Captum Ante Chapter 46

In the topmost level of the Librarian's tower Arvael waited, standing to attention in his Master's apartment. He had just been released from the care of the Apothecaries, who had seemed quite baffled as to why he was there. Upon examination they had been unable to find anything physically wrong with him. Arvael had tried to explain to them what having dimensions folded inside one's body felt like, at which point they had become rather keen on discharging him and sending him somewhere else, anywhere else. Talk of Warpcraft usually had that effect on most people.

Arvael had trudged back to the tower and waited to be summoned by his Master. Eventually the call had come and he had made his way up, until he finally stood at the door to Echeb's quarters. Through the gap he could see Echeb sitting at his low desk, legs crossed. The Chief Librarian looked extremely worse for wear, badly bruised and with scabs all over his unarmoured frame. Yet his spine was straight and his will unbroken by recent events.

With him was Mayra, who was attending upon him. Arvael was surprised to see her in Caius' former position but her spirit was strong. She had endured countless degradations in her former posting, then battles, combat and the manipulation of her memories. That last one truly stood out, Corac had done more than violate her body, as so many others had, he had violated her mind. It was a truly shameful mark against the whole Librarian order and a testament to Mayra's spirit that she had recovered after the memory implant had been extracted.

Arvael could hear them talking, arranging certain affairs and dealing with the aftermath of recent events. It seemed Mayra would be taking on the role of the Chief Librarian's personal equerry, a role Arvael didn't begrudge her. She would also be taking over as the head of the network of agents, a task that would test anyone to the limits.

Eventually Arvael heard his name being called and stepped inside, bowing low to his Master. Echeb rose stiffly to his feet and said, "Arvael, you seem hale."

"I am physically restored my Master," Arvael replied, "The spiritual wounds however linger."

Echeb eyed him and said, "Yes, this has been a harrowing affair, the treason of one of our own strikes at the core of us all."

At that Mayra muttered, "Good riddance."

Echeb scowled but said, "I am glad that you managed to avoid his fate."

Arvael blinked and asked, "Was that likely?"

Echeb frowned saying, "When I realised that Caius' death was caused by one of our own I expected to have to execute all three of you. Yet I heard your words in the vaults, your refusal to countenance corruption. I am satisfied that you played no part in Corac's Heresy, you are pure and your life shall be spared."

Arvael gulped, he had not realised that his life too hung on the scales. He shook off the chill running down his spine and asked, "My Master, do we yet understand Corac's treachery? Where did it spring from, what was the root of it?"

Echeb sighed deeply and said, "A question I was going to put before you. It is possible that the Necroteuch defiled his spirit, that this was the work of an outside influence penetrating his mental defences."

Arvael caught the suggestive tone and shook his head sadly saying, "No, this was always in Corac. He was always too ambitious, too covetous and grasping. He did not respect the power he wielded because it was never enough for him. The Necroteuch may have been a catalyst but he was always on this path."

Echeb said, "I find it interesting that you presumed I was the author of this heresy."

Arvael felt a hot flush and blurted, "The evidence seemed to suggest you were the most likely candidate."

Echeb replied, "Then it seems that you have learned the most important lesson of the Librarians."

Arvael frowned in confusion and said, "How so?"

Echeb sighed deeply and said, "You have seen through the paltry glamour of friendship, to witness the truth. It is our duty to be ever vigilant for taint and corruption, most especially among ourselves. Always we must be prepared for the day when one of our own turns to Chaos and stand ready to do what is necessary. You will find peers and colleagues here but no friends. You must always remember that you may well have to execute any one of them should they stray too far and they will be watching you in turn."

Arvael heard the words and knew it was true; his role was to stand guard against the Warp. There could be no compromises in that task, no exceptions, not even for his closest friends. Arvael changed the subject saying, "So what now?"

Echeb looked at Mayra and said, "My equerry and I were just discussing that. The Chapter Master is aware that something occurred below but not what."

Mayra said, "Thankfully he is busy supervising Fifth Company's purge of the last dregs of the cult and will not press matters. He is smart enough to know that there are certain things he doesn't want to know, especially when Psykers are involved."

Arvael inquired, "And the Necroteuch?"

"Burned, as I always intended," Echeb answered, "It is far too corrupt to allow to exist. The ashes shall be fired into the local star just to be safe."

"Then this matter is closed," Arvael said gladly.

"Not quite," Echeb said, "There is one more issue to deal with."

Arvael frowned but then he heard the sound of boots on the stairs. He turned as saw a pair of bulky figures in midnight carapace armour, the dreaded Black Sentinels, climbing up to the apartment. Between them was the bedraggled figure of Quomas, who was bound and chained and looked utterly miserable. They marched to up to Echeb and silently halted, waiting for orders.

Echeb looked down at the prisoner and growled, "This acolyte stands accused of Heresy and treachery, of following the path to damnation and he must be tried for his sins. You shall do this now."

