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Chapter Text

Fyodor Karamazov levelled a glare at his personal secretary. “You mean to tell me that some tzeentchian charlatan created a demon that is passing itself off as the Great Angel Sanguinius, and that Valhalla has fallen for it?”

“Yes, my lord?” said Dominique.

Fyodor sighed. “Tell Captain Cadakh to ready my ship.”

“Where are we going?” asked Dominique.

“To Valhalla, where else? I need to clean up this heresy before it gets completely out of hand.”

“My lord?”

“Yes Dominique?”

“He’s not on Valhalla anymore. The Blood Angels took him to Baal.”

“For the love of... and after they tore themselves apart over the last one too.” He paused. “The Blood Angels did not immediately unmask him as an imposter?”

“No, my lord. The priest said the Blood Angels seemed to believe him to be Sanguinius. Thy took him on board their ship, then left at top speed for Baal.”

Fyodor considered. Dante would quite likely deal with this before it got any worse, but if he didn’t, or worse, fell for it himself, this could spread through the entire sector very rapidly. For a moment, he wondered... what if it were true? The possibilities were marvelous indeed. With the right guidance... but no, it was not possible. Sanguinius soul was shattered to pieces when he died.

And the Emperor would have informed the ecclesiarchy first, if his Great Plan included something so unbelievable as the return of the Angel. This was an imposter, and a dangerous one if he could convince both blood angels and valhallan ecclesiarchy of his veracity.

“Tell Captain Cadakh to ready my forces." If he were going to argue with a First Founding Chapter, he might need more backup than normal. "And call on the locals for reinforcements. We’re going to Baal.” Fyodor toggled a switch, and beneath him, the Throne of Judgement rumbled to life.

Chapter Text

“Lord-Commander?”

Dante looked up.

“The Tycho has arrived.”

Dante nodded sternly and stood. He’d been waiting for this moment a long time. The Tycho should have been here a week ago, and the last he’d heard from them had been complaints of a warp storm. It had been too soon to really start worrying, but it was good that they were here.

“There’s another ship with them, the First Resplendent,” said Mia. “An Angels Resplendent Battle Barge.”

Dante’s eyebrows rose. That ship had gone missing years ago, taking the Angels Resplendent’s Chapter Master and their entire First Company with it. And leading to the transformation of the Angels Resplendent into the Angels Penitent. What was going on here, and how had Rafen and probably-Sanguinius gotten tangled up in it?

“Hail both ships. I need to talk to both Rafen and Czervantes,” said Dante.

0000

The ships were still too far out for lightspeed to allow realtime communication. So messages flew back and forth. Yes, Czervantes was alive and in charge of the First Resplendent. Ship Captain Miro was in charge on the Tycho as Rafen, his marines, and probably-Sanguinius were on the First Resplendent as well, having apparently caused a manifestation of the Sanguinor and rescued everyone from Ka’bandha and assorted Bloodletters.

Apparently Rafen’s weird luck had struck again – or perhaps this sort of thing was normal if you were with Sanguinius? If this was Sanguinius. Injuring and driving off Ka’bandha and association with the Sanguinor was strong evidence when combined with the vanishing of the Rage... Arkio and the other pretenders had never managed anything like this. Dante let himself hope a little more.

Dante collected Mephiston, and Sepharan, and they headed for the Armoury. Gabriel Seth, Astorath, Corbulo and First Captain Arjen of the Angels Encarmine were to meet them there. It was a quiet and very tense group in his shuttle. Far too much was riding on this. Dante hadn’t felt this nervous about meeting anyone in at least a millennium.

Their ship landed. Seth, Corbulo, and Astorath were already there waiting, faces grim. Seth nodded at Dante as they walked down the gangway, and Astorath bowed his head, but none of them spoke. Arjen arrived. And they waited.

Mephiston spotted the shuttle before it actually became visible. “There is someone powerful on that ship,” he said, pointing at an empty patch of cloud.

“Chaos-tainted?” asked Seth.

“Don’t think so, but I’ll know better when I actually see him. If there was obvious chaos-taint, Ceris should have spotted it on Valhalla, or on the journey here.”

They waited. The breeze blew Dante’s hair into his face. He’d normally have been wearing the golden death mask of Sanguinius to greet important visitors, but it had not seemed right to confront his father with a death mask of himself. Especially given Rafen’s concerns over his mental state. Triggering the Black Rage in their primarch wasn’t a risk he wanted to take.

The ship landed. The hatch opened, and the gangway extended. First out was Rafen. He caught Dante’s eyes and smiled, tense but determined.

So he still truly believed this to be Sanguinius. Good to know.

After him, a marine in ornate blue and gold armor Dante didn’t recognize, but assumed was Czervantes.

And then a tall figure stooped under the doorframe and emerged into the fitful reddish sunlight. He towered over the others, white wings gleaming... and suddenly all Dante could see was his eyes. He knew those eyes, barely different in color to those he saw in the mirror every morning, but full of... this was Sanguinius, and Dante knew it in ways he could not begin to explain.

He heard choked gasps around him, and a voice saying “it’s him,” that he barely recognized as Mephiston.

0000

Sanguinius’ first impression of Dante was that he looked older than he’d realized space marines could look. How old? Dante felt both familiar and safe – Sangunius must have encountered him in some fashion while dead. The librarian on his left, who blazed with barely-contained warp power on a scale he’d rarely seen and who also felt familiar, must be Mephiston. Konrad Kurze would approve of his fashion sense. Sigh. But who was the one wearing the Flesh Tearers’ insignia and an expression of wary distrust hiding longing? It reminded him of Ishidur Ossuros, and of Nassir Amit.

“Chapter Masters, Brothers and Cousins, this is our Gene-Father, Primarch Sanguinius,” said Rafen.

Dante took a step forward, then another. “Father?” he croaked.

“Yes,” said Sanguinius, and took a step towards him. Only to be embraced by Dante before he could do so himself. Sanguinius blinked, but broke into a delighted smile as he hugged his son back. Very few people actually dared hug him: he was simply too intimidating.

This seemed to break the ice, and the marines all clustered around him. Dante let go of him, and looked up. “Welcome home,” he said, tears in his eyes and starting to look a bit embarrassed. Sanguinius suspected the elderly chapter master didn’t generally haul off and hug people on first meeting.

“Thank you,” said Sanguinius. “I am glad to be home, and to meet all of you.” Sanguinius turned to look at the Flesh Tearer and the others. “How about you tell me your names?” said Sanguinius. “I want to know all of you.”

0000

After name exchanges and tears of joy had calmed down a bit and the non-Blood Angels had left, Sanguinius found Dante looking at him a little awkwardly. “Rafen tells me you had a severe attack of the Red Thirst during the voyage. How are you feeling now, and have you had further problems since?”

Sanguinius paused. “I am feeling much better, thank you. I do not believe I am a threat to those around me, though I might have to watch blood urges during battle more closely than I have previously.”

“I am glad to hear that,” said Dante. “Would you permit Corbulo and Mephiston to examine the state of your soul in detail?”

“Yes,” said Sanguinius. “Ceris says that I have healed greatly since he first saw me, but that I am not fully healed yet, and the Angels Resplendent agree.”

Corbulo stepped forward, and reached up to touch Sanguinius’ forehead. Sanguinius bent his head slightly. Corbulo closed his eyes, and they stood so for perhaps thirty seconds. Corbulo opened his eyes and lowered his hand. “What do you see?” asked Sanguinius.

“Something very strange,” said Corbulo. “It looks as if long-sundered shards had been re-grafted with golden light, and are now growing back together. What is the golden thread and where does it go?”

“I think that the other end is tied to the Sanguinor, and that this is how I called him.”

Corbulo nodded. “Do you remember who created this?”

“No,” said Sanguinius. “I had been assuming that it was the Emperor. He feels gold in the Warp.”

Corbulo nodded at that. “He does, but so do many of his saints and those imbued with his power in one way or another. Like the Sanguinor – or yourself.”

“Do you remember much of your time being dead?” asked Corbulo.

“Not clearly,” said Sanguinius. “What memories I have are muddled, faded, and hard to access. Also mutually contradictory.”

“That would be because they are the memories created by specific shards,” said Corbulo.

“What type of contradictions?” asked Mephiston.

“I remember flying over battlefields in the Materium, but I think those are actually the Sanguinor’s memories. I’m not sure.”

“One or more of your soul shards being attached to the Sanguinor would make a lot of sense, given his role in your recovery,” said Mephiston. “What else?”

“Being in the immaterium. Sometimes loose. There were fights with demons, but also other times where I – or pieces of me, were sort of held by a web of golden light that protected and hid me from harm.” It had also made being in pieces hurt less and had smelled like Father.

“The Emperor protects,” said Corbulo. This was repeated by the others, and everyone looked at the floor. Some sort of minor ritual?

“There was something else,” said Astorath. “Directly related to your death.”

Sanguinius swallowed. He did not want to talk about this part. “I think part of me was trapped on the Vengeful Spirit,” he said slowly. “It,” he paused, pain, fear, helplessness, betrayal, “the Four” watching Horus kill me, enjoying it, waiting their turn to -

“Stop!” said Mephiston. “You’re on Baal, and safe. You’re with your sons. You’re safe.”

The moment passed. Sanguinius opened his eyes, feeling humiliated in front of these sons he didn’t even know. He’d thought he was over this! His hackles rose, and he dropped his gaze.

“You are not well,” stated Astorath bluntly.

“He did not even move, let alone attack anyone,” said Mephiston.

“He’s still healing, and needs help and protection.” said Corbulo.

“And we will do exactly that,” said Dante. He looked up at Sanguinius. “You are safe here, to the utmost of my ability to provide such. You will be given time and space to heal.”

“He should be wearing the tranquilizer bracelets at a bare minimum,” said Astorath. “He’s a primarch, and you know how much damage a marine can do if they snap in the wrong place.”

“The tranquilizer bracelets trigger far too easily at nothing at all,” said Sanguinius. “They risk rendering me helpless in an emergency. Also, to remain healthy I need to fly regularly, and I cannot even beat my wings without the bracelets knocking me out.”

“You removed them easily enough when Ka’bandha was attacking the First Resplendent,” said Rafen. “But then, I would have expected you to lose control around a khornate bloodthirster if you were to lose control at all. And you didn’t. I don’t think you still need them.”

Though the fact he had been too busy slashing at Ka’bandha with a chainsword to think about Horus and the Vengeful spirit might have helped too.

“Black Rage, not Red Thirst,” said Astorath.

“Corbulo, can we raise the threshold for the tranquilizer bracelets to trigger, install an off switch he can use, and make them less visible?” asked Dante.

“You’d have to ask Lucen,” said Corbulo. “I suspect they cannot be made much smaller while still containing sufficient medication to incapacitate a primarch. The rest could probably be done though.”

“The bracelets need to be larger, his wrists are too big for the normal ones to fit,” said Rafen.

“Tell Lucen to try,” said Dante. He turned back to Sanguinius. “I’m not going to force you into them when you are in your right mind and harming no one, but would be good to have in reserve, just in case you take a turn for the worse.”

Which was fair enough. Sanguinius nodded.

“I am going to need to tell everyone that you have returned,” said Dante, turning back to Sanguinius. “Are you well enough to handle a crowd, and say a few words to them?”

“Yes,” said Sanguinius. “Though it would be safest if no one touches me without my being able to see them coming.”

“That can definitely be managed. I will warn them that you are still injured, and need time to adapt to the modern Imperium so you don’t get mobbed by enthusiastic well-wishers.”

Or toddlers with grabby hands.”That would be helpful, thank you,” said Sanguinius.

0000

After Sanguinius and Mephiston left, Dante stopped Rafen from leaving. He also motioned for Corbulo and Astorath to stay. “How bad was the attack of the Red Thirst you mentioned?”

“It was very dangerous and there appears to be an additional Black Rage component to what happened, but he was also clearly fighting it. He didn’t hurt anyone beyond bashing his own wings on the walls. There hasn’t been a recurrence or any signs of such despite the battle with Ka’bandha, which I would have expected to trigger it if anything would.”

“Astorath?” asked Dante.

“I can sense the Black Rage in him,” said Astorath. “Much the way I could in Mephiston or Rafen before recent events.”

“Under control or not?” Which made an enormous difference to how dangerous the situation was.

Astorath looked doubtful. “You saw him trapped in memories. He may not have acted, but what happens if someone touches him in the middle of one of those? He’s a primarch, he could easily kill many if he snapped.”

“He didn’t kill anyone when he snapped,” objected Rafen. “He blundered into objects, bit holes through a steel table, flashed his fangs at people, screeched like an angry eagle, and knocked me down and sat on me, but he didn’t bite either of us. He could obviously hear me talking, and seemed to recognize me even before his mind returned to human.”

“What do you mean?” asked Dante.

Rafen reddened. “He sort of... preened my hair and hugged me, and made a sound that might have been a word or just a noise. Then his eyes returned to normal, and he had no idea why we were both on the floor.”

“Interesting,” said Mephiston. “What triggered the incident?”

“Having primary feathers removed so they could regrow, with the smell of his own blood.”

“That is fairly extreme provocation,” said Corbulo. “Astorath, I really think you’re over-reacting. Not to mention that we can’t let anything happen to him without risking the Black Rage returning for the rest of us.”

“I wasn’t suggesting we harm him. My instinct is to confine him to the Tower of the Lost until his soul isn’t a collection of barely-merged pieces,” said Astorath. “Frankly, he’s a danger to everyone in the vicinity as he is.”

“I think Gabriel Seth would have something to say about that, as do I,” said Dante. Astorath sometimes went too far in his zeal to keep their chapter’s curse under control. “By all means keep an eye on him, but don’t antagonize him or try to trigger an incident again, or I will find a reason to send you to another sector for the next year.”

Astorath looked a little sullen, but nodded. “I will not antagonize him or attempt to test his limits without your direct permission,” he agreed.

“Thank you,” said Dante. One potential crisis averted, for now at least.

Dante nodded. “Corbulo, I’d like you to go out of your way to spend time with him. Mephiston will be taking over his psychic training, so if you could confer with him on the state of Sanguinius’ soul and keep tabs on his healing?”

“I will,” said Corbulo

Chapter Text

Inquisitor Amberley Vail was annoyed to only find out that Sanguinius had arrived after he’d met with Dante and been accepted as their primarch by the Chapter Masters of three chapters and high-ranking marines from two more.

