Chương 4: Degrees of Guilt

My head was filled with the din of conversations from hundreds of people, each an incredibly important politician who determined the fates of millions, even billions, of souls. At the same time, they looked utterly garish, dressed in typical aristocratic attire with lace and a myriad of bright colors, their chests heavy with various badges and medals whose meaning was meant to be understood exclusively by the "elite."

Now I understood what Frederick had meant when he spoke of individuals who only pretended to be true nobility. Even though the Machenko family consisted of insane cultists, they at least possessed aristocratic grace and knew how to silently project their superiority over the rest. And it was by no means chaotic madness that made them more elegant. Most likely, this family had carried themselves with such bearing throughout their entire history. And yes, I did encounter other daemon-worshippers at the gala.

But their sheer numbers almost made my head spin. Roughly one in three aristocrats was subjected to the influence of the ruinous powers, and exclusively to the God of Pleasure. At first glance, nothing distinguished them from ordinary people, but I could literally feel the abomination radiating from their souls. Finding myself surrounded by so many servants of Chaos, an unfamiliar desire unexpectedly awoke within me: to burn this entire place to the ground.

So many souls had betrayed humanity for the sake of enhanced beauty, prolonged youth, and other "gifts" of Slaanesh. I sensed the auras of the cultists and understood perfectly well that they harbored no noble motives, and no one had forced them to fall into the abyss. The "noble" aristocrats had stepped into it willingly. And I was one step away from cleansing this place with holy fire...

However, I continued to keep a grip on myself, playing the role of a foolish, naive child visiting a truly important place full of big, important adults for the first time. I would punish them all, but not now. The evening itself was rather decent, if you discounted the number of monsters in human skin. We were situated on an enormous terrace within the mansion, where the ceiling was replaced by a stellar map of the sector. The illusion was rendered using incredible technology that took my breath away.

I admit, I froze for a moment when I saw it. However, I was quickly brought back to reality by the stench of rot and vanilla enveloping a fat aristocrat walking past me. He cast a vile, appraising look over me, then smiled and licked his lips. Interestingly, the fat man wasn't a cultist, just a mundane piece of scum, likely entirely unaware of the cult's existence. Before he could say anything, Persephone approached, gently took my hand, and led me away.

"While this place is full of wonderful and worthy people, unfortunately, there are also quite a few individuals who earned their status in less than honest ways. Furthermore, there are many who are too prejudiced against people like you. They look only at a person's origins, paying no mind to their inner qualities." Listening to her moralizing, I understood why no one had caught her yet. She spoke with an incredible conviction and care that obliterated any doubts. You simply wanted to believe her.

However, I could see that she was merely a wolf hiding in sheep's clothing.

"... Moreover, there is another category of individuals," she continued, her voice dropping to a whisper as she led me toward the center of the hall.

"Those who, on the contrary, understand people very well. Perhaps too well. They pose a danger to anyone, for they hold in their hands an incredible power, inaccessible to anyone else." We walked past a troupe of performers executing various acrobatic stunts while playing an unfamiliar melody on some advanced, high-tech violin.

"... And these people are ready to do whatever it takes to complete their work. There is no crime they will not commit to fulfill their unknown goals."

"And how do you identify such people?" I asked. I was beginning to guess who she was talking about, but I asked the question anyway to gauge her reaction. Amusingly, it seemed she genuinely feared the person she was describing. And I could see from her aura that the fear was genuine; she wasn't lying to me here. Honestly, it was even somewhat satisfying. Fear was the least she deserved.

"By the mark of the rosette." Suddenly, the entire hall froze. Everyone turned to look at the newly arrived man. He was a tall figure in golden armor accented with black and red stripes. His face was concealed by a matching golden mask, leaving only his grey eyes visible. Skulls were bolted to his knees and elbows, and a crimson mantle trimmed with white fur rested on his shoulders. The man swept his gaze over the crowd, a gaze so heavy and incinerating it was as if he already knew the sins of everyone present.

