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Kageros sat on his throne in Voor'Han and gazed about the room, it was dark and cold. He looked to his left where Rak'than would have sat, but he was not their. He was so badly damaged that they had to recover his corpse and manually repair him. It had been a week and he was still under repair, things were not looking well. He looked to his right, where Grulahk would have sat, but he was not there either. His story was different however, he was currently undergoing his final upgrade, he was to become the second Nemesor of his Dynasty. Kageros looked over the data-glyphs to check progress, the fleet was shattered, only a few Dirges, Jackals, Cruisers, Harvesters and a Tombship remained. Less than a quarter of his legions stood, but the battle was worth it, they could always rebuild, which is exactly what he planned to do. Kageros found an unlikely ally in the Daemon Prince Archarus, surely he did not expect to impress him. Kageros put down his data-glyph and thought of what to do... he must first rebuild his legions, he would then start on his fleet, then he would reach out in hammer his will unto the Universe until it rang and rang... but now he would wait. Yes, he would rebuild his legions and would not enter the void until his strength regained. There were monsters in the void, he knew he would face them sooner or later, and he would be ready when it came to blows. A wicked smile crept across his ivory face, he stood and strode out of the room, there was much work to be done.

Earlier, before Archarus' end...

Somewhere in the rubble of what had been the left flank of the Imperial taskforce on Grimdi, something stirred. A Marine, clad in the purple and black of the Death Ravens Chapter, awoke amidst the debris, his armour scratched and caked in mud and dirt. Ignoring the blares of his armour’s warning mechanisms, the Marine carefully wrenched his arms and legs free from the scraps that had pinned him to the ground.

He had been lucky enough to survive the artillery bombardment. Luckier still to survive it in one piece.

The sound of a Hellgun discharging close by reminded him that death was still waiting just around the corner. He concentrated on the noise, drowning out the sounds of the rubble shifting and the wind carrying the smoke of the explosions away.

Two men. Lightly armoured. Not as light as the Guardsmen, however.

Another discharge. The sound was drawing closer still. There was a rhythm to it.

The shots were controlled. Focused. Each one was perfectly aimed, primed and fired.

These two men weren’t fighting a charging enemy; they were executing a fallen one.

The Marine remained still, only his hand moving slightly to check if his combat knife was still where it belonged. The two men were close enough for the Marine to hear them talking.

“Feth me. How many of these guys are left? If I’d known it would be this boring, I’d have told Gallus to go plow himself.”

“Shut your face already. Be glad none of these Astartes is awake enough to put up a fight.”

“Pfff. I gotta say, I’m not really impressed by these so-called “Angels of Death”. I mean one shot to the head and they’re as much toast as everyone else.”

The pair of Scions – now easy to recognize by their signature warplate- had now drifted into the Marine’s view.

“Just get on with it. Look, there’s another one.” The first Scion pointed at the Marine.

“Take that one will you? And shut your face while you do it, I need another lho-stick.”

The first one turned away, grabbing a lighter and a lho-stick from his pockets. The second Scion lazily walked over to the Marine, unaware that his new target was much more alive than his previous victims. The Scion calmly aimed his Hellgun straight at the Marine’s helmet, and brought his finger to the trigger.

Strike without warning.

The Marine instantly burst forward, his left hand shoving the muzzle of the Scion’s Hellgun aside before it had the chance to discharge, while his right swiftly grabbed the man’s throat and jerked it sideways. The Scion’s eyes bulged in surprise as his neck snapped instantly, his limp body sliding out of the Marine’s hand as the latter rapidly heaved himself from the ground. The other Scion, who had been lighting his lho-stick, turned around instinctively but realized his mistake too late and his startled shout never made it across his lips as the Marine’s combat knife punctured his heart.

Silence once again hung over the broken landscape. The Marine cautiously observed the other Astartes and humans lying amidst the rubble as he gathered what remained of his gear and looted whatever he would need in the coming hours. Most of the humans had perished, their bodies lying like broken puppets over the debris. The Astartes had fared little better, although many of them sported a clean hole right through their helmet. The Scions did not appreciate loose ends, it seems.