While she suspected that the marines were correct in their assessment of this truly being Sanguinius, the Inquisition should have been included in making this assessment. Damn Stele for messing everything up! The Blood Angels had had functional relations with the Inquisition before he’d betrayed their trust by fomenting a civil war within their ranks. Everyone here was eyeing her with the sort of look given poisonous snakes, and avoiding her whenever possible within civility.

It was good to see Cain again, though. He’d tell her what everyone else wouldn’t.

One story featuring a greater demon, the Sanguinor, accidental teleportation, language lessons, artsy marines, and an attack of the red thirst later... she could see Cain’s usual aptitude for finding trouble was up to its usual tricks.

There was a knock at the door. She gestured, and a servitor opened it, revealing a chapter serf. “Lord-Commander Dante sends his apologies. You wanted to speak to him and Chapter Master Czervantes?”

“Yes.”

“They are ready to meet you now.”

“Good.” Amberley buried her annoyance at being put off till now – it had given her the opportunity to debrief Cain at least and she’d ring a peal over Dante’s head for it later - and followed the serf, Cain a couple of steps behind.

0000

She entered Dante’s office to find Dante, Sanguinius, Gabriel Seth and an unknown but important-looking marine in blue and gold, presumably Czervantes. Sanguinius looked immensely better than when she had first seen him, wearing a short gold and white robe with red trousers, wings whole, and eyes clear and focused on her.

Which was exceedingly intimidating, if she was honest. But inquisitors were hard to intimidate, and even if they felt so, they would never admit it.

“Lord-Commander Dante, Chapter Masters Seth and Czervantes, it is good to see you. And you... she inclined her head to Sanguinius. She couldn’t use his title without giving him formal imperial recognition, but she was already mostly convinced and did not want to offend a primarch.

“Likewise,” said Sanguinius in low gothic. “It is good to meet you again under better circumstances.”

As fast a learner as Cain suggested, then. Piece of evidence #91. “That it is, indeed. I understand you had quite the eventful journey.”

“Ka’bandha made the mistake of attacking my sons in front of me,” said Sanguinius. “I believe he regretted that.”

“Indeed.” She sat down in the empty chair, steepled her fingers, and looked intently at Sanguinius. “I will be honest. It is part of my duty as a member of the Inquisition to prevent and destroy heresy wherever it is found. Sanguinius’ apparent resurrection is impressive and has a lot of evidence supporting it. If you were a lesser saint I would call you genuine and leave it at that. But because your claim is that you are the Great Angel Sanguinius, Primarch of the Nineth Legion and Son of the God-Emperor, I cannot take any risk of making an error. Your return must be proven genuine beyond the shadow of a doubt.”

Sanguinius nodded. He didn’t look surprised or offended at all. Actually, he was quite hard to read right now.

“As such, I am making a full investigation, and have contacted another of the Inquisition to double-check my work. I am primarily ordo xenos, so investigating miracles is not my primary skillset even if it is one I have both training and experience in. Thus far, I see no reason to interfere with your or the Blood Angels’ and other chapters’ activities, beyond being included in all current events and information gathering related to Sanguinius, and interviewing you and all eyewitnesses to important events like the Battle with Ka’bandha.”

She let her demeanor turn a little darker as she glared at Dante. “The Inquisition does not appreciate being left out when you greeted your believed-primarch, and doing this is not a good way to convince us that nothing amiss is afoot.”

Dante didn’t look repentant in the slightest, not that she’d expected him to. Space Marine Chapter Masters were at least as hard to intimidate as inquisitors. But the official objection needed to be made.

“If he hadn’t been Sanguinius, it would have turned into a battle,” said Seth. “You would have been in the way.”

“I am not as breakable as you may think,” said Amberley. Marines. “And I am willing to take that risk. Doing so is part of my duties as an Inquisitor, just as facing enemy fire is part of yours.”

“In any case, what is done is done,” said Czervantes. “What information do you need from us?”

“From you specifically? I would like to interview those of your crew who interacted closely with Sanguinius. Were any of your librarians on the bridge during the battle with Ka’bandha?”

“One of my librarians, Taranius was present, but he was knocked unconscious at the beginning of the fight.” said Czervantes. “I can get him for you if you want, but if you want testimony from a psycher who was awake at the time, perhaps you should ask Sanguinius.”

Wait, what? Oh, he’s a seer. “I will be taking your testimony, of course,” she told Sanguinius. “Beyond visions of the future, do you have other psychic abilities?”

“Apparently, though I have only just started studying them in earnest. They started appearing during the Horus Heresy, and I did not have time or energy to realize exactly what was happening at the time.”

“What abilities?” She asked, clicking the record button on her transcriber. This was not recorded information about Sanguinius, and was definitely something she should be looking into.

“Teleportation and suspected telekinesis, and empathic/pyschic links with my legion. Probably empathy outside the Legion too, once trained properly.”

Empathic links with his legion... that might explain a lot about the Black Rage, including its sudden vanishing. Dante hadn’t even tried to hide that from her. Not that he could have, with rumors flying all over the Arx and the marines from the Tower of the Lost visibly sane and back in active service.

“You are studying your telekinesis and empathy-telepathy?”

“Yes. So far I have concentrated mostly on the empathy. I have no desire to become prey to foul things that dwell in the Warp, or put my legion at risk.”

She nodded. “Your legion... you are aware that the Legiones Astartes no longer exist?”

“Yes, banned by the Codex Astartes. I misspoke from long habit. The chapters of my sons.”

“Then you do not intend to reform the Ninth Legion?”

The question hung in the air, everyone looking at Sanguinius.

“I have no wish to turn the Imperium upside down or start a civil war, so no, I will not be abolishing the chapters to reform the old Ninth Legion,” said Sanguinius. The tension in the room dropped several notches. “Having experienced the Heresy, I understand full well why my brother made those rules.”

Amberley relaxed a little, but couldn’t help but suspect there was a catch coming somewhere. Just what did Sanguinius intend to do with his new life?

“Closer cooperation between chapters, however, seems like it would be of substantial benefit to the Imperium. I am concerned that the decentralized nature of the modern Imperium leaves the Imperium vulnerable to large outside threats like tyranid hive fleets. Chapters wind up facing more than they can handle alone, and do not get adequate reinforcements before things get completely out of hand. This risks the Imperium being defeated in detail over the long term. What is being done about this?”

She should have expected that sort of question from a primarch who’d fought in the Great Crusade. “The High Lords of Terra are the ones responsible for such decisions,” said Amberley. “I suggest that, once cleared, you should bring your concerns and suggestions to them.” Not that that group of schemers would listen to any suggestion that increased the power of the space marines – though they might from Sanguinius. No, probably not. “Though the space marine chapters could also do more to cooperate with the Imperial Guard and the Inquisition.”

“I had noticed some friction there. I really need to learn more of the modern Imperium before I have an opinion on causes and solutions.” Sanguinius raised an eyebrow. “Once I have satisfied you as to my identity and re-acquainted myself with my sons and the modern Imperium, I intend to travel to Terra to meet with the High Lords. And to learn truly what has become of my father.”

If he wanted to see the Emperor in person... “You might be the one person who could ask to see him and have it granted,” she said. Though he might not like what he found.

“If my father is incapacitated and being cared for by others, I have a son’s duty to see that he is being well cared for,” said Sanguinius. A bit of steel crept into his voice. “Especially if no one else is being allowed to check on him.”

She wondered how those unpleasant old schemers would deal with that. Not a tzeentchzian plant or a power-hungry warlord, just a son worried over his father and the empire they’d both given all they had to protect. A son who had killed greater demons, demon primarchs and titans solo, and who had far too great religious significance to for them to ignore or make him disappear.

“What do you plan to do in the immediate term?” asked Amberley.

“Well, the Chapter Masters want me introduced to those of their chapters who are here. After that... I am going flying.”

Chapter Text

Sanguinius looked over at Dante while waiting for the crowd to gather, and did a double-take. A golden mask in the image of his own face locked in a rictus of rage looked back. A feeling of menace hovered around it. And pain.

“Oh... ah, I normally wear this for battle and formal occasions.” Dante reached up and took it off, revealing white hair and wrinkles. “I apologize. I should have warned you first. It’s a very famous relic of our chapter worn in long tradition by the chapter master.”

“I see. I’m sure I’ll get used to it.” Sanguinius wasn’t sure he wanted to, but at least it wasn’t a chapter serf with their throat torn out and no obvious culprit. He looked at the mask again. That dark corona... “It is psychically active? Have you had Mephiston have a look at it?”

“It’s supposed to do that. It’s turned off at the moment – most people don’t notice the effect in this state. In battle, it projects to terrify the enemy. And yes, Mephiston’s taken a look at it. Wanted to know how it worked, and if the effect could be replicated.”

0000

The meeting was held in the great courtyard. All the battle brothers of the Blood Angels and the visiting chapters were drawn up in parade formations, and curious chapter serfs looked on from everywhere and anywhere they would fit, in the courtyard or hanging out of windows and standing on battlements many stories up. The Inquisitor and her entourage were also present.

Dante stepped out, and the hubbub vanished into expectant silence. Were they finally going to get an explanation as to all the strangeness that had been happening lately?

“Many of you have wondered at the strange events of the past month - the many visitors from other chapters and the Inquisition, and most of all the vanishing of the Black Rage. I’ve put you off, and I know it has been very frustrating. Thank you for your forbearance. I can finally tell you what is going on. I think you will find it worth the wait.”

“Sergeant Rafen and the crew of the Tycho chased Fabius Bile to Valhalla, and brought vengeance upon him for his shaming of our chapter, the theft of a vial of Sanguinius’ blood, and the murder of too many of our battle brothers, cousins and chapter serfs. But before he died, Bile sent the precious vial to some friends of his on Valhalla’s surface. They took it, and through the murder of innocents set about attempting to raise a copied body of Sanguinius and part of his soul that had been trapped aboard the Vengeful Spirit, and locked by darkest sorcery in the emotions of the moment of his death for ten thousand years.”

Dante paused. “The Black Rage,” he said, voice darkening. “Yes. We have always wondered what kept it going. Now we know.”

“But when these cultists took Sanguinius’ soul-piece and blood for their dark ritual, they also used a defiled imperial aquila. And it seems that the Emperor had something to say about his son being abused so. We have multiple eyewitness accounts of the aquila, miraculously healed and glowing golden. And when Sanguinius woke, it wasn’t a broken, mad shard of a soul that woke, but Sanguinius himself, badly wounded by his experiences at Horus’ hands but alive and whole.

There was utter silence in response.

“Who promptly escaped, and has been proven, by multiple librarians including our own Ceris and Mephiston, as well as by his actions in calling the Sanguinor to his aid and their defeat of Ka’bandha in combat, to be truly our primarch returned. We have seen, unmasked and destroyed imposters before, the most recent this very year. I never thought that I would be able to say this, but this is no imposter.”

“The visiting chapter masters and I have met him, and every Blood Angel, Flesh Tearer, Angel Resplendent, Angel Encarmine and Lamenter who has met him has experienced the bond between primarch and marine that all our oldest records speak of but that none of us have ever fully known.”

“He is going to need some time to continue healing and get oriented in the modern Imperium. I must ask you not to crowd him or touch him from behind.” Dante paused. “Let us welcome him home.”

They waited, and a tall form with gleaming white wings entered from a side door. “Hello,” he began. “I am Sanguinius, and I am glad to meet you all at last.

0000

After the meeting had broken up, and the assorted name-learning and conversations had finally wound down, Sanguinius walked up to the main battlements. He looked at the sky, and then carefully around him. No one close enough to him for a wing to smack accidentally. He looked at the sky again. And leapt out into the air. Free!

0000

A shadow of wings. Dante grabbed his pistol and looked up, half-expecting to see a blood eagle closing in. And relaxed, fighting a laugh. His primarch was flitting around in mid-air like... was that a loop de loop? His primarch was playing in the air, like a neophyte who’d just gotten their jump pack license. Dante lost his battle against laughter. It had been so long since he’d felt simple joy at anything.

He caught sight of Mephiston’s set face out of the corner of his eye, and stopped laughing. What was wrong now?

“Dante, It’s Lord-Inquisitor Karamazov, and he’s brought an entire fleet with him.”

Dante felt the world fall out from underneath him. He was very tempted to curse, but refrained. “I will talk to him. Go to Inquisitor Vail and tell her Karamazov will be arriving shortly– I need to confer with her.” And find out if she had triggered this, and whether she was truly friend or foe.

0000

Fyodor Karamazov looked down through the viewport at the planet of Baal and its moons ahead. He steeled himself. This was undoubtedly going to be one of the hardest and most dangerous missions he’d ever been on. The stakes were so terribly high, even for one of the great among the Inquisition. He’d need to be at his best. He must not falter.

There were a lot of space marine ships in orbit. More than there ought to be, and that was a problem. He hadn’t brought anywhere near a big enough fleet to take them on directly if Dante had turned traitor for this imposter. Dante had a spotless reputation as an outstanding servant of the Imperium. Karamazov hoped he’d do the right thing now, if he hadn’t done it already.

If he hadn’t... that meant Karamazov would need to be ready to convince, use logic, and argue in a way he hadn’t had to in decades. He knew how, of course. But it had been a long time time since he’d needed to do more than briefly glance over the evidence, and declare guilt and punishment.

He touched the aquila he was wearing. With the help of the God-Emperor, he’d see this mission through. He hadn’t failed on a mission to root out and destroy heresy yet, and he didn’t intend to start now.

“My lord, they want to know our intentions,” said Dominique. “What should we tell them?”

“That Lord Inquisitor Fyodor Karamazov has come to investigate this so-called Sanguinius and determine the truth of the matter,” said Fyodor. “I’ll need permission for myself and my interrogators to land, and I also need to speak to Lord-Commander Dante.”

0000

When Inquisitor Vail heard the news, she did curse. This was going to be a nightmare. And no, Lord Dante, she had not called Karamazov!

0000

Cain had been hoping for a bit of quiet and maybe some personal time in-between running errands and helping with Amberley’s investigation. Karamazov! Frak.

Cain had long made a point on keeping up with the gossip and unofficial news networks of the guard and inquisitorial hangers-on. He’d heard plenty about Karamazov, his arrogance, his private army, and his excessive even by Inquisition standards willingness to kill the innocent along with the guilty. Even when the slightest bit of work by him could have told the two apart. Sanguinius was in real danger – and yes, Cain was sure by now this was Sanguinius. Who else could it be?

