had seen either of them in the flesh, but they hadn't changed much. Valorum was a tall man, broad shouldered with steel grey hair and a square, chiseled face. He would have cut a handsome figure in his youth, and bedecked further in glimmering silver power armor, he looked every part the dread Inquisitor of the Ordo Malleus. By contrast, Markham was on the shorter side and was lithe with hollow cheeks, a sharp jaw, and an aquiline nose. His long dark hair was pulled tautly from his face in a tight ponytail, and his blue-hazel eyes were as cold as the grave. He wore little finery and well-tailored clothes, a large coat that filled out his frame, and what spartan finery he wore beneath it was cinched in at his waist by a lovely woven scarf of some kind of expensive fabric, all beneath a crisp leather belt that held his holsters and scabbard. The pair cut an image, and they seemed to know it.
They walked down the stairs in perfect sync and cut across the floor, boots striking the polished stone in unison as they approached Raynes, looking barely phased by the Custodian behind him. "Val Hestian," Valorum gave a curt nod of greeting as Markham dipped his head in a surprisingly generous show of respect. Normally, he was more than happy to strike him with a frown. Apparently, even he was willing to put up a pretense for the evening. "Achellaeon. You're still with him, I see."
Raynes cast a quick glance at Achellaeon, who gave an aquila as his greetings. "It is an honor to see you again, Lord Inquisitor. I assume that the missions beside your Grey Knights have proven fruitful?"
Valorum snorted, "Of course they have. We have staved off a Khornate incursion and one of Tzeentch. It has been a welcome departure from those decadently vile Slaaneshi cults. My offer to abandon this mess with the Ordo Xenos and come where your faithful fervor can fight real threats stands, aep Renault. You're too good for this job."
"I respectfully decline. My place is with Inquisitor val Hestian, my Lord."
Raynes did admire Achellaeon's loyalty, if nothing else. The man would never turn on him. Thus, Raynes relegated his focus to Markham. They locked eyes, and he smiled. "Welcome, Lord Inquisitor. I am pleased you accepted."
Markham gave a flippant wave of his hand, "Enough pleasantries. I am here as a courtesy to thank you for the use of your Deathwatch. Now, get on with it. I have a meeting to attend as soon as I am finished here, and I would rather not delay."
Fair enough. Without a word, he waved them on to the next room. The doors opened to reveal the massive round table within, the finely polished natural wood a luxury from a far flung paradise world that he had commissioned for himself when this little cabal came together. The two dozen inquisitors filed around and took their seats, the table divided almost perfectly down the center between the puritans and the radicals. He took stock of where everyone was. Typho had taken a seat next to Valorum, and the two were speaking quietly to one another as everyone got settled. Valorum, in turn, sat beside his equally puritanical colleague. Markham and him were the same type of man: incorruptible and zealous, all while being wonderfully pragmatic. This inter-Ordo alliance they had built was old and founded on one key principle: the Imperium must be defended, no matter the cost - be it in blood or status. The senior Inquisitors in the room who had started this whole mess had all been acolytes at around the same time, all risen about the same time, and had all come to the same general conclusion. They shared information, resources, and people, when needed. There was an unspoken rule amongst them that when a good enough reason was presented with sufficient evidence, everyone threw their weight behind it.
Tonight would be the first test in a long while as to how well this agreement would work between them. He took his place at the "head" of the table before the massive arched windows that overlooked the skyline of part of Terra itself as his Custodian moved in to stand silently behind him, his looming, omnipresent golden shadow. "Now, as you are all aware, this meeting with you and your selected acolytes has been called to discuss a rather concerning development. The senior most among you will recall that several decades ago, we were confronted by two primary problems. The first among them was the arrival of a Drukhari Kabal, the Screaming Dawn. The second was the sudden and rather violent appearance of a Black Legion warband known as The Sons of the Mournival. Putting it simply, I believe that these once thought to be solved problems have arisen a second time. Inconveniently, I believe them to have returned at the same time."
Teagan snorted, "And, what? We have the xenos and the heretics working together?"
"Never," Achellaeon quipped in reply. "The Drukhari may be depraved psychopaths, but they hate Slaanesh as much as the next being. They should not be kowtowing to Chaos."
"Inquisitor aep Renault has a very valid point. I believe it to be a coincidence that brought these two together, but the Screaming Dawn is a crafty Kabal. There is a high chance that they have seen the chaos inflicted by the warband and swoop in to lap up the scraps. However, they have since turned their gaze to the planet of Cosperan where the warband has also been sighted."
"There is a crusade of Black Templars there," Typho waved it off with a roll of his eyes. "We hardly need to be worried."