His eyes passed over me as well, but did not linger. After that, he began to walk forward, the floor ringing in the silence with every step. Everyone was afraid to make a sound, lest they disturb this man. I watched him with interest. The first Inquisitor I had ever met was, to put it mildly, imposing. The two-meter figure in highly serious armor practically radiated an aura of power and authority. Most likely, he could personally dismantle every person present through sheer physical capability alone.

And that wasn't even mentioning the fact that he was a rather powerful psyker. Orders of magnitude stronger than Persephone, though still weaker than me. He walked toward an old man conversing with Frederick. Except the guest's arrival had changed everything, and all conversations had died down. However, the moment the Inquisitor cast a heavy glance toward the crowd and the troupe of musicians, sound once again filled the room. Unfortunately, it was now impossible to hear what they were discussing.

The people around now pretended that everything was fine and tried to return to the previous atmosphere, but they weren't very successful. I could sense their auras, and while I couldn't decipher all the intricacies of human emotion, every single person reeked of fear. That was the reputation of the Inquisition. The next part of the evening was dedicated to meeting a wide variety of people. Persephone led me from one person to another, introducing me and displaying her patronage.

The other children were being watched by the dynasty's servants, but I never stopped keeping an eye on them. By now, they had settled in a bit and were less nervous. Furthermore, I continued to observe the Inquisitor, who spent the evening conversing with one aristocrat after another. Persephone likely noticed my interest, which prompted her to tell me a little about the guest.

"That is Lord Inquisitor Anton Zerbe. He rarely leaves the Inquisitorial Fortress Serpentis, which is why his arrival has caused such a... stir. There is no figure more powerful or influential than him in our sub-sector, as he heads the Tyrantine Cabal of Inquisitors and is a protégé of Lord Inquisitor Caidin himself, who oversees our entire stellar sector. He holds the most authority among the other members of the Ordos, and it is thanks to him that order is maintained.

Please, be careful, for not even our family can protect against his wrath." If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it. Persephone spoke in hushed tones, sounding as though she genuinely wanted to protect me. I admit, without my abilities, I would have believed her. But since I could clearly see the rot deep within her soul, I did not fall for such attempts to isolate me from such an important figure.

However, no one could stop him if he wanted something.

"A pleasure to greet you, Lady Persephone. You look as radiant today as ever." After a while, the Inquisitor approached us. Persephone was clearly a bit flustered, but quickly collected herself and offered a welcoming smile.

"I am also incredibly glad to have the opportunity to meet you today, Lord Zerbe. Our dynasty has been a pillar of the Imperium for millennia, and we are always ready to assist in the fight against the enemies of humanity." The Inquisitor looked at the aristocrat initially, but then shifted his gaze to me. I could feel his psychic might, and it was truly impressive. If I was an axe that could cleave through anything, he was a scalpel, a master of psychic disciplines.

That was another point in favor of the idea that he wouldn't kill me on sight as a powerful psyker, but would listen and give me a chance to prove my usefulness.

"As I can see, House Machenko continues its wonderful tradition of aiding the destitute and orphans. Your family has always been particularly close to the people, something I can respect."

"It is nothing. We are but humble servants of the Emperor, doing everything in our power to exalt Him as much as possible..." They began to discuss Imperial politics, specifically something regarding trade, but I wasn't particularly interested in that. I was desperately trying to figure out how to give the Inquisitor a sign about the Chaos worshippers surrounding him. There was a possibility he already knew about all of this, but I highly doubted it.

Judging by the sheer amount of cursed power within the cultists, they had been at this for a long time. And given the influence of the great House Machenko, they could cause a whole host of problems for the Imperium. There were several ways to signal him, but I disliked every single one of them. Send a message via telepathy? Too dangerous. I wasn't experienced enough to do it discreetly, as such an action would inevitably disturb the ocean, which would be felt by all the psykers around.