He’d never wanted to get involved in the affairs of the Emperor’s Angels. They were dangerous to be around. But now he was, he was at least going to make sure he was on the right side. Maybe that would make the Emperor less ticked with him when he appeared before the Golden Throne? A shame. He’d begun to think he’d actually make it to retirement before kicking the bucket. One year more would have done it... one frakking year.

000

The realities of lightspeed communications and interplanetary distances being what they were, it was recorded messages only at first. And there were messages aplenty.

Lord Inquisitor Karamazov,
Inquisitor Vail is already running an investigation and is satisfied with the progress being made. Your concerns are appreciated, but not necessary. I must also protest your bringing a fleet into a chapter homeworld’s system without prior permission or warning.
Lord-Commander Dante, Blood Angels

Lord-Inquisitor Karamazov,
this is Inquisitor Vail. I am already operating an investigation of the events on Valhalla, and the abrupt appearance of what many believe to be Sanguinius. The Blood Angels are cooperating, and I do not need backup. Your appearance with a fleet is causing increased tensions that will negatively impact my investigation.
Inquisitor Vail

0000

Lord Commander Dante,
given the seriousness of the situation, there was little time for the usual niceties. I will be coming down with an entourage to investigate this ‘Sanguinius’. In deference to your concerns, I will restrict myself to the minimum of staff, and leave my ships in orbit around Baal Primus. Be prepared to receive me on my arrival.
Lord-Inquisitor Karamazov

Inquisitor Vail,
I will be taking over your investigation. Kindly meet me on my arrival with the information you have collected.
Lord-Inquisitor Karamazov

0000

Lord-Inquisitor Karamazov,
you do not have permission to orbit a fleet around Baal Primus. It is inhabited and under Blood Angel protection. Your fleet may orbit Set, Antair, or Ammonai. In addition to the Blood Angels, you should know that there are also Flesh Tearers present under their Chapter Master Gabriel Seth, and they are not known for either diplomacy or willingness to accept insult lying down.
Lord Commander Dante

0000

Lord Commander Dante,
I will leave my fleet in orbit of Set. But do not interfere with my investigation, or it may go ill with you. I would suggest you make certain Gabriel Seth does not get in my way.
Lord-Inquisitor Karamazov

0000

“Who is this Lord Inquisitor Karamazov, and why are you all so worried?” asked Sanguinius, once the Sanguinary guard and their leader Sepharan had retrieved him from the sky.

Mephiston winced. “Just the most inflexibly dogmatic inquisitor in the Imperium, who does not believe in the possibility of innocence, or of himself being less than infallible. He’s very powerful in the Inquisition, and travels with a private army, which he has brought with him to Baal. He appears to have set his eyes on you being a fake.” Mephiston leaned forward, pale eyes intense.

“The Inquisition is extremely powerful, and should not be underestimated. Whatever you do, don’t let him make you lose your composure. He will use that as evidence against you, and he doesn’t need much to condemn someone. He should have no power over a primarch, and his power over us has limits, but since your identity is still being confirmed in the eyes of the Ecclesiarchy and the Imperium, you are vulnerable.”

“I don’t want to cause a civil war,” said Sanguinius. “Is there no way to convince him who and what I am? And does he have much support beyond the forces he brought with him?”

Mephiston ran a hand through his pale hair. “He is a Lord Inquisitor, which means he can order Vail and her entourage around. Very few people actually like Karamazov, but he is useful to many of those in high positions because he opposes change to the order of society.”

“Which helps keep them in power, and which my existence threatens to upend,” said Sanguinius.

Mephiston nodded.

“What would happen if I could convince him that I am who I say?”

“If you could convince him, very few would dare challenge you on your identity thereafter. Not given your sons are already convinced as well. It’s not going to be easy, though.”

“What is likely to convince him?”

“That’s the hard part. I don’t know.”

“What happens if he isn’t convinced?”

“He’s going to want you dead. And we will not allow that to happen.”

Which would likely cause a civil war that the Imperium did not need, and that could get both his sons and Baal’s population killed. “I am almost tempted to disappear,” said Sanguinius. “Would that protect you?” Not that he was good at hiding... sometimes he hated his wings.

“It would make you look guilty as sin, and likely get us all denounced as heretics for accepting you,” said Mephiston. “Please don’t do that unless we actually lose. We won’t let him kill you – Dante will have a backup plan.”

Sanguinius nodded. “Understood. What is Dante’s main plan to deal with Karamazov?”

“We’re calling in more of your sons, and Vail has put out the call to friends of hers in the Inquisition and Ecclesiarchy who might be able to rein Karamazov in. Between the amount of force we can pull in, and assuming Vail isn’t double-dealing, we should be able to make Karamazov blink, or get him over-ruled. It’s going to take time, though.”

“What do you need me to do?”

“Be cooperative within reason, friendly, and utterly above reproach. Whatever you do, don’t let him see the Thirst or the Rage. He might take either as evidence of demonic possession or something, even though he probably knows about both.”

Sanguinius nodded. “Tell me everything you know about him.” An idea struck him. “Those in his private army and his fleet – how loyal are they?”

Chapter Text

Karamazov clanked down his shuttle’s offramp on one of the most ridiculous contraptions Dante had ever seen. It looked like someone had taken a throne, plus a couple of extra chairs with a melta emplacement and a scribe, and stuck them on a dreadnought chassis. The weapons still weren’t enough to do him much good when surrounded by space marines. The ten people following him were presumably dangerous, but unless they were all upper level psychers or out of uniform Assassinorum they were in over their head. They didn’t move like either, though the woman on the left might be assassin-trained, and the robed one with the psychic hood was probably some kind of psycher.

Hmmm... Dante wondered if the not-Dreadnought would fit through his study’s door. They’d leave it in the hall, if it didn’t. It wasn’t as if it were practical for an informal meeting of this sort anyway, not that the word practical applied to such a monstrosity.

“Lord-Commander Dante,” said Karamazov. “and Inquisitor Vail.” He completely ignored Seth and Czervantes.

Seth glowered, and Czervantes’ eyes narrowed.

“Lord Inquisitor Karamazov,” said Dante. “Why don’t you come with us, and we will talk?”

“Where is your Sanguinius claimant?” said Karamazov. “I would like to meet him as soon as possible.”

“Mephiston is explaining to him who you are, and what the Inquisition is. They will join us shortly,” said Dante.

“Doesn’t he know?” Karamazov’s eyebrows rose.

“He’s been dead since the Horus Heresy, so there are lots of things about the modern Imperium that came as a shock. Low Gothic, for instance.”

“I see,” said Karamazov. “Very well then.”

They decamped to the large conference room when Karamazov refused to get out of the Throne of Judgement after it was unable to fit through the door of Dante’s study. When Seth and Czervantes did not leave when most of Karamazov’s hangers-on did, Karamazov frowned down from his high seat at them, his eyes lingering on Seth’s battlescarred armor. “Who are these?” he asked.

“I am Varzival Czervantes, Chapter Magister of the Angels Resplendent.” Varzival’s expression was unreadable.

“Gabriel Seth, Chapter Master of the Flesh Tearers.” Seth smiled. His fangs were just slightly visible.

“Inquisitor Amberley Vail, Ordo Xenos.” Her smile was warmer and less fang-filled than Seth’s, but it didn’t meet her eyes.

Karamazov turned to Dante. “I told you to keep Chapter Master Seth away from my investigation.”

Seth glared at Karamazov. “I rule the Flesh Tearers. No one tells me what to do, Dante or you.”

“I am not lord of the Flesh Tearers,” said Dante. “If Chapter Master Seth follows my lead occasionally, it is because he chooses to. I avoid making requests I know will be denied.” There was no way Dante could have kept Seth out of this without causing a major rift with the Flesh Tearers. Better to have Seth and Karamazov annoyed at each other than at him.

Karamazov looked even sourer. “Do you believe the claims of this so-called Sanguinius?”

“Yes,” said Dante, meeting his gaze. “I do.”

“and I,” said Gabriel Seth.

“I am waiting until I have finished my investigation before making a statement either way,” said Vail.

“I believe Sanguinius to be exactly who he says he is,” said Czervantes.

“You should also know that the representatives of the Angels Encarmine and the Lamenters also accept him as genuine,” Dante added.

“Because the Lamenters have such a good history of picking the right side,” scoffed Karamazov.

“We are all descendents of the Ninth Legion,” said Dante. “There is a bond between primarch and astartes that we had only read about, but when we met him it snapped instantly into place. We know he is Sanguinius.”

“Feelings don’t constitute evidence. And if it were so infallible, how were so many blood angels taken in by an imposter, earlier this very year?”

“Over-hopefullness, desperation, and wishful thinking that did not extend to all the marines the Imposter met. An imposter created and constantly backed up by Inquisitor Stele.” said Dante. “Sergeant Rafen helped unmask the imposter, and killed him, but he was the first to accept Sanguinius when he truly returned. And Chief Librarian Mephiston knew the imposter as a fake on sight, for the imposter was chaos-tainted, yet Mephiston vouches for Sanguinius as both being himself, and for being free from taint.”

“An Inquisitor was involved in this?” Karamazov’s eyes bulged.

Good, that struck a nerve. Maybe we can get through that thick skull yet. “Yes, proven true beyond the shadow of a doubt,” said Dante. “Mephiston and Rafen are eyewitnesses to him consorting with demons and fighting alongside them.”

Karamazov paused and looked at Vail. “Do you know of this?”

“Stele was a traitor and a heretic,” said Vail. “After the events with the Blood Angels, Inquisitors Calla and Meros did an investigation of his prior movements and works. They concluded that he was in secret a servant of Tzeentch, probably for decades.”

“The servants of the Enemies of Man are devious and they are everywhere, even that which should be most sacred,” said Karamazov, looking disgusted. He turned to Dante. “I regret that the Blood Angels were harmed so deeply by one among the Inquisition.” His expression turned pleading. “But surely you can see why it is so critical that this imposter must be unmasked before he can do even worse? The Imperium cannot afford another War of the False Primarch.”

“He’s not an imposter. Do you really think I would have allowed a fake Sanguinius to live?” demanded Seth.

“You may be loyal to the God-Emperor, but that doesn’t make you right,” said Karamazov.

Indeed.

“That runs both ways,” said Seth. “Are you actually here to find out the truth, or are you so fond of the power structure and your place in it that you will kill the Emperor’s most beloved son without even meeting him?”

Dante wished he’d found a way to leave Seth out after all.

“How dare you!? Your chapter isn’t beyond reproach, you know. Investigations can be reopened...”

“I dare because he’s the Emperor’s Son, my Father, and I am loyal, you pig-headed fool!” Seth’s fangs were fully extended, and there was a slight red cast to his eyes.

“Chapter Master Seth, stop.” said Dante. “You can’t call a Lord Inquisitor a pig-headed fool.” Even if he is.

Seth paused, and took a long breath.

“I find your aspersions offensive,” said Karamazov.

They glared at each other for a long moment.

“Would you accept eyewitness testimony of Sanguinius calling an Imperial Saint and being accepted by him, and the two of them cooperating to banish Ka’bandha and save an entire battle barge of space marines?” asked Czervantes. “I would be dead if not for him, and my entire First Company with me.”

Karamazov paused. “That’s quite the claim. Which Imperial Saint?”

“The Sanguinor.”

“How are you certain it was him, and where is he now?”

“There are over 80 recorded incidents of the Sanguinor, or someone very similar, appearing and assisting the descendents of the Ninth Legion over the last ten thousand years,” said Dante. “He appears during desperate battles, rescues the marines or helps them achieve critical objectives. Then he disappears, usually without speaking. The Blood Angels keep records of every appearance we know of, but it is likely that some appearances to other Ninth Legion descended chapters have gone unrecorded.”

“But none of the-”

There was a knock at the door. “Come in,” said Dante.

It opened, revealing Mephiston and Sanguinius.

Dante looked at Karamazov. Whose mouth was open, eyes wide. Would he actually... then the mouth shut with a snap, and the eyes narrowed. “You must be the Sanguinius imposter,” said Karamazov.

“I am Sanguinius,” said Sanguinius. “Imposter means false, I believe?”

“Yes,” supplied Mephiston.

“I see,” said Sanguinius. “I am not false, no.”

“Lord Karamazov, it was my understanding that you are here to investigate his identity,” said Vail. “You give the impression you’ve already made up your mind – before even looking at the data I have collected, or listening to eyewitnesses.”

“I presume nothing,” said Karamazov. “But this whole situation reeks of chaotic influence. He came into the existence at the hands of a tzeentchian sorcerer allied to Fabius Bile, for crying out loud!”

“I have interrogated that sorcerer,” said Vail. “Who was trying to bring back a single tormented piece of Sanguinius’ soul obtained from the Vengeful Spirit in a created body, and was extremely confused as to how their plan went so awry. She blamed personal interference on the part of the Emperor, by the way. Don’t you think you’d better look at all the data before you make up your mind? You wouldn’t want to interfere with the Emperor’s Grand Plan, would you?”

Karamazov paused. “I will review the data you have collected,” he said slowly. “But you have got to admit the whole situation is extremely fishy.”

“First appearances can be deceiving – in both directions,” said Vail.

Karamazov gave Sanguinius a considering look. “You may have them convinced,” he said. “But I am not so easy a mark. If I find any falsity whatsoever...”

“I understand,” said Sanguinius. “You fear letting a servant of Tzeentch loose in a position where they can do enormous damage to the Imperium. I am a loyal son of the Emperor, and have no desire to allow any such thing either. Investigate away.”

Karamazov nodded curtly. “I will investigate. And there will be a trial. Starting two days from now. I expect all of you to be available for it, short of a full-scale tyranid invasion.”

Chapter Text

Karamazov went away with a stack of datapads and paper reports he probably ought to read, deeply disturbed. This imposter was terrifyingly believable. If he didn’t know it was impossible... he could almost understand the marines, though not forgive, never that, they were obviously desperate to believe their gene-father was back. Far worse was Vail - a fellow Inquisitor! She might not be saying she believed the Imposter’s claim, but he’d learned to read people over the years well enough to tell.

He regretted accepting Dante’s insistence on parking his fleet so far away. Frankly, the best way to deal with this would be to call in an orbital strike on the Arx, his own presence, and the presence of genuine sacred relics including Sanguinius’ body, notwithstanding. Though there would still be the marines in orbit, and elsewhere on the various moons and planets of this system and beyond, which would be a headache for whoever came after him.

Five chapters contaminated. This was a disaster beyond his worst fears. He might have brought up the War of the False Primarch as a rhetorical device, but this could be worse than that if other descendents of Sanguinius joined in rebellion. There were, what, thirty or so chapters of them? Maybe more.