That makes two of us.

Taking a few pic-captures of the executed Marines and the two eliminated Scions, their Hellguns still hot from the frequent discharges, was more of an afterthought, but he knew better than most that incriminating evidence shared at the right moment could be as powerful as an orbital bombardment. Seeing how quickly power had exchanged from one hand into another in this battle, information like that could be more useful in the near future than he could imagine.

He had just clipped an Iron Warriors’ chainsword to his belt when he heard the whine of more Valkyries in the distance, slowly approaching his position. He had already disposed of the two missing Scions’ corpses, so there was little chance they would be aware of his escape. He was about to leave for his extraction point when his eyes fell upon the dirt-covered mess that was Captain Julius.

The Captain was breathing lightly, his unconscious body frantically trying to keep itself together as it stabilized the worst of the Captain’s many wounds. His survival had never been a priority target, but the Marine had somehow grown accustomed to the Ultramarine. Time was ticking. In less than five minutes, the Scions would be down on his position, and in his current state, he would not be able to fight them all off single-handedly, and gathering more attention to himself was something he definitely wanted to avoid.

It was then he spotted another figure in the debris. A human, an officer by the looks of it. A Histan, one who was halfway through regaining his consciousness.

Perfect.

The Marine stomped over to the Histan, grabbed the nearest loaded bolt pistol and hastily put it in the Histan’s power fist. It wasn’t much, but with any luck, the Histan had enough presence of mind to blast the Scions that came this way to kingdom come, hopefully saving Julius along the way.

After that, the Marine started running, hurrying towards his next objective, and disappeared in the smoke…

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++Gorgyron, report.++

++Our operatives have been retrieved, Lord.++

++Excellent. How fare our prisoners?++

++The Fallen Order marines are still considering their options. The Iron Warriors proved too stubborn to see reason. Lord Breacher has dealt with them… accordingly.++

++And the Sorcerer?++

++He and his “guest” have arrived safe and sound, Lord.++

++Good. Time to leave this blasted rock.++

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The vessels belonging to Kassani and his consorts were too busy gloating about their victory over Zonand to notice a single, ancient vessel slowly but meticulously drifting through the wreckage of the betrayed Imperial ships, carefully dodging their scanners until it reached the edge of the system, where it disappeared into the void…

Brief Marine outro.

Julius stood on a balcony overlooking one of Macragge’s finest training camps, but he was not looking at the many aspirants who were training below, each one vying for a chance to become an Ultramarine. Rather, he was lost in thought, thinking about what Chapter Master Calgar had told him during their meeting earlier. After House Fairfax had dropped him and the remnants of his company back off at Macragge Julius had immediately been called to a meeting with Lord Calgar, who had become quite disturbed when all reports from Julius and Aurelius had ceased. Julius had watched as the fury steadily rose in Calgar’s face as he reported how the Ultramarines had been betrayed by those that they had once considered allies. Strikeforce Praetoria had been wiped out, and Julius’ own company had been battered down to a mere fraction of its former strength, all thanks to the treachery of one man. Even though Pavus had been killed, his machinations had nearly cost the Imperium victory in the Charadon system. The hardest thing to report to Master Calgar was the fact that there was very little the Ultramarines could do. Any action taken against those who had brought them so low would throw the sector into Chaos once more, and countless millions of lives would be lost, and would weaken the sector for decades to come. No, the Ultramarines would have to keep their peace for now, if only to spare the innocents in that sector from further horrors. The Ultramarines would neither forgive nor forget the treachery of Pavus’ supporters, and Lord Calgar swore to Julius that someday those who had betrayed the Lord General and his allies would receive their due punishment, and that was enough for Julius. He had to look to the rebuilding of his company. Surprisingly enough, both of the Scout squads that had accompanied his forces to battle had survived, and all of the neophytes in those squads were soon to receive their final implants, and ascend to the rank of full battle brother. All of them had already had assigned to Julius’ company, which pleased the young captain to no end. It would be a while yet before his company, or himself, would be ready for war again. Julius had been earmarked by the Apothecaries to receive bionics. One of his legs had been severed entirely, and would need to be replaced, and the bones in the other had been shattered. It would be a while before he would be able to fight again, but he didn’t mind all that much. As Julius stood there on the balcony a message came in from one of the orbital stations that Marshall Karak and his fellow Templars were coming to Macragge to strengthen the ties that had been established between the two chapters. They had already docked at one of the orbital rings in Macragge’s orbit, and several Thunderhawks were already enroute to the landing areas. Julius was looking forward to meeting the Marshall again, as they had a fair bit to talk about. Julius wanted to be the one who informed the Marshall of what happened, as he knew that the official report of what had occurred in the system would be produced by some of Pavus’ traitors, and while he knew that they would not mention the in-fighting, he wanted Karak to know the real events of what had occurred. Just as that thought passed through his mind he could hear the faint roar of engines in the distance, and he smiled as the saw the black dots of the Templars Transports grow ever closer…

