1, 2025NewAdd bookmark#380-990.M41-
-Miracle of Suffering, Segmentum Solar-
-Joshua Pendrarc-
The Prioress did not end up coming with them. She, as the highest representative of her covenant, had to stay on Holy Terra to play office politics. She was only there to see them off, wave goodbye, and give some foreboding words about watching out for heresy and traitors. The Canoness Superior was to be his long-term warden for the next few years.
The Miracle of Suffering, as it was explained to him, was something of a combination Schola-Penitentiary. It served as a normal Schola Progenium for the most part, picking up various orphans and unattended children on worlds it visited and subjecting them to a normal Schola experience. The female orphans would go on to good the Sisterhood as fresh new recruits, while the male orphans would go on to become various elite units such as Commissars, Stormtroopers, Arbites, Naval Officers, and so on.
With fresh new Sisters of Battle, the ship would then travel around linking with the other active tactical units of the Order of Ebon Chalice to make sure everything was going well, provide support when needed, and exchange their fresh recruits for any dishonored and imprisoned Sisters they had. Sisters who had failed in some manner traditionally became Repentia, zealous unarmored maniacs looking for redemption for their crimes on the battlefield, and either dying in battle or rejoining the normal Sisterhood forces after it was agreed that they were redeemed.
This kind of school culture explained a great deal about the impression the ship gave him. He should've expected something like this.
Breakfast was a very communal affair, it seems. The tactical unit he was attached to, called a Preceptory, was one of a handful available to the Order of Ebon Chalice. It numbered about one-thousand fully trained Sisters, and about half again as many in fresh recruits with no actual battlefield experience. This was a terrifyingly small number for an actual battlefield army, which the Sisterhood technically wasn't.
Meaning that all of them could fit in the same gigantic dining hall full of statues, holy symbols, and burning incense during meals. He stood out rather immensely, with his distinctly male nature, tray of what looked like half-decent food, and bionic eyes scanning around for an empty seat.
He probably stood out even more with the golden-clad giant and woman standing behind him.
"You may sit wherever you wish, save the officers' table." The Canoness Superior explained with a little forward wave of her hand, the other hand holding a tray of hard bread, fruit jam, dried meats, and similar long-preservation foodstuffs. "Breakfast is concluded in half an hour. Midday prayers will be several hours afterwards, followed by lunch, then another few hours until Evening prayer and dinner." She tilted her head to the side. "I will organize an assessment test for you tomorrow, so that a baseline of your abilities can be established."
"Yes, Canoness. Thank you." Joshua bowed his head in thanks, to which she made a little sniff and walked off, towards said Officers' Table. Leaving him standing in place, staring at a sea of curious Sisters, most of which were bending around and stretching to get a better look at the golden giant that stood behind him. Hundreds of women in modest robes mingling about, eating breakfast, and muttering fervently about the presence of a golden demigod in their presence.
"You're rather popular with the ladies, Lord Hercule." Joshua leaned back slightly and muttered behind himself.
"I have enjoyed the company of many throughout my life." The giant rumbled quietly back.
Joshua couldn't tell if that was supposed to be innuendo or not. He elected to simply walk forwards and wait for an open spot to present itself. The Sister of Silence and Custodes followed behind him quietly, soon making it apparent that they were escorting him in particular and not just hanging out.
Almost immediately, a gap in the lines of dining Sisters presented itself, and somewhat insistent waves and gestures followed to lure him over. Having very little better choices for a place to sit and eat, Joshua made his way over and took a seat among them. Hercule and Denaira took up flanking positions behind his seat, silent and vigilant.
And Joshua was seated among quiet stares. "Hello." He opened the conversation with a polite bow of his head, reaching for his utensils as he spoke. He took a bite of the slightly dry and tough meat slice, which tasted like a slightly more gamey chicken.
They stared for a few moments longer, most with gazes flickering between himself and his golden-clad escorts. Eventually, one spoke, a slightly older woman with long brown hair. "Rare times that an honored Custodes departs from Holy Terra- is he escorting you?"
"I am." Hercule rumbled on his behalf. "Myself and the Sister with me. We have been assigned to escort and tutor Bestowed Pendrarc."
"You have?" A younger woman with greenish hair spoke up, leaning forwards interestedly, eyes flashing from the massive Custodian and down towards him. "Bestowed Pendrarc?"
"Lord Custodian, may we inquire the reason for this?" Another woman asked with fiddling fingers, not quite brave enough to look up at the golden demigod as she spoke.
"I'm not sure how much should be said here." Joshua interjected with a little frown, and a backwards glance towards the golden giant. The giant looked down at him and gave a tiny nod, and Joshua turned forwards again to continue speaking. "I was trained as an Astropath, and my Soul-Binding to the God-Emperor was significantly more… vigorous, let's say, than normal. Anything more should probably be inquired about with the Canoness Superior."
"An Astropath?" The first woman who spoke, spoke again, leaning back slightly and with cautious furrow growing in her brow. Her reverent glances towards the golden demigod turned somewhat more cool when directed towards him. The Sisters sitting on either side of him slightly leaned away. "If you're here- then you're not a witch, certainly."
"You don't seem like an Astropath." A more distant Sister chimed in, black locks falling in waves around her face. "I've spoken to the Astropaths and Psykers before, upon our own ships and among Guardsmen regiments." The long scar trailing from her neck and up across her left eye and face spoke of a rather grisly injury. Her head was tilted to the side in a curious manner.
"Don't be foolish, Sister!' Another spoke with bright white locks and a sour look on her face. "The presence of a Sister of Silence is blunting the foul whispers of the warp, of course this one is more stable."
Psykers were not particularly known for their sanity. A stereotype that was one hundred percent correct and reliable, and any psyker who told you they were fully stable and in control should be shot immediately.
Joshua nodded at the second woman. "She speaks correctly, Knight-Vestal Denaira's presence is a void in the warp, and mutes a great deal of cacophony. Her presence makes it… much easier to think clearly." He took another bite of the meat-slice, followed by the vegetable mash. It tasted like potatoes and onions without salt.