He needed backup. Lots of backup. And he’d have to rely on his own astropaths. Anything he sent through the astropathic choir here would get reported to Dante, if it even got sent at all. It probably wouldn’t get sent, or would get altered, or sent to the wrong recipient or something. And with one inquisitor already leaning traitor, who could he trust not to be taken in?

It would take time for the backup to arrive, too. He needed to play for time, which meant he was going to have to appear to be reasonable, and like he was taking time to peruse the evidence and dot every i and cross every t. Karamazov winced at the very idea.

0000

Dante looked at Sepharan as the leader of the Sanguinary Guard fell into step with him.

“With all these inquisitors around, Sanguinius should not be unguarded, even in the Arx,” said Sepharan.

“You are right,” said Dante. Yet another thing to worry about, but at least it was something he could delegate. “Pick five of your best, and make sure he’s never alone outside his personal quarters.”

“Where are those, by the way?”

Dante paused. “We haven’t reopened his historical ones yet – Gallimatus probably has people doing that now. For tonight I believe he’s in the best guest room. Oh, also, I’d like you to retrieve any working weapons and armour of his we have from the armoury, or substitutes large enough for him to use. I’ll write down the authorization and have it to you by tonight.” Dante paused. “Excluding the Spear of Telesto.”

That thing was just too dangerous in Sanguinius’ current state, even if with Karamazov around, Dante was more worried about Sanguinius being defenseless than about him killing someone. Having him armoured, somewhat armed, and surrounded by their best should hopefully nip any assassination attempts in the bud.

“But right now I need to go and talk strategy with both Inquisitor Vail and Sanguinius. Can you check with Gallimatus that things are underway?” It wasn’t as if the mess with Sanguinius and the Inquisition was Dante’s only current worry: there were also five wars the Blood Angels were currently fighting in, and a new request sitting on his desk that he’d have to say no to because of Karamazov.

Sepharan nodded, and headed off down the hall.

0000

Dante found Sanguinius sitting on pillows in one of the soundproofed meditation rooms the librarians favored so much. He stopped, and just looked at his primarch. So strange to have him just... there. Real. Dante had seen him in dreams and visions before, and this whole situation still felt a little unreal. Sanguinius had felt real when hugged though, fabric, skin and feathers, with a smell that was neither quite astartes nor baseline human, but that felt as if he’d always known it.

Sanguinius stirred, looking up at him. Then stood, and opened the door. “Dante?” he asked.

“I need to talk to you about strategy for the upcoming trial.”

Sanguinius gestured him inside. “By all means. I know far too little of what is entailed by a trial in the modern era.”

“It varies depending on local legal structure. On Baal, we generally try to use a trial before a judge, but in cases where the evidence is unclear or an impartial and competent judge cannot be found, trial by combat or trial by ordeal may be used. I think Karamazov will push for trial before a judge, with himself as that judge...”

0000

Vail shook her head as she left the astropathic choir’s chambers, shaking her head. She’d called on everyone she could think of, from the more sensible end of the Inquisition to the Sisters Famulous, to come and deal with this impending disaster. Civil War. That’s what they were facing if this went unchecked.

The marines were never going to agree to Sanguinius being murdered, judicially or otherwise. And they shouldn’t. To throw the Emperor’s gift back in his face like that would be disgusting as well as a stupid waste of resources and dangerous besides.

As for Karamazov... she knew better than to think he would ever agree that Sanguinius was the real thing, short of the Emperor appearing in front of his face and telling him so. Even if he was trying to appear reasonable in the face of so many disgruntled marines.

She’d have to play for time and be the voice of reason, until others with more power than her arrived to rein him in. And hope Seth didn’t decide to start the war early by killing Karamazov. Those two in the same room were a recipe for trouble.

0000

Dante sent out the news of Sanguinius’ return, Karamazov’s arrival, and a request for help to every chapter descended from Sanguinius. He also informed Macragge and sent a complaint to Holy Terra and the High Lord’s Inquisitorial Representative there, demanding that a proper investigation be sent out and Karamazov be reined in.

Many would come, but it would take time. He needed to buy time and spin out the trial as long as possible. Dante set Mephiston to get the academic librarians combing through the archives for precedents of previous important trials, with an eye to Baal’s history of trial by combat and ordeal as well as more formal trials, then went to talk to talk legal strategy with Vail.

0000

Leeter finally vetoed any more astropathic messages being sent out for the next two days. The astropaths were exhausted, with blinding headaches and bloody noses, himself included. They simply couldn’t do any more.

0000

Round the nearer parts of the Imperium, the messages went out:

“Sanguinius has returned! He is alive on Baal! And Inquisitor Karamazov is trying to kill him. We need your help!”

“A Primarch Imposter is on Baal. Rally to Inquisitor Karamazov to stop this heresy spreading further.”

Many heard the messages. Some ignored them and hoped it would blow over. Some forwarded the messages to their superiors, and hoped someone else would deal with the matter. Some took heart, but were too overwhelmed with problems of their own to answer. And others dropped everything, from wars, to diplomatic negotiations, to investigating heresy, and came.

0000

Sister Superior Patience Maude, of the order of the Holy Seal, of the order Famulous of the Adeptes Sororitas, had a headache. She was in the middle of delicate negotiations between two very stubborn rogue traders. They were going nowhere fast, but there was still hope. She glared at the dueling messages from two separate inquisitors on the desk in front of her. She did not have time for this!

But she couldn’t exactly ignore either the potential return of the Great Angel, or the rise of a very convincing imposter. Not with the obvious spiralling consequences including the potential for a civil war to engulf multiple sectors or even shatter the Imperium. The Order Famulous existed in order to resolve disputes before they came to war, and for verifying saintly activities.

There came a knock at the door.

“Enter,” she called, hiding the messages she’d just been looking at under a mostly-cold mug of recaf.

Sister Mary Sue entered, looking excited but nervous.

“What is it?” asked Patience.

“I believe I may have had a vision,” she said.

Patience’ eyebrows shot skyward. The Holy Seal’s job involved quite a bit of investigating visions, so Mary knew how to tell true vision from lie and the consequences of such a claim. Having visions wasn’t in the Holy Seal’s job description, though it sometimes happened anyway. The Emperor did as he chose, and it certainly wasn’t her place to tell him otherwise.

Mary stood there looking awkward.

“Details?” Patience prompted.

Mary swallowed. “I saw the Emperor, on the Golden Throne. He pointed... and I saw the Great Angel Sanguinius. He was alive. But there was an Inquisitor there too, and he was pointing a gun at Sanguinius’ head.” She swallowed. “I didn’t hear a voice, or anything, but the Emperor looked at me and - we need to go and stop this now!”

“Have you been listening to the astropaths in the last hour?” asked Patience. If this was Laurie, she might have disbelieved her, but Mary wasn’t given to pranks in poor taste or flights of fancy. Though she might be a little on the credulous side...

“No, I’ve been meditating in the chapel since breakfast,” said Mary. She looked at the clock. “Two hours ago. Cousin Katya was there too. You can verify it with her. You received a message about this?”

“Draw the entire vision in as much detail as you can. I will not tell you details that might contaminate it.”

Mary nodded, and accepted pen and paper.

Patience stood, already planning what she’d tell her crew – and the rogue traders. They would now have to sort out their own convoluted and rather stupid dispute. She had bigger problems to deal with.

Chapter Text

Sanguinius woke to a faint hissing sound and reddish blackness. No moon, star, or signs of dawn. He rose and stretched, thankful the room had been designed with visiting brother primarchs and his father in mind, and walked to the small, thickly-glazed window. Sandstorm. None of them would be going outside the Arx without great need today. Not that those involved in the trial needed to go anywhere.

Something crumpled beneath his bare feet. He reached down and picked it up, breaking into a smile. Oh yes. The chapter serf children had ambushed him late the previous day with a get well card. He carefully straightened it out, and put it back on the bedside table, then began to get ready for the day.

The attempt on the part of the Sanguinary Guard to find armour that would fit had failed. Not surprising, given how wrecked every piece of armor he’d owned had been by the end of the Siege, the amount of time since then, and the fact that he was 2 1/2 ft taller taller than even a space marine. Not to mention the wings. He’d been more surprised that the Blade Encarmine had survived. It had been clearly sealed away as a holy relic and not used. Everything designed for him had been too big for marines to use easily. He was glad to have something of his back, even as he hoped he would not have to use it for a while.

There was a knock at the door. “Come in,” said Sanguinius.

Luis his chapter serf entered, carrying a large tray bearing breakfast.

“Excellent, thank you,” said Sanguinius. He let his thoughts wander while he ate.

He was not looking forward to being put on trial. While he wasn’t afraid of the ordeals a trial by ordeal could reasonably ask, and he certainly had the truth on his side in an evidence-based trial, it was also obvious Karamazov was blatantly unreasonable and wanted him dead.

He had attempted to look into the future, but the results... he apparently had a fight with lots of giant fire scorpions in his future. And a meal of lizard-on-a-stick at a fair. And sitting in a library perusing ancient-looking documents as Mephiston did the same two chairs away. And an apoplectic looking Karamazov screaming something incomprehensible at Seth, Vail, and some sort of female religious person. Priest? Nun? Sanguinius wasn’t sure. Seth looked ready to bite Karamazov’s head off, and the religious woman looked exasperated.

There were also scenes of battle and war, but they were vague and at least some of what he was fighting wasn’t humanoid. Sanguinius was pretty sure he survived the trial to face other battles, but details beyond that were elusive.

Meanwhile, his own sons were all too willing to go to war to defend him, and the more he saw of the modern Imperium, the less stable the whole edifice looked. He did not want to be the cause of its final collapse, not with chaos, tyranids, orks, and others all watching, looking for an opening. That would definitely kill trillions, and might even doom the human race.

0000

They met in the Great Annex, beneath the Solar Dome. Karamazov, his apprentice Valdez, Vail, Dante, Mephiston, Seth, Czervantes, Arjen and himself. No one was smiling, and the atmosphere was tense.

“So,” Karamazov began. “We are met today to investigate the identity of one claiming to be the Great Angel Sanguinius, son of the God Emperor and Primarch of the former Ninth Legion. Such a claim must be verified as true, or proven false. The penalty for claiming such falsely is death. This is your final chance to recant your claim and live. Do you still claim to be Sanguinius?”

“I am Sanguinius of Baal, by some called the Angel. Son of the Emperor of Man, and Primarch of the former Ninth Legion.”

Karamazov nodded. “Now prove it.”

Dante rose. “I move that we call witnesses to the beginning of the whole affair.”

Karamazov nodded. “I ask Vail to take the stand. I understand she interrogated the Tzeentchian sorcerer who brought the claimed-Sanguinius into being.”

Vail stood. “I have the interrogation transcribed here.” She grabbed a folder from the neatly-labelled pile to her right, and handed it to the servitor, who passed it to Karamazov. Not that she hadn’t already given a copy to him earlier.

“Can you give a synopsis for the rest of us?” asked Dante.

She did.

“I have questions,” said Karamazov. “How do you know the piece of soul was Sanguinius’? Tzeentch’s followers are notorious liars.”

“Mostly from other lines of evidence as to Sanguinius’ identity: the disappearance of the Black Rage, his calling of the Sanguinor, his ability to see the future, his ability to defeat and drive off a greater demon, his link with his sons – I have witnessed them meeting him for the first time, and the reaction is highly visible and far more emotional than marines typically get. It also happens even when the marine goes into that meeting convinced he is an imposter and intending to kill him.”

“That would be Sergeant Rafen. correct?” asked Karamazov.

Vail nodded.

“Very well, let’s call him in next.”

0000

Rafen had survived a number of embarrassing situations and bad decisions, one of which had left him nicknamed ‘Rafen the Ready’ for decades. But explaining to two inquisitors and three chapter masters how he’d aimed a bolter at Sanguinius and almost shot him, only to realize his error and end up crying all over him...

Dante’s mask prevented Rafen from guessing what he was thinking, but Seth looked torn between being appalled and laughing, Czervantes looked disapproving, and Karamazov clearly wished he’d killed his primarch. Which did not bode well for the fairness of this ‘trial’.

Then, the questions:

“If marines know their primarch on first meeting, how did you come to almost shoot the believed-Sanguinius? Did you not feel anything immediately?” asked Karamazov.

“I was overwrought remembering Brother Arkio’s fate and determined not to let it happen again, and convinced that Sanguinius being alive couldn’t possibly be real, so I tried to ignore my own instincts.”

“This vision Sanguinius remembered, can you describe the context?” asked Vail.

“Inquisitor Stele had influenced my mind with psychic powers to try and make me kill myself. I ran, and I somehow ended up in a little chapel I’d set up to the Emperor earlier in some rubble. I was trying to resist the compulsion, but I was failing. I screamed to Sanguinius for help, and then suddenly I saw him, and then I found the strength to lower the knife, and the compulsion passed.”

“Was that your first vision of Sanguinius?” asked Dante.

“No.”

“Really? What other visions of our primarch have you had?” asked Czervantes.

“I had what I think were the usual ones during insanguination, but before that, after I initially failed to get into the Blood Angels, he appeared to me, and told me that if I still wanted to be a Blood Angel I should go in a specific direction. I went, and found the downed shuttle with the unconscious Brother-Sergeant Koris and the successful applicants under attack by a nest of fire scorpions. I joined the applicants and together we fought them off. When Sergeant Koris woke up, he changed his mind about letting me in.”

“Why didn’t you believe Arkio was Sanguinius?” asked Karamazov.

At least they hadn’t asked why Rafen wasn’t on the shuttle. He did not want to explain his teenage idiot self’s behavior ever again.

“Well, for starters,” said Rafen, “he’s my biological brother as well as my battle-brother, and we grew up together. The whole thing just felt wrong, even if he’d started looking increasingly like Sanguinius. Complete with wings. I wasn’t the only one to be suspicious of the change. Sergeant Koris was very suspicious, but he mysteriously fell to the Black Rage at a disturbingly convenient moment for Stele, along with a very unusual number of other brothers. In retrospect, I suspect that Stele managed to trigger that, even if I don’t know how. Stele kept walking roughshod over any questions or doubts, and everything was happening so fast. My instincts just kept screaming that this was wrong, so when a way to contact Chapter Master Dante appeared I grabbed it.”

“Even if it meant impersonating your deceased commanding officer,” said Seth, his mouth quirking.

“You did what?” said Czervantes.