Nasira had always known that with power would inevitably come responsibility. A leader had a duty of care to their people. She had been prepared for that. What she hadn’t expected was the paperwork.
The months following the final conflict had been dull. The crusade had left the Charadon system in a sorry state, but Nasira knew they were on the path to restoring it to the mighty empire it had been before. The aid of House Fairfax was a greater boon than she would care to admit; the Rogue Trader had been invaluable in rebuilding the economy. Jack Sheppard, meanwhile, had proven his worth in organising what remained of the system’s military forces into a cohesive, well-disciplined defence network. Former officers of the Tallarn 97th were placed in charge of the PDF, and it wasn’t long before cavalry training became a norm for soldiers of the Charadon system. Nasira had plans to raise a new regiment from their ranks, which she had pre-emptively dubbed the Charadon Chevaliers. She wondered if she could get some Mukaali imported for their use. They would be useful for clearing out the Orks that still lingered on the edge of the system, but apart from anything else, she had always wanted to ride one. At any rate, that was a long way off; her priority was getting the System and its populace back on their feet. And unfortunately that meant paperwork.
A welcome distraction presented itself in the form of a knock at the door of her office. “Come in,” she ordered, throwing the documents she had been reading in a heap on her desk. A young clerk entered carrying a dataslate. He had evidently been in a rush as he had to pause for breath before he spoke.
“Orks, ma’am, on Echison VII.” He presented the dataslate, and after skimming through it she leapt out of her chair and laughed.
“About time!” she said, “I was in need of some entertainment,” then she walked straight past the clerk, who hurried after her.
“Where are you going, ma’am?”
“Where do you think? There are greenskins to hunt.”
“But ma’am-”
She spun on her heel to face the clerk, who almost ran into her. “I want a thousand Mukaali imported to Julla. If all the relevant documents aren’t on my desk when I get back, you’re fired. Understood?”
“Y-yes, ma’am.”
Leaving the bewildered clerk behind, she spoke into her vox-bead.
“Tell the boys to saddle up. I’m told there is excellent sport to be had on Echison VII.”
As far as Nasira was concerned, there were only two places in the galaxy that she belonged; at the top of the food chain, and on horseback.

------- Surface of Grimdi, 6th platoon command shack -------

Mallia was quite angry. Her platoon signaler had lost contact with Section 4 in its entirety.

