816.M41

It is the eve of Sanguinala as I write once again in this long forsaken journal. It has remained at my lord’s estate on Scintilla while he had me on missions of a clandestine nature which would not allow the personal transport of such a sensitive document. Much has transpired since I last wrote and praise be to the Emperor and the blessed Saint Drusus that I live to recall the events of the past two years since my last entry.

I look out upon the spire tops of the capital city of this capital world of the Calixis Sector and pause to admire such a scene and such a journey. That I, once a lowly Administratum scribe from Maccabeus Quintus, would sit here to gaze upon the golden sunset of Hive Sibellus. It is as I envision Holy Terra to be, its blessed spires rising from the clouds, agleam with the Emperor’s very own radiance upon them. And here I sit, in a lavishly appointed study among the spiretops, no longer an Administratum adept, but an Interrogator of the Holy Inquisition.

When I first met Inquisitor Graves nearly five years ago, I had this very ambition. In so many ways my present reality is my dream fulfilled. How absolutely foolish was my pride and naivety! Had I but known the terrors I would face, the cost that I and my fellows have paid, I would have fled from Lord Graves in terror at the proposition of joining his service.

My experience as a member of the Holy Ordos has tested me, as it does any man who is brought into it’s ranks, to the very core. The prideful desires I had for fame and a betterment of my lot has been cut away, as has my fear of death in service to the Emperor. The Inquisition cuts and cuts, trimming away weakness until you are either a usable weapon in His hand or your duty in this life is done. Vanity has been removed and replaced with that which a man needs above all else: Faith.

This gift of faith has seen me through the most unimaginable horrors and dangers. It has shielded me from the most devious of foes. It has guided me upon the paths of discovery that justice may be wrought on the myriad enemies of the Imperium. In times past this faith only existed in me as tradition and lip service, now it is my life, how could I deny the many miraculous interventions I have seen? And this, coming to this place, this position of power? It is only the will of the Emperor that has brought this about that He may use me as His instrument. I would have died or been driven mad long ago had not He appointed me a fated vessel. Praise be!

Now I will turn to the task at hand, to recall the trials that have been faced and to tell of the deeds of vengeance rendered. The details will be scant in many instances. I leave on the morrow with my new acolytes where Inquisitor Graves wills me go. I have only these few hours to put story to page and I do not know when I will write in this old journal again.

Not long after rebellion broke out in the underhives, Inquisitor Graves pulled us out of the mission area. We were soon sent to the garden world of Quaddis. Our time in the underhives remains a confusing experience to this day. Just what the Inquisitor’s goals were in fomenting open conflict I’m uncertain. His methods have oftentimes been indirect and unorthodox. Whether we had achieved his aims or not was unsaid.

We had a brief time to equip ourselves with new wargear and were informed that this mission to Quaddis would not be undercover. I purchased my beloved old Puritan-14 combi pistol at this time and made efforts to improve in my proficiency with small arms. That Puritan proved the most versatile weapon I have ever used and quite deadly. Though I later acquired a higher grade version, I still have my original and occasionally bring it out for inspection and a loving pat as a thank you to its faithful machine spirit.

This mission to Quaddis was to be a short affair. Graves desired us to enter into a lavish estate and search for any evidence of anything untoward. We were put down at night in a garden near the mansion we were to infiltrate and within seconds we came under heavy fire. Contemplations after this mission revealed far safer and more effective approaches to carrying out our orders but at this time no one on our team was willing to accept the mantle of leadership. So it was that our pilot, receiving no tactical input from us, deposited us right into an easy field of fire. Easy for the guards of the mansion that is.

I was wounded early in the shooting, Servius mostly hid (which would become an alarming pattern of his), the rest did what they could to fight back while pinned down in an open field. Theta brought us out of this death trap we had put ourselves in (a welcome pattern on her part) and worked us up into the mansion.

My memory is foggy at what, or who, caused the total conflagration that would soon ruin the manse. By fault of my wounds I was behind the rest of the group and by the time I entered the building a fire had started within. A VIP we were attempting to capture made his way to an aerial vehicle on the roof and was making good his escape. Theta boldly ran through the flames, ascended to the roof top and brought the flyer down with some carefully placed shots from her sniper rifle. The vehicle crashed in a fiery heap in the gardens and it, like the incinerated mansion, yielded little to nothing of note.

Many of our early missions went this way and I thank the Emperor for Grave’s forbearance at our failures. I have heard tell of the discipline some inquisitors mete out to their acolytes upon a defeat. I would like to believe these fanciful stories to scare acolytes into obedience but I know the veracity of many of these accounts and shudder to know they are true.