Chapter 254: Sly Chak (Patreon)

…

A short while later.

Chak, who had just declared he would join Inquisitor Greyfax in investigating the Talon Sector, now stood face-to-face with their target, Qin Mo, the so-called Lord of Talon.

Qin Mo studied Chak with faint recognition. He remembered this man, an obstinate shadow from the past, one of the very first wave of Inquisitors dispatched into the Talon Sector when it was still considered a curiosity rather than a true threat.

Chak’s father was none other than Archmagos Vick, the current ruling Magos of the Agripinaa Forge World.

An Lord Inquisitor’s now…

Qin Mo noted that Chak was no longer an acolyte. He now wore the rosette of a full-fledged Lord Inquisitor.

Both father and son had profited from their connection to the Talon Sector, whether openly or in shadows.

“As I said, Lord of Talon,” Chak repeated the conversation he and Greyfax had just shared, before adding the latest news about Lord Castellan Creed. “That witch is targeting you. The Castellan is merely her avenue for drawing out intelligence that could be used against your sector.”

Qin Mo listened in silence, then smiled faintly. “Does that witch know you call her a witch?”

"No, of course not," Chak laughed awkwardly. “If she did, she’d drive a stiletto heel through my skull.”

“You almost look like you want her to know.” Qin Mo smirked.

“No, no, not at all! Emperor preserve me, where would you get that idea?” Chak shook his head furiously.

Their jesting ended as Qin Mo’s expression hardened. His mind turned toward his next move.

From the first moment the Inquisition set foot in the Talon Sector, a strange equilibrium had taken root, fragile but enduring.

The Ordos harbored no illusions: the Talon Sector was heretical, egregiously so. Its doctrines rejected Imperial orthodoxy, its technology spat in the face of Mars, and its ruler bore the unmistakable taint of powers that should never walk in mortal flesh. And yet, when Talon revealed its teeth, the Inquisition inevitably balked.

Why? Because it was one thing to purge a cult or burn a world. It was quite another to wage war against a heretical polity with fully functioning world-ending superweapons, and a standing void fleet with logistical reach, technological sophistication, and sheer mobility that rivalled entire Segmentum fleets. Talon ships could appear where they should not, strike with precision weapons that rivalled exterminatus, and vanish into folds of space that no Navigator could chart. That made them… inconvenient. Without total commitment of Imperial might, annihilation could not be guaranteed.

The Inquisition probed, but did not strike. Talon defied, but did not openly rebel. Neither side dared to break the mask of civility.

Thus the balance held.

And it would continue to hold, until the day the Imperium clawed free of its crises and could commit entire Crusades’ worth of men and materiel to a single front.

Until then, the Inquisition would tread carefully, loath to be the first to shatter the fragile peace.

After considering, Qin Mo fixed his gaze on Chak. “I have an idea. But I wonder if you have the nerve.”

Chak shrugged helplessly. His smile was crooked, forced, the humor of a man who knew he had already placed his head in the lion’s mouth. “I’m here already. Don’t bother asking if I dare.”

In his heart, Chak knew the Talon Sector was heresy incarnate. And if he had any choice, he would never have set foot here. But his father Vick had insisted, the Inquisition would not cease its scrutiny of Talon, and so he had asked his son to intervene.

Chak had cut ties with his father years ago. Cutting ties, however, was not the same as freedom. He was still bound by blood, by history, by unspoken debts and bitter, unkillable resentment. Deep down, he still obeyed, bound by habit, by foolish hopes he could never quite kill.

“You’ll take a transport and approach my fleet,” Qin Mo laid out. “Then you’ll demand a captain hand over one of his crew for interrogation. None will be given, of course, but the spectacle will escalate.”

Chak grimaced, as if staring into a pit and knowing he must step forward. He sighed, then rose to bow slightly. “Then I’ll head to your fleet at once. But, please, warn Admiral Adam that when he sees a transport marked with the Raven sigil, he is not to open fire. I’d rather not be vaporized for real. And frankly, based on my experience, your Talon Navy would absolutely do that.”

Qin Mo nodded repeatedly.

Only then did Chak relax and depart. But a few steps later, he returned.

“There’s something else. Lord Inquisitor Horst has already arrived in-system. I don’t know his exact purpose or which world he haunts, he’s as elusive as ever. But he did request intelligence from me… concerning the Blackstone Pylons.”

Qin Mo inclined his head. A spark of interest lit his otherwise unreadable features. “All the better.”

…

Ten minutes later.

Lord Inquisitor Greyfax, preparing her second round of interrogation against Creed, received disturbing news.

The Talon fleet in the system had trained its weapons on the Inquisitorial ships, because an Inquisitor had strode into their formation and demanded a prisoner.

Greyfax’s reaction was muted. She instantly understood. This had to be Chak’s doing. No other Inquisitor would entangle themselves so recklessly.

What surprised her was not the provocation itself, but the sheer speed with which Chak had shifted allegiance. One heartbeat with them, the next with Talon, flowing between loyalties like water running downhill. Clearly, he had done this before, and planned it well.

Yet none of it dissuaded Greyfax from her work. What stopped her cold was the sudden arrival of another figure, one whose presence silenced even her indignation.

Lord Inquisitor Horst.

The legendary Inquisitor, ghostlike and inscrutable, a man whispered about more than seen. Some said he walked unchallenged in the Eye itself, that daemons bent around him as though he were not there. Whether myth or truth, his reputation weighed heavier than an army. He had been on Cadia all along, pursuing his own secret investigation.

“It ends here,” Horst said flatly.

Greyfax laughed bitterly. “Ends? So the Inquisition cowers now? The moment they aim their guns at us, we simply fold? Are we to become a Departmentum of cowards, bullied at will?”

“Do not waste your words,” Horst replied. His tone was quiet, but it carried the weight of finality. “You know the truth. We know they are heretics. They know they are heretics. And yet, for now, we can do nothing.”

Greyfax clenched her jaw, then forced herself to nod. She hated the truth, she could not deny it, but the injustice still burned her tongue.

“The Talon power is unprecedented,” Horst pressed on. “We must treat them with caution, as neither fully ally nor declared foe. That is why all investigations into the Talon Sector are suspended.”

Greyfax absorbed this. The words struck her like a physical blow. She realized Horst was not simply cautious; he was uncertain whether the Talon Sector truly was an enemy. That alone marked them as extraordinary.

And that realization was chilling. For it meant the Imperium itself lacked a unified stance. Some branded Talon utter heresy. Others waited, hedging. Still others saw opportunities for profit. No consensus, no decisive action, and so paralysis reigned.

“The Lord of Talon only staged this farce to secure Creed’s release. Very well. I’ll have him brought out of the cells,” Greyfax conceded, viewing this as a long war, not one battle.

“No. Five days.” Horst shook his head. “It was folly to cage him at all. But since you have, let him sit five more days. Then release him.”

Greyfax inclined her head.

“Now, you’re done here. I need you elsewhere. The Blackstone Pylons.” Horst’s tone sharpened. “I’ve observed the black spheres scurrying beneath the Blackstone Pylons. Their activity ties to why the Eye of Terror is being suppressed. We must uncover how the Pylons functions.”

For the briefest moment, Greyfax thought she heard awe in his voice, as though even the great Horst could be humbled by such ancient mysteries.

And without waiting for consent, Horst turned and strode away, his cloak whispering like a shadow.

Greyfax could only hurry after him.