'' Send the message, we're changing strategy, I want all Sections reformed, load e'm up with flamers and plasma guns, call the Valks, too. I want our men to spot survivors, hide around them, and have the Valkyries do a couple of flybys, as soon as whatever's left down there crawls out of their holes, we dispatch them with the appropriate weapons, flamers on guardsmen, plasmas on Marines. ''

'' And the men will hellguns, ma'am? ''

'' Use them as additionnal firepower only, and make sure we salvage whatever weapons we can find, too ''


------- Surface of Grimdi, Craterland -------

Ravion adjusted him headset and turned towards Haxta

'' Section 4's fethed, Tempestor Secundus wants us to meet up with the rest of the Section, we're changing our hunting strategy ''

'' Where do we meet? ''

'' Valks are going to land nearby, we'll dig in and disapear with the cameo armor as soon as we get there ''

The Valkyrie landed four minutes after the Scions arrived at the rendez-vous, it was already filled with the rest of the Section and the two leftovers climbed aboard.

The squad Tempestor waved at his troops and handed a flamer to Haxta

'' Hotshots are a no go, unless we need the extra firepower, use that to take care of guardsmen ''

Haxta nodded slowly, shooting fellow Imperial troops was something, but burning them alive was another matter entirely. The Valkyrie landed a few meters away from the first crater, the Scions would have to re-sweep the entire area. One Scion walked out of the Valkyrie lighting up a lho stick and received a swift back handing from his Tempestor.

'' You idiot, we're going in to fight guardsmen and Astartes, you're going to get shot in the head walking around with no helmet, and that goes for the entire Section! '' said the squad leader, raising his voice for the last sentence.

The Stormtrooper grumbled and relunctantly put on his helmet. The squad started its sweep across the battered battlefield.

'' This sector is about where 4th Section was operating, eyes open ''

7th Section advanced in a V shape, sweeping the bombed out area, plasma gunners where sent on the edge, with the flamers near the point. Suddendly, some rubble started shaking on their right, the squad quickly got in position behind cover. Some haggard guardsmen trudded out, covered in dust and grime.

'' Flame one you're it '' the poor men were put to torch before they could realise who was coming their way. Haxta was rather glad she wasn't chosen for that, but before she could think of anytthing else, the Scion on the rightmost corner was sent flying by a burst of bolts. The rest of the Section reorganised themselves to face the new threat. One of the Scion ran to her wounded comrade.

'' Plasma two's alive, but barely, the burst was all wrong, I think the Marine's hurt, all three bolts hit different part of the armor, he'll, but its not going to be a fun couple of weeks for him ''

The woman tried to break cover and go for the discarded gun, but a burst of bolt quickly put a damper on that idea.

'' Flamers aim for the faceplate, hotshots, stay put, plasma one get ready to fire '' shouted the Tempestor.

The three Stormtroopers complied, and the blue shape was washed over by fire, impending its vision, this was all that the plasma gunner needed to put the Astartes out of his misery.

'' Consolidate, someone get on the plasma gun, leave your hotshot with our wounded, load him aboard the Valk, we're moving in five ''

And so the Stormtroopers went on, killing the last few survivors that were unable to escape the bombardement or kill the paired men of 4th, 5th and 9th Section.

With her mission accomplished, Mallia ordered her platoon back to Gallus coordinates.

------- Surface of Grimdi, 85th Battalion command tent -------

'' Its a shame, but we'll have to do it at some point, for sure '' said Gallus

'' Condeming their souls like that... feels wrong, sir '' answered Castella

'' It does, but for the good of the Battalion, I am afraid we'll have to put the blame on 4th Section and 3rd Platoon if someone comes asking questions, we didn't lost contact with e'm, they've cut it, went Chaos, hunted whatever killed them in Cratefields. For now I'll stick to the '' losses of comms '' line, we'll play with the Chaos suspicion later on if need be ''

Castella nodded and left without saying a word


------- Aboard the Swift Guardian -------

'' Sir, I collected all reports from platoon leaders, lost about half the men we sent down on Grimdi '' opened Riley

'' About what I expected, the fighting was fierce, I am going to have to reorganize the Battalion a bit, we got plenty of candidates, and I've heard rumours regarding a bunch of nobles getting killed, that's another pool of recruits we can take '' said Gallus