Meaning, at the very least, the woman standing right next to me. And that would completely expose me as a true psyker. There was no telling what the cultists might do in that scenario. I was certain the Inquisitor would just slaughter everyone here, but there was a high chance the children and innocents would get caught in the crossfire. And that was not my path. Signal him with gestures? Though they tried to hide it, dozens of eyes were currently fixed on us.

I wasn't clever enough to signal him in a way that only the Inquisitor would understand. And that would expose me once again, with the subsequent outcome being entirely unpredictable. A private conversation with him wasn't a great idea either. It would trigger a massive wave of suspicion, and there was no telling how it would end. Persephone and Frederick might get too nervous and resort to more active measures.

And while I believed in the Inquisitor's ability to handle his enemies, I didn't want to risk the lives of people untainted by Chaos. Even though the majority of them were terrible people anyway, I could sense a handful of genuinely good individuals. And I was not going to play God with lives, deciding who had the right to live and who didn't. While I was deliberating on what to do, I felt a fire begin to grow in my chest, completely against my will.

It was a very weak influence, one that didn't even ripple the ocean of the Warp, but I still grew nervous and lost my composure for a fraction of a second. However, that was all the Inquisitor needed. Right in the middle of his conversation, he looked into my eyes, and the familiar psychic breeze once again brushed through my mind. Though this time it was an order of magnitude weaker, the sensation was still unmistakable.

I suspect the Inquisitor was trying to read my mind, but my defenses were somehow obstructing him. Interestingly, I didn't feel any movement in the Warp. However, seizing the moment, I was able to intuitively open my mind for a split second, transmitting a single thought to him. Well then. Emperor protect...... If anyone could have seen Zerbe's face without the mask, they would have found a deeply exhausted man who had long since stopped even thinking about rest.

Although he erased any physical signs of fatigue using Biomancy, a person's micro-expressions could still betray their true emotions. The head of the Tyrantine Cabal worked himself to the bone, but it was still never enough. Everything had changed nine years ago, when the Warp in the sector had inexplicably become highly agitated, only to subsequently calm down. Minor warp storms subsided, and all daemons vanished in an instant. However, as always, the good was merely a harbinger of problems.

The activity of the Ruinous Powers' cults was only growing, the xenos threat was becoming more pronounced, and the appearance of the Tyrant Star spoke volumes. But the Inquisition could handle it all, provided they acted as a united front. If. By decree of Caidin and the High Council, Zerbe became a Lord, given command over a group of Inquisitors operating in this sub-sector of the galaxy, tasked with investigating the phenomenon of the Black Sun as well as other issues.

They formed a special cabal, which was supposed to help them unite and handle everything, but it only led to bigger problems. The fact was, while many believed in the inviolability and monumental unity of the Inquisition, it was merely a well-maintained myth propagated by the Ordos themselves. The Inquisition is divided into hundreds and thousands of independent factions, each loyal to the Emperor and wishing to save humanity, but seeing their own distinct path to do so.

Broadly speaking, they can be divided into two factions with their own underlying philosophies: Puritans and Radicals. The former believe in Imperial Truths and refuse any compromises. They wish to preserve the Imperium exactly as it is and refuse to utilize any unorthodox methods. Young Inquisitors, who have yet to face true threats, often fall into this category. Radicals, on the other hand, are willing to employ a broader range of tools, often treading the dangerous path that leads to heresy.

The use of psychic powers, sorcery, and other forbidden things, while effective, is fraught with the risk of becoming a greater threat than the ones you have spent centuries fighting. Therefore, Zerbe tried to act with moderation, not falling into either extreme. But this was a rare stance, and most Inquisitors aligned with one of the camps. And their cabal, by some cruel twist of fate, was split almost perfectly down the middle between these two factions.

It was only thanks to Zerbe's efforts that order still flickered within the sector. However, this could not last forever, and a solution to their problems was nowhere in sight. Moreover, Zerbe had other responsibilities to attend to. While he disliked attending galas where the aristocracy constantly milled about, House Machenko was influential enough to make an exception for.

