Interlude Augustus, Son of Solm
Interlude Augustus, Son of Solm
It was Augustus' opinion, when he was a younger man, that his father didn't have a proper respect for violence. He was a Rogue Trader, he could hire armies, conquer feudal worlds, put his enemies down with lasfire and the thread of boots.
Instead, his father grew his wealth and their family's reputation slowly, over decades. They were a family of healers, not warriors.
It was only now that he was older and more mature, that Augustus was starting to understand the value of politics. The value of being able to use violence, but not having to because the threat of it was enough.
It was why he had allied himself so thoroughly with the Voidsmen and enforcers of The Broken Scale. At a time like this, the alliance and effort was paying its dividends.
His challengers for the position of Rogue Trader were many, but at the moment, he had the best chance to take the writ for himself, and that with, hopefully, only the threat of violence.
Once they returned to Caduceia, their homeworld, he would hover the ship over their familial palace and convince the next three heirs up to fold.
Not that he truly wanted it. There were others who would do better with the writ, who had sharper minds and more ambitions than he did. He was, in the end, just a man who favoured violence, even if time and some amount of maturity had tempered him.
At the moment, he had two challengers. His father's seneschal and his little brother, Nigel.
Given those options, he'd pick the seneschal, then he'd kill the man off at a later date. The old vizier was too shrewd by half. Useful, yes, but too ambitious, and they all knew that he favoured Janus, Augustus' older, more foolish brother, because the man was as easy to lead as a starving dog.
Today's meeting, at first bell, was an exercise in politics, but also in restrained violence. He had the guards and Voidsmen on his side. The others... well, they had their own power blocks, but what did that matter when faced with a row of lasrifles?
The meeting was held in one of the large theaters on the upper decks, a space that was designed to be configurable. It had been set up as a ballroom, and the changes were minimal. There were two grand entrances leading into an open space with chairs set into a wide circle.
Nigel was there already when Augustus arrived. The man was sitting comfortably on one of the seats, a leg folded above the other. Behind him, on a few smaller seats was his retinue, but those didn't matter as much as those he had chosen to have at his side. Director Bennick and Director Shammer. Two of the five directors in charge of the Medicae deck. Behind Nigel was another one. So, three fifths of the controlling votes for the most profitable deck on the ship.
The reason his family had accumulated so much wealth.
But not everything. Nigel had the metaphorical purse strings, and that gave him something, but there was more to it than that.
It would cost the family much, and spit on his father's legacy, but Augustus could replace those directors, via politics or violence. The writ would allow that, and more.
The seneschal came in soon after Augustus, while he was still finding a seat across the circle from Nigel. The older gentleman found his own seat, and with him was the ship's Master Helmsman and Master of the Vox.
Replacing those would be more problematic. The ship wouldn't function without both. The seneschal had a better understanding of the worth of violence.
Then there were the guests. The Sister Palatine was here, taking one of the seats to the side with a small retinue of her own. They had been instrumental in defending the ship from the lower deck rabble that rose up recently, and in matters of succession the Sororitas sometimes had some say and some sway. They would be a good counter to the seneschal, actually.
The Sororitas would insist that the writ be followed, and it called for the succession to be through the Caduceus bloodline.
The final group were the Mechanicus and a representative of the navigator house that they had contracted onboard The Broken Scale. The navigators were a non-issue. Their contract was ironclad. The Mechanicus... could be annoying. The current representatives, however, included Ordinator Velpexa Thame, with whom Augustus was familiar. They still lacked an Enginseer Prime, of course, but that would be settled eventually.
Everyone was--
Augustus glanced up as a final figure entered the room. His little cousin, Clarice. He supposed she had the right to be here but--
Janus shifted subtly in his seat as he watched her approach. She was dressed in something not dissimilar to a navy officer's uniform, though with a bit more flair. She had a laspistol strapped to her lower waist, in plain sight. Behind her came three figures. A member of the Mechanicus he was unfamiliar with, with their own cohort of robots, a tall medicae woman, and... a Sister of Battle in armour that practically glowed.
"Hello, everyone," Clarice said, her voice ringing across the room. "Are we all here to argue at one another, as planned?"
"That we are, little cousin," Nigel said in good humour, cutting across whatever she had to say and taking control of the conversation. "You're just on time. I'm sure we can pull up a sea--"
He froze as Clarice pulled out her laspistol and pointed it across the room at him.
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The whole room froze, then hands slapped onto handles. "Hold," Augustus said, his own voice carrying. "Clarice, is there a meaning to this?"