'' Where are we training them? ''

'' We were allowed to conduct our own training camp here, there's bound to be a Schola we can use somewhere ''

'' Re-org? How? ''

'' Expanding your Fist, first thing, we need it big enough so that we can afford to split it and strike with enough force in more place than one, we need more airborne specialists, we have time to train them, I want you on it ''

Riley nodded

'' Furthermore, if we're pulling gak like that again, there's no way we're sending our men into pairs like we originally did, Tempestor Secundus Mallia strategy was far more efficient, think that'll be it for now ''

'' What about the new Lady-Governor ''

Gallus frowned, he had briefly toyed with the idea of assassinating Nasira for the humiliation she brought on him, a lasbolt from one of the siezed longlas fired by a captured Histan wearing Chaos cultist armor would leave little to no links to the 85th. But eliminating the Imperial figure-head of the Sector would only cause more problem.

'' Leave her be, focus on rebuilding, she gave us the go for it, guess we can be grateful about it, we'll be on the planet for a few months at the very least, now isn't the time to make enemies ''

Colonel Detta sat down with a sigh, and looked over at the still form of Julius. The space marine had drifted in an out of consciousness as his body tried to repair the damage done to it. "Anshal. How much longer are you going to stare at me without saying a word?" The giant rumbled, and rolled over to face the Colonel.

Detta gave a faint smile, "Good morning, Julius. Some of the men were getting worried that you would sleep in too late."

The space marine raised his eyebrows, "Did they think that this would be enough to stop me?" Julius said as he gestured towards his lower body, missing one leg and with a battered second one.

Detta's smile grew. "Of course not, it's just that they wanted to know if they would be able to have a bigger breakfast without you eating half of it." Julius simply sighed at the comment.

The colonel's voice adopted a more serious tone. "Julius. I'd like to thank you, for everything you've done for my Histans. From Novus Regulus to now, your marines have been there to help defend what was left of the 98th. I doubt I'd be here to thank you if it wasn't for your actions. I know that it is mostly an empty promise now that my regiment is all but destroyed, but if you ever find yourself in need, I'll do all that I can to help. My regiment may be crippled, but Hista remains strong."

Julius sat up, looking Detta in the eyes. "Anshal, it was an honor to fight next to your Histans. They are all brave, loyal men, and I would gladly do everything I have done over again in an instant if it meant saving more of them."

The colonel nodded before thanking the captain and exited the room, letting the Ultramarine go back to his rest.

Falkon stared down at the bolt pistol in his hands. It had been the one he had used to save Julius, and for some reason he had decided to keep it. Any weapon that could kill traitors so quickly was gladly accepted by the sergeant. "A shame I didn't take more of them down." He growled.

"Talking to yourself, Sarge?" Lars said as he sat down next to Falkon with a plate full of food.

Falkon shook his head. "You're going to run these poor rogue traders out of food, that has to be your third plate."

Lars grinned, "They offered. Besides, after seeing what a handful of Histans could go through, I'm sure they made sure to have extra rations for the rest of us."

Falkon allowed himself a smile. "I think that you actually may not be far off, Lars."

Before the vox trooper could make a reply, Isos and Vayden made their appearance, both with their own plates of food. At a first glance both seemed to be walking completely normally, but on further inspection Lars noticed a small stutter in Vayden's walking. The pair sat down next to Lars and Falkon, with Vayden wincing slightly as his metal leg rapped against the seating. "Ah feth..." he muttered, staring down at the augmetic.

"I didn't expect this to be the way we would be leaving the crusade." Isos said, getting Vayden's attention away from his fake leg.

"Expect more banners, captain?" Falkon asked.

Isos sighed. "You know what I meant. We were betrayed, and now those cowards have an entire sector to rule, with no evidence about it. We can't fight them, because that would only label us as the traitors. The only option left to us is to rebuild, and when the time comes, go back to making the Emperor's enemies hide in their holes while we hammer out His will. The scions and Tallarns will rot in the warp for what they've done, but we'll stand strong. We are Histans after all, it's what we're made for."

