Location: Cypra Mundi, the Purest Shadow

  POV: Lord Inquisitor Agatha Striker of the Ordo Hereticus

  The Purest Shadow ripped its way into realspace at the Cypra Mundi mandeville point.

  "Transmit our identification codes, then plot a course for the Segmentum Fortress," Agatha ordered as they cleared the opening behind them.

  "Yes, Lord Striker," Her Master of the Vox replied as he went to work.

  The Outer Defensive Belt of Cypra Mundi, the Cypran Wall, was nothing to scoff at. There were numerous Ramilies Star Forts and hundreds of smaller automated defense platforms and other armed bastions aiming at them. Not to mention the Battlefleet Obscurus Delta Patrol Flotilla staring them down.

  The lead vessel of the Delta Patrol, the Apocalypse-class Battleship known as the Unrelenting, hailed them as their identity had been verified. "Welcome back, Purest Shadow." The fact that the lead ship was such a large warship showed they weren't taking any chances with the defenses.

  "We appreciate it, Unrelenting. I need you to forward the following message to the Inquisitorial Palace," she plugged in her Rosette and compiled the encrypted message, "This is Lord Inquisitor Striker. I am calling in a Conclave at the Inquisitorial Palace - all Inquisitors in the system are to attend. This is not a request; Priority: Extremis. You have forty-eight hours to comply."

  "As you command, Lord Inquisitor, we've relayed to you the optimal flight path to reach the Bastion," the Rear Admiral commanding the Unrelenting replied, barely blinking at the request. Forwarding the request through Relay Mundi, sending it out across the system. "Would you like an escort to the Fortress?"

  "Negative, an escort is unnecessary. You may resume your patrol," Agatha replied politely. "You can inform the fortress that we have a full tithe to transfer and require full ammunition replenishment."

  The Purest Shadow accelerated past the patrol and well outside of the arcs that would see it interact with either of the system's gas giants, Cypra Minoris and Majoris, over the next two days.

  –

  Agatha sat on her command throne, mulling over the last few months. The use of the Eldar Runecaster had allowed the Purest Shadow to make precise jumps even without the Astronomicon, as much as doing so vexed her sensibilities. The use of the Xenotech was a necessary evil. The alternative was jumping in blind, and with the Warp in turmoil after the opening of the Rift, it was better to trust Xenos, even if it annoyed her.

  She'd investigated one planet and two names on the list she'd been given. The planet had already been overrun with daemons by the time she arrived, and she'd been forced to utilize her supply of torpedoes to enact an Exterminatus on the planet. The two individuals listed that she had investigated were both traitors. Uncovering the treasonous rot hidden by the first individual had taken some digging to uncover, but the second was a short affair. She had ended up executing them both personally after attempts at interrogation had failed.

  She was pulled from her thoughts as they entered the vicinity of Cypra Mundi itself. The colossal chain of orbital facilities surrounding the massive forge world created a faux ring of shipyards, manufactorums, defensive emplacements, dockyards, and even eight Ramilies Star Forts, all of which formed the Crown of Anchorage. A few Star Forts were fully functional, while others were undergoing repair or construction.

  The true jewel was the titanic orbital facility, practically a moon unto itself, the Segmentum Fortress of Obscurus: Bastion Invigilata. It had drawn in close to Cypra Mundi to dock with the Crown of Anchorage.

  Cypra Mundi was a hive of activity: Ships were constantly bustling in and out in a never-ending stream. Nearly fifty different voidships were sitting in Docking Ring Lambda-VII, undergoing repairs. Moreover, a concerning number of the vessels in the mothballed fleet had been extracted from storage in the Hollow Moon for reactivation.

  Agatha winced as she studied the recent reports available on the network with her access. The mess at Cadia had scattered the surviving forces. Even months later, some of the fleets or individual vessels continued to trickle in from the battle, battered and in dire need of repair. The new Lord Admiral, Spire, had taken over the High Fleet Council, arriving with a fleet of his own – one long thought lost – which had helped alleviate some of the losses inflicted by the 13th Black Crusade.

  As a Black Ship, they rightfully were given priority to dock with the section of the fortress reserved for Inquisitorial use. Bypassing the standard traffic, the Navy vessels went about shuffling between berths.