“It meant Stele couldn’t pin it instantly on me, and Chapter Master Dante got the information he needed. I had no legitimate method of warning him without Stele stopping me, and I knew Koris would have wanted me to do this, since he could not.”

“Indeed,” said Seth.

Czervantes shook his head, and turned to Dante. “Your chapter has clearly had a very interesting year,” he said.

“You don’t even know all of it yet,” said Dante. “Though you’ve been having one yourself, I believe.”

0000

Brother Niman looked back and forth between the chapter masters and the inquisitors. “Yes, I recently recovered from the Black Rage,” he said. “When Sanguinius returned, though I only learned that later.”

“How long were you in the grip of the Black Rage?” asked Seth.

“Fourteen years.”

“Why were you not sent to a death companies?” asked Karamazov.

“I was. I was there for three years. I didn’t die. I instead became even more detached from reality, to the point where I was no longer a military asset.”

“What happened then?” asked Vail.

“They locked me in the Tower of Amareo, against utmost military need. I don’t remember much from those years.”

“How long were you there?” asked Vail.

“Eleven years.”

“What was it like, coming out of the Black Rage?” asked Czervantes.

“Confusing, and very sudden. I had no idea where I was at first, other than that Horus wasn’t present, and I seemed to be in some sort of prison cell. I thought Horus must have captured me, then realized I wasn’t Sanguinius, but Niman. And deduced from there what had happened. Also, those in the other cells started demanding to know what had just happened. The chaplains had no answers for us at first, because they didn’t know what had happened either.”

“What happened after that?” asked Vail.

“We sat around and stayed sane. They gave us some art supplies because we were bored, and had run out of songs to sing. After a couple of weeks, they started letting us out under supervision.”

“Have you had any relapses since?”

“No. The Rage has been completely silent ever since, and I haven’t heard of a single relapse into the Rage, or any new falls to it.”

“Isn’t the tower of Amareo still in use?” asked Karamazov. “It’s still guarded.”

“Sometimes a marine can fall so deeply into the Red Thirst that they do not come back out,” said Dante. “It is rare, but it does happen. Sanguinius’ return had no effect on those unfortunates, save to remove the Black Rage component of their troubles.”

Vail turned to Niman. “What are you doing now?”

“I returned to my former work as an apothecary; they’re really short-handed right now.”

0000

Cain had never wanted to be witness to miracles, let alone testify to them before an inquisitor who wasn’t Amberley. He put on his best ‘serious and doing my commissarly duty’ expression before entering the improvised courtroom.

The place was grand and would probably look nice if the sun were shining. With the skylight’s light blocked by the raging sandstorm, everything was reddish and more than a little gloomy.

“Please describe what you saw on entering the room where the ritual took place,” said Vail.

“The first thing I saw was cultists sprawled all over the floor, some alive, some dead. Also the corpses of the kidnapped civilians, a lot of choatic-looking symbols drawn in human blood, and a giant hole in the wall with the sorcerer staring blankly at it. There was also something large and pale-colored flying away outside that I didn’t get a good look at.”

“What else did you see on the floor, other than blood and corpses?”

“Once we’d taken the sorcerer and her accomplices into custody, I noticed that there was an aquila on the floor in the middle of the mess. It was undefiled, and glowing golden. I had never seen an aquila do that before. The glow vanished as I watched, leaving a perfectly ordinary looking aquila. I also saw enormous hacked-off primary feathers with blood on them.”

“Anything else, especially anything that you didn’t understand?” asked Amberley.

Cain wracked his brain. Amberley obviously wanted him to remember something specific, but he wasn’t sure what. Oh of course! “The vial,” he said. “There was a broken vial. Sergeant Rafen confirmed it later as the blood of Sanguinius that had been stolen from them.”

“Anything else?” asked Amberley.

What was he missing? She’d asked about equipment. Stasis – “there was also an odd-looking box full of machinery. I didn’t know what it was, but it could have been stasis-related. It was also covered in chaos runes, so I didn’t investigate further, but voxed Inquisitor Vail.”

“What did you think had happened at this point?” asked Karamazov.

“I didn’t know for sure, but whatever they had summoned, or otherwise created was clearly powerful and potentially dangerous. In any case, Inquisitor Vail would have a better idea what was going on than me, and needed to know about it.”

“What did you think had happened?” aske Karamazov again.

“I honestly didn’t know what I was looking at... but my first thought given the chaos cultists and the presence of the tzeentchian sorcerer was some sort of demon, most likely tzeentchian given that it had feathers. Over the next few hours I realized that this was wrong.”

“What made you decide it was wrong?” asked Dante.

“Because he didn’t hurt the gawping civilians. I’ve followed Inquisitor Vail around long enough, and been Commissar long enough, that I’ve seen and heard a lot. Demons don’t cross a city without leaving a trail of dead behind. Whatever we were chasing harmed no one, and the civilians who’d gotten a decent look swore blind that it was an angel, and that he looked just like the classic depictions of Sanguinius. I can’t imagine a demon would have bothered enough about modesty to improvise clothing out of a handy bedsheet, either.”

Someone snickered, though Cain didn’t see who. Not his job to police astartes behavior, these weren’t the 597th.

0000

And so on it went. Witnesses were called, said their piece, were questioned, and left again. Sometimes they were called back several times. The trouble was, everyone had already made up their mind what they believed, and nothing any witness said significantly changed a single opinion. Finally, Sanguinius himself was called in for the fourth time.

Chapter Text

Sanguinius looked around the room. The lighting was better than it had been the first morning, and the people looked more frazzled, but otherwise the scene was identical to the first time he’d been here.

“What would you like to know?” he asked.

“Why did you run away from Commissar Cain?” asked Karamazov.

“I didn’t see him, just heard multiple sets of running footsteps. My assumption was that it was still ten thousand years ago and they had been sent to drag me back to Horus. Having no weapon or armour, I decided not to wait for them to arrive.”

“So you jumped out a twenty story window with damaged wings.” Karamazov raised an eyebrow.

“I was disoriented and didn’t even realize I had been pinioned until I was in the air.”

“You panicked,” said Karamazov, smirking. “Space marines are supposed to know no fear. I would have thought it would be the same for primarchs.”

Sanguinius gave Karamazov a slitted look. “That doesn’t mean we’re suicidal, or that our lives have no value to us.” And some of that ‘know no fear’ was more propaganda than reality, even if he wasn’t about to say that here. Less easily scared by physical dangers and not showing standard signs of fear didn’t mean that there weren’t things that terrified both marines and primarchs.

“I’d just been killed by Horus,” Sanguinius continued, “so naturally I didn’t stay to let him do it again – and when I’d just lost against him with weapons and armor there was no point in facing him without them. I was hoping I could find the Emperor and join up with him before he faced Horus.”

“If you’d just died, didn’t being alive again show you something was wildly off with this idea?” said Karamazov.

“I was pretty disoriented and confused when I came back. But also... both my father the Emperor and my brother Vulkan are perpetuals. When they die, they don’t usually stay that way – and I know Vulkan had no idea he was a perpetual until he got hit by a nuke, died, and stood back up. I assumed that being alive again meant I was a perpetual too, though I was surprised as my visions had shown me dead and my sons in mourning. But visions can be confusing, and the future sometimes changes.”

“I’ve never heard of these perpetuals,” said Karamazov.

“Really? There have never been many, but there’s always been a few,” said Sanguinus. “The Emperor, Malcador, Vulkan, and others. Are there no modern perpetuals?” He looked at Dante, wondering if he was going to end up talking about the Emperor at great length again. That tended to draw things out as even Karamazov got distracted by talk of his god from one who he refused to admit had known him personally. Sanguinius wondered if Karamazov still thought him a fake, or was just pretending. He wasn't quite sure.

“I’ve never heard of perpetuals either,” said Dante. “Though the Emperor is said to have been many thousands of years old when he took the throne, which does suggest such a thing is possible.”

And there it was. “He was. Tens of thousands,” said Sanguinius, taking up the offered tangent. “He spoke of pre-spaceflight events as one who’d been there, and he and Malcador were always making references to things nobody else remembered. When you looked up the event in question, there it was, four and a half thousand years ago. Also, the Emperor's ship was named Bucephalus, after his favorite horse – which he’d had as Alexander of Macedon.”

“Malcador, as in Malcador the Sigillite, was one of these perpetuals?” asked Karamazov.

“Yes. I’m glad he’s remembered. He was the Emperor’s right hand and best friend. He was something of an honorary uncle to all of us.” Sanguinius’ smile faded. “He died holding the Golden Throne so the Emperor could take the fight to Horus.”

“He also founded the Inquisition just before he died,” said Karamazov.

“Really?” said Sanguinius. “In that case, perhaps you have noticed that Malcador was working beside the Emperor from well before the start of the Unification Wars to the end of the Horus Heresy – a span longer than a natural human lifespan, or even most artificial augmentation methods.”

“The histories of those days have many holes due to the damage from the Siege of Terra.”

“Unc- Malcador always held his cards close to his chest. But look up the order of Sigillities, or the personal history of the Emperor. Surely there’s something that’s survived.”

“It has, and the Inquisition has access to it,” said Vail. “There are holes yes, but we should be able to find reference to perpetuals. And you’re right; Malcador was around a very long time.”

“Right. Dominique, make a note to have Interrogator Erin look up perpetuals and whether Malcador was one,” said Karamazov, looking a little more frazzled.

“Yes, my lord,” said Dominique.

The grilling went on, with more rabbit holes of ancient history dived down at intervals as someone had questions or got distracted by the lure of stories about figures out of legend from someone who was there.

“What was the Emperor really like, as a father?” asked Dante.

“I didn’t meet him until I was an adult, and I never really got to know him as well as I would have liked. He was very focused on growing the Imperium, and his grand plans of various kinds. Devoted to humanity, absolutely. But the two things together meant he never really got the chance to be a parent to us.”

There was a longing look in Karamazov’s eyes. Then they hardened, and he puffed out his chest. Even on that stupid throne, he couldn’t really look down his nose at Sanguinius. “You question the wisdom of the Emperor?” said Karamazov.

“I merely say that before he was interred in the Golden Throne, there were limits on what he could do – like only being in one place at a time. Which meant he had to prioritize, and when he had to choose, he chose the Imperium and humanity as a whole over individuals. Which is what you’d expect from a competent ruler of a giant empire.”

0000

“What is wrong with you?” someone outside the door yelled. It sounded like Czervantes. Sanguinius blinked.

“Traitor!” a marine he didn’t recognize yelled. “It’s all your fault!”

What in Terra’s name was going on out there?

“What are you talking about? Is it the Rage? Horus is not here. I’m Czervantes. Your Chapter Master. We’re surrounded by our friendly cousins. Calm down!”

If someone had just snapped into the Black Rage... Sanguinius moved.

Chapter Text

Reclusiarch Relian was confused, and very out of sorts. He’d been sent to Baal by High Chaplain Malvoisin to find out why the Black Rage had disappeared, and had gotten most of the way there only to receive an astropath message claiming Sanguinius was alive on Baal and in danger, and calling on all Sons of Sanguinius to come to Baal. On arrival, he found there were multiple fleets of ships in-system, their codes showing everything from Blood Angels to Flesh Tearers to Flesh Eaters, to Angels Encarmine to Inquisition.

Just what was Dante doing?

“What do you mean, our primarch is alive again, and the Inquisition has put him on trial?” he asked the Blood Angel manning the communications. “Surely this is just an imposter?”

“Then where has the Black Rage gone?” the Blood Angel asked.

“It must be some trick to sway us from the Emperor’s light,” said Relian. “Chaos can be awfully devious.” And the Blood Angels had always been proud, with their art and their high heroism, famous name and custody of the sacred world of Baal and their progenitor’s tomb. He wasn’t surprised to see them get into trouble.

“Why don’t you come down and see him for yourself?”

“I think I will,” said Relian. This imposter wasn’t going to last long, assuming the Inquisition actually did their job properly this time.

0000

“Where is this Sanguinius?” asked Relian, trying not to look at the very pretty mosaic on the wall across the hallway. He used to make those, once. He’d given up such frivolous pursuits after the Undying Martyr came. It is very well done, technique-wise. I’d like to go and take a closer look. Relian turned his back on temptation with a disapproving scowl.

The Blood Angel he’d stopped looked puzzled at this behaviour, but answered the question. “He’s at the trial, but I think they should be finishing up for today shortly. If you wait at the far end of the hallway on the left, you should be able to see him.”

Relian gave a sharp nod. “I will do so.” He swept off down the hall and turned onto the next.

Only to stop in shock at a familiar face. A long-lost familiar face. “Czervantes?” he whispered.

Czervantes – and it was him – turned to look at him, and broke into a smile. “Relian! It’s good to see – what happened to you?”

“You’re alive! How?”

“Sanguinius rescued me and everyone on the First Resplendent from Ka’bandha. He saved all our lives! That’s why I’m here, to testify on his behalf.” He jerked his head towards the door. “Why are you here, and – you’re a mess. What on Holy Terra are you wearing?”

“Sanguinius? But surely he’s an imposter?” Sanguinius couldn’t be back, he just couldn’t. None of this made any sense! If the Emperor had given up on humanity, why would he send his most beloved son back to them, and to rescue Czervantes of all people?

“No imposter. Wait until they’ve finished, and see for yourself. I saw him send Ka’bandha packing with my own eyes, after sending the Sanguinor to save us and coming himself when that wasn’t enough.

“He can’t be!” protested Relian. “He can’t! This is a trick!”

“No trick. And what has happened to you, brother?”

“You don’t know.” How was he going to explain this? And should he? This was his Chapter - former Chapter Master, puppet of the Chaos Gods, who was the reason their chapter had needed rescuing by the Undying Martyr! No wonder he was in favor of the imposter. Relian’s fist lashed out. He struck Czervantes in the face, and reached for his own bolter.

0000

The punch took Czervantes totally by surprise, and he wasted a split-second gaping at his brother before slapping the bolter out of Relian’s hand as it came up. It went skittering across the floor. “What is wrong with you?” demanded Czervantes.

“Traitor!” yelled Relian. “It’s all your fault!”

“What are you talking about? Is it the Rage? Horus is not here. I’m Czervantes. Your Chapter Master. We’re surrounded by our friendly cousins. Calm down!” Czervantes could hear feet running in their direction. Reinforcements that would hopefully let him get Relian safely contained before someone got killed.

“You and the muses, and the reverie and everything!” screamed Relian. “You are not my Chapter Master. I defy you, servant of Slaanesh!”

What the?

The doors to the trial banged open.