"Me?" gasped Arvael, "Why me?"

Echeb picked up two items from his desk, one a small key for Quomas' chains, the other a short knife. He held them out and said, "A Librarian must determine the fates of many, judge who is corrupt and who is pure. You must learn to sort those who can be redeemed from those whose sins are unforgivable. His life is now in your hands."

Arvael took the items and weighed them, feeling the dread responsibility settle upon him. He had known this duty would come but he had never expected it so soon and never to be performing it on his last remaining friend. Arvael turned to Quomas and said, "What plea do you enter?"

Quomas' eyes bulged and he said, "Arvael please, you can't be serious."

Arvael felt his hearts grow heavy as he repeated, "What plea do you enter?"

Quomas squirmed in his guard's grip and begged, "It wasn't my fault, I was led astray. I trusted Corac but he lied to me, just as he did you. I didn't want to be part of any Heresy; I only wanted to do what was best."

Arvael replied, "You should have known better."

Quomas nodded frantically and said, "You're right, I made a mistake. I can do better, I want to do better. You have to let me try to redeem myself, you're my friend, you have to let me try…"

His words were cut off as Arvael's hand shot forward, ramming the knife into Quomas's throat, plunging it up to the hilt. Quomas's eye's bulged in shock and horror as blood ran down his chest. His mouth gaped silently for an eternity and then the light fled from his eyes and he died.

Arvael released his grip on the knife and he looked on silently as his last friend died. His hearts broke but he refused to show grief for a heretic, he had to be stronger than that.

Echeb had watched the whole scene and showed neither condemnation nor approval of the decision, content merely to observe. He drew in a breath and calmly, as if asking for the reasoning behind a student's statement, said, "Explain your rationale for this execution."

Arvael whispered with a hitch in his voice, "Quomas was always weak. He was diffident, indecisive, unable to choose a path for himself. He let peer pressure lead him into actions he knew to be wrong. If he could not say no to a friend then how could he say no to the temptations of a Traitor or a Daemon? He did not cross the line first but he was willing to follow another over it. He chose to compromise and there can be no compromise with the Dark Gods, one must either reject them utterly or be damned. He was on the first step of a long road but it was one that would inexorably lead to Chaos."

Echeb nodded and said, "Your analysis is correct, Quomas never had the fortitude to serve as a Librarian. In another life he might have proved to be a competent Initiate, if well led, but I knew that he would not reach the requirements for being a Librarian. We are held to a higher standard than our brethren, a most terrible and fearful measure that few are able to endure."

Arvael had no words for that, he turned away and stalked across the room. Echeb spoke to Mayra and said, "Dispose of that and get these floors cleaned."

As the serf took the corpse away Echeb followed Arvael and quietly said, "I know that was hard, trust me I know, but it had to be done. Many times I have to weed out the impure and the weak from our ranks, it is a duty nobody ever seeks but one that we must perform. Today you have shown the iron will and unflinching resolve necessary to become a Librarian and as such I am officially elevating you to the rank of Lexicanium."

Arvael blinked in surprise and then he spat in disgust, "I didn't do that to pass some test or for your approval!"

Echeb nodded and said, "I know, that is why you are ready, in spirit at least. Your education shall continue, a Librarian's education never ceases, but henceforth you shall wear the armour and the psychic hood. This is my decision and my gift."

With those words a cabinet opened in the back of the apartment, revealing an armour stand inside. Upon that stand was a suit of blue armour, covered in wards and runes. It was an ancient relic, lovingly maintained and restored, thrumming with potential energies from psy-reactive crystal inlays. On one shoulder pad was the spiral in a starburst icon of the Chapter and on the other a fearsome horned skull, with a sword plunged straight down through it as if in execution. Over the gorget rose an arcane psychic hood, of the rare Hellfire pattern, a model not produced in millennia.

Arvael looked upon it and breathed, "Mark IV, Maximus pattern."

"Yes," Echeb replied, "A relic of the Librarius, reserved only for those who have banished a Greater Daemon. It has not been worn for a thousand years but now you shall bear it into battle."

Arvael's breath was taken away by the sight but he felt no triumph at this, it had come at too high a price. He shook his head and said, "I do not deserve such a reward."

"That was not a request," Echeb growled, but then softly he said, "This is no reward but a burden, one you must bear for you are strong enough. Let it always be a reminder of the terrible standards we are held to and the fate of those who fall short."

Arvael bowed and said, "I shall do so my Master and I shall not forget this, any part of it."

"See that you do not," Echeb said firmly, "Now go summon the armourers to fit you into your new plate and speak of this day to no one."

Arvael bowed and turned to leave, however at the doorway he was paused by Echeb saying, "One more thing."

"Yes, my Master," Arvael asked.

Echeb sat down at his desk and declared, "There may yet come a time when I too fall short of the mark, on which day I expect you to be ready to show the same unshakable resolve that you did here today."

The End