"Her presence doesn't… harm you? Cause pain or castigate?" The woman with faintly green hair asked, leaning forwards slightly. "I've seen their effect on psykers before- shrieking and wailing witches acting as if aflame long before we lit the bonfires."
"There is some discomfort." He nodded. "And it grows with proximity, but the relief that the silence brings is far greater. I'm exceptionally grateful for her existence and presence, lest I live with the constant noise of the warp in my ears."
The Sisters looked back and forth between the Sister of Silence and himself, strange looks and glances as they tried to work out what exactly he was like, and how they should treat him. A psyker on one hand, which the zealous Sisters of Battle hated as witches as a general rule, and blessed enough to be escorted personally by an honored Custodian.
Joshua smiled in an apologetic manner, closing his eyes and inclining his head slightly. "I'm sorry, I suppose my circumstances must be fairly confusing from an outside point of view."
"They certainly are, Psyker. I'll pray for your soul tonight." A woman with vaguely blue hair, who sat adjacent to him with a suspicious demeanor about her, spoke up. "A swift God-Emperor's mercy upon you, if you're ever possessed by dark spirits."
That was a clever metaphor for shooting someone in the head. He quirked a lip back and nodded in swift, serious agreement. That gesture provoked a little laughter among other Sisters, and seemed to earn their tentative acceptance at their table.
Which was good, because he'd rather not deal with excessive drama while eating, at least.
—
"You will need wargear, if you are to fight alongside us, and the standard equipment of the Sisters will not be a fit for your frame." The Canoness Superior explained calmly as she led him and his escorts along shipway halls. As they passed other people in the corridors, each stopped and performed the imperial salute before the Canoness and then again to the striding demigod behind him. Sisters in burlap robes, naval officers, serfs, it mattered not. All stopped fully to show their respect to the two honored heroes of the Imperium.
Joshua and Denaira were lucky to get a glance. It was almost amusing how thoroughly they were dismissed in the presence of a nine foot beloved superhuman.
"I know not what Lord Hercule will train you in-"
"Swordsmanship and general fitness." The Custodian interrupted. "Anything else will be left to the Sisterhood and his own initiative."
The Canoness did not respond directly, but Joshua could feel distinctly her fervent annoyance at being interrupted warring with her reverence for the golden-clad hero. "But your armament will take time to be manufactured, and so it will have to be decided upon immediately. If the God-Emperor wills, it will be finished in time for you to familiarize yourself with it before our first battle of this patrol."
"I see. Will I be required to utilize specific wargear or…?" Joshua asked, polite and dutiful in tone. His fingers came up to fiddle with the Rosarius around his neck, absentmindedly playing with the literal protective charm.
"Your limits will be the limits of the Magi onboard the Miracle of Suffering. Anything the Ecclesiarchy can afford and that the learned masters of Mars can produce will be yours to wield. So saith the Lord Ecclesiarch." The Canoness nodded back at him, robed armor swishing about as she walked.
There were many obvious exceptions to such a statement that he could think of. No Magi was about to drop everything simply to produce a Titan for him, and the Sisters would firmly but politely ask him to reconsider such a request. Similarly, he probably wasn't going to get a Volkite gun or a Gravity Cannon anytime soon- such weapons were expensive even for the masters of technology, the Techpriests of Mars, to produce in any abundance.
With that in mind-
'A SWORD, YOU CAN TRUST.'
He knows damnit! He was going to ask for a sword! He didn't forget!
Joshua closed his eyes and furrowed his brows in an annoyed manner, gold flashing through his veins at the renewed pulse of activity from the sun-colored centipedes in his soul.
"Keep in mind the eccentricities of the Magi- they are testy on the best of days." The Canoness turned slightly back towards him, a small frown on her face. "Lest we are forced to equip you in a woman's armor, chestplate and all."
"Lady Canoness, that almost sounds like a joke." Joshua replied with a little smile on his face.
"It is not." She replied and quickly turned forwards again, clearly trying to give the impression that she was being stern and uncompromising with the unknown psyker. Unfortunately for her, he was a psyker, and he could feel the amusement in her, even with Denaira's muting presence so close.
Eventually, the corridors changed into spacious chambers once more, balconies overlooking yet-larger-still chambers of immense scale, within with dozens of factory lines and cubical workplaces crawled. Thousands of tiny men and woman stalked the steam-choked chambers, the vast majority of which were little more than corpse and bionics performing crude tasks again and again. Some of which were acolytes, moving with very little machine-replacements, and overseeing the thronging masses of zombie-serfs.
And a scant handful of which were far more machine than human, and they stood in this smaller chamber that served as a grand balcony. Four of them in the bright red robes of Mars, and concealing bodies of only vaguely human shape. Hunchbacked and multi-armed and more- one didn't even have a proper head, just arms on either side of a thicker-than-normal torso.
With the exception of the rightmost one, which was almost unnatural in how perfect their humanoid form was beneath their robes. For as far as he could see, there was nothing visibly inhuman or machine about him, which was almost more disturbing to see among techpriests.
A constant stream of chattering, buzzing binary was about them, growing louder and more obvious as they approached and eventually stopped a short distance aways. As far as Joshua could see, they were simply standing at the edge of the overlook, staring down at the masses of working zombies and lower-ranking techpriests in human silence, buzzing with machine-speak.
It was difficult to feel out someone with Denaira's close presence, doubly difficult to feel out Techpriests, with how their machine-components tattered and dimmed their souls.
"Honored Magi." The Canoness spoke out, drawing clear attention to herself. The Magi shifted slightly, finally one turned to address her. A mostly-human form, feminine in rough with trailing manipulator-tendrils and secondary arms across her chest. Like some kind of macabre bra made of severed robot arms.
The female stared at them for a couple seconds, noting the golden giant standing silently behind him with a slight shift of her hood-shadowed head. She turned slightly to her fellows, buzzed once with machine-fuzz-noise, then stepped to turn fully around to address them. "Canoness Superior, Lord Custodes, Sister of Silence, and unknown male. What brings you to us?"
