The Warmaster
25-04-2005, 00:59
The plane was nearly full, but Antonius of clan Il’Hrek wearily continued loading crate after crate of relief supplies onto his forklift for transport to Mon Serat. The city had been partially leveled by an unprecedented massive earthquake and tidal wave that had caused billions in damages, plus the execution of everyone in the Imperial Institute for Tectonic Disturbance for gross negligence. As he deposited the last crate, he felt a sense of relief. At last he had earned his bonus by helping the relief effort, which he fully intended on squandering at the bar by the airfield and the brothel run by the Ministry of Pleasure. As he parked the forklift in its spot, he saw his friend Rican of clan Vua’kre running toward him.
“Hey, Rican. What’s wrong?”
“There’s a trial on. Haven’t you read the paper lately?”
“No time. I wanna pick up my bonus and have some fun for once in my sweat-soaked life.”
“It said today that a cell of heretics was caught by the Inquisition. They were plotting to overthrow the Imperium, and they’re obeying the teachings of some other heretic bastard named Caduceus. They’re being publicly tried, right now. Wanna see?”
Antonius thought about it, frowned. “What time is it?”
“A little after six. Come on.”
“Fine. But there had better be time later, or I’ll tear your face off.”
They walked to the meager lounge the airfield had for its low-level employees. The trial was already being watched by four other loaders. Antonius and Rican pulled up chairs and watched one of the heretics being led down the aisle of the Imperial High Court in chains, flanked by a pair of Imperial Immortals.
Q: Silence! <bangs gavel> I will have order! Silence! <audience hushes> Acolyte Neophin of clan Tu-Scart, you stand accused of treason, conspiracy to destabilize or destroy the Imperium, murder of High Priest Krall of Domain Kesh, illegal hoarding of weaponry, unclean worship, heresy, and conspiracy to assassinate the Patriarch of Domain Halcyon. How do you plead?
A: Your feeble attempt to make this sham appear a real trial disappoints me, High Inquisitor. But I shall play along. I committed the “crimes” you have just listed for reasons an dogmatist of your degree could never fathom.
Q: Very well. A plea of ineffable guilt shall be duly added to the record. I will now inquire about your crimes. If you lie or defy us, painful stimuli will be applied to correct your behavior. Who arranged your ill-fated uprising?
A: Nobody needed to pay us or coerce us. The Imperium has lost any shred of legitimacy. The gods-
Q: We will not tolerate your blasphemy now, Acolyte. For what reason did you rebel against the Sacred Emperor?
A: He is sacred no longer. Emperor Lucifer and the vast majority of his predecessors have deeply offended the gods, with their oppression of their subjects, their sacrifices of human flesh, their-
Q: Heretical lies! <activates torture field> Your logic is as flawed as it is forbidden. If the gods so despised mortal flesh, how then was the great Typhon rewarded for his efforts?
A: <screams> You are a fool! See what Typhon wrought on the other races of the world? Slavery and death! What he mistook for a boon from the gods was instead a curse from the devils of Tartarus! And it consumed him! <screams> He did not ascend to Heaven, he was snatched by Hell. The retribution of the gods is upon us!
Q: You blaspheme and lie in a feeble attempt to provoke us into ending your deceitful existence. Your heresy has failed utterly in that goal. The discipline of a proper subject of the Sacred Emperor allows us to control the hate that all sane mortal beings must feel upon gazing at you, the lowest, blackest pit of heresy. Your ravings have no basis in historical fact.
A: Your “history” has been defiled beyond cleansing! I can see the fingerprints and stains on the tome of our history where the bloody hands of the Emperors have twisted it to their liking! We alone heard the truth, we heard the words of Caduceus and knew the retribution was nigh!
Q: Enough! You mention the retribution of the gods. Do you have any proof that the recent events in Mon Serat have had the gods’ hand in them?
A: Proof, as you define it, cannot be given by the gods. Proof is a mortal construct designed to convince those who do not choose the path of the persuader, as you have done to our people. Proof is-
Q: You will speak now or the stimuli will be increased beyond human tolerance!
A: Unlike you, I see the truth. The gods return, and upon their return Death will be vanquished, and we will be vindicated.
Q: You still have not provided us with an answer. <turns knob> You will speak! Unburden yourself and speak!
A: <unintelligible screaming> the floods...are a sign...the darkness is ending...Caduceus saw it of old...we shall be victorious...