“What is going on here?” demanded Sanguinius, standing in the doorway. “Stand down!”

Czervantes stepped away, feeling suddenly shaky, and glad he had not drawn a weapon. His eyes flicked to Relian, who stood frozen with eyes like saucers, then sank to his knees. “Sanguinius? Father... how?”

“It’s a long story. What is your name, and why are you attacking Chapter Master Czervantes and accusing him of terrible things?”

“I’m Relian... a reclusiarch of the Angels Penitent, sire. And this man helped wreck my Chapter and I won’t let him bring the Emperor’s wrath down on us again!” He pointed an accusing finger at Czervantes.

Sanguinius turned to Czervantes. “Aren’t you Chapter Master of the Angels Resplendent?”

“Yes, I’ve never heard of the Angels Penitent, but he’s one of the Resplendents... or was.” Czervantes looked at Relian.” What have you done to your armor?” It wasn’t blue and gold anymore, filthy dirty, the heraldry was wrong, and Relian stank like he hadn’t bathed in a month.

“We are now the Angels Penitent! You have no power over me, vile servant of Slaanesh, and don’t expect your corrupted lapdog Athanasius to come to your call. He’s dead, along with the rest of the Librarius. Your taint has been purged from the Angels Penitent by the Undying Martyr.”

Czervantes looked at Sanguinius. “Primarch, I ask for your assistance. There’s something terribly wrong with my chapter.”

“Of c-”

“Stop this!” demanded a human voice from inside the chamber, accompanied by the sound of a walking dreadnought. Karamazov. “You are on trial. You may not mediate disputes.”

Sanguinius turned his head to look behind him, feathers bristling, and Czervantes suddenly wondered what would happen if his primarch lost his temper.

Karamazov appeared in the doorway, peering around Sanguinius’ right wing. “Also, what’s this about heresy?”

“Czervantes is a servant of Slaanesh!” said Relian.

“I am not. Relian is either delusional, or the Angels Resplendent outside this ship has been taken over by a madman and a bunch of my people murdered. But I don’t accept your mediation or advice, Inquisitor. I want Sanguinius’.

“I want Sanguinius too,” said Relian.

“Absolutely not!” said Karamazov. “He’s on trial for being an imposter.”

Relian gave him a bewildered look. “Have you no eyes? That’s Primarch Sanguinius. He’s right there. The only reason you’re still alive is because he’s decided not to kill you thus far.”

So perhaps Relian wasn’t completely delusional after all. Which suggested the Angels... Whatever were in serious trouble back on Malpertuis.

“Relian is right on thi-” started Seth.

“Shut up!” yelled Karamazov. “I want those two locked up. I will deal with you after the trial.”

“But I need to testify,” said Czervantes.

“Inquisitor Karamazov, you don’t have jurisdiction,” said Dante. “The only reason you have jurisdiction in Primarch Sanguinius’ case is because his identity needs to be proven to the Ecclesiarchy and the Imperium at large. You have no say in the internal affairs of a Space Marine Chapter.”

“But there’s heresy at stake,” said Karamazov. “We can involve ourselves under such circumstances.”

“If there is, we will purge it ourselves,” said Dante. “Your assistance is neither needed nor wanted, and you have a rather critical trial to deal with.” Dante turned to Czervantes and Relian. “Can you two shelve your disagreement until the trial is over, on the understanding that Sanguinius will mediate it?”

“I will not be ignored!” said Karamazov.

“Come on, we all know this trial is a farce,” said Seth. “And you’re the worst excuse for a judge I’ve ever seen.”

Karamazov turned the throne of judgement at clanking top speed, taking a menacing step towards Seth.

0000

Sanguinius was fed up to the back teeth with the entire situation. He jumped in between Karamazov and Seth, placing one hand on the melta gun attached to the throne, and twisted it offline. Something in the housing screeched and snapped, leaving the gun pointing at the ceiling.

“No,” said Sanguinius. “You will not start a war over me. Since Karamazov has shown himself unable to be impartial, I demand a trial by ordeal. Those at least are harder to game.”

“You demand-” began Karamazov.

“Seconded,” said Dante.

“I agree,” said Czervantes.

“And I,” said Seth.

Karamazov gaped.

“I think we should do as they suggest,” said Vail. “Forgive me, but the marines do not appear to have confidence in your impartiality as a judge. In the interest of avoiding a civil war that would severely damage the Imperium while benefiting all our enemies, I also suggest we switch to a trial by ordeal.”

“But... but how can we possibly give a primarch a meaningful trial by ordeal?” said Karamazov.

“You agree he’s a primarch?” said Dante.

“No!” said Karamazov, pounding one fist on his throne. “But he’s a very convincing fake, and whoever created him undoubtedly gave him some impressive physical abilities to match his looks and voice. I can’t guarantee any single ordeal will catch him.”

“What about a series of ordeals? Replicate some of the abilities and feats the records describe?” said Dante. “If you truly believe him a fake, chaos is bound to have messed up somewhere.”

Karamazov sat silent. “So be it,” he finally said.

Chapter Text

They started with a simple physical examination for chaos taint, checking DNA, and making sure that Sanguinius had all the expected alterations and organs found in the Blood Angels. Even though this had been done multiple times by at least two different groups already.

Sanguinius had never been particularly fond of medical examinations. He liked them even less when they involved a committee of physicians looking for physical evidence of chaos contamination and commenting on everything unusual about his body. At least he didn’t have to worry about his wings being a black mark against him this time.

“Do you have a belcher’s gland?” asked Apothecary Lucen of the Blood Angels.

“Yes, I do.”

“What’s a belcher’s gland?” asked Doctor Kenora, a human physician working for Karamazov.

“It lets space marines spit acid,” said Lucen.

“Oh.”

“Acid Spit in this, please,” said Apothecary Lucen.

Sanguinius did, and it promptly started corroding the container.

“That’s a solid yes,” said Lucen, carefully discarding the container in the hazardous waste bucket. “Dominique, please mark that down.”

The quill pen scratched dutifully. “Does anyone have a sandpaper cigarette?” asked Dominique. “I appear to have mislaid mine.”

“No,” said Lucen. “And if you have any sense, you’ll quit. They’re really bad for baselines.”

Dominique pouted.

Lucen turned back to Sanguinius. “Can you show us your fangs?” he asked.

Sanguinius gave him his most intimidating smile.

“That’s a yes,” said Lucen.

“Can you actually fly without antigrav?” asked Kenora.

“Yes, I can fly without artificial aids. Many people witnessed me do so two days ago.”

“Fascinating. You don’t appear to have the chest musculature to support it.” She gestured. “Have you always been able to fly?” said Kenora.

“Since my flight feathers came in when I was about fourteen months old.”

“So before that, were your wings bare?” asked Apothecary Danielar, of the Angels Resplendent. “The artistic depictions vary, and they’re mostly from centuries later anyway.”

“Down covered.”

“You must have been a ridiculously fluffy baby. Like a baby bird,” said Danielar.

“Or a cherub,” said Sandor, of the Angels Encarmine. His mouth twitched, then he glanced at Sanguinius, and dropped his gaze.

“Not really, those are fully-feathered, and they use antigrav,” said Lucen.

“I suppose so,” said Sandor.

Eventually he was cleared of physical signs of chaos taint and the inane questions, poking and prodding were over.

Sanguinius looked at Dominique and asked “What are sandpaper cigarettes?”

Dominique blinked up at him. “They’re a habit I picked up a few star systems ago. I’ve probably got some back in my belongings somewhere. I just can’t find them right now. Don’t worry about it, my lord.”

“I see.” Every culture he’d ever seen seemed to have some equivalent vice, whether drunk or smoked or injected. Hopefully this was one of the less dangerous ones to withdraw from, if Dominique couldn’t find his stash.

Sanguinius finally turned to leave, but not before he overheard Lucen muttering. “We need to hire a vet. I don’t know what to do with wings.”

0000

Karamazov insisted Sanguinius demonstrate his skill at flying. Sanguinius shrugged. It wasn’t as if he had any objection... though it was awfully tempting to make sure Karamazov got a large backwash of air full of grit from Sanguinius’ takeoff. He didn’t figure it would actually help his case, though, so he refrained.

But it was so tempting. Couldn’t Karamazov take the word of several thousand eyewitnesses, one of them a fellow inquisitor, at face value, instead of insinuating that every single one of them, including said inquisitor, was lying? How this twit hadn’t had an ‘accident’ before now Sanguinius wasn’t sure. He was useful to someone more powerful, probably. Sanguinius needed to know who, but Mephiston didn’t know, and Sanguinius didn’t have the means to find out right now.

0000

Annika the rememberancer couldn’t believe her luck. Studying the dead language of Anoekian had always been something that got her raised eyebrows and ‘couldn’t you find a more useful hobby?’ comments. But now it meant she got to interview Sanguinius! Take that, classroom bullies!

Sanguinius was somehow even bigger and more overwhelming than he had looked from a distance. And when he opened his mouth... that was definitely anoekian, and she recognized “Hello, my name is Sanguinius. What is your name?”

Wow that was a weird accent. Maybe the language had shifted before it died? Or her from-a-book pronunciation was off.

“My name is Annika,” she replied.

His eyebrows went up.

“How many (was that a unit of time-measurement) anoekian been dead for?” asked Sanguinius.

“How long has Anoekian been dead?” Annika clarified.

Sanguinius nodded.

“About seven thousand years,” said Annika.

Sanguinius nodded. “Language shifts, then.”

“That is logical,” said Annika. “It’s nice to have persons to talk to!” Argh, she’d used the plural.

Sanguinius laughed. “True. I am glad to see that it has not been completely forgotten. I was disappointed to hear that the language had died.”

“I take it that Sanguinius does indeed speak Anoekian?” the female inquisitor asked.

“Oh yes,” said Annika, switching languages. “In the classical dialect and far better than I can. But some of his words are new to me, and well... I learned Anoekian out of a book, so I think I’m mangling the pronunciation somewhat. It’s amazing to get to meet a real native speaker!”

The inquisitor on the giant throne – the one who had supposedly come to test Sanguinius’ identity but was rumored to be trying find an excuse to kill him – had a sour look on his face. Apparently he didn’t like what he’d just heard. Well good!

Annika left the room with the feeling of a job well done. And just maybe, she’d get to speak Anoekian with Sanguinius again after this was over, and fix her pronunciation.

0000

Dante was busy with the trial all day every day, which meant that paperwork and dealing with new arrivals got delegated whenever possible, and relegated to snatched moments in-between Sanguinius’ ordeals or into the hours when even space marines preferred to sleep.

And there were new arrivals. When it wasn’t the Angels Penitent – he really should have seen that problem coming, but he hadn’t realized just how crazy the Penitent were until Relian attacked Czervantes. Something was clearly very wrong there, but he did not have time to deal with it right now.

When it wasn’t the Angels Penitent, it was The Flesh Eaters, the Blood Drinkers, the Golden Suns, the Order Famoulous of the Adeptus Sororitas, or a group of very confused Blackwatch who decided to leave again and kill orks on the grounds that ‘at least then it’s obvious who the enemy is’. And that utter twit of a noble pilgrim who demanded to see Sanguinius like he was some sort of museum exhibit for his entertainment and threw a snit when Dante told him no and had him escorted off-planet.

More problematically, there were now an extra five small warships here to support Karamazov, who’d had to be talked down from firing on the Blood Drinkers when they first arrived.

At least most of the new arrivals could be excluded from direct participation in the trial, or in the case of the Order Famoulous, looked like they might actually be useful... he wasn’t sure what they’d gone off to talk with Vail about, but Vail was looking decidedly smug when she came back in.

“Care to share?” asked Dante quietly.

“Not yet,” said Vail. “But we might have another option if Karamazov loses it. It’s risky, but... don’t let Seth kill Karamazov without telling me or Sister Superior Maude first.”

“I do not control Chapter Master Seth, but I will ask him to keep himself in check as soon as I get the chance.”

Chapter Text

The geiger counter was ticking frantically as Sanguinius got out of the vehicle. The glassy nuclear wasteland and grit beneath his feet was somewhat hot from the noon sun as Sanguinius went for a barefoot stroll. Probably radioactive decay as well, given this was the single most radioactive location on Baal or its moons. Nice breeze though.

He looked down at his feet. The skin there had gone nearly black, and on his hands it was dark brown. The chromatic changes were always interesting to watch. When he’d lived with the Blood, they’d sometimes used him as a living geiger counter once they’d realized what the changing color signified.

Back on the shuttle ramp, heavily wrapped in protective gear, the Inquisitors, space marines, and adeptes sororitas watched with binoculars as he went for a stroll. After about twenty minutes, he turned and waved at them. Then walked back.

One lengthy decontamination procedure and medical checkup later, which together took longer than the walk had, the medics pronounced him completely fine. Sanguinius agreed, smiled sweetly at Karamazov, and asked “So what do you want me to do next?”

0000

Sanguinius picked up the Spear of Telesto. The tip lit, bathing the arena in brilliant golden light. “I’m impressed this still works,” Sanguinius said to Dante. “You’ve clearly taken excellent care of it.”

“Actually, it got lost for several millennia,” said Dante. “We only retrieved it from an ork chieftain who had no idea what the pretty spear he was waving around actually was a year and a half ago.”

“That’s even more impressive. The Emperor does fine work, but ten millennia is an astonishing length of time for a weapon to last. And it isn’t a case of a ‘genuine roman axe’ either. I recognize that ding near the butt end.” Sanguinius touched the ding in question. “That’s from Signus Prime.”

“Can you demonstrate its use as a distance weapon?” asked Sister Superior Patience Maude.

“Certainly,” said Sanguinius. He pointed it at the targets set up, hitting each one in rapid succession.

“We also need to test it on someone not of your gene lineage,” said Vail.

Sanguinius nodded, and walked over to Ciaphas Cain, whose habitual cocky smile became quite fixed. “Try shooting this at the target,” Sanguinius said, and handed the spear to him.

Cain exhaled, nodded seriously, and gingerly accepted the large, heavy, and absolutely priceless power spear. The light went out. “How do I turn it on?” Cain asked.

“You don’t,” said Sanguinius. “This is what happens someone who isn’t a descendent of mine handles it. They can still stab someone with it, but all the power aspects are inactive.”

“I heard that Sergeant Rafen successfully wielded the full power of the Spear in combat,” said Vail. “We could ask him to demonstrate.”

Rafen was found and brought in. “I did do that,” said Rafen. “However, I had to tap into the edges of the Black Rage in order to do so.”

Sanguinius winced.