  Agatha stood from her throne. "Inform the Deathwatch team and my retinue to gather and prepare to disembark. Full kit," She commanded as she went to don her personal Power Armour.

  She emerged from her chambers in full Inquisitorial black. Her Rosette hanging from her neck and wielding a loaded Purgatus Crossbow.

  She made her way to where the two teams had gathered. The Deathwatch, her Assassins minus the Eversor, and her more traditional, personal retinue.

  "One of you should check in with the Assassinorum representative, give them this document, and let them know about our recent addition," She said, holding out a roll of vellum.

  "I'll take it to him," The Vindicare replied with a nod, taking the roll of vellum and immediately departing.

  "Good, the rest of you on me. I need to go meet with an old friend," Agatha ordered as she pivoted and started to walk down the ramp into the Inquisitorial docking section of the Bastion Invigilata.

  The dock workers and other staff all wisely chose to give her and her group a wide berth. An angry Inquisitor with Astartes tended to have that effect.

  This berth was purposefully allocated to the Inquisition due to the proximity to the Inquisitoral palace within the Segmentum Fortress. They passed through several security checkpoints without pause on their way.

  Agatha walked in through the massive gilded front double doors of the isolated Inquisitorial palace.

  The Inquisitorial secretary at the front desk paled when they saw her approaching in full battle-plate with her retinue in tow, "Lord Striker!" She bowed deeply, as was proper.

  "Have they gathered as ordered?" She inquired, her voice firm.

  "Yes, My Lord, in the conclave hall, above the restricted library," the aide explained briskly.

  Agatha nodded and moved past her, and the squad of Tempestus Scions standing guard nearby, and made her way into the primary lift. The ride to the floor hosting the Conclave chamber was utterly silent, only broken by the groaning of the lift, hum of machinery and soft sounds of their power armour servos.

  She emerges from the lift, the sound of her armoured boots and those of her retinue echoing on the bare marble floor, walking past walls covered in carvings and murals depicting the Emperor.

  The conclave chamber was an open space with stone thrones ringing the edges. Black marble and polished adamantine formed the walls, their surfaces inlaid with the sigils of the Ordos and the personal seals of those who had sat in judgement here through the millennia. The air was thick with incense and overhead, cold lumen beams illuminated each throne.

  As Agatha entered, she examined the individuals present. Six Inquisitors was a decent turnout; however, the one she hoped to see was not present.

  The doors closed behind her retinue with a resounding thud. The wards built into the room flared to life as Agatha asked, projecting her voice, "Where is Grandmaster Marlowe?"

  Two of the six were sitting. Lord Inquisitor Mylack of the Ordo Malleus was seated with his red-armored Astartes escort standing behind him. A few seats away sat Inquisitor Van Vuygens of the Ordo Xenos, the elderly man with wild grey hair, clad in simple scribes' robes, was fussing with a scroll of velum.

  Standing away from the rest was the heavily augmented form of Inquisitor Solenne Arc-Ferrum of the Ordo Machinum. Then stood the clean-looking Inquisitor Delacoi of Ordo Xenos, the youngest of the bunch, the blonde-haired, fair-skinned Inquisitor Marius of the Ordo Militarum, and finally the familiar face of her former rival and friend, Inquisitor Severan Khol of the Ordo Hereticus. Most had their interrogators and a few of their retinue present.

  "Agatha, good to see you," Severan greeted her with a smile. "Grandmaster Marlowe had to attend to some business at the Segmentum HQ. He left over two months ago, I am afraid."

  "What's this about Lord Striker? You're not one to call a conclave frivolously. If this is regarding the news of the new Imperial Regent, we already know. The message came through last month," Lord Inquisitor Mylack spoke, his gaze hawkish as he studied her. His eyes strayed down curiously to the weapon in her hands.

  Agatha continued walking forward. "A moment, Lord Mylack, Severan, it's been too long. How are you?" She asked politely as she stopped directly in front of Severan so she could meet his eyes.

  It took her but a moment to confirm her suspicions; a true shame. A talisman hidden within her armour grew hot. She had dearly hoped her friend might be the first from the list to be proven false.

  "You have three seconds to get out of him," Agatha spoke as she pressed the muzzle of the crossbow directly over Severan's heart. Everyone tensed, and Severan's retinue looked confused, their hands straying towards their weapons. Agatha's own retinue and the Astartes stared them down to dissuade them from performing any misguided actions. Lord Mylack raised a curious eyebrow and gestured for his retinue to stand down.

