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The Trial of The Flesh Tearers
Inquisitor Clarion Gomez looked down into the tribunal pit, his look stern and betraying no emotion. It had been a long time since Gomez participated in this kind of investigation. Heresy was something he knew well. He had been hunting heretics since his fifteenth year of life when he became an acolyte, serving a certain Loren Caltrano, an inquisitor with the Ordo Hereticus. Caltrano had given Gomez the tools and skills to root out heresy as was mandated by his Ordo, but caltrano had also gifted Gomez with something more. This gift was one of the greatest held secrets of the Imperium; a secret that Caltrano had spent her life to uncover. Secrets were the stuff that all the Inquisition ordos were made of but this one could shake the foundation of the Imperium. And it was this secret that, in Gomez’s mind, led Caltrano to her eventual death. She was obsessed with it. Her life was not just dedicated to rooting out and destroying heresy as is the calling of all esteemed members of the Ordo Hereticus, it was dedicated to discovering this particular heresy. Gomez never knew exactly what motivated her to pursue this endeavour but his training and development as an inquisitor was influenced by her obsession. For nearly thirty years he followed her, listened to her theories and read every treatise she wrote on the subject. Gomez understood her zeal, given the history and very nature of her work. And this very moment was a culmination of her life’s work. What better tribute to his former master. And yet it felt hollow. Hollow, because the spectacle that was about to transpire was not of his doing. Control in all aspects of his life was something that Gomez prided himself in. And he did not feel in control of this situation.
A lone warrior stood in the center of the tribunal room. And there was no question in Gomez’s mind that the individual standing there was a warrior, exuding a primal confidence, alert to his surroundings. Gomez could not help but feel a dangerous aura surrounding this man. Flood lights illuminated the impressive armoured figure so that not only could the members of the tribunal see the accused, but they also served to blind him, a symbolic gesture to show that a heretic was not worthy to look into light of the Emperor. This particular accused did not seem to flinch or squint at the intense light. Gomez could swear that the person facing them was silently challenging the very light that bathed him. He dismissed the thought and rose from his chair. The other members of the tribunal, sitting in their own alcoves, hidden from view turned to face Gomez.
“Members of this Tribunal, let it be known that this gathering has been called to bring to light a heresy that has long been suspected by our Ordo.” Gomez’s voice echoed off the cavernous walls. “It one of treachery that has lasted over ten thousand years, and only through the dogged determination of my former master, and this esteemed assembly, have we been able to confront it in the flesh.” Gomez paused as if to achieve dramatic effect. Theatrics was certainly part of his plan, but the silliness of it had not dawned on him until he heard himself speak. He supressed the thought and focussed on his task.
“Does the accused admit that he is here at his own choosing and that he freely brings testimony into his own actions without coercion and duress on the part of the emperor’s holy inquisition?”
“I do.” The response was hoarse, like a loud whisper, but everyone in the room heard it as though it was voxed directly into their ears.
Gomez continued.
“Does the accused swear to bring a truthful accounting of his actions without prejudice under pain of death?”
The warrior looked up. “I do not fear death, and I swear that you will know the truth.” Again the voice was hoarse, but Gomez could sense a small hint of defiance in it. He would use that emotion to his advantage.
“Identify yourself and state your name to this tribunal.” Gomez stared down at the warrior awaiting his response.
“I am Gabriel Seth,” this time the voice seemed more powerful and barrelled “Master of the Flesh Tearers.”
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