The Warmaster
28-03-2005, 20:30
Lightning Coup in Holy Empire of the Warmaster
The blades of the helicopter roared overhead, thundering in the ears of everyone on board. As the chopper landed, the doors slid open, and six Imperial Guardsmen jumped out, assault rifles at the ready for any sign of an attempt on the Commander’s life. Even on the sacred earth of Korronis, such blasphemous beings as Fascists prowled the streets. While no longer so bold as the riots of several days ago, they still walked the city and had killed a High Inquisitor, several wealthy corporate officers, and one of the Forgers of the Adeptus Mechanica. Needless to say, protection was necessary for the Commander’s survival.
The gods, it was widely believed, were testing the Empire, for such chaos had been unleashed that the more destructive gods must surely be laughing at their servants. One week ago, the most powerful Domain of the Empire, Domain Parios, had declared their independence from the Empire. The Sacred Emperor, taken completely by surprise, did not act for hours, hours in which troop carriers, prepared in secret, had sped into the Capitoline Peninsula on which Korronis was situated. Finally the Sacred Emperor declared war and commanded Imperial troops to stop the Parians. To halt the Parian advance, Imperial troops had entrenched themselves along the Capitoline Peninsula, stalling while the majority of the Empire’s army was prepared for war. Recognizing the waste involved in attacking such defenses with infantry, Parian armor and bombers had attempted to destroy the enemy troops, repelled by Imperial fighters and anti-tank weaponry. So, both forces had settled into a stalemate reminiscent of World War I. The Commander was here to change that.
Supreme Commander Lucifer of Domain Halcyon stepped out of the doors. Many considered him the finest military mind in the Empire, and he was expected to be the next Imperator of the army. However, he had set his sights on a position even higher. He allowed himself a small smile as he thought of how the next few hours would play out. His escort came stiffly to attention, and he marched off along the helipad to the doors inside the Imperial Palace. He was greeted by somebody who reeked of servility and insincerity, wearing the robes of a High Prefect. How disgraceful that such a high-ranked member of the elite should be such a cringing offense to the gods, thought Lucifer. As the High Prefect opened his mouth to speak, Lucifer cut him off.
“Thank you, Lord Intendant, but I have no time for greeting or ceremony today. Show me to His Sacred Majesty and go about your business.” Lucifer augmented this by glaring at the intendant. This was quite an unsettling display, as Lucifer had undergone surgery to make his eyes violet, and a burning light of hate was easily noticed by those who looked into his eyes. He was a man forged by vice, empowered by hatred and propelled by fury. Some said he was the living manifestation of the Destroyer god.
Thoroughly cowed, the bureaucrat scuttled away, averting his eyes from Lucifer and leading him through the winding passages, halls, and galleries of the Imperial Palace. The cringing High Prefect tried to engage Lucifer in polite conversation twice, but soon gave up in the face of his icy silence. At last they reached the Hall of Confluence, the antechamber that led into the sanctum sanctorum of the Empire, the Imperial throne room. Seventy Imperial Guards stood along the path to the golden doors of the throne room, their faces betraying no hint of recognition as they saw Lucifer. As the intendant scurried away, the two heralds flanking the doors told Lucifer to wait, and went inside the throne chamber to announce him. When they returned, they nodded to Lucifer and went back to their silent vigil.
As Lucifer entered the heart of the palace, his heart beat faster as he considered the possibilities that could soon be made real. The only obstacle sat on the Deity’s Throne at the end of the hall, wearing the Imperial robes, and attended by a dozen sycophantic lackies, who were elevated to positions of vast power at the Imperial whim and just as soon cast down again. Lucifer fought back a snort of disgust as he viewed the inner circle of the Emperor.
“Bow before your Sacred Emperor, Supreme Commander Lucifer of Domain Halcyon,” said one of the attendants. Lucifer complied, with just an instant’s hesitation, so as to indicate his distaste. No doubt recognizing this, the most powerful man in the Empire stood.
Sacred Emperor Jamand clan Hord was an old man, over seventy, and had ruled for eleven years. His old age influenced his character; he was slow to anger and slower to fight. He was tired of the world, desiring peace. In general, he was an insult to his more illustrious ancestors. He had given up the ceremonial armor of the Sacred Emperor years ago, too old to support its weight any longer. The superannuated parasite refused to see that appearances were important. That the Sacred Emperor, as a living god, must be associated with brilliance and quick action, not hesitation and decrepitude.
“Rise, Supreme Commander, and report on the military status of your domain.”
“Supreme One, Domain Halcyon is even now assembling its forces. The Halcyite fleet is on its way down the River Arcan. It will rendezvous at Mon Serat with the fleets of Domain Miradin, and the combined fleet will then establish a naval blockade of Domain Parios. Also, at your command, we will unleash bombing raids on Parian targets.”