Q: Enough. <turns knob back> It is the consideration of this body that you have turned away from the light of the gods and your sanity is lost. You shall be put to death immediately.
The Imperial Guardsmen had the house surrounded. Not that that meant anything; they’d studied the target carefully, and knew that he wasn’t the type to evade punishment. The squad leader gestured with his fingers, and two of them brought up a ram, swung it, and broke the door in. Immediately the squad charged through, assault rifles held to their shoulders, lasers flashing like a madman’s light show. The negotiator outside yelled into his megaphone, “Executor Mehan of clan Hul, you are surrounded. Surrender immediately or we will be forced to use lethal tactics.”
Hearing no response, the squad leader motioned the Guardsmen to search the house. Breaking through closets, scouring bedrooms, the eventually found the executor, shivering in a closet, wearing his nightclothes. As the Guards leveled their weapons at his face, he looked down to see a warm stain spreading across his trousers as he soiled himself. The squad leader, in a rigid military manner, said, “Executor Mehan of clan Hul, you are under the arrest of the Imperium. Anything you say can and will be used against you. You are forbidden a lawyer on the grounds that we have a warrant of heresy delivered against you and signed by a judge of the Imperial Court of Justice. Come quietly and you will not be permanently harmed.” With unnecessary roughness, they shoved the terrified intendant outside and into a Guard vehicle.
At four in the afternoon, two days later, hundreds of protestors marched into the Imperial Forum, demanding the end of repression against the Caducite Heretics, as they had come to be called. Waving banners and yelling for the Sacred Emperor, they were blissfully unaware of the chain guns hidden under the perimeter of the forum. They saw a man in the robes of a High Prefect peek out of the grand ebony doors of the Imperial Palace, then withdraw. Minutes later, the Sacred Emperor himself emerged, clad in his ceremonial black armor and escorted by two dozen Imperial Immortals. Walking to the Rostra, he ascended it and motioned for calm.
“People, why have you come in protest against me?”
An brash-looking young man stepped forward and replied, “Because you have abused your powers of office.”
The Sacred Emperor lifted his eyebrows. “I was unaware of any such violation. Pray do me the honor of expressing the extent of my abuse.”
“You violently exterminated the Parians, and the only survivors you have enslaved. You still ruthlessly employ the Imperial Guard, Imperial Intelligence, and the Immortals to extend your will into every household. You have abolished any of your predecessor’s legislation that moves this tyranny into a democracy. And just recently, with the upsurge of the Caducite Heresy, you have again brutally repressed your enemies, to keep your truth as the only one.”
“It is my gods-given task to do so. I am the wielder of the only truth, thus I must keep you from straying, as it is human to do.”
“Lies! That is merely the excuse of a tyrant trying to conceal his true nature!”
“You are mistaken. I would not presume to hide from my people. I shall show you my true nature.”
He pulled a transmitter with two switches on it from a secret compartment in the Rostra balcony. Holding it so the people could see, he flicked the top one.
Twelve hundred chain guns rose into view around the perimeter of the Forum. Running a self-diagnostic, they turned to face the crowd, ready to kill them all.
Moving his finger toward the second button, the Sacred Emperor spoke, his voice changed from a soothing, almost musical tone to a sound like thunder, and as cold as an Arctic wind.
“I rule the Empire, citizens, not you. Now I literally hold your fates in my hand. Make your choice. It is brave of you to speak this way to me, so I give you the choice of dying with honor or retreating to your homes. All who wish to live, go.”
Most of the crowd hesitated, then slumped away in defeat, but with many a glance of wary hatred directed over their shoulders at the cruel despot. However, a few dozen remained, their faces pale but composed...the expression of men and women facing their death. The Sacred Emperor studied them, then said, “You have chosen honorably and well. I salute you. Die now, and let the gods judge your life.” So saying, he pushed the other switch, and the guns opened fire.
Prefect Tulak of Domain Miradin sat in the dark room, dreading the arrival of whatever agent of the Imperium would come to condemn him. Another betrayer, another one come to crush me under a burden of blame. It has happened before and will not succeed this time either . Thus he thought to himself, trying to reassure himself, but his shaking limbs denied all his attempts at reason. He heard the door creak open, then close quietly. He strained to see whoever the Emperor had sent, but as he heard whoever it was sit down, all he could see was the small glow of a cigarette.