They were among the most powerful figures in the sector capital, and their head was the prime candidate for the position of the next Planetary Governor. Their ancestors had held this role several times in the past, and since then they had only grown more influential and wealthy. Therefore, to keep his finger on the pulse, he had to attend personally. And, Throne preserve him, it had not been in vain. Initially, everything fell within normal parameters.

Greetings and polite conversation with aristocrats who feared the rosette more than the marks of Chaos. They did not understand the miseries brought by the Ruinous Powers, but they had been told of the Inquisition's wrath since they were in the cradle. For if Zerbe merely willed it, the entire planet would drown in blood. And it wouldn't even cost him a second thought, as Scintilla truly was a place rotten to the core, one that could only be saved by fire.

But as one legendary Inquisitor used to say: If it works, don't touch it. The conversation with Frederick, who was slated to take over the ailing family head's position in a few months, went off without a hitch. He swore up and down that he would continue the work of his ancestors with honor and dignity, supporting the Imperium at every turn.

Of course, Zerbe didn't put stock in mere words, but analyzing his aura and considering his relatively low number of transgressions, there was at least the illusion of certainty. After that, Zerbe conversed with a few more important aristocrats before reaching Persephone Machenko. She was the face of the great family, and it was through her that the majority of the dynasty's contacts were managed. It was also the woman who maintained the house's image by managing various charities.

He immediately noticed the six children who clearly didn't belong here. Five had been assigned personal attendants, but one was being supervised by the Countess herself. It was a rather unusual level of attention for some child from the lower levels, but one look at him made everything clear. Though Zerbe was a rather high-level psyker who had been training his gift for over two centuries, he was not an expert on all the phenomena and manifestations of the Warp.

However, he was ready to swear that the child before him possessed some manifestation of psychic power. It was impossible to say exactly what kind, but most likely some sort of passive aura that improved his appearance in the eyes of those around him. He was handsome and literally drew the eye. Zerbe began to discuss the sector's trade policies with Persephone until he noticed an unusual reaction from the child.

The boy had been looking bored and simply studying him for a long time, until his face displayed barely visible signs of panic for a fraction of a second. An ordinary human eye could not have noticed it, only an Interrogator trained to spot such things from birth. Even the aristocrat standing right next to him noticed nothing. Zerbe decided to check what had alarmed the child, so he employed light telepathy on him.

It was a specialized technique designed not to disturb the Warp, preventing the psykers likely hiding among the aristocrats from noticing anything. To his surprise, reading the child's mind was impossible. Instead, he experienced a sharp pain, as if he had stepped on broken glass. Never in his life had he encountered such a defense. And before he could cease his attempt, the child briefly opened his mind. In that split second, he managed to catch only a single thought.

Persephone is a psyker, and just like most of the people here—a cultist. Down below they have something very bad and cursed. Need help, urgently. Anton Zerbe gave no indication that anything had occurred, continuing to converse with Lady Machenko. At the same time, he tried to process what he had been told and formulate a plan of action. Most of his colleagues, especially those newly elevated to the rank, would have begun to construct a long, convoluted plan to capture the cultists.

Intuitively, it seemed the right thing to do. Careless actions could ruin relations with aristocrats and merchants, turning potential allies into veritable enemies. However, after centuries of dealing with Chaos, one begins to understand that trying to outsmart them is often a bad idea. Any threats of daemonic influence must be met with maximum brutality, without distinguishing between friend and foe. For there are no innocents, only different degrees of guilt.

Attempts to operate with cunning are effective against ordinary people who have only recently become servants of Chaos, but daemons perceive time in a unique way, making them far too good at foreseeing the future. Therefore, one must act quickly and attack while the enemy suspects nothing. Zerbe continued to converse with Persephone, simultaneously inputting a specific code within his mask, signaling the need for backup and requesting the intervention of special operations forces.

A Lord Inquisitor travels nowhere without a specialized escort ready to initiate a bloodbath at a second's notice. Well, it was time to test the current state of the Emperor's Angels' skills.