  Agatha held Severan's gaze, watching as his eyes flicked from shock to confusion to irritation in the span of a second. "This isn't very funny, Agatha. Shouldn't that be aimed at my head?" He laughed, holding his hands up in mock surrender.

  Agatha felt cold fury building inside her; this thing was wearing her friend's face. "No. This is a Purgatus." She pulled the trigger.

  The silver stake ignored his Rosarius and punctured his robes and armour with ease as it buried itself in his heart. Severan stumbled back, looking surprised at the stake jutting out from his chest for a moment. Then the wound started to smoke, and he began screaming in agony.

  "I suppose I should mention. Daemon. I had the fortune to get that bolt blessed by a Saint recently. Now. Die." She hissed, reaching out to snatch away the Rosarius from his neck just before his body burst into holy flames and his skin started to bubble and slough off, revealing the horrific entity underneath.

  The horned form of the Fiend of Slaanesh continued to thrash and scream for a few long moments before it dissipated, but the bolt had left a deep, lingering wound on the creature.

  Agatha calmly reloaded the crossbow before she returned it to her hip and removed her helmet so she could look around the chamber. Most showed some manner of surprise or shock.

  Lord Mylack was scowling down at the pile of ash, hands gripping the arms of his throne furiously. "Farryn… Make sure the beast is banished." He told the Exorcist.

  "Yes, Lord Mylack," Farryn replied, stepping forward and brandishing a consecrated artifact.

  "Interrogator Lauq. You're being promoted. My condolences for your loss." Agatha said, holding the Rosette out to be checked for lingering taint by Magos Osook before she presented it to the trembling Interrogator.

  "Now, I have recently come into the possession of critical information that I must discuss with the Grandmaster. I expect you all to do your damned jobs," She growled, turning her glare on the two Ordo Xenos Inquisitors.

  "What did we do?" Van Vuygens asked while looking mildly offended.

  "Nothing, that's the problem! Why are there Genestealers in this system?!" Agatha yelled.

  "Genestealers!?" Van Vuygens sputtered, "Here? That's… where?" He muttered.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  "I don't have the specifics," Agatha said, shaking her head.

  Van Vuygens and Delacoi glanced at one another. "Well… Inquisitor Delacoi specializes in dealing with the Eldar, and my recent projects have left me fairly preoccupied. I've recently obtained a Lacrymole cadaver. The dissection has been fascinating." He blinked owlishly. "We will have to look into this." He replied.

  Agatha held up a hand. "Fix it."

  Only when the pair nodded and stepped back did Agatha turn her gaze onto Mylack. "I have been told Mordian is under siege. The Warpchild is there with a massive Chaos warband."

  "Told by who?" He asked, standing up abruptly.

  "I am afraid I cannot disclose that at this time. Suffice it to say, their information has proven to be unsettlingly accurate." Agatha admitted, gesturing to the pile of ash.

  Mylack clicked his tongue but nodded, "Boy!" He snapped at Marius, "Come with me, I need to requisition troops and a fleet."

  "I…" Marius looked back and forth between Mylack and Agatha, who just gave him a nod, which made his shoulders slump. "Yes, Lord Mylack."

  Agatha finally turned to Solenne and gave the Inquisitor a look of pure pity as she produced a secure data chit and held it out. "For what it's worth. I am sorry about this."

  Solenne approached and took the chit, slotting it into a dataslate connected to one of her implants. Solenne found a copy of the Titan document along with a heavily redacted report on the ancient living weapon known as Nicole Cavalerio.

  "For the love of all that is Holy. Find. That. Engine." Agatha said with a sigh, "You have a few months at most before the Drakios fleet arrives with her to claim it." She warned the woman.

  "That is all for now. Conclave adjourned." Agatha declared, unwilling to share any more until she spoke with the Grandmaster.

  "Lord Striker!" Lauq called out, still holding the Rosette. "What. What should I do?" He asked, looking lost.

  "Write a report, consolidate his assets, organize your retinue, and get to work, Inquisitor." She reached out, putting a hand on his shoulder. The armoured gauntlet made him flinch. "As a piece of advice for your mental and physical health, stay far away from the Drakios fleet and their allies in the next few months. Trust me." She said earnestly.