"Yes," she said. "Nigel here has been consorting with heretics."
"Pardon?" Nigel asked, sounding genuinely surprised at the accusation.
"That is a strong accusation, young lady," Sister Palatine Androsa said. She wasn't even looking at Clarice, but was rather glaring at the... incredibly short Sister of Battle in Clarice's retinue.
"It is," Clarice agreed. "Sister Octavia, seize him, if you would."
"Gladly!" the sister said.
The Sister Palatine stood gracefully from her chair. "Novitiate Octavia Glass, I don't know what sort of game you are playing, but you do not have my permission to be here."
The short Sister of Battle shrugged even as she walked across the circle towards Nigel. She wasn't even glancing at the Sister Palatine. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know I needed your permission to carry out the God Emperor's will."
Judging by the gasp of indignation that came from the other sisters, that was a powerful insult. Augustus held an arm up, keeping his men back.
"Hey now, this is quite a lot. Are you well, Cousin? I know you loved my dear father as though he were your own, perhaps you need some time off to--" Nigel said placatingly. Clarice was still holding her gun out, aiming the laspistol right at him from across the room.
The short Sister of Battle came closer, some of the others were moving to intercept, and--
Director Bennick screamed.
Everyone froze. The sound was deep, guttural, inhuman almost.
The man stumbled out of his seat next to Nigel, collapsing onto his knees, then stumbling back up. The young Sister of Battle paused, then glared at him. "So, you are a cultist," she spat.
"No!" he hurled. "No, you... grah! What are you doing?"
Bennick moved forwards with a burst of speed that was frankly impressive for such a corpulent man, a hand stretching out and out and out in a way that was terribly wrong. His hands, no, his claws, raked through the air and struck a glowing yellow flash that enveloped the young Sister of Battle's head.
Augustus leaned back. He had read the reports speaking of a saint, but he had dismissed them. Now he wasn't so sure.
Bennick screamed once more, then his white medicae's coat exploded apart, long horns jutting out of his back, his pallid flesh turning a sickly green as he writhed and transformed.
"Yeah, you're a turbo heretic, huh?" the Sister said. Then she casually pulled what looked a lot like a melta from her hip and brought it up. "Can't have that."
Augustus flinched back slightly at the powerful wave of heat that washed across the room. Bennick's screams only grew louder as he was melted alive, but soon they quieted with a whimper.
The other director, Shammer, was up and running across the room, towards the nearest exit.
"KYS," the mechanicus magus with Clarice said.
One of her robots shot away, flying across the room with long strides that ended with a tackle. Mechanical arms moved in and out rapidly and Shammer was separated into multiple parts.
"Cousin Nigel, you are under arrest," Clarice said. "Pending a full investigation with regard to your association with a cult of the Great Enemy."
"What?" Nigel said. "I didn't... I have nothing to do with--" He stopped and gulped as the little Sister of Battle raised her melta.
"Still got some fuel left in this baby, if you wanna keep yammering," she said.
Not the way to treat a noble, but Augustus appreciated the threat of violence well enough.
Clarice spun, taking in the room before she focused on him. "You're now Master at Arms," she said. "We need a task force prepared to take control of the medicae deck. Not all medicae are affiliated with this cult, but enough of them are that we will need to fully screen the deck. My Mechanicus ally here has some devices that will help. No one is leaving this room until the medicae in my retinue has inoculated you. If you try, you will be put down."
There was an audible pause at that. Usually, he would have said that Clarice's threats were empty, not that he expected any from her, but... she had the power, didn't she? An Imperial saint wasn't a tool that was casually dismissed, and the others in her retinue seemed serious enough. He only now focused on the robots that had remained by the entrance. No, he didn't want to fight that.
"Seneschal," Clarice said. "I will be taking the role of temporary Lord Captain--not Rogue Trader--for such a time as it takes to return to Caduceia. Our next destination is Chrysis, my allies in the Navigator house tell me that it's quite close to our current position in the warp."
"It may be," the seneschal said.
"Good. We need a place to stop and regroup, and to repair The Broken Scale. Chrysis will do. Afterwards, we can decide whether to continue on our route to Holy Terra, or break off towards Caduceia. I will be taking suggestions at a later time. First, the infestation on my ship."
My ship.
The seneschal paused, then nodded.
Augustus chuckled. My, his little cousin really did know her way around violence.
"So, can we head out and start burning heretics?" the Saint asked. "I heard that the little warp daemons make a popping noise when you cook them, and I want to see if that's real."
***