Rafen continued: “So I’d really rather not – and I’m not sure if I even can any more, given that the Black Rage has vanished.”

Karamazov insisted that he try. Rafen accepted the Spear with the odd combination of a frown of concentration and half-extended fangs. The spear stayed stubbornly dark, then half-lit a moment, then went back out. “I don’t think I can do it any more,” said Rafen.

Several of the others had a go. Dante, Mephiston, Seth, and Jarvis managed to get small flickers of light, while Arjen, Czervantes and Deanatos got nothing at all. But it functioned properly for no one but Sanguinius.

0000

It was a very good thing Sanguinius wasn’t allergic to incense. The cathedral was full clouds of it, and sneezing would probably be a bad omen. Sanguinius wasn’t quite sure what to make of the whole thing. His father would loathe it, from first to last. But was that still true? Was the Emperor a god now? He was certainly being treated as one. What precisely was a god anyway? Hopefully not like the chaos gods...

The Emperor was still out there and active to some degree, even if his body was inactive on the Golden Throne. He’d collected and protected the shards of Sanguinius’ soul, and stuffed them back into a body when opportunity presented itself. And he’d given that Mary Sue woman a vision of Sanguinius and Karamazov. Surely he could tell these people ‘NO!!!’ if he hated this so much.

The priest’s voice rose, and there was a call and response. Sanguinius followed the lead of Dante beside him.

He’d been assured that he wouldn’t have to directly call the Emperor a god or anything of the kind, on grounds that the Emperor had told him directly not to, and until he told Sanguinius otherwise Sanguinius intended to do as told.

But still... if his father as Sanguinius knew him saw him in the middle of this, he would be enraged.

Ten thousand years ago. Now? Sanguinius had a lot of questions, and very few answers. He had half a mind to try praying, and just see what happened. Something along the lines of ‘father, could you please tell me what you’re up to and what you want from me?’ He was so sick of the Emperor leaving important information out all the time, leaving him and his brothers to play guessing games.

On went the service, with holy water and prayers and blessings, and long paens of thanks to the (god) Emperor for Sanguinius’ resurrection. Sanguinius actually joined in that part. Surely his father wouldn’t object to being thanked for something he had demonstrably done? Not doing so was ungrateful and rude. So he thanked his father, and added a request for guidance on what he was supposed to do in this new time.

At the end of the service, Sanguinius was still notably unsmitten by lightning, and Karamazov was visibly fuming.

0000

That evening, Ciaphas Cain found himself behind Dominique in line at the mess. “Are you getting food for Karamazov?” asked Cain. Did the Inquisitor really intend to yank the marines’ chain like this and assume no one would poison him? If so, how was he still alive?

“Oh no, he brought his own,” said Dominique. “But the rest of us do need to eat.” He smiled at Cain. “Want a sandpaper cigarette? I finally found mine. I couldn’t find them all day.”

No wonder Dominique’s voice was so raspy. “No, but thanks for the offer,” said Ciaphas Cain. Dominique wasn’t one of his soldiers, so he didn’t have to confiscate them. He should really stay out of this, but... “What’s Karamazov like to work for?”

“You’re with Inquisitor Vail, correct?”

Cain nodded.

“Not bad,” said Dominique. “I get three meals a day, and a steady supply of sandpaper cigarettes. I’ve even got a bit of savings built up. He yells a lot, but I’m useful and know how not to tick him off, so it works out well enough. The Throne’s an interesting beast mechanically, and I know it better than anybody.”

Cain nodded.

“How’d a Commissar start working for the Inquisition?” asked Dominique.

“I have a tendency to find trouble, and Inquisitor Vail and I kept finding ourselves in situations where teaming up made sense. It worked out well, so she kept borrowing Jurgen and I.”

“This Sanguinius imposter person, he’s quite something, isn’t he?” said Dominique, lowering his voice. “I mean, I wouldn’t question Karamazov’s judgement, not if my life depended on it, but I’ve never seen anything like him before.”

“He definitely is something special,” said Ciaphas Cain.

“Jurgen.” said Dominique. “He’s the one who smells bad, isn’t he? Why do you keep him around?”

“He’s a fantastic shot with that melta, and he makes great tanna,” said Cain. “Saved my life many times. There’s no one I’d rather have at my back in a fight.” Dominique really shouldn’t talk about someone’s smell. He smelled of sandpaper cigarettes.

0000

Sanguinius looked at the slightly ridiculous set of empty mugs on the table in front of him.

“Still not drunk, I take it?” said Inquisitor Vail.

“Indeed. I can run through the tests again if you want.” Sanguinius took in both the inquisitors with a glance.

Seth snorted, and gestured to Sanguinius’ left.

Rafen and Jarvis were singing a rather offkey ballad about a barrel full of orks– or at least Sanguinius thought that was what it was about. They kept forgetting the verses and substituting ‘fa la la la la’. Salazar, meanwhile, was attempting to tell a story about trying to catch a very small tyranid that kept running away to Tamrin, who was asleep with his head on the table.

Karamazov sighed. “I think you’ve made your point. Fenrisian ale clearly doesn’t work on you.”

0000

Sanguinius looked down at the targets from high above, then stooped into a dive. Pulling up, he shot the first one with an infernus pistol. That target exploded, raining burning fragments for at least ten feet. Sanguinius switched the pistol for the Spear, bouncing off the ground with one foot without truly landing. And back to the targets again. The other targets acquired giant holes in their centers, leaving a burning outer ring.

Finally, he grabbed the training gun.

Sepharan and five of the Sanguinary guard flew up after him, and there was paintball in the sky. Sanguinius forgot about the Inquisitors, the trial, and the watchers on the ground, and flew, twisting through the sky and firing mid-acrobatics. One by one, the Sanguinary guard was hit with green paint and tapped out, leaving Sanguinius alone in the sky and decidedly unpainted.

Time to land.

“That was amazing!” said Sepharan, as soon as he landed. “We must do that again!” He paused. “It makes excellent training,” he said in a somewhat less excited voice.

“Absolutely,” said Sanguinius, not quite keeping a straight face. “It is very valuable.”

Karamazov’s face was dark, and he said nothing.

0000

Sanguinius looked at the enormous tank in front of him. This ordeal was stupid. Since when did he actually need to flip a Baneblade? And where had Karamazov gotten it? However, if it got Karamazov off his case... he bent down, and lifted a few inches before putting it back. It was harder than he’d expected - he obviously needed to work out more with this body, but this would definitely work.

“Can’t do it?” Karamazov’s voice came floating over, entirely too pleased.

“Give him a minute,” said Maude.

Sanginius put his irritation with the blasted annoyance into his push, and lifted, using his wings to push as well. The tank went up... Sanguinius flapped his wings for extra power and jumped, using his weight to pull it with him... and over it went, taking him with it. One tank, upside down. And one rather sand-covered and awkwardly positioned primarch. He scrambled to his feet, and shook off the sand.

He turned to look at Karamazov. He didn’t open his lips when he smiled, because he could feel his fangs. Calm down. Karamazov wasn’t actually an enemy, and he definitely wasn’t a suitable menu item. Even if this farce was getting downright silly – how often did you actually need to flip a tank? Let alone the biggest main battle tank in the Imperium. Wth the Imperium in its current state, all of them had better things to do. Calm down. One two... his fangs retracted. For now.

“Well, test of strength passed,” said Inquisitor Vail. Maude nodded, face impeturbable.

“He seemed to have some difficulty,” said Karamazov. “Shouldn’t primarchs be able to pick up a tank and throw it?”

“That was Angron, once, in a rage. And it was smaller than this one.” said Sanguinius. “Tanks make poor projectile weapons.” He fluffed his feathers, and shook his wings violently, scattering sand everywhere.

Karamazov glared at him as his feathers settled back into place. There was sand on Karamazov’s robes, and all over his throne.

Sanguinius couldn’t bring himself to care. This farce was beyond ridiculous, and his wings were still full of sand and it itched, begging to be preened out. Grrr. “Well, what’s next?”

Chapter Text

Kill at least one adult fire scorpion. No weapons, just his bare hands. At least there was some utility to this one – Dante said they’d had a request from the local village for help with a scorpion nest after three children out looking for wild game had been killed, and the villagers’ attempt at retribution had been driven off with casualties. It had been on the to-do list to answer, but this would get it done faster.

Interesting how his killing of a large adult female scorpion in his manhood trials had gone down in legend when so much else had been forgotten. At least it shouldn’t be nearly so hard now – he was actually grown, unlike the ten-month old child he’d been, and far more skilled at combat. Even if he had had a weapon and a half-hearted attempt at armour back then.

Sanguinius recognized the signs of scorpion immediately. He wondered who’d imported them to Baal the planet, and why. They were among Baal secundus’ more noxious wildlife. Why would anyone want them here? Wildlife policy later. Kill scorpions now.

There was a lot of scorpion sign. Sanguinius took to the sky and circled the area, spotting the main burrow. And at least two secondary burrows. He frowned. There looked to be a lot of scorpions here. No wonder the village wanted help. He might as well clear it out, since he was here anyway. And perhaps that was a form of intimidation that would actually get through Karamazov’s thick skull without providing anything he could get angry about.

Well, time to knock on the door. Sanguinius landed, stooped and picked up a rock. He threw the rock down the largest hole. “Hello scorpions,” he bellowed. “Prepare to meet your doom!”

He could hear scuttling, of many legs in multiple sizes. Good, they were coming out. He did not want to have to go in after them. Confined spaces had never been his strong suit. Out of the door, an armoured form with giant claws began to emerge. A larger subadult, but not too large for this method to work.

Lightly, Sanguinius jumped and grabbed one claw with both hands, just behind the pincer. And pulled hard. The scorpion flew over him and smacked into the rocks upside down with a crack of broken carapace. Sanguinius kicked it quickly in the head, feeling it crack, and turned back to face the three smaller scorpions that were now coming out. He pounced on one, then the second, but had to let the third go because he had bigger problems.

There was a very large adult just behind them, armour scarred, pitted, and with a broken off spear still sticking out of one joint in her middle left leg. Sanguinius jumped between her pincers onto her back, and grabbed the tail before it could stab him. He twisted until he heard the crunch, then looked beyond. Three more scorpions, all small, one of them trying to pinch his foot. He kicked it. Then pulled out the broken spear from the big scorpion’s leg, which collapsed. He stabbed the big scorpion in the eye, and jumped off, dodging between the weakly-flailing pincers.

As the scorpions came out, he killed them. Things were going well, even if he’d gotten scorpion blood on his face and in his mouth, when he had a sudden flash of warning. He dodged aside and jumped into the air. Just behind him was a medium sized subadult, looking windblown from his sudden takeoff and highly put out. That couldn’t have gotten past, where had it... oh. Apparently the scorpions from the subsidiary nests had heard the commotion and decided to join in. There were at least fifty live fire scorpions of various sizes running around on the sand, plus another twenty already dead. No wonder the village couldn’t deal with this on their own.

Sanguinius dove down, and started picking them off one by one. Twelve more down. Then one of them managed to pull out a feather as he dove past. The sudden small flash of pain in the midst of combat, combined with the taste and smell of scorpion blood... a red haze settled over everything, and he could hear Horus... Sanguinius gave a scream of rage and defiance and lashed out at the enemy.

0000

Cain was watching Sanguinius effortlessly taking down giant scorpions when he suddenly screamed and went berserk. He sped up too fast for Cain to follow, and the scorpions just seemed to come apart at the seams.

Close at hand, he heard a growl. Cain dropped his binoculars to see Seth’s eyes wild and blazing red. Cain’s hand inched towards his laspistol, though if Seth went nuts this close to him...

“No!” yelled Mephiston, making a gesture in the air. The sudden sense of danger receded. Dante, Mephiston, and Czervantes visibly shook themselves. Seth was still growling, but also blinking rapidly.

“Fight it, Seth,” said Dante. “You don’t want to embarrass us all in front of Karamazov, do you?”

Seth shook himself. “Would rather eat him and have done with it,” he said thickly.

“He’s not himself. You didn’t hear that,” said Czervantes.

“Look at that,” said Karamazov, still staring out the window at Sanguinius through binoculars. “He just killed them all. All of them, just like that.”

0000

“That must be the Red Thirst.” said Karamazov.

“Yes,” said Dante. This was not how he’d wanted this ordeal to go...

“It looks remarkably similar to a khornate berserker rage.”

“It’s not the same,” Dante said woodenly. “We are loyal to the Emperor, and always have been. It is the result of a flaw in our gene seed that none of us can help, including our progenitor. Our record in the service of the Imperium speaks for itself, as does Sanguinius’ personal record.”

“The record of the former 9th says many things,” said Karamazov, finally lowering the binoculars. He glanced at Seth. “Your chapter has nearly been declared outlaw multiple times, and here I find you growling like a wild animal and threatening to eat me.”

“We are loyal,” said Seth. “And you’ll notice you are still uneaten.”

As he would not have been if Seth had no self-control, and which could still change if he didn’t shut up, went unsaid. At least the melta on the throne was still visibly offline. Sanguinius had really done a number on it.

“Perhaps we should-” began Maude.

“Ah, but you’d turn on me the second you could get away with it, wouldn’t you?” said Karamazov.

“leave the subject of the Flesh Tearers-”

“How many loyal servants of the Imperium have you murdered, Karamazov?” said Seth, raising his voice a little. “I reckon your body count of innocents is higher than mine, and you don’t have the Red Thirst or the Black Rage to deal with. What’s your excuse?”

“record for...” Maude trailed off, looking frustrated.

Karamazov stared at Seth. “I don’t answer to you, vampire!”

Seth’s eyes and face turned red. Then his eyes narrowed, and face stilled with the false calm of lethal intent.

“Karamazov, please, this isn’t helping anyone,” said Vail. “Seth is not on trial here.”

“Inquisitor Vail is right!” said Maude.

“But Sanguinius is,” said Karamazov. “And that – he pointed out the window, is a threat to the Imperium.”

“And that’s what this is all really about isn’t it,” said Seth, suddenly smiling. It was not a nice smile. “You know perfectly well he’s Sanguinius, and you think he’s a threat to the status quo.”

Dead silence fell.

“No, I don’t agree he’s Sanguinius,” said Karamazov. “I think the real Sanguinius had more self-control, if he even experienced the Red Thirst at all. But this un-Sanguinius IS a threat to the Imperium.”

“He is Sanguinius, and as such is the definition of loyalty. He’s just ill,” said Dante. He traded a look with Mephiston.