"You underestimate Hepharion," Raynes dropped his voice, making Typho's jaw set.
Markham finally spoke up for the first real time outside of a curt greeting. "Denal Hepharion is a former Son of Horus." The name made Rubella smirk and lean forward, the information clearly of interest to her. "He is ancient, cunning, and a psyker of no small ability. We must be cautious of him and all of his trappings. His warband is also made of rather dangerous people."
Now, Valorum joined in, "And we have reports that after Alamarri, he has a greater daemon in his care. This threat has escalated."
"Which is where I am proposing a joint effort," Raynes nodded and leaned forward, placing his fingertips on the table and shifting his body weight onto them as a smirk came to his face. "We founded this order of ours for inter-Ordo operations. I believe that whatever Hepharion has planned, it is a direct threat to the Imperium. He needs to be stopped, and the Kabal of the Screaming Dawn has a reputation for killing and taking Astartes hostage back to Commorragh. If they launch a raid on Cosperan, the Black Templars may very well not be enough to stop them both."
"And why should we care?" Typho asked again, prompting Ryanes to lean back.
"Because, due to a new report we recently received, we believe that this involves Project Apocalypsis Dominus." That silenced the table. He saw confusion on the faces of the younger acolytes, but he saw Teagan uncross her legs and lean forward, Typho blanche noticeably, and Rubella immediately lock in on him from her spot at the table. He knew that would get their attention. He saw Valorum and Markham share a glance. They knew about the rest, but not about that. It made him positively smug to know that he knew something that the venerated puritan Inquisitors didn't.
"And where has this information come from?" Rubella asked tactfully from the far side of the table, hands steepled before her as her eyes bored into him.
Achellaeon spoke up next, "Besides our own field agents following this mess, I have had information exchanged with a Farseer of Craftworld Ulthwé, a former associate of Lord Inquisitor val Hestian. It is good information, I can guarantee that."
A ripple fell across the table as discussions began. Their trust in him was already tenuous. It was understandable. Now, val Hestian was asking them to take a lot on the word of a Xenos and scattered reports from far flung-planets at the edge of the Segmentum Obscuris.
"Given the circumstances," Valorum sat back in his chair and frowned, "I should be dedicating resources to aiding Regent Guilliman, not running off on some wild goose chase after some heretic Astartes. However," he paused, crossing his muscled arms over his chest, "I will make an exception. Project Apocalypsis Dominus is a threat to the safety of the Imperium. It must be handled accordingly."
"What say you, Beryl?" val Hestian turned to him next.
Markham would be the one who could sway the faces he saw that were not yet ready to make a commitment based on what he and the Farseer had said. He was the voice of puritanical reason, and there were few that distrusted his judgment. While Valorum had a tendency to be viewed as heavy handed by some of the less puritanical inquisitors, Markham was not. He needed him, and judging by the way that he held his gaze, Markham knew it . He watched as his dark eyes held his own for a long, long time. There was a heavy silence that had fallen across the table, and eventually, the other man sighed.
"We know what happened the last time Project Apocalypsis' secrets were allowed to be carried out with impunity. It almost cost the Imperium dearly," Markham adjusted himself in the chair, crossing his legs. "I hate to agree with you, val Hestian. I despise everything that you are. However, I am not too proud to admit when you are right. I will commit any resources necessary to seeing Hepharion dealt with, and I am assuming that this was part of the deal we struck, yes?"
Raynes nodded, "It is. I need backing for some delicate paperwork. It has precedence and is legal, but is unpopular. I also need military backing as well."
He paused and cast his eyes to Typho, who swore and waved him off. "I... will see what strings I can pull. Following Cadia, things are messy. It will take time."
"And can I count on the Redactus to aid me in finding additional information on our warband leader?" Raynes asked as he turned to Rubella.
She met his gaze with a smile, "Of course! Had you mentioned this earlier, my dear, this meeting would not have even been necessary. My office will find what they can. Information will be your sword."
"And should the greater daemon be an issue..." He slowly dragged his eyes to Valorum, who was glaring daggers at him.
"I will try and spare a squad of Grey Knights should the worst come to pass. However, who do we plan to use as our spear tip? Not your Deathwatch, surely."
"Oh, no. I have someone very different in mind," he nodded as he spoke, turning his gaze once more back to Markham. "You recall the Twentieth Tactical Squad, yes? The Ultramarines?"
"I was their investigating Inquisitor, yes."
"Send me their full files, if you would. I have a very important meeting I must set up with their Lieutenant, and as our dear Rubella said: information will be my sword."