"Asking for some other secret of Mars, no doubt." The headless male chimed disdainfully, crossing his broad arms over his armored torso, a single tendril shifting around to reveal a glaring red optic mounted at the end. "Honored Custodes." He bowed forwards slightly, addressing the golden demigod with significantly more respect in his tone.
The disturbingly-human male turned, a handsome face hidden in shadows beneath a heavy red robe. He performed a greeting of Mars, a kind of twelve-spoke gesture of prayer performed in a circling fashion before the breast. "Canoness, Custodian, others." Unlike his peers, his voice was perfectly organic.
The last Techpriest did not turn from the thronging masses of laboring people, hunchbacked and leaning on his overlarge gear-toothed halberd. Several long machine-tendrils emerged from gaps in his robes, and interfaced directly with a row of computers.
A childlike servitor greeted them with a little bow and curtsey. Machines replaced a full half of the skull, with wires extending down and back, and one long flexible cable connecting the back of its head to one of the hunchbacked figure's own machine-tendrils. "The Lord Dogma greets the visitors, and expresses curiosity for their arrival." The boy said in a manner so charming and innocent that one could almost forget that it was so horrifying.
Or maybe it was just a kid with some cybernetic parts. That was also certainly possible, Joshua supposed, he had no real evidence to suggest it was a proper Servitor like that. Maybe he was a Skitarii or something.
"This is Joshua Pendrarc." The Canoness introduced with a wave of her hand towards him. "Most-Blessed by the Emperor's Will, and commanded to fight alongside the Sisters by the Ecclesiarch himself. He will need to be armed and armored for this task."
"And the standard arms and armor won't do- not with the male frame so diverged from female." The human-looking techpriest said in a voice that Joshua could only imagine on a flexing man.
"By the Ecclesiarch's own command, whatever he requests to be armed and armored in will be paid for by the Ecclesiarchy. There are no limits to the budget for his wargear." The Canoness continued, making the Techpriests pause, stare at him, and then briefly buzz in machine-speak. "This is a high priority- all non-critical projects will come after this."
"Another delay, she commands!" The headless priest complained, throwing up one hand. "A backlog ten slates long already exists, it will be another century before the replacement stock of Penitent Engines are completed at this rate."
"Calm yourself, Artisan. If needs must-"
"Easy for you to say- you damned Levelist!" The headless Techpriest hissed, poking a tendril aggressively towards the human-looking Techpriest.
He scoffed in turn. "Castellite."
The seething disdain between the two was felt even in absence of any psychic impressions. It was almost impressive, in that sorta way.
"The Lord Dogma reminds the honored Magi to keep argumentation within the confines of Binaric Cant." The childlike cyborg spoke, looking up at the two. They glanced down, then away with scattered, angry buzzing.
"What will the Most-Blessed require for his wargear?" The well-robed woman questioned, tilting her head slightly as she regarded him.
The Canoness turned towards him with a raised brow. Joshua nodded and stepped forwards once. He hesitated at first, somewhat intimidated by the small group of highly dangerous cyborgs-
'SPEAK.'
His eyes flashed with gold.
"Foremost- the God-Emperor demands I use a sword, so a blade of your finest craftswork I ask. Next, I will require some manner of Mind-Machine interface, whether a Mind-Impulse Unit, Interface plugs, or similar. I will require armor- of the powered kind similar to but not identical to the armor of the Sisters…"
The Magi gradually focused more and more upon him as he spoke.
"I've yet to complete any serious physical conditioning- so the armor will need to be somewhat adjustable or constructed later in the process, as my proportions are sure to change between then and now. I have on my person a Rosarius already, and I know not how different kinds of protective fields will interact. If possible, I would like a shield to strap to my upper left arm, the smaller kind to the Storm Shields. I'd also like a jump-pack- the smallest and least obtrusive pattern you have."
He paused for a moment, licking his teeth in thought, then continued. "A helmet is mandatory, with the armor. I don't know why so many forgo their helmets on the battlefield, but I certainly will not. I will also need a ranged weapon that leaves both of my hands free for my blade- integrated somewhere upon the armor would be most convenient, perhaps the forearm, hips, or shoulders- or any combination of the above. A weapon suitable both for clearing out large numbers of chaff units and also singular heavy-armored targets would be best- two weapons if this is not feasible…"
The Lord Dogma slowly turned as he continued to ramble about weaponry and armor. Like ReplyReport Reactions:SpectreOfChaos, Kappsa, randomaccount1567 and 1,668 othersBrosefOct 11, 2025NewAdd bookmarkView discussionThreadmarks Interlude 1 New View contentBrosefWriterOct 12, 2025NewAdd bookmark#505-990.M41-
-Miracle of Suffering, Segmentum Solar-
-Canoness Superior Cleopatra-
"This is him?" Sister Madonna asked quietly, leaning slightly towards her. The quaint private training chamber was still more than large enough to banish any echo, muffling her words to errant listeners. A beautiful face heightened by the faint white scars of prior flagellation. A former Repentia, like so many of their veterans.
Cleopatra inclined her head slightly, gaze fixed towards the private training ring, and the two figures that occupied its center. They were under the watchful gaze of the statue of Saintess Thelia, patron of personal struggle, and cast in the bright light of her electric radiance.
The taller figure was a splendid edifice of a man. A towering figure of nine feet, clad in nothing more than rippling sinew, oil, and white loin wraps. His skin was a brazen hue, with golden sockets arrayed about his flesh in complementary locations. His form was human perfection writ large, with limbs as wide around as her power armor and a chest broad enough to sleep fully upon. His hair was cropped short and curled about, vibrant orange locks making his head appear aflame, and eyes shadowed by their depths beneath his brows.
A Custodes, a resplendent champion of the God-Emperor. A noble son of Holy Terra subject to masterfully crafted bio-alchemies and given the greatest training and honors that any in the Imperium could bestow. For he was a champion of their most-righteous Master, beyond even the Angels, and his was the honor of centuries of unblemished service to the Golden Throne.