“Prefect. You will understand if I refuse to reveal my face; secrecy must be paramount in these difficult times. However, I have no doubt you will recognize my title. I must inform you that all information exchanged in this room is top secret, and if Intelligence finds you have revealed any of it, I shall have you liquidated. You will cooperate, won’t you?”
The Prefect swallowed, and agreed. “Yes.”
“Well then. I am the Lord Regent to His Majesty the Sacred Emperor, long may he reign. I have been sent by His August Majesty to ensure the safety of this prefecture, seeing as analysts have concluded that this prefecture has a higher number of heretics among the population than any other. Do you agree?”
“Yes, Lord Regent. In fact, I have already requested a number of Imperial Guard regiments be sent to maintain the Emperor’s peace.”
“Show me. No doubt the request has been logged.”
“Very well, Lord. It should be filed on your handheld under Military Requisitions, Peacekeeping function.”
“Ah. Now, about the nature of this disturbance...you are aware that five near-revolts have happened in your prefecture in the last seven weeks?”
“Yes, Lord Regent. I must say, I think this is a problem with the attitude of the people. I have been considering logging a request for more re-education funding.”
“Don’t bother. I have already countermanded such an order from you, Prefect, because it is my conclusion that such efficient incitement by heretics is not possible without the cooperation of someone highly placed in the Prefectory. Perhaps the governor of Nemanus? The city has been troubled, and it seems someone with great influence in that city ordered the Guard to avoid the areas where the heretics gathered.”
“Yes, Lord Regent, perhaps.” Tulak began to sweat at this dangerous line of interrogation.
“Sweating, Prefect? Perhaps you should take some time to compose yourself. I have not accused you.”
“Yes, Lord.”
“All I wish to discuss is the problem you’ve been having. This prefecture seems to be slipping, and given its proximity to sacred Korronis, this will not be tolerated. I have commanded your underlings to begin a records search of the population. Once the insurgents are discovered, I will have the Immortals move in and enact a purge. This prefecture will also be placed under martial law. But you, prefect, are dangerous.”
“My Lord?” Tulak felt his heart beat faster and the acid taste of bile rose into his mouth.
“Yes. Dangerous. I have personally seen the files on you, prefect. I have seen the Guard assignments the nights of the riots, and I have traced those orders back to their source. No less than five times you deliberately allowed riots that were one step away from revolt to occur.”
“I-I don’t kn-“
”Yes you do. You are guilty of five counts of treason at the least, and cooperating with heretics. But rest assured you will not be killed.”
Tulak looked up, a flicker of hope coming into his eyes. “My Lord is merciful...thank you...”
“Although,” the Regent cut in, “you may find death to be an easier fate than being kept for five months in a War-Priest’s barracks.”
Tulak slumped, and felt all hope fly from him. A terrible black hole seemed to flicker at the edge of his vision. The War-Priests, rabid commanders of the Imperial Army, would surely kill him in the worst ways imaginable by their fanatical minds, or worse: give him to the Inquisition. This was merely a crueler sentence than death.
Ten minutes later, the imperial jet took off from Aedhan Airfield outside the prefecture capital of Nemanus. The Regent was aboard, sipping a glass of whiskey as he looked out the window. A voice, harsh and cutting, interrupted his lazy mental drift and brought him back sharply to the present.
“I trust the problem has been solved?” the Sacred Emperor said.
“Yes, Lord.”
“Excellent. What did you tell him?”
“That he would not be executed, but we would put him in a garrison of the War-Priests. He was terrified.”
“Rightly so. It would seem that the leak has been stopped, but I am not so sure. It is difficult to believe that the Inquisition missed his orders until you requested the records search. I am very confident in the Inquisitors.”
“As am I, Lord,” he said as he sipped his whiskey. “But perhaps the leak is not in the Inquisition but among the intendants? It is possible that under his orders, one of the bureaucrats conveniently forgot to log his orders.”
“Possible, Regent, but unlikely. The intendants who are in charge of logging that sort of order are too thoroughly brainwashed to do little else than their job. They are of the Order of Brother Tertius; they are conditioned to record absolutely everything.”
“Very good, Lord.”
“Did you tell him about the purge?”
“Indeed I did, Lord. The Guard has already been dispatched. We should arrive at Korronis in time to watch them leave.”
