The Council of Phaenon was drawing to an opening. The
following weeks would see a myriad of unique characters joining in their
individual pursuits in a rare moment of convergence. The fate of the sector
would fall on the words of the men and women who arrived daily, their judgments
casting shadows across the multitude of worlds that were quickly falling into disarray.
But before the council would start properly, the trial of
Mengsk would be the toll that called forth the beginnings of this momentous
event. Upon arrival he had been seized with his retainers, placed under
Inquisitorial scrutiny. For three days
Mengsk sat in an opulent cell. Furniture made the room luxurious, and the fine
art that graced its walls would be fitting for a noble's quarters. Yet a prison
still, despite the tapestries and fineries provided to one of their own.
Cezaurus II hung over his thoughts like a shadow of guilt
and condemnation. His peers had come to visit from time to time, to pass their
own words of support or judgment. An Imperial world, no matter how tainted, was
still an asset to the Imperium as a whole, and his actions held great
consequences beyond his own lifetime. To convince the council of the virtue of
his decision, it would take a great many words of passion and conviction. He
lacked one, but not the other, and Yvonne paced trying to frame the words in
his mind.
There was a grinding of gear as the secured door chimed to
life and a solitary figure entered, motioning for the Imperial Stormtroopers guarding
his room to depart. An older face, worn by the passage of time, regret, victory
and defeat. Graying hair, neatly trimmed, with the reminiscence of a beard. The
man was wearing high collared Inquisitorial robes bedecked with the sigils of
office and badges of authority seldom worn openly elsewhere.
"Lord Mengala," Mengsk said with a differential
standing bow. "You grace me with your presence."
"You may call me by my first name, Yvonne,"
Mengala said with a droll seriousness. "You have earned that privilege as
my peer and friend."
"Pious," Yvonne said with a half-crooked smile.
"You do more harm to your reputation than it is worth associating with me
at this hour."
Pious ignored his council, instead choosing to withdraw a
flask from the folds of his robes and popping the container open. He took two
crystalline glasses from the cell's foray and poured both of them a drink.
Handing one to Mengsk, he took the other and slipped into the comfort of the visitors
bench.
"There is more afoot than you know," Pious said
with an attempt at a laugh. Had they been around more socialite-minded members
of the Inquisition, his attempt at etiquette and charm would have been
laughable.
"What is it?" Yvonne asked, raising a brow above
his patch.
Pious sighed deeply. "Your Acolytes have been declared
Excommunicate Traitoris."
Yvonne was stone-faced, taken back but showing now hint of
it other than a nod. "How did...it happen?"
"Zadiom," Pious answered after a moment of silence.
"Zadiom used his dying breath to broadcast a message across the entirety
of the sector, and perhaps even more. He fueled his powers with his own soul,
Yvonne. That boy you spared, the one that my former Acolyte died acquiring,
killed him," Pious said with a drink of his glass.
"Silas?" Yvonne said.
"Yes," Pious continued. "My own Astropath
screamed for an entire night from the intensity of the memory that overwhelmed
her."
Yvonne gulped his drink then, almost shattering the glass
when he lurched it down to the table. "What of the others?" He asked.
"Alive, and wanted dead," Pious said with a sigh.
"Zadiom is...was, a voice of reason among our small community. His
death-cry has rallied many against you that would have otherwise sided with
your decision. They are calling for your head."
Yvonne looked at his friend for a moment, before at last he
smiled. "I lived long enough to become the villain. It was bound to
happen."
Pious nodded an agreement. "The true Inquisition still
believes in your mission Yvonne. We have made...preparations."
"There is no need. I will face my condemners,"
Yvonne said flatly. "If I am to be judged as a destroyer, then so be it.
The Imperium's will shall be done."
"But Yvonne..."
"But nothing Pious," Yvonne interrupted. "My
life is but a single moment, given to the Emperor's Will as he sees fit. They
can do with me as they wish." He stood, offering his hand to his friend.
"But do me one favor."
Pious rose and met the man face to face. "What is it?
It shall be done."
"Protect my Acolytes. Send word to them. Warn them. The
true enemy has not revealed his hand yet, and the true Ordo needs them - all of
them, if we are to avert the coming storm. Protect them, before they unleash
The Asset."
Pious simply nodded, before he left Mengsk alone, who
returned to his seat and finished his colleagues drink.