It was difficult to maintain her composure around him, lest she crumble into some girlish awe at the figure, made more difficult by his current state of dress. Feelings that she didn't know she still had crawled up through her stomach and around her throat at having an honored Custodes to travel with their Order.
Currently, he was knelt in the center of the training circle, staring down at a much smaller and significantly less impressive figure. Bony almost to the point of looking underfed, with what muscles he did have reasonably defined under smooth and barely-tanned skin. His torso was stretched with the impressions of abdominal muscles and visible ribs both, and currently heaved with desperate, gasping breaths.
His hands and feet were a hair too big for his skinny frame, and a number of random, incidental scars littered his body. His hair was long enough to reach the shoulders, straight dark brown that twisted into curls at the ends, and fuzzy tufts of beard creeping out of a youthful face. The only thing the figures shared was a depth of eye, sockets far enough back into the skull to shroud the eyes in shadow, making the bright blue bionics shine all that much brighter.
The 'him' that Sister Madonna referred to was the smaller of the two figures, the only currently attempting to not hurl over the floor after a moderate amount of exercise.
He was more robust in physique than she was anticipating, perhaps, but still only on par with middling students of any competent Schola. A body more suitable for running and hiding in cracks between buildings than proper battle.
Far from a supposed chosen champion of the God-Emperor himself. "By the word of the Ecclesiarch." She responded carefully, a frown on her lips and furrow to her brow as she watched the Custodes quietly coach the bony boy on idea breathing ratios.
"...You sound doubtful, Canoness." Sister Madonna quietly muttered. Her position as Imagifier, as standard-carrier and battlefield-preacher, afforded the veteran a great deal of leniency in protocol. More important than that, however, was that Madonna was an old friend of hers, and Cleopatra knew she wasn't being accusatory with the statement.
"I trust the word of the Ecclesiarch, and the honor of the Custodes, that they would speak truth to us in this matter…" Cleopatra began, slowly trailing off near the end as she watched the thin young man stagger up on shaking limbs and be pushed into a series of walking laps around the ring. Each step something of a stumble as his wearied limbs force him to press on.
"...But this is not who I would anticipate the God-Emperor to bestow favor upon." She slowly finished, making a sign of the Aquilia as she spoke his hallowed name. "A failing on my part, for daring to anticipate the plan of our Great Master. I will know what truth he requires me to know, in time."
"Hmh." Madonna responded with a faint hum and nod of agreement. "Our Lord works in mysterious ways. Even his humblest servant can be risen to great acts of heroism, if properly provoked."
"The boy wouldn't be out of place as an acolyte scribe." Cleopatra murmured.
"Whatever his purpose, it must be great indeed. The pict-recording of his Soul Binding was evident enough of great favor." Madonna reassured with a gentle smile and a slight nod of her head.
Cleopatra nodded, just in time to see the young man stumble, fall forwards, and land directly on his face.
"Gah!" A short, startled yelp of pain was let out of his strangely accented voice. Woozily, the young man pushed himself up, blood pouring from his nostrils and down across his lips. After a few moments, he pushed himself up again, and touched at his upper lip to check for blood, before shaking his head and starting the stumbling jog once more.
"...He complains less than a Schola student, at least." Cleopatra muttered.
"I know not whether to envy or pity him. The attention of an honored Custodes and such a human performance to offer." Madonna smiled with brows furrowed. "I will pray for his quick improvement regardless."
"He will need it, I think." Cleopatra agreed. Feet and hands too big for his thin frame- like she was staring at a young hound.
"Lady Canoness..?" A voice called out from behind. Cleopatra turned slightly, seeing a young Sister standing behind her with a scroll of parchment in hand. The young Sister was doing her best to not stare at the Lord Custodes, eyes flickering back and forth between herself and the towering ideal of masculine humanity.
"What is it, Sister?" Cleopatra asked with a firm, reprising tone. It would not do to have the younger battle-sisters lavish the Lord Custodes with such constant, crude stares.
"A message from the Astropaths-" The young sister coughed into her fist, holding up the scroll. "From the Pandemonium System. I was told to bring it to you…"
Cleopatra nodded, reaching out a hand to take the scroll. "A reply from my inquiry then, I had been expecting it." Scroll taken, she almost readied herself to dismiss the young sister, then quirked a lip to the side. She turned, unfurling the scroll as she did. "Be careful not to stare at the Lord Custodes, Sister."
The young woman audibly startled behind her. "Er- ah- yes, Lady Canoness, I- I won't."
With a last reproachful glance towards the young sister, she unfurled the scroll and read through the reply.
"Our cousin-order in the Pandemonium system, then?" Madonna asked with a raised brow and something of a wry scowl. "The Commandery of Maiden Unmarred?" The name was a very intentional slight on the part of the normally genial veteran.
"The Order of Maiden Unmarred, yes." Cleopatra responded with a scowl on her lips, reading through the letter. "Their current troubles are no reason to belittle them, they are a descendent-Order and we will be gracious to them as such."
"Barely more than a hundred Sisters does not an Order make, Lady Canoness." Madonna pointed out dryly.
Cleopatra did not acknowledge the point, because privately she agreed with it. The Order of the Maiden Unmarred was terribly understrength, and has been so for as long as she had known of them. A long and gradual decline brought upon them by their own stubbornness.
Case in point, she furrowed her brows and sighed, lowering the letter and making a one-handed Aquilla. The reply wasn't unexpected, but it was frustrating.
"I suppose they're once more denying our offers of transferred Sisters?"
"They are." Cleopatra replied, looking up at Saintess Thelia and making a silent prayer for strength of character.
"So we are to pass by the Pandemonium System for this patrol?"
"No. They have another Sister-Penitent they wish for us to take." Cleopatra corrected with a shake of her head. "Already bound and ready to serve as a Penitent Engine. It would be wasteful to not let her find penance upon a proper field, rather than waste in their holding cells."
