Cornie led Hermann through the twisting corridors of the settlement, their footsteps muffled against the worn metal and broken concrete beneath them.
The scavengers he had rescued followed behind, exhausted but moving with the determination of those who had narrowly escaped death.
Their small, pale faces peeked from the shadows, as if expecting danger at every turn. Hermann stayed in the back, letting Cornie take the lead, watching silently, alert to every sound and movement.
At last, they arrived at the central building of the settlement. Its walls were patched with rusted metal sheets and scavenged planks, and a dim, flickering lamp barely illuminated the entrance.
Inside, a small crowd had gathered, wary and tense, as if expecting bad news rather than salvation.
The leader of the settlement emerged from the crowd; a tall, weathered man with sharp eyes and deep lines etched across his face. His shoulders were broad, and though his hands were calloused from decades of labor, there was a command in his posture that demanded attention.
Cornie stepped forward quickly, waving his rescued son and a few of the other scavengers toward the leader.
"Sir!" Cornie's voice was urgent but respectful. "They… they are safe. This priest, he saved them from the Red Scum. He brought them back."
The leader's eyes flicked to Hermann, lingering on the dark robes, the faint ceremonial sigil etched across his chest, and the calm, composed figure standing in the doorway.
For a long moment, silence stretched between them, the hum of distant machinery and the occasional drip of condensation filling the void.
Then the leader's gaze softened slightly. Relief crept into his voice. "You… you brought them back alive?"
Hermann inclined his head, his expression serene, the weight of authority and calm in every movement. "I am Hermann Brandt, priest and devoted to the Great Primarch."
The leader's eyes widened, and he took a careful step forward. "Priest? Are you a Priest?" His voice trembled slightly, disbelief mixing with gratitude. "I can't believe a priest would save children and elderly in the lower hive. It is a blessing! Thank you, Priest Hermann."
Hermann's gaze swept over the group behind him, the scavengers clutching each other in varying states of shock and exhaustion. "Yes," he said simply. "No harm shall touch them under my watch. Go now, and guide them to safety."
The leader's expression softened fully now. Relief and gratitude mingled, and he clasped Hermann's forearm with a firm hand. "I do not know your reason for wandering in the lower hive. But I owe you a debt I may never repay. Please, come inside. You will have shelter, food, and water. You have earned it, and our thanks are sincere."
Hermann nodded, allowing himself a small acknowledgment, and followed the leader deeper into the settlement. The corridors were cramped, lined with rough metal and scavenged machinery.
"I will take my leave here, Priest Hermann. Once again, I thank you for my son' survival." Connie left the group with his son, deep into another corridor.
Occasionally, Hermann passed makeshift dwellings carved into walls or stacked containers converted into homes. The air was heavy with smoke, the acrid tang of machinery and unwashed bodies blending into the constant scent of desperation.
Inside the settlement, Hermann was led to a small room in the center of the communal area. A broken water purifier dominated one corner, its pipes twisted and scorched from a recent raid by the Red Wolf gang.
Children and the elderly clustered near it, casting desperate glances toward its ruined mechanism, aware that it was the only source of clean water for their home.
Hermann's gaze lingered on it. Repairing it too openly could draw attention to his presence, his tools, and the technology he possessed was something he could not risk. But he looked around at the faces of those who had survived, at the children shivering despite layers of ragged clothing, at the elders with hollow eyes and cracked lips.
He activated the service drone, sending it silently to assess the purifier. The machine hovered, scanning and mapping the damage, then began repairs under Hermann's careful direction.
The settlers watched in awe as, piece by piece, the purifier's internal circuits and filters were reconstructed and cleaned, until at last water began to trickle through again, filling the storage tanks. Relief rippled through the small crowd like a silent wave, soft murmurs and grateful whispers filling the room.
Hermann remained calm, his hands folded inside his robe.
"Drink sparingly until the tanks are full." His voice carried authority, yet warmth, and the settlers inclined their heads respectfully.
Cornie had escorted his son back to their small dwelling near the edge of the settlement. Inside, his wife lay on a crude cot, pale and weak, her illness having drained moisture from her body over the past days.
Her condition had worsened since the Red Wolf gang' last raid, and Cornie had struggled to keep her alive with the limited water and rationed scraps at hand.
Cornie moved carefully around her, pressing damp cloths to her brow, whispering words of comfort as he checked her pulse. But even his efforts seemed insufficient; her body trembled with weakness, and her breathing grew shallow. Cornie' hands shook as he adjusted the covers and tried to moisten her lips.
The night seemed endless. Despair pressed against the walls of the small room, threatening to crush both husband and wife alike. Cornie' voice trembled as he whispered, "Please… just a little longer…"
Then, a knock came at the door. Cornie froze, his heart skipping a beat. The door creaked open, and Hermann stood there, a water container in hand. The calm presence of the priest filled the doorway, the dim light casting long shadows across his robes.
"I have brought this you," Hermann said softly. He brought a water container, wet and filled with clear water.
"Is... Is this...?"
Cornie couldn't believe his eyes. He quickly moved, not wasting any time further, helping Hermann carry the container to the bed.
Carefully, Hermann measured out the water and administered it to the wife, guiding Cornie in slow, deliberate motions to ensure she received it safely. Slowly, the color returned to her pallid cheeks, her breathing steadied, and her tremors lessened.
Cornie sank to his knees beside the bed, relief and gratitude flooding through him.
Tears welled in his eyes as he looked at Hermann, his voice barely above a whisper. "I… I don't know how to thank you… you saved her… and my children…"
Hermann inclined his head, his expression serene but firm. "Do not thank me. Keep them safe. Guide your people. Faith and care are the greatest gifts you can give. That is thanks enough."
Cornie's hands fell to his sides, trembling, as he realized the weight of what had just occurred. In the dim, suffocating room of the lower hive, amidst the dust, disease, and shadows, a trust had formed. Hermann Brandt was no ordinary visitor; he was a protector, a guide, and a seed of light in a world that had almost forgotten what hope felt like.
Cornie's gaze lingered on the priest, and a silent vow passed through him. Whoever this man was, whatever faith he represented, Hermann would be trusted and followed. And if he could ensure the safety of even a single life in this brutal hive, then perhaps there was a chance yet for the settlement to endure.
Hermann stepped back, letting Cornie tend to his family, his presence a quiet anchor amidst the chaos. Outside, the wind howled through the settlement's corridors, carrying with it dust, sparks, and the faint hum of distant machinery.