“Alas that such devastation must be unleashed on a former friend,” said the Sacred Emperor, regret in his voice. Lucifer didn’t try to hide his contempt as he replied, “They are traitors and heretics, and deserve only eternal damnation, in this world or the next.”
The Sacred Emperor stopped dead, and looked back at Lucifer, shock on his face. “Have you taken leave of your senses, Supreme Commander? Is it thus that you speak to the divine benefactor of the Empire?”
Looking him in the eye, Lucifer unleashed his scorn on the pitiful old man. “How dare you, the most cowardly and defiled of all creation, speak to me in that fashion? In whose name do you assume the title of Sacred Emperor? You know as well as I that without a strong Sacred Emperor to protect us and feed them, the gods will turn on us and unleash their hell-wrought machines on us, and annihilate your subjects. You have failed utterly in that purpose. How dare you curse the only man in the Empire who has the strength to reach out and take the Empire from you? It is no longer yours by right; you have lost it. May the gods poison every breath you take, and turn your food to red-hot coals. May they refuse even to judge you and hurl you into the endless pits of fire. May the Torturer lash you into oblivion while you rot in the deepest, blackest pit of hell.”
Shock turned to anger on the old man’s face as he stretched out his bony, twisted hands as if to tear Lucifer’s throat out. Standing his ground, he shouted, “Guards!” The Imperial Guardsmen from outside rushed into the room, weapons ready. The Sacred Emperor shrieked, “Kill this upstart! GUARDS!” But instead, they turned their guns to the inner circle and opened fire. They were instantly riddled with bullet holes, slammed against the walls by the impact, and slid down, leaving a bloody trail, looks of utter confusion on their faces. Turning their guns back to the Sacred Emperor, they waited for Lucifer’s command.
The Sacred Emperor stared at them for a full six seconds, an expression of utter stupefaction stamped on his wrinkled features. Finally he sank to his knees before Lucifer, his mind obviously broken by stress and fear. Whimpering, he pawed at the hem of Lucifer’s robes, until he pulled them out of the ancient Emperor’s reach. Turning his tearstained face upward, he whispered, “Please, Mighty One...spare me...”
“The gods alone grant clemency, Supreme One.”
“PLEASE!”
But Lucifer merely walked past him, making a dismissive gesture as he did so. The Guards immediately opened fire, and bullets smashed into the Sacred Emperor’s flesh. He slumped to the floor, and Lucifer bent to pick up the Iron Crown of the Sacred Emperor. Gazing at it in utter triumph, he sat on the Deity’s Throne and laughed.
The blades of the helicopter roared overhead, thundering in the ears of everyone on board. As the chopper landed, the doors slid open, and six Imperial Guardsmen jumped out, assault rifles at the ready for any sign of an attempt on the Commander’s life. Even on the sacred earth of Korronis, such blasphemous beings as Fascists prowled the streets. While no longer so bold as the riots of several days ago, they still walked the city and had killed a High Inquisitor, several wealthy corporate officers, and one of the Forgers of the Adeptus Mechanica. Needless to say, protection was necessary for the Commander’s survival.
The gods, it was widely believed, were testing the Empire, for such chaos had been unleashed that the more destructive gods must surely be laughing at their servants. One week ago, the most powerful Domain of the Empire, Domain Parios, had declared their independence from the Empire. The Sacred Emperor, taken completely by surprise, did not act for hours, hours in which troop carriers, prepared in secret, had sped into the Capitoline Peninsula on which Korronis was situated. Finally the Sacred Emperor declared war and commanded Imperial troops to stop the Parians. To halt the Parian advance, Imperial troops had entrenched themselves along the Capitoline Peninsula, stalling while the majority of the Empire’s army was prepared for war. Recognizing the waste involved in attacking such defenses with infantry, Parian armor and bombers had attempted to destroy the enemy troops, repelled by Imperial fighters and anti-tank weaponry. So, both forces had settled into a stalemate reminiscent of World War I. The Commander was here to change that.
Supreme Commander Lucifer of Domain Halcyon stepped out of the doors. Many considered him the finest military mind in the Empire, and he was expected to be the next Imperator of the army. However, he had set his sights on a position even higher. He allowed himself a small smile as he thought of how the next few hours would play out. His escort came stiffly to attention, and he marched off along the helipad to the doors inside the Imperial Palace. He was greeted by somebody who reeked of servility and insincerity, wearing the robes of a High Prefect. How disgraceful that such a high-ranked member of the elite should be such a cringing offense to the gods, thought Lucifer. As the High Prefect opened his mouth to speak, Lucifer cut him off.
“Thank you, Lord Intendant, but I have no time for greeting or ceremony today. Show me to His Sacred Majesty and go about your business.” Lucifer augmented this by glaring at the intendant. This was quite an unsettling display, as Lucifer had undergone surgery to make his eyes violet, and a burning light of hate was easily noticed by those who looked into his eyes. He was a man forged by vice, empowered by hatred and propelled by fury. Some said he was the living manifestation of the Destroyer god.