Madonna sighed and shook her head. "Another- Never a Repentia with them, only ever Penitent. Does the letter say what her crime was?"
"Attempting to depart the order's grounds without authorization." Cleopatra muttered, shaking her head. "Relics in her possession and confessing to plans to depart for another Order."
"The same old story then." Madonna reached up, rubbing her face with one hand. "Awful, just awful all around."
They silently watched the struggling, skinny man for a time, as he was bid to take up a weighted training blade and swing it in precise manners by the lord Custodes.
"...Lady Canoness, may I ask a question- about the Order you and the Lady Imagifier were speaking of?"
"You may." Cleopatra could already figure what the question was.
The young Sister swallowed nervously, then spoke. "A Sister-Penitent is a terrible tragedy- of course- but this- surely a crime such as relic-theft would… eh… justify it. Why is-"
"Why are mine and the Imagifier's reactions so muted then?" Cleopatra completed the question, making the young Sister nod her head quickly. Bright blonde curls bouncing on either side of her head as she did. Cleopatra frowned, before turning her gaze forwards again tiredly. "Because we expected nothing much else from our Daughter-Order."
"They split off in M37 over an ultimately minor dispute- over whether or not the fingers should be splayed when making the sign of the Aquila or not." Madonna raised her hands up, making the sign of the Aquila the correct way at first, then splaying her fingers to demonstrate the other way to the young Sister. "In time it was settled by the Ecclesiarch and a grand council that the fingers should be closed when performing the sign- but they were separate enough at the time that it was simply easier to keep operating as two groups."
"But that same stubborn streak has seeped into everything they do." Cleopatra shook her head. "Their standards for new Sisters grew higher and higher, their parameters for action grew stricter and stricter, and willingness to involve themselves in any affair but sequestered prayer and meditation decreased more and more."
"They're barely an Order Militant anymore." Madonna sighed, folding her arms over her generous chest. "They spend all their time locked in their fortress, and every few years one of their members grows so crazed from not being able to deliver the Emperor's justice that they go rogue. Then they capture her, subject her to the Penitentiary Implants, and hand the poor girl over to us when we visit."
"It's certainly no sin to spend all one's time devoted to prayers to the God-Emperor." Cleopatra clarified with a decisive nod, then a scowl. "But prayer is best delivered to him on the battlefield, the ashes of heretics in the wind around you."
"Give it another century and they won't exist any more- is my bet." Madonna declared with a grumble. "They certainly aren't going to be replenishing their numbers anytime soon."
"Remember to hold your tongue when we arrive." Cleopatra reminded with a grumble of her own.
"I see. So we're going to the Pandemonium System next… I don't think I've ever been, lady Canoness."
"You have- once when you were young." Madonna corrected. "You were maybe… maybe ten years old then, too busy with Schola to be worried about our patrols."
"Oh, I see. Thank you Lady Imagifier." The young Sister nodded. "What kind of place is the Pandemonium system?"
Cleopatra frowned. Madonna left out a huff.
Almost in unison, they responded. "Cursed."
The skinny teen, well-blessed by the God-Emperor, lost strength in his limbs and collapsed again. A mere hundred swings, by the timing of it.
It was… a start.
—
"We will be visiting our daughter-order, the Order of the Maiden Unmarred, firstly." She explained to the scrawny would-be saint. Presently, they were within his assigned personal chambers. It was much the same as her own, a three-room affair used for particularly important guests and afforded a number of smaller comforts.
He was laying in his bed, still bereft of his shirt, eyes focused on her and body drooped with exhaustion. The honored Sister of Silence was going through a routine examination of his state using her arm-mounted medical cogitator and a series of medical sensors mounted upon his chest. The prognosis being severe exhaustion, a significant nosebleed, and a single instance of vomiting. He did end up completing the initial testing course provided by the honored Custodian, but the bodily cost was rather apparent.
Personally, Cleopatra didn't see the need for a medical evaluation in the particular instance, it was fairly obvious what he was suffering from, but who was she to dictate medical procedure to a medicae? The distinctly, unnerving silent Knight-Vestal could perform whatever scans she wanted to upon her charge, Cleopatra had very little desire to speak with her.
Even being around her was spine-chilling enough. The sheer… quietude of the woman was unnerving in ways indescribable.
"...that's good…" The saint-apparent responded with a terribly hoarse voice. "...huge?"
She raised a brow before shaking her head. "No, they are not particularly large- I would advise against bringing up such a matter when you are introduced to their Canoness Superior, do you understand?"
The saint-apparent looked slightly confused for a moment, before giving a tiny jerk of his head in something resembling a nod. "...time to arrive…?"
""It will be some time- perhaps a hundred days before we properly arrive in the Pandemonium system." Cleopatra nodded with a stern frown. "I'd suggest using the time wisely- in training and meditative prayer to our God-Emperor, while we have it. We will not always have such generously distributed rations of time, and evil is ever-growing."
He looked considerate of such even through the immense exhaustion he suffered from. His eyes focused on nothing in particular, and then-
-They glowed a vibrant, burning gold. Blue machine eyes suddenly flickering to a color akin to the honored Custodes own plate, shining with an gloriously radiant glow.
The saint-apparent flinched, brows furrowing up and staring at nothing before his head rolled over to face her again. "A psyker- a marine librarian. To teach me." He gasped out through an effort-ravaged voice, twinged with a kind of desperation and irritation.
And then the glow was gone, and gold returned to an unnatural blue.
She'd occasionally considered, in her idle fantasies, what it would be like to hear the voice of the God-Emperor. Even if only once in her life- a single word for her to selfishly hold and cherish would be enough. Something as small as that would be a treasure greater than all the wealth in a sector.
And here was a saint-apparent, a scrap of a boy from one of countless hive-cities, only notable for his potential as a psyker, who was apparently privy to dozens of such words. The voice of the God Emperor in his mind actively guiding and shaping his life, selected for such for no reason that she could intuit.
There was an ugly, awful, black jealousy in her heart.