  Lauq nodded slowly, and a look of resolution flickered in their eyes. "Yes, I will do that, Lord Striker."

  —---------------------------------------------

  POV: Inquisitor Solenne Arc-Ferrum of the Ordo Machinum

  Solenne glanced down at the data core she had been given. Regarding it with a dubious expression. The information inside was deeply concerning, and that was just what she could view. The file was so heavily redacted that almost half of the information had been restricted. A long-lost Princeps of Tempestus, a child, but one that was also an enhanced transhuman, a machine-touched living relic capable of Technomancy! One with a number of earned ranks already. The house of Cavalerio. Solenne dug into the archives. One who declared Holy Mars as her planet of origin. With a new demi-Saint as her personal bodyguard? Ties to the Star Dragons Astartes chapter. A pact with the Drakios Dynasty. If they failed to locate the Engine in time, this was going to get messy. All that was just what she could access! It was absurd.

  She headed for a shuttle to take her down to Cypra Mundi with her personal retinue. She knew exactly who to contact regarding this missing Engine. The High Council member, Techno Magos Prime Autokratoris, Helix Dravane.

  She sent a polite Noospheric message requesting a private meeting. She marked it just urgent enough to avoid raising too much suspicion.

  Dravane replied before she landed, having blocked off a full hour for their meeting, setting it for later in the day when she could visit his primary Forge.

  Two squads of Secutarii and Skitarii greeted her at the entrance. Scanning her biometrics and checking her rosarius. "Designation: Inquisitor. Exoload: Welcome. Direction: Please follow me." The lead unit squawked in binaric.

  Solenne was led to a large open-top ground vehicle that drove them rapidly into the depths of the facility down the massive, wide thoroughfare. Her gaze turned outwards, spotting a proud Warlord Titan stripped of plating undergoing repairs in one of the adjacent berths.

  They arrived exactly on time and were ushered into the main office. Most of their respective guards remained outside.

  Dravane stood behind a massive desk. He was a hulking individual, his body metal from the waist down. His cybernetic legs were designed to resemble those of the Engines he cared for. "Inquisitor." He nodded politely, making the sign of the cog. "I do not believe my forges or I have done anything requiring your presence. How can I be of service to the Inquisition?"

  Solenne returned the nod. "Just so, Autokratoris Dravane, I require access to your oldest records and those of the three Legios. I may also need you to put me in contact with their Legates."

  "May I inquire as to the purpose of this inquiry?" He asked as he set down a list he had been in the process of editing.

  "You may. There is an ancient Engine we must locate. We have until the Drakios Rogue Trader fleet and Archmagos Doll arrive in the system to locate it." Solenne said as she turned and stared out the nearby window.

  "Archmagos Doll, The Lathe Artisan is coming here?" Dravane hummed, clearly intrigued by that news, "I'll need to let the High Council know."

  "You may inform them of the upcoming visit after our inquiry is concluded." She said, turning back to face him.

  "An Engine, you say? What can you tell me about this lost Engine?" Dravane's single eye sharpened; they always did when it came to the holy Engines.

  "The information I have been provided indicates that it should be present here on Cypra Mundi and has been for ten thousand years. It has a unique Archeotech command throne made from an unidentifiable silvery metal. It would have been painted in the colors of Legio Tempestus." Solenne explained.

  "Tempestus? I see. Curious. I will permit you access to my records and contact the Legates. I must ask, Inquisitor, why the time limit?" He tapped his finger on the top of his desk as he tried to recall if he had ever encountered such a throne.

  "Because should we fail to produce the Engine, the debt accrued to its rightful owner falls on Cypra Mundi. It is a debt we cannot afford to pay." Solenne said, her tone serious.

  Dravane stood there looking confused and startled by that admission. "Inquisitor, I do not understand."

  "I can show you." She pulled out two jamming devices and activated them. "This will be for your physical eyes only. Do not attempt to record or share the contents of this document." She warned him as she held out her dataslate.

  Dravane went so far as to disable his ocular implant as he took the dataslate and began reading. As he read, his expression went from confusion to alarm to puzzled. "Inquisitor this document and debt is only valid if the original owner comes to claim it. This would make the Princeps over ten millennia old." He laughed, passing back the dataslate.