“Excellent. First a records search of the entire population, and the ones that are flagged will be turned over to the Inquisition. Just make sure that if the search turns up anybody, make sure that the Inquisition keeps them from telling all the other country bumpkins. After we survived the Parian Rebellion and this Caducite Heresy, we should hardly allow farmers to harbor dangerous ideas, wouldn’t you say, Regent?”
“Very good, Lord.”
The jet cut through the skies like a dagger...a dagger that inevitably found the heart of anyone who thought to betray the Emperor.
“Hey, Rican. What’s wrong?”
“There’s a trial on. Haven’t you read the paper lately?”
“No time. I wanna pick up my bonus and have some fun for once in my sweat-soaked life.”
“It said today that a cell of heretics was caught by the Inquisition. They were plotting to overthrow the Imperium, and they’re obeying the teachings of some other heretic bastard named Caduceus. They’re being publicly tried, right now. Wanna see?”
Antonius thought about it, frowned. “What time is it?”
“A little after six. Come on.”
“Fine. But there had better be time later, or I’ll tear your face off.”
They walked to the meager lounge the airfield had for its low-level employees. The trial was already being watched by four other loaders. Antonius and Rican pulled up chairs and watched one of the heretics being led down the aisle of the Imperial High Court in chains, flanked by a pair of Imperial Immortals.
Q: Silence! <bangs gavel> I will have order! Silence! <audience hushes> Acolyte Neophin of clan Tu-Scart, you stand accused of treason, conspiracy to destabilize or destroy the Imperium, murder of High Priest Krall of Domain Kesh, illegal hoarding of weaponry, unclean worship, heresy, and conspiracy to assassinate the Patriarch of Domain Halcyon. How do you plead?
A: Your feeble attempt to make this sham appear a real trial disappoints me, High Inquisitor. But I shall play along. I committed the “crimes” you have just listed for reasons an dogmatist of your degree could never fathom.
Q: Very well. A plea of ineffable guilt shall be duly added to the record. I will now inquire about your crimes. If you lie or defy us, painful stimuli will be applied to correct your behavior. Who arranged your ill-fated uprising?
A: Nobody needed to pay us or coerce us. The Imperium has lost any shred of legitimacy. The gods-
Q: We will not tolerate your blasphemy now, Acolyte. For what reason did you rebel against the Sacred Emperor?
A: He is sacred no longer. Emperor Lucifer and the vast majority of his predecessors have deeply offended the gods, with their oppression of their subjects, their sacrifices of human flesh, their-
Q: Heretical lies! <activates torture field> Your logic is as flawed as it is forbidden. If the gods so despised mortal flesh, how then was the great Typhon rewarded for his efforts?
A: <screams> You are a fool! See what Typhon wrought on the other races of the world? Slavery and death! What he mistook for a boon from the gods was instead a curse from the devils of Tartarus! And it consumed him! <screams> He did not ascend to Heaven, he was snatched by Hell. The retribution of the gods is upon us!
Q: You blaspheme and lie in a feeble attempt to provoke us into ending your deceitful existence. Your heresy has failed utterly in that goal. The discipline of a proper subject of the Sacred Emperor allows us to control the hate that all sane mortal beings must feel upon gazing at you, the lowest, blackest pit of heresy. Your ravings have no basis in historical fact.
A: Your “history” has been defiled beyond cleansing! I can see the fingerprints and stains on the tome of our history where the bloody hands of the Emperors have twisted it to their liking! We alone heard the truth, we heard the words of Caduceus and knew the retribution was nigh!
Q: Enough! You mention the retribution of the gods. Do you have any proof that the recent events in Mon Serat have had the gods’ hand in them?
A: Proof, as you define it, cannot be given by the gods. Proof is a mortal construct designed to convince those who do not choose the path of the persuader, as you have done to our people. Proof is-
Q: You will speak now or the stimuli will be increased beyond human tolerance!
A: Unlike you, I see the truth. The gods return, and upon their return Death will be vanquished, and we will be vindicated.
Q: You still have not provided us with an answer. <turns knob> You will speak! Unburden yourself and speak!
A: <unintelligible screaming> the floods...are a sign...the darkness is ending...Caduceus saw it of old...we shall be victorious...
Q: Enough. <turns knob back> It is the consideration of this body that you have turned away from the light of the gods and your sanity is lost. You shall be put to death immediately.