She tried to keep it from her voice, and she turned towards the wall of the room- towards the painting of Jovia, Patron Saintess of Ships. "There is a chapter of His Angels who make their home in the Pandemonium system- the Night Hunters. We can inquire about a potential tutor for you from their ranks when we arrive."
"...thanks…" He hoarsely gasped out, laying back against the pillow and staring up at the ceiling again.
"Make no mistake- I have no authority to command them." She continued, tilting her head back and giving a side-eye towards the saint-apparent. "We can make a request, we can elaborate upon your circumstances and blessing, but we cannot force them to offer up one of their own as tutor. Should they refuse, we will have to wait to make contact with another Chapter and repeat the request with them."
She found herself almost hoping that all would refuse.
Catching the thought, she closed her eyes and took a steady breath. Such a weakness of hers, she'd flagellate herself tonight for the thought.
"...understand… no worries…"
She glanced over and down at the young man. So easily dismissing whatever worries he had- the voice of the God-Emperor himself commanding an action, and upon being told that the action may not be completed, he maintains a casual air. Did he even care? Where was his vigor and zeal…?
…It must be bereft due to his current state. He had just completed a rather thorough gauntlet. He must barely have the energy to remain awake, as human and untrained as he was. No properly trained warrior- otherwise he'd maintain vigor up until the moment he collapsed entirely.
She took a private satisfaction from being his physical superior for the foreseeable future. "Gunnery drills will be once a day until you reach an acceptable level of accuracy and swiftness. You know where the dining chambers are- I expect you present at every breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Do you understand?"
"...understand…" His arm flopped up to make a thumb-raised gesture, before the arm flopped down again.
She turned away swiftly, ignoring the eyes of the Sister of Silence and making for the pneumatic door. She paused at the doorway, knowing that she should give some words in farewell, but cursed with a suddenly-still and heavy tongue. No matter how swiftly her mind raced, she could not find anything to say that seemed suitable.
Eventually, she just opened the door and left, letting it slide closed behind her. The Lord Custodes was at the doorside, once more clad in his glamorous plate armor, shield resting against one shoulder, blade on hip, and standing as still as any statue.
"Lord Custodian." She got out with a nod, as she walked past.
"Canoness." He returned, voice a great and beautiful rumble tinted with the machinery of his helmet.
It sounded much like how she imagined the God-Emperor's voice to sound.
Not that she'd know.
Her right hand curled into a fist, and her face scrunched up unpleasantly.
Flagellation for a week, for this.Last edited: Oct 13, 2025 Like ReplyReport Reactions:Some_Respek, Kappsa, randomaccount1567 and 1,860 othersBrosefOct 12, 2025NewAdd bookmarkView discussionThreadmarks Chapter 5 New View contentBrosefWriterOct 14, 2025NewAdd bookmark#934-990.M41-
-Miracle of Suffering, Segmentum Solar-
-Joshua Pendrarc-
"Do you know where the marines are?" He asked.
"No." The Canoness replied, reaching into her robes and pulling out a photograph to look upon.
The photograph depicted an Ultramarine. He was leaning forwards and away from the viewer, exaggeratedly large posterior bulging in his armor. The Canoness smiled.
—
His eyes opened. He was staring at the ceiling of his room, eyes crusted with sleep but vision perfect on account of their machine nature.
He pushed up from his bed, groggily rising into a seated position and blanket falling to pool upon his lap. He stared at nothing in particular, before glancing around the room. The Sister of Silence greeted him as normal, sitting down upon her corner-chair and calmly cleaning her sidearm. An incense-burner was by her side, filling the room with a pleasantly industrial scent.
He let his gaze continue, wandering nowhere in particular before returning to the wall. There was a digital clock interface glowing red with the indication that he was awake about an hour before breakfast.
Awoken by a strange dream.
"What the fuck." He muttered in bafflement, face scrunching up as he worked to interpret the dream. A moment later he shook his head and decided that he didn't really want to interpret that dream. He groggily pushed the covers away from his legs, slipping his legs out and letting them touch the cool metal floor.
He let his hands stay in his lap, slowly flexing and unflexing muscle groups in order to get blood flowing and bring him to full wakefulness faster. The Sister of Silence stared at him blankly, paused in her cleaning-work of the advanced pistol-thing she carried.
"You ever have a really weird dream, Denaira?" He asked her, smacking his lips in thought and brows still furrowed. She shook her head calmly. He tilted his head to the side. "You don't have dreams?"
She nodded, turning her gaze back down to the partially-dissembled weapon and continuing to work a wirebrush into the opened space.
He supposed he never thought about it before, whether or not blanks could have dreams. If the warp was the psychic plane, it stood to reason that there was some connection between dreaming and it. And if there was such a connection, a blank's inverted soul would naturally interfere with the normal dreaming process in some manner.
Of course, that meant that it was entirely possible some sort of daemon made an active decision to send that dream to him specifically. He reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes and doing his best to will his morning drowsiness away.
Right. He was just going to ignore it.
With that decision made, he dropped forwards onto the cold floor and began his morning calisthenics. A near constant of his daily routine over the last few months- exercise, stretching, and eating. Anything to further develop his skinny frame into something vaguely respectable.
He was still pretty thin- but hey, he had abs now.
—
"You'll be glad to note that we are soon to arrive in the Pandemonium system." The Canoness Superior mentioned with the same stern deliberateness that he always knew her to have.
He waved a hello and nodded at a passing group of Sisters- these ones bearing the coarse, ragged burlap of the Repentia, as he replied. "Oh, that's good." The Repentia ducked their heads and made the sign of the Aquila as they passed. Hercule's massive steps behind him made it very clear why they were saluting. "That journey felt quicker than I was expecting."
"You were busy." The Canoness Superior statedly bluntly. "The Captain has extended an invitation for you to be present upon the bridge as we arrive into the system. I have taken the initiative to accept his offer upon your behalf."