"Cheers to that one, captain." Vayden said, and took a long drink from his bottle of brewvikk.

+Orbit of Hista, Reforged Sovereign+

"Histans of the 98th. It is time. Today, we return to our homes, and rebuild our glorious regiment. But, before I go any further in my rambling, I have to admit to you something. I have failed you all. Under my authority, most of this regiment has been killed, be it by xenos or traitor. I cannot act as if I am innocent of their blood. It was because of me that they stormed through trenches, dueled greenskins, and sacrificed themselves so that others may live on. Noble men, each and every one of them, but I fear that were it not for my goading that more of them would be present to hear this speech. Now, I give to you all an option. If permitted by the Lord Captain, I will allow anyone that wishes to remain a part of his crew, rather than live a life that is a constant reminder of our darkened history. I will give you all plenty of time to decide whether you will accept my offer or not. House Fairfax is resupplying, and will remain here for some time. However, for those who decide to remain as a member of the 98th, I will be honored to have you. Our future will not be easy, but I will not allow others to see our regiment lost in the records of our history. For as long as I live, this regiment will live on. May the Emperor be with us all."

"You will see me again." Reynard stood in the grounds of the governor's mansion, totally unrecognisable from only a few weeks prior. In place of grand overgrown gardens, there were now guard tents providing refuge to both those humans evacuated during the Trisburg riots, and the guard who had sided with them.
The tall walls of the grounds gave them privacy, but scarce anything else there did. The Shepphards had already ordered several abandoned public buildings be taken over to temporarily home them, but it was taking time. With the arrival of the Sovereign's men and their transports, that hope was increasing.

"I know, but-" Edward appeared tired and red eyed in the morning light, Reynard knew he had not slept well.
Beside him, Garth was paying attention to thirty things at once, while maintaining outward calm. Only the flickering of his eyes, and low breathing gave away that he was constantly watching for threat. The commissar had right to be tense, most of the planet still believed Marcus dead by Edward's hand. The majority hailed it as a long due relief, but there were always loyalists.

"You'll know exactly where I am, and I will send messages to you weekly. You must get out there and prove to our family that it was your work as much as mine that earned our place in the Imperium." Rey smiled sincerely.
Edward started, "Yes, but-"
"I have faith in you, Ed. You'll know what to do after a day or two, that brain of yours will kick in, and-"
"Let me finish!" his brother gave the short shout, and a few heads turned amongst the crowd.
The former Lord Captain raised his head and looked kindly into Edward's eyes, "Yes?"
"You, it..." the emotions finally landed, and Edward could manage nothing. He stepped forward and embraced his brother, resting his head on the shorter man's shoulder, before beginning to cry silently. "I don't care about all that; I'm going to miss you." he mumbled quietly enough that only Reynard could hear.
Reynard held him close in return, and murmured, blinking through damp eyes himself, "Why'd you think I stopped you from talking? You're going to set me off as well."

Selka lit a lho stick and returned to silently glaring at anyone wandering too closely. He too realised the heavy impact that the loss of their captain would have upon crew morale.
"We should go, before too many people learn you are here, Ed." the commissar pulled on the lord captain's shoulder gently.
"Yes, before they use their food rations to throw you a street party!" Reynard chuckled.
Edward gave a weak smile as he pulled away from his brother, though the lump in his throat blocked him from speaking. He swallowed, "Thank you for trusting me."
"I always have. Now go on, before Eamon wants a cuddle as well." Reynard winked, referring to just across the grounds, where the Captain was busy repairing a hole in one of the large tents.