The Imperial Guardsmen had the house surrounded. Not that that meant anything; they’d studied the target carefully, and knew that he wasn’t the type to evade punishment. The squad leader gestured with his fingers, and two of them brought up a ram, swung it, and broke the door in. Immediately the squad charged through, assault rifles held to their shoulders, lasers flashing like a madman’s light show. The negotiator outside yelled into his megaphone, “Executor Mehan of clan Hul, you are surrounded. Surrender immediately or we will be forced to use lethal tactics.”
Hearing no response, the squad leader motioned the Guardsmen to search the house. Breaking through closets, scouring bedrooms, the eventually found the executor, shivering in a closet, wearing his nightclothes. As the Guards leveled their weapons at his face, he looked down to see a warm stain spreading across his trousers as he soiled himself. The squad leader, in a rigid military manner, said, “Executor Mehan of clan Hul, you are under the arrest of the Imperium. Anything you say can and will be used against you. You are forbidden a lawyer on the grounds that we have a warrant of heresy delivered against you and signed by a judge of the Imperial Court of Justice. Come quietly and you will not be permanently harmed.” With unnecessary roughness, they shoved the terrified intendant outside and into a Guard vehicle.
At four in the afternoon, two days later, hundreds of protestors marched into the Imperial Forum, demanding the end of repression against the Caducite Heretics, as they had come to be called. Waving banners and yelling for the Sacred Emperor, they were blissfully unaware of the chain guns hidden under the perimeter of the forum. They saw a man in the robes of a High Prefect peek out of the grand ebony doors of the Imperial Palace, then withdraw. Minutes later, the Sacred Emperor himself emerged, clad in his ceremonial black armor and escorted by two dozen Imperial Immortals. Walking to the Rostra, he ascended it and motioned for calm.
“People, why have you come in protest against me?”
An brash-looking young man stepped forward and replied, “Because you have abused your powers of office.”
The Sacred Emperor lifted his eyebrows. “I was unaware of any such violation. Pray do me the honor of expressing the extent of my abuse.”
“You violently exterminated the Parians, and the only survivors you have enslaved. You still ruthlessly employ the Imperial Guard, Imperial Intelligence, and the Immortals to extend your will into every household. You have abolished any of your predecessor’s legislation that moves this tyranny into a democracy. And just recently, with the upsurge of the Caducite Heresy, you have again brutally repressed your enemies, to keep your truth as the only one.”
“It is my gods-given task to do so. I am the wielder of the only truth, thus I must keep you from straying, as it is human to do.”
“Lies! That is merely the excuse of a tyrant trying to conceal his true nature!”
“You are mistaken. I would not presume to hide from my people. I shall show you my true nature.”
He pulled a transmitter with two switches on it from a secret compartment in the Rostra balcony. Holding it so the people could see, he flicked the top one.
Twelve hundred chain guns rose into view around the perimeter of the Forum. Running a self-diagnostic, they turned to face the crowd, ready to kill them all.
Moving his finger toward the second button, the Sacred Emperor spoke, his voice changed from a soothing, almost musical tone to a sound like thunder, and as cold as an Arctic wind.
“I rule the Empire, citizens, not you. Now I literally hold your fates in my hand. Make your choice. It is brave of you to speak this way to me, so I give you the choice of dying with honor or retreating to your homes. All who wish to live, go.”
Most of the crowd hesitated, then slumped away in defeat, but with many a glance of wary hatred directed over their shoulders at the cruel despot. However, a few dozen remained, their faces pale but composed...the expression of men and women facing their death. The Sacred Emperor studied them, then said, “You have chosen honorably and well. I salute you. Die now, and let the gods judge your life.” So saying, he pushed the other switch, and the guns opened fire.
Prefect Tulak of Domain Miradin sat in the dark room, dreading the arrival of whatever agent of the Imperium would come to condemn him. Another betrayer, another one come to crush me under a burden of blame. It has happened before and will not succeed this time either . Thus he thought to himself, trying to reassure himself, but his shaking limbs denied all his attempts at reason. He heard the door creak open, then close quietly. He strained to see whoever the Emperor had sent, but as he heard whoever it was sit down, all he could see was the small glow of a cigarette.
“Prefect. You will understand if I refuse to reveal my face; secrecy must be paramount in these difficult times. However, I have no doubt you will recognize my title. I must inform you that all information exchanged in this room is top secret, and if Intelligence finds you have revealed any of it, I shall have you liquidated. You will cooperate, won’t you?”
The Prefect swallowed, and agreed. “Yes.”