  "That is correct. She was found in stasis, she has awoken, and she has the original receipt." She replied gravely.

  "She has the… Oh…" As the implications sank in, he went still, "I'll summon the Legates immediately."

  Together they scoured the archives, but there were thousands of Forge Temples scattered across Cypra Mundi, and a great number of them had old Titan parts or Titan-like effigies built into the structures.

  The Legates arrived well after night had fallen. They looked both surprised and slightly unsettled by the presence of the Inquisitor.

  Dravane was the one to question them. "Do any of you know of a location or Engine that fits this criteria? An ancient Engine, with a unique Archeotech command throne made from an unidentifiable silvery metal. It would have been painted in silver and blue?"

  The Legates from Legio Clypeus Obscurus and Legio Bastionis both replied in the negative.

  The Legio Orbitalis Legate considered the inquiry for a long moment before he spoke, "Wait… are you looking for the Thronus Iudicii Machina Aeterna?"

  Solenne turned to the Legate. "Legate. Please elaborate. What are you referring to?"

  —-----------------------------------------------------

  POV: Fabricator Locum, Archmagos Alechemys, Rhydan Korr

  As he stood at the massive window of his titanic forge spire, he gazed down upon the endless industrial sprawl of Cypra Mundi. Below him, the forge stretched to the horizon in every direction – an entire continent of adamantium, rockcrete, and glass. Cyclopean assembly crawlers trudged between manufactoria that rose like mountains of steel. Vast cranes moved with ponderous grace, their silhouettes lost in the haze of smog and radiant heat. The air shimmered with the pulse of plasma furnaces and the rhythmic hammering of the great forges, a ceaseless litany of labor offered to the Omnissiah.

  The digital network of the Noosphere that overlapped the forges was no less magnificent for those with the means to perceive it. Oceans and rivers of data and digital signatures danced and flowed, an entire world unto itself.

  Within the sanctum of the spire, insulated by meter-thick ceramite and blessed shielding fields, the noise was a muted distant thunder. Yet even through the reinforced glass, he could almost feel the machine-spirits stirring below, innumerable, restless, and purposeful.

  He studied the simple, concise message from Techno Magos Prime Autokratoris: Dravane. Dravane was a Martian Traditionalist at heart and, as such, got along amicably with Korr's Orthodox Conservative faction, unlike some of the more radical members of the high council.

  Archmagos Korr and everyone in the High Council knew better than to pull the Fabricator General into the dirty politics and religious ideological arguments. It had happened once, early in Aptimos Mundi Phi<0.05's reign, and so many heads had rolled that it had never happened again. The Fabricator General had stated his thoughts on the matter clearly, "Politics is inefficient. I removed the inefficiency."

  The lack of input from the Fabricator General on lesser political concerns was a double-edged sword, in Korr's opinion. All the subfactions had a voice here, and growth was tied to success and productivity. This had allowed his faction to flourish, but the presence of other factions also succeeding was vexing at times.

  Archmagos Doll was coming to Cypra Mundi – the Lathe Artisan. Korr reached up to stroke the cranial implant he sported. A magnificent piece of artifice, he had taken great lengths to procure it at auction. As a craftsman, he held his fellow Archmagos, fellow Peer, in the highest regard, but his faction, the Levelists, practiced an absurd, profane dogma! Knowledge is not for the uninitiated!

  Korr contacted one of his trusted underlings. Magos Logis, Portum Lathrix-7. "Fabricator Locum. How may I be of service?"

  "Magos Lathrix-7, your subordinates manage most of the primary docking rings. I need you to make discreet preparations. We are expecting a guest fleet – the Drakios Dynasty. I would like you to arrange delays for them, only to the point of annoyance. For perhaps a week or two. I will need that time to make arrangements." Korr said tactfully.

  "It will be done. May I inquire as to the purpose, Lord Locum?" Lathrix-7 inquired deferentially.

  "A worthy peer of mine is slated to visit Cypra Mundi. One, I wish to coax into a dogmatic debate before a full council forum. A minor overstep on his part or one of his underlings would provide sufficient cause to call him to council." Korr explained. This was a rare opportunity he would not squander.

  "Understood. It will be done, Lord Locum. I will see to it personally." Lathrix-7 replied as the call ended.