Thoroughly cowed, the bureaucrat scuttled away, averting his eyes from Lucifer and leading him through the winding passages, halls, and galleries of the Imperial Palace. The cringing High Prefect tried to engage Lucifer in polite conversation twice, but soon gave up in the face of his icy silence. At last they reached the Hall of Confluence, the antechamber that led into the sanctum sanctorum of the Empire, the Imperial throne room. Seventy Imperial Guards stood along the path to the golden doors of the throne room, their faces betraying no hint of recognition as they saw Lucifer. As the intendant scurried away, the two heralds flanking the doors told Lucifer to wait, and went inside the throne chamber to announce him. When they returned, they nodded to Lucifer and went back to their silent vigil.
As Lucifer entered the heart of the palace, his heart beat faster as he considered the possibilities that could soon be made real. The only obstacle sat on the Deity’s Throne at the end of the hall, wearing the Imperial robes, and attended by a dozen sycophantic lackies, who were elevated to positions of vast power at the Imperial whim and just as soon cast down again. Lucifer fought back a snort of disgust as he viewed the inner circle of the Emperor.
“Bow before your Sacred Emperor, Supreme Commander Lucifer of Domain Halcyon,” said one of the attendants. Lucifer complied, with just an instant’s hesitation, so as to indicate his distaste. No doubt recognizing this, the most powerful man in the Empire stood.
Sacred Emperor Jamand clan Hord was an old man, over seventy, and had ruled for eleven years. His old age influenced his character; he was slow to anger and slower to fight. He was tired of the world, desiring peace. In general, he was an insult to his more illustrious ancestors. He had given up the ceremonial armor of the Sacred Emperor years ago, too old to support its weight any longer. The superannuated parasite refused to see that appearances were important. That the Sacred Emperor, as a living god, must be associated with brilliance and quick action, not hesitation and decrepitude.
“Rise, Supreme Commander, and report on the military status of your domain.”
“Supreme One, Domain Halcyon is even now assembling its forces. The Halcyite fleet is on its way down the River Arcan. It will rendezvous at Mon Serat with the fleets of Domain Miradin, and the combined fleet will then establish a naval blockade of Domain Parios. Also, at your command, we will unleash bombing raids on Parian targets.”
“Alas that such devastation must be unleashed on a former friend,” said the Sacred Emperor, regret in his voice. Lucifer didn’t try to hide his contempt as he replied, “They are traitors and heretics, and deserve only eternal damnation, in this world or the next.”
The Sacred Emperor stopped dead, and looked back at Lucifer, shock on his face. “Have you taken leave of your senses, Supreme Commander? Is it thus that you speak to the divine benefactor of the Empire?”
Looking him in the eye, Lucifer unleashed his scorn on the pitiful old man. “How dare you, the most cowardly and defiled of all creation, speak to me in that fashion? In whose name do you assume the title of Sacred Emperor? You know as well as I that without a strong Sacred Emperor to protect us and feed them, the gods will turn on us and unleash their hell-wrought machines on us, and annihilate your subjects. You have failed utterly in that purpose. How dare you curse the only man in the Empire who has the strength to reach out and take the Empire from you? It is no longer yours by right; you have lost it. May the gods poison every breath you take, and turn your food to red-hot coals. May they refuse even to judge you and hurl you into the endless pits of fire. May the Torturer lash you into oblivion while you rot in the deepest, blackest pit of hell.”
Shock turned to anger on the old man’s face as he stretched out his bony, twisted hands as if to tear Lucifer’s throat out. Standing his ground, he shouted, “Guards!” The Imperial Guardsmen from outside rushed into the room, weapons ready. The Sacred Emperor shrieked, “Kill this upstart! GUARDS!” But instead, they turned their guns to the inner circle and opened fire. They were instantly riddled with bullet holes, slammed against the walls by the impact, and slid down, leaving a bloody trail, looks of utter confusion on their faces. Turning their guns back to the Sacred Emperor, they waited for Lucifer’s command.
The Sacred Emperor stared at them for a full six seconds, an expression of utter stupefaction stamped on his wrinkled features. Finally he sank to his knees before Lucifer, his mind obviously broken by stress and fear. Whimpering, he pawed at the hem of Lucifer’s robes, until he pulled them out of the ancient Emperor’s reach. Turning his tearstained face upward, he whispered, “Please, Mighty One...spare me...”
“The gods alone grant clemency, Supreme One.”
“PLEASE!”
But Lucifer merely walked past him, making a dismissive gesture as he did so. The Guards immediately opened fire, and bullets smashed into the Sacred Emperor’s flesh. He slumped to the floor, and Lucifer bent to pick up the Iron Crown of the Sacred Emperor. Gazing at it in utter triumph, he sat on the Deity’s Throne and laughed.