“Well then. I am the Lord Regent to His Majesty the Sacred Emperor, long may he reign. I have been sent by His August Majesty to ensure the safety of this prefecture, seeing as analysts have concluded that this prefecture has a higher number of heretics among the population than any other. Do you agree?”
“Yes, Lord Regent. In fact, I have already requested a number of Imperial Guard regiments be sent to maintain the Emperor’s peace.”
“Show me. No doubt the request has been logged.”
“Very well, Lord. It should be filed on your handheld under Military Requisitions, Peacekeeping function.”
“Ah. Now, about the nature of this disturbance...you are aware that five near-revolts have happened in your prefecture in the last seven weeks?”
“Yes, Lord Regent. I must say, I think this is a problem with the attitude of the people. I have been considering logging a request for more re-education funding.”
“Don’t bother. I have already countermanded such an order from you, Prefect, because it is my conclusion that such efficient incitement by heretics is not possible without the cooperation of someone highly placed in the Prefectory. Perhaps the governor of Nemanus? The city has been troubled, and it seems someone with great influence in that city ordered the Guard to avoid the areas where the heretics gathered.”
“Yes, Lord Regent, perhaps.” Tulak began to sweat at this dangerous line of interrogation.
“Sweating, Prefect? Perhaps you should take some time to compose yourself. I have not accused you.”
“Yes, Lord.”
“All I wish to discuss is the problem you’ve been having. This prefecture seems to be slipping, and given its proximity to sacred Korronis, this will not be tolerated. I have commanded your underlings to begin a records search of the population. Once the insurgents are discovered, I will have the Immortals move in and enact a purge. This prefecture will also be placed under martial law. But you, prefect, are dangerous.”
“My Lord?” Tulak felt his heart beat faster and the acid taste of bile rose into his mouth.
“Yes. Dangerous. I have personally seen the files on you, prefect. I have seen the Guard assignments the nights of the riots, and I have traced those orders back to their source. No less than five times you deliberately allowed riots that were one step away from revolt to occur.”
“I-I don’t kn-“
”Yes you do. You are guilty of five counts of treason at the least, and cooperating with heretics. But rest assured you will not be killed.”
Tulak looked up, a flicker of hope coming into his eyes. “My Lord is merciful...thank you...”
“Although,” the Regent cut in, “you may find death to be an easier fate than being kept for five months in a War-Priest’s barracks.”
Tulak slumped, and felt all hope fly from him. A terrible black hole seemed to flicker at the edge of his vision. The War-Priests, rabid commanders of the Imperial Army, would surely kill him in the worst ways imaginable by their fanatical minds, or worse: give him to the Inquisition. This was merely a crueler sentence than death.
Ten minutes later, the imperial jet took off from Aedhan Airfield outside the prefecture capital of Nemanus. The Regent was aboard, sipping a glass of whiskey as he looked out the window. A voice, harsh and cutting, interrupted his lazy mental drift and brought him back sharply to the present.
“I trust the problem has been solved?” the Sacred Emperor said.
“Yes, Lord.”
“Excellent. What did you tell him?”
“That he would not be executed, but we would put him in a garrison of the War-Priests. He was terrified.”
“Rightly so. It would seem that the leak has been stopped, but I am not so sure. It is difficult to believe that the Inquisition missed his orders until you requested the records search. I am very confident in the Inquisitors.”
“As am I, Lord,” he said as he sipped his whiskey. “But perhaps the leak is not in the Inquisition but among the intendants? It is possible that under his orders, one of the bureaucrats conveniently forgot to log his orders.”
“Possible, Regent, but unlikely. The intendants who are in charge of logging that sort of order are too thoroughly brainwashed to do little else than their job. They are of the Order of Brother Tertius; they are conditioned to record absolutely everything.”
“Very good, Lord.”
“Did you tell him about the purge?”
“Indeed I did, Lord. The Guard has already been dispatched. We should arrive at Korronis in time to watch them leave.”
“Excellent. First a records search of the entire population, and the ones that are flagged will be turned over to the Inquisition. Just make sure that if the search turns up anybody, make sure that the Inquisition keeps them from telling all the other country bumpkins. After we survived the Parian Rebellion and this Caducite Heresy, we should hardly allow farmers to harbor dangerous ideas, wouldn’t you say, Regent?”
“Very good, Lord.”
The jet cut through the skies like a dagger...a dagger that inevitably found the heart of anyone who thought to betray the Emperor.