"Understandable." Joshua nodded idly, folding his hands behind his back. Having a Canoness being responsible for your general education and safety was a lot like having a mom, by his experience. A particularly pushy one that wanted you to go out and do productive things like meet with important people while maintaining a consistent schedule. If he was actually some kind of young wastrel orphan from the streets, he'd probably chaff under her stern wardening or imprint pretty hard.
As he was a grownass man who had a mom in a past life and no particular psychological hangups involving her, this was more or less just a nostalgic routine. "Anything I should know before I meet with him?"
"He is intimately fond of the Navigator. Refrain from insulting the mutant in his presence."
Joshua raised a brow. Gossip survives even into the far flung future of war, huh? He was pretty sure he didn't need to know anything more than 'don't insult the navigator' there. "I see." He responded after a moment, letting his thoughts wander towards the subject.
Navigators were the other half of what made long-distance travel through the warp feasible and reliable. The other being Astropaths like he was supposed to be.
An Astropath uses their power to perform two critical functions, transmission of FTL communications, and divination via the Emperor's Tarot. A ship or fleet will receive a message through their Astropaths about a particular command or distress signal. The Astropath will then draw the Emperor's Tarot related to each potential route to that location from the ship's current position, and relay that information to the Captain. If there is only one charted warp-route to a location, they aren't particularly helpful.
The Captain will then select one of the previously-charted routes, communicate that to the Navigator, and the Navigator will use their phenomenal mutant third-eye power to refine a general route through the warp into a precise route. Taking note of all the potential dangers along the path they needed to go upon and making the micro-adjustments on the course needed to avoid as many of them as possible. They are most critical for telling a Captain that they've been blown off course by warp-currents, for only they can see into the warp for extended periods and not go insane.
A ship could travel without either of these things, with a greatly experienced captain, crew, and lots of time-consuming math. A ship could travel with only one of these things, if they really needed to, sacrificing either macro-precision or micro-precision. But using both in conjunction was generally the safest, fastest way to travel through the psychic hell-dimension that FTL relied upon.
A military vessel needs an Astropathic Choir for knowing where the high command wanted them to move around anyways- so using one of them to also divine potential routes through the warp to said location was no additional cost. Some ships will employ Theomancers, psykers who are specifically specialized in reading the Emperor's Tarot, instead of more-common Astropaths for the second function. Normally only the Inquisitors get to splurge on extra psykers like that though.
The door opened to the bridge, at least what he was assuming was the bridge.
The Tarot read renewed confidence in one's judgement.
So yes, probably the bridge of the ship.
The bridge was as massive as any other part of the colossal ship. The Miracle of Suffering was a seven kilometer long, one kilometer wide and tall, venerable monster of a ship. It crewed over a hundred thousand servicemen and carried four hangars worth of huge 'fighter' craft as a complement. Larger than the average ship in the Imperium, nowhere close to the largest.
In the far off year of forty-thousand and change, they made ridiculously large ships, welcome to the galaxy.
The bridge was at least as large as a football field, the far end dominated by a section of what looked like reinforced glass two or three stories tall and much wider still. Currently, there were panels dropped down in front of the glass, preventing anyone from seeing out into the madness of the warp that lurked beyond. The bridge was divided into three great sections, upper, middle, and lower, which formed three large steps that descended in elevation the closer one got to the massive windows.
Naturally, the uppermost terrace was dominated by a series of large thrones, followed by a series of computer-stations and chairs with various men and women seated within. The largest chair was empty, and a man wearing a long, well-decorated greatcoat stood over the shoulder of a man typing away at a cogitator.
Joshua glanced over. The second-largest throne was occupied by a feminine figure almost entirely swathed and concealed behind ornate robes. There was a point of gleaming light on her glossy black helmet, behind material perception, which unfolded out like a funhouse mirror made of stained glass. It was attached to a long and ichthyic soul, which in turn was only loosely contained by its flesh.
A set of golden cogs twisted in his chest, friction heating up something deeper than organs.
The man in the long coat turned with their approach. He was a very old man, with a mustache almost larger than his face with how magnificently bushy it was. His hat was adorned with the imperial skull and aquila, and he grinned widely at the sight of them. "Canoness! Good of you to arrive, The helmsman here tells me we're just about to arrive- we had to divert course to sail around that awful grav-wake." His voice was strong despite his age, and he carried both a pistol and a sword at his hip. A trio of golden medals covered his breast, and his left arm was entirely mechanical.
"Captain Bruno." The Canoness greeted significantly less enthusiastically, before stepping to the side slightly and gesturing towards him with an open palm. "This is Joshua Pendrarc."
The Captain paid her stiff demeanor no mind, grinning and stepping forward with an offered hand. Joshua smiled back and took it for a firm shake. "So this is that ward you've been having us carry about? I'd have met you earlier, my boy, but the Canoness was dodgy about you and your honored-escort!"
"Well- it's one of those things, you understand?" Joshua replied with an apologetic shrug. He wasn't sure exactly how the Captain would take that, but it was a good way to 'explain' his absence and let the captain fill in the rest of the details on his own. The Captain's face was filled with a wry understanding, nodding with a toothy little smile.
"Of course, of course. Those kinds of things happen from time to time…" The Captain chuckled with amusement. "Well, have no fear of lacking zeal, everyone on this ship will die before seeing a Prince of Terra harmed, you understand?"
"That's certainly reassuring- but please make sure it's actually worth your lives before jumping in front of a las-blast, I'd feel guilty about that for the rest of my days otherwise." Joshua nodded with a somewhat more serious scowl and concerned furrow to his brow. They thought he was a noble's son then? It was as good of a cover as any, he supposed.
"What do you think we are- Guardsmen? Ahaha!" The Captain laughed, clapping a hand on his shoulder. Joshua laughed along, and the captain pulled back merrily. He was about to speak again, before a distant groan cut him off. Immediately his gaze snapped to the side, and Joshua's eyes followed to the navigator-throne.
The Navigator had a hand raised to their helmet, shaking their head and starting to stretch. "My work is done." The voice was lightly distorted from the helm, with female tones and almost serpentine undertone. The Navigator rose slowly and stretched, before shaking her head and stepping down from the raised platform of the throne and onto the main floor, using a kneeling man as a stepping-stool in the process.