It took a couple of false starts and long pauses, but eventually the brothers separated. Reynard looked at the two figures retreating toward the shuttles and wondered if it was his imagination that the former seneschal had lost height. But he trusted Garth to support Edward, and the crew around them were solid men and women.
A flicker of movement to one side caught his eye, and he found his hand gripped by Brogue.
"We will watch them as well, Rey."
He gently squeezed hers in return, "That may not be necessary, but you know what peace of mind it gives me. Thank you, Tanya."
Turning back to look at the grounds, the people of Trisburg and the landscape beyond, he smiled, "I'll have to learn how to serve others and do what's asked of me."
The pale Inquisitor laughed quietly, but kept by his side, "That will be a long lesson indeed."

*

Stepping back aboard the Sovereign, Lord Captain Edward Fairfax wondered if it did indeed feel more empty than usual. Though there was also new life aboard. Some of the Histans had stayed aboard while a small amount had gone with Dekkal to Trisburg. There had also been many new births as always, and new families formed in the celebration of the end of the Crusade. He smiled as he rested his hand on the metal rail of the bridge, and imagined the pulses of the thousands of people aboard, drowning out the ship's monstrous engines.
"Your first order, Lord Captain?"
Garth stood, his face sincere, as more gathered with him, old and new.
"I believe a celebration of a new era is in order," Edward smiled, and gestured to the group assembled with him, "but first, let's leave this thrice damned sector behind."
A murmur of agreement swept the deck.
As Edward gingerly sat in the captain's chair, wondering how it would feel, a warm leather glove rested upon his own hand. He looked up and saw a very rare smile.

*

Trisburg's sense of pride began to recover under the careful guidance of the Shepphards.
While Reynard true to his word, began to rebuild the economy that the previous governor had driven into the ground.
A donation of food helped the camps and refugees early on, but the rogue trader also channelled some of his own considerable wealth into building a network of contacts and trade routes, while carefully orchestrating the planet's economic recovery. House Fairfax offered unconditional respite to those left destitute by the planet's collapse, and funded the start of new endeavours for the civilians of Trisburg, such as reopening their colleges, beginning scholarships and trade apprenticeships in the industrial sectors.

Everything would take time, but as the governor, Shepphard strove for both confidence and patience in his people, which seemed to spur the people of Trisburg on to a faster recovery. It appeared that all they had needed was an opportunity.

The Inquisition worked tirelessly to screen and remove all genestealer threat, enforcing rigorous borders around all untested areas until they were cleared. Every month, a further section of the planet was released from the quarantine, to much celebration. It would take years yet to entirely clear Trisburg, but the readiness of the people to cooperate, vastly expedited the timescale.

Occasionally, small pockets of guard or resistance cut off during the crusade were found in the sector early on, and Reynard made sure as best he could, that his contacts were first on the scene. Under the pretence of re-education or annihilation, the pockets were swept away, and then channelled to safety. It may have taken the long route, but it was generally assured that they got home.

*

Reynard watched silently as the Shepphard family slipped away to a life of well deserved privacy. He deliberately turned his eyes and those of his informants elsewhere, feeling it beneficial to all to have sincerely no idea where they had gone to. If anyone deserved peace, it was them, he decided. If anyone came asking, the most connected man on the planet could only shake his head with genuine uncertainty. His last attempt to offer protection to the brave commissar and his family.

*

A year came and went. Then two.
The free elections came again.
"You could stand." Dekkal sat on the desk of Fairfax's office.
"I could." he laughed, rising from his chair to collect the mail his friend held out to him.
"But you won't." the captain gave a tired look.
Reynard smiled at him, "My days as a leader of men are not yet over, but not here, Eamon. I caused these people too much pain to even pretend I know their best interests." He tapped the bundle of paper, "We rebuild. And when each new leader is appointed, we welcome and help him or her."
"Guide their hand you mean." Eamon laughed quietly.
Reynard unrolled the day's papers, and began to study them earnestly, "I can only make suggestions. You and I know there is a difference between guiding and holding the strings of a puppet. I would not stand for the latter."
The captain nodded, and stood to go about his duties, "I think Ed would be proud of what you do here."
"I hope he will be."