“His soul was damaged on his death. He’s recovering, but he has lapses.” Mephiston gestured out the window. “We already told you that. With detailed eyewitness accounts, spoken under oath.”

“But seeing it is something else, is it not?” said Karamazov.

“We have had visions of the Emperor, speaking of this as Sanguinius,” Maude added. “As Mary Sue has already testified. Are you really willing not only to kill the Great Angel, Most Beloved Son of the God-Emperor, but to cause a civil war with these loyal marines that will rip the Imperium apart?”

“He is not Sanguinius, and if there is war, I am not the cause!”

“He is Sanguinius, and far more likely to help the Imperium than harm it,” said Vail. “You are making a terrible mistake.”

“One that will be your last,” said Seth. “If you do not agree, on the record, right here and now, that this is Sanguinius, I will kill you.” His voice was matter-of-fact.

“You will doom yourself and your chapter,” said Karamazov.

“I know. But we’ve been running on borrowed time for hundreds of years.” he shot a sour look at Dante. “You’re right, the Black Rage was killing us faster than we could recruit new marines. And now I find that Sanguinius never wanted any of that for us. It was Chaos torturing him, and us through him, the entire time. Our only hope,” he pointed out the window. “is right there, in Sanguinius’ return and the banishment of the Black Rage. You will not condemn us to die one by one to slow madness when we’ve finally found a way out.” He took another step closer to Karamazov and lowered his voice slightly. “If you try, I will kill you first, and let the Emperor judge between us.”

No one moved or spoke, then Vail stepped in between Seth and Karamazov. Everyone stared at her. “Lord-Inquisitor Karamazov, you are under arrest,” she said.

“You don’t have that authority!” said Karamazov.

“Primarch Sanguinius does,” said Maude. She looked around them, her eyes dancing and smile vicious. “Do we all agree that the claimed Sanguinius is indeed exactly who he says he is: Primarch Sanguinius of the old 9th legion and Son of the Emperor?”

“Yes,” said Dante.

“Yes,” said Vail.

“Absolutely not!” said Karamazov.

“No one cares what you think,” said Seth. “Yes, he’s Sanguinius.”

“He’s Sanguinius,” said Czervantes. “Um, perhaps we should let him know what’s going on?”

“Certainly,” said Maude. “After all, he’s the one with the authority to arrest Karamazov and make it stick.”

“You fools!” screamed Karamazov. “None of you will live long enough!” He opened a small compartment on the throne’s arm, revealing a big red button.

Cain, who’d quietly sidled close to Karamazov as the screaming got out of hand, grabbed his hand before he could press it, twisting the wrist until something snapped.

Karamazov yelped, trying and failing to pull his hand away.

Seth jumped, landing on on Karamazov, pinning him to the Throne and holding a knife to his throat.

Karamazov screamed something incoherent, face red and eyes bulging. Then he calmed, eyes glittering and smiling.

Dante didn’t like that look. “What else have you done?” demanded Dante.

“He um, has a dead man switch that tells the fleet to bombard the throne’s location from orbit.” said Dominique. “Or had, rather. I disabled it, and the bomb in the Throne.”

“You what?” shrieked Karamazov, going ashen white.

“I don’t want to die with you,” said Dominique. “And well, he looks like Sanguinius to me.” Dominique started to get out of his own seat on the throne. “Anyone need a lexmechanic? I seem to be out of a job, and I have dreadnought experience.”

Seth started laughing. “You’re hired,” he finally said, when he could speak again.

Chapter Text

When Sanguinius came back to himself he was standing alone in the middle of a desert depression full of dead fire scorpions, covered in scorpion ichor, and holding a partly-eaten scorpion head in one hand. He could taste raw scorpion, and he had vague memories of running around tunnels on too many legs.

That... must have been the Rage and the Thirst again. He’d had another incident.

In the middle distance he could see the shuttle sitting, along with a couple of wheeled vehicles from the village. Undoubtedly everyone had witnessed the entire thing. He put the scorpion head down on the nearest scorpion body, feeling vaguely guilty for wasting perfectly good food, and shook off the worst of the ick from his wings as best he could. It was going to take forever to get his wings properly clean and preened.

He started walking back towards the vehicles.

His vox crackled. “Sanguinius, can you hear us? Please reply.” it was Dante.

He touched it. “Yes, I can hear you,” he replied. “The scorpions are now dead. I am uninjured.”

“Good. Can you please come and arrest Karamazov? You’re no longer on trial, and we all agree that you are actually Primarch Sanguinius.”

Sanguinius almost missed a step. “That was sudden. Can you do that? What did I miss?”

“A lot.”

“I’ll be there shortly.”

0000

Sanguinius opened the door, not sure what to expect.

Nobody was dead, and there wasn’t even any blood. Karamazov was being held in place against the wall by Czervantes and Cain, and the Throne sat abandoned near the window.

“What exactly happened, and what am I arresting Karamazov for?” asked Sanguinius.

Patience Maude spoke: “I would go with High Treason, plus attempted extrajudicial murder without going through the proper channels. Trying to kill the only currently active primarch in the Imperium is High Treason. And when his attempt at judical murder failed, he tried to extra-judicially murder Primarch Sanguinius, Chapter Masters Luis Dante, Gabriel Seth, Varzival Czervantes, Inquisitor Vail, myself and our entourages, willingly courting civil war to do so.”

“He also threatened to kill Seth and the Flesh Tearers chapter several times,” said Czervantes.

“Given Seth threatened to kill and eat him first, I don’t think that charge will stick,” said Dante. “Sorry Seth.”

Seth snorted. “True enough, even if I only did it because he practically admitted he knew it was Sanguinius and Karamazov was going to kill him anyway.”

Sanguinius looked at Karamazov. “Why are you so determined to kill me, that you would kill yourself and risk a civil war the Imperium cannot afford?”

“I don’t answer to you, abomination!” Karamazov’s eyes were wild.

“You are under arrest,” said Sanguinius. “Charged with High Treason in the form of attempting to murder a primarch, and attempting to murder loyal servants of the Imperium, namely Primarch Sanguinius, Chapter Masters Dante, Seth, and Czervantes, Inquisitor Vail, and Sister Superior Maude and their entourages, along with uninvolved imperial citizens. Also abuse of the powers of an Inquisitor.” If Sanguinius had been close enough to be in danger, the watching villagers had been also.

“The Emperor will avenge me!”

“No,” said Sanguinius, “he won’t. The Emperor I knew didn’t like religious fanatics who killed their own people in his name.” He also hated religion and religious people generally, but Sanguinius was not going to mention that. If he could remove one of the worst examples of what was wrong with the modern Imperium from power while also protecting his children, he would.

0000

Getting Karamazov’s fleet in orbit to finally stand down proved less difficult than expected, assisted by the recordings provided by Dominique, Maude and Vail. Apparently, the fleet commander felt she wasn’t being paid enough to die for Karamazov.

That finally dealt with, everyone set to processing the dead scorpions. Every single solar cooker and dehydrator the village had was put to use, and Dante called in extra from the Arx Angelicum, plus more hands to do the work, and extra water to get the scorpion ick off Sanguinius.

As the sun went down, they held a feast in the village: all the scorpion everyone could eat, plus firewater, something called karage that clearly contained human blood and that neither Dante nor Sanguinius were drinking, pickled cactus fruit, baked ballroot, and other delicacies. There were also songs, stories and dancing.

Sanguinius almost got pulled into the dancing, before Cain reminded him that with his current red thirst/black rage problem so close to the surface, it might not be the best idea. So he sang, ate cooked fire scorpion and talked to anyone who approached him instead, trying to get a feel for the villagers.

At least these ones seemed happy, though he noted the marks of solar burns on many, and signs of intermittent hunger in some of the children. Baal was still a hard place to live. He’d hoped to change that once the Great Crusade ended, before the galaxy had exploded and all dreams had been broken. He wondered if that might be possible now? Late was still better than never.

But as always, duty to the Imperium called him away. Amidst the general rejoicing, the mainstays of the trial discussed where Sanguinius needed to go from here.

“You need to go to Terra, and I need to go with you,” said Maude.

“I will come, and bring Karamazov,” said Vail. “To actually make all this stick, we need to bring him in front of Decius.” said Vail. “Dante, it would really help if you could come too, or at minimum send someone to represent the Blood Angel’s grievances against Karamazov. Seth... it might be easier if you sent a representative.”

“Because I am an uncultured ruffian who will cause trouble?” asked Seth, raising an eyebrow from where he lounged against a rock with half a scorpion leg in one hand.

“Because diplomacy is not your strong suit, and your skills would be better suited to a different arena. And I believe you do not enjoy dealing with politicians?” Vail smiled questioningly at him.

“Fine,” said Seth, lips quirking into a smile of his own. “I’ll admit I’ve had about enough inquisition politics to last me the next century. I would rather be reorganizing my chapter’s tactics to work without a death company, and putting the fear of the Emperor into the Imperium’s enemies. I will find a representative to send with you.”

“Thank you,” said Vail.

“Though I have to ask, why bother with a trial?” said Seth. “We all know he’s guilty, but will Decius and the other Inquisitor actually turn on one of their own? It might be easier and cleaner to leave an apparent way for him to escape, then shoot him when he tries to take it.”

Cain wasn’t happy with this, though he said nothing.

“Cain, what is it?” asked Sanguinius.

“Ah... it isn’t just us here who have experienced Karamazov’s overzealous interpretation of the law. He leaves a trail of dead innocents wherever he goes, and a lot of impotent rage and resentment. Such things risk exploding into rebellion in the long run. If the citizenry could see the inquisitor who did so much wrong taken down in public by the proper authorities, it would do a significant amount to restore trust in the Imperium.”

“Justice must not only be done, but be seen to be done?” said Sanguinius. There was a lot of sense in what Cain said.

Cain gave a hard nod.

“But surely seeing an inquisitor shown to be wrong would do more harm than good?” said Mephiston. “Such matters are better handled in the dark.”

“I think Cain has a point,” said Maude. “I’ve dealt with the aftermath of a Karamazov special before. He may quell rebellion and heresy effectively in the moment, but humans are not stupid, and we know injustice when we see it. His methods store up trouble for the future. Admitting what everyone knows but cannot say has power. So long as it is the authorities of the Imperium disciplining their own wayward member, it will do more good than harm.”

“Given the choice, I have always preferred to work in the open,” said Sanguinius. “Unfortunately, there have been times when that was not possible,” Sanguinius nodded to Mephiston. He turned to Maude, “How certain are you that Karamazov will be condemned for his actions here?”

“Very. Ecclesiarch Decius dislikes him and will not lift a finger to defend him from the consequences of his own actions, and while Lord Inquisitor Vaul is an amalathian like Karamazov, Vaul does not like loose cannons who make the Inquisition look bad. He will not defend Karamazov once he hears how he tried to assassinate multiple chapter masters and a fellow inquisitor without following protocols, let alone once he realizes that Sanguinius is real, and Karamazov tried to kill him. The secular authorities have no say in Karamazov’s fate.”

“Good,” said Sanguinius. “Then we shall see that the unjust judge who turned to murder when his plans for a judicial one failed faces the justice he denied to others.”

There was quiet for a moment, then Sanguinius continued. “I need to go to Terra. However, I also have a dispute between the Angels Resplendent and Angels Penitent to adjudicate. If it is more than one man’s madness, I think I might have to go to Malpertuis. Is that somewhere we could stop off en route to Terra?”

“It’s out east of us. It’s not enormously far, but it’s not on your way either,” said Czervantes. “Unfortunately, it isn’t Relian’s madness, or not his alone. I haven’t spoken to him since our clash given the restrictions placed on both of us, but I did ask some questions about the ship and those who came with him. The changed heraldry and name – they’re on the ship and the other marines as well. Relian did not make that up. “

Czervantes swallowed. “I must assume that apart from the First Resplendent, my chapter is in the hands of madmen. Given that Relian listens to you, I think you coming to Malpertuis in person is the only way to fix this without violence. Space marines fighting each other serves no one but our enemies.”

Sanguinius nodded, unsurprised. “I need to speak to Relian before deciding, but how long would a diversion to Malpertuis take?”

“A couple of weeks each way, assuming no warp issues, plus whatever time the situation on the planet would take.”

Sanguinius looked back at Maude. “Would a couple of months diversion cause damage to the situation on Terra?”

Maude exchanged a look with Vail. “My knowledge of the High Lords is limited,” said Vail. “I mostly do xenos.”

“Some of the High Lords will take any deviation as a slight, but a month is not long in comparison to the time the journey will take,” said Maude. “The decision is yours, my lord.”

“I will speak to Relian and then decide,” said Sanguinius. “Another thing to wrap up before I leave. The rest of the Lamenters. Where are they, and how do they fare? I promised Jarvis that I would look into the situation for him.”

Dante frowned. “I will find out, but from what I remember they were depleted in number but still crusading out towards the eastern fringe. I don’t think anyone’s going to force these Lamenters to join them, given that they had nothing to do with their rebellion, and certainly not if you say they don’t have to.”

“They don’t have to,” said Sanguinius. “I’ll not have them punished for something they had no part in. But I’d like to find out about the others, and whether the sentence they received was actually just.”

Dante winced. “Imperial justice is usually better than Karamazov has shown.”

“I certainly hope so,” said Sanguinius. “While Vail and Maude have given me hope that Karamazov is not typical, the fact that I ran into someone like him in a high position so early is deeply concerning.

Chapter Text

Cato Sicarious, Captain of the Ultramarines’ Second Company, Master of the Watch, Knight-Champion of Macragge, Grand Duke of Talassar, and High Suzereign of Ultramar, arrived in the Baal system. The entirety of Second Company was with him, guns primed, boarding torpedos loaded, and ready for trouble.

The situation didn’t look terribly dangerous. There were more ships than would be normal here, but fewer than he’d expected given the urgent call he’d received. Still, he messaged the Blood Angels, promising help and protection from the Ultramarines for Primarch Sanguinius, should his claim prove well-founded.

Only to receive the embarrassed-sounding reply:

“Actually, Primarch Sanguinius left for Terra yesterday, Karamazov under arrest and in tow. It’s been sorted. We sent out the all-clear message five days ago. It must have missed you. We apologize for the unnecessary trip, and thank you for your willingness to assist. It is much appreciated, even if it turned out not to be needed. Do you need refueling or resupply?”

Cato Sicarious stood stock still a moment, ramrod posture perfect. “Well, I guess we’ll be leaving then,” he said. “Set course for Ultramar.” He swept out of the bridge, cape swirling behind him.