"Excellent work as always, Lady Locarno!" The Captain complemented with a grin and a fist brushed against his broad chest.
"I will retire to my chambers, have you further need of me-" The Navigator stopped for a few moments, and the slowly-closing mirror of stained glass on her forehead reversed its retreat, opening wide open once more.
Focused dead on him. He gave a polite smile and nodded, all-too-aware of the magnificent sun that burned on his brow and the golden reactor that pulsed in his core.
"...What are you?" The Navigator stated bluntly, utterly still.
His smile widened. "I am Joshua. I'm glad to meet you, Lady Navigator."
The Navigator continued to stare for several long seconds, the kaleidoscope-lens on her brow twisting, focusing, unfocusing, and moving in thousands of tiny evalulatory patterns.
"...Lady Locarno?" The Captain asked with a wary glance between them. His hand twitched down for his sword. The massive golden demigod behind Joshua leaned forwards slightly.
"...I have changed my mind. I will remain here, for the moment." The Navigator eventually answered, stepping back onto her throne and slowly lowering herself into it, all three eyes still fixed dead upon Joshua.
"I see…?" The Captain spoke, eyes suspiciously bouncing around.
Joshua turned away from the navigator, towards the captain, and shrugged in an apologetic fashion. He didn't explain further, instead turning forwards towards the thin metal curtain that separated their material eyes from the twisting chaos their ship was immersed within. The Canoness had a distinctly annoyed expression on her face at the interaction.
"We're coming out of the warp now, Captain!" A man from ahead called out. The Captain glanced that way, back to Joshua, then turned fully ahead.
"Good, good! Ready to open shutters!"
"Shutters ready, Captain!" Another voice called, a woman on the far left.
"Open when we drop out of Warpspace!"
Several long moments passed.
The male voice from before called out. "Dropping out now! Approaching Mandeville Point!"
"Opening shutters!" And the immense sheet of metal began to slowly fall away from the windows, disappearing into the ship inch by inch. The captain leaned towards him.
"The Pandemonium System- it leaves a kind of gravitational wake in its path." He waved a hand at the window. "You have to enter the system from the front to not get caught up in that and torn apart. It makes the system terrifically defensible, one of the best natural protections I've ever seen."
"Is that so? Good that we're the ones holding it then." Joshua nodded, raising his hand to scratch at his chin. It was shaved now- part of a daily routine that the Canoness insisted upon. "I heard there was a group of Space Marines who made their home here?"
"Hm? Oh yes, the Night Hunters." The Captain rolled his hand. "They're no Ultramarines- but they're nice enough and reliable sorts. You can trust them to send at least a company to investigate if they hear a distress signal."
The shutters fell away enough to reveal a distant pair of stars, a set of luminous yellow twins that danced around each other and illuminated the system. Tiny dots of light in the distance glinted as jewels in the tapestry of space.
"There's a ship dead ahead, Captain." A woman called out.
"We're being hailed." Another man, half of his head replaced by wires, spoke. "Over the intra-system vox comms."
The Captain frowned, raising a hand to stroke his magnificent moustache. The shutters fell away enough to reveal the ship that was apparently before them- the very recognizable shape of a Battle-Barge. A seven-kilometer ship normally reserved for use by Space Marines. This one in particular was painted with generally blue and black tones, highlighted in gold, with immense high-gothic lettering gleaming on its side.
Hammer of Silver Castigation
"That's a Space Marine ship alright…" The Captain mused. "Answer the hails."
A few moments passed.
"Identify yourself, Grand Cruiser." Came the rumbling, mechanically-tinted voice of a Space Marine.
"This is the Miracle of Suffering, sworn to carry the first Preceptory of the Order of Ebon Chalice, under the sacred command of our lord God-Emperor on Holy Terra! You are speaking to Captain Bruno, what is the meaning of this hail!?" The Captain boomed back, crossing his arms and leaning back slightly.
A few long moments passed.
"...I am Brother Kellus, Second-Company Captain of the Night Hunters. I speak on behalf of my Chapter- this system is currently under lockdown by our authority. We have detected a perfidious Xeno-Cult upon these worlds, and are working to uproot and annihilate it." The Space Marine's contempt for the alien could be heard in every syllable he spoke. "Should you wish to enter, we will not stop you. But no ship can be allowed to leave until the system is cleared and all traces of the cult eliminated- lest it spread to other systems and infest them as well."
The bridge erupted into hushed whispers and nervous glances. The Captain adjusted his position, listening carefully to the words while brushing at his mustache. "...How long do you expect this purgation to take?" He called out again.
Another delay from the distance between the ships.
"...Time indeterminate- the Xeno-Cult has been found on multiple worlds in the system."
The Captain nodded slowly, before glancing over to the Canoness. The Canoness nodded and stepped forwards. "Marine Captain! I am Cleopatra, Canoness Superior of the Order of Ebon Chalice! If a Xeno-Cult has been detected upon these worlds, it is our sacred duty to burn it out! We are demanded to join in this righteous purge of xeno-taint!"
It wasn't quite a command, but it was pretty close. Joshua closed his eyes in mild frustration.
Tarot suggested that working together to achieve a common goal would be fortuitous.
"...I will relay your offer of assistance to our Chapter Master. You may make your way to Pandemonium IV, the Chapter Master will hear you out in our Fortress-Monastary. Do not carelessly disperse into the system beyond Pandemonium IV for the moment."
"We have a daughter-order upon Pandemonium IIIB- we maintain the right to contact and communicate with them for this period." The Canoness growled, crossing her arms over her chest.
"...You maintain that right, but do not make a physical landing before speaking to our Chapter-Master, lest you breach quarantine by mistake and spread xeno-taint further through the Imperium."
"Acknowledged."
It was impressive how much disdain two people could put in their voices without being outright hostile towards each other. Like ReplyReport Reactions:TheVictor, SpectreOfChaos, Some_Respek and 2,159