The Eyes of the Emperor

Castor Valentius poured another glass of Amsec from the bottle, slowly took a sip and studied the crude label stuck to it. With the words 'Blasting Charge' in big block lettering and an image of a stick of explosive, there could be no doubt as to this drink's potency, or it's roughness. The chemical aftertaste of the stuff was appalling. Like most bars on industrial worlds similar to this one, the locals distilled their Amsec from industrial solvents and did little to attempt to mask the flavour. In places like this, blindness from poorly distilled spirit was commonplace and accepted as just another risk in the life of a Miner.

He was sat in The Rich Seam, a dive-bar typical of a backwards Outpost World like this one. The bar was popular with Miners as the booze was cheap and plentiful. They could stop by after their shift to clear their lungs and forget their problems. The most they could expect from their lot would be a short, tough life. With money burning a hole in their fatigues, plenty flocked to The Seam to drown their sorrows and, for a short time at least, forget about their relentless rota.

The Rich Seam

Peering beneath his large hood, Valentius observed a couple of dozen miners around the bar, all in varying states of sobriety. Some were laughing, some sat in silence alone, a few were slumped asleep or unconscious in the various booths. No matter their condition, they were all there for the same reason; to escape the reality of their harsh existence by binging on distillate and to escape the monotony of the mines. Going by the number of empty bottles of Blasting Charge that littering the tables and floor, it seemed that death by alcoholic poisoning was far preferential to many here than a life in the tunnel networks.

The Fontannus system had first come to Castor Valentius' attention just over two standard weeks ago. Whilst attending a society dinner on the hive world of Brynn’s Reach, he had overheard a conversation between a Rogue Trader and a High Magister of the Administratum.

Castor Valentius

Like most bureaucrats, the Magister revelled in his skill of solving problems through administration loopholes and bizarre edicts. The only thing he liked more than archaic and long-winded problem-solving techniques was telling anyone and everyone about them. Unaware the Rogue Trader had lost all interest, the Magister turned the conversation on to his greatest achievement in recent times, overcoming the sector-wide shortage of Polonium. He informed the Trader that by using his contacts and some forgotten requisitioning by-laws, he was able to secure a constant stream of the precious mineral from the Fontannus system, courtesy of The Konstruct mining colony. Valentius nearly stopped listening, until the Magister mentioned the behaviour of the envoy he dealt with. The envoy referred to his colleagues and mining colony as 'his brothers'. This piqued Castor's interest. It was most likely a harmless mistake that was lost in translation, but what if it meant something more? He made his excuses, and politely retired to his quarters. He consulted his eidetic memory and recalled the system of Fontannus, home to the planet Vernox and The Konstruct colony set up there. He could recall the basics of the system but past the overview he knew little about it.

The next day Castor made his way to the Administratum.  A quick flash of his Vermillion level ID silenced any questions the data clerks may have had about the information and access he needed. 

He was shown to an empty office in a quiet corner of the building. Castor began trawling through the Imperium's records of Vernox, reading every single article and datasheet the imperium had logged about the planet. If he was to find anything, it would take patience and scrutiny to uncover.

Planet Aronnax

On the surface of it all, The Fontannus system was completely unremarkable. It had been colonized over 200 years ago following a Mechanicus survey that had found high levels of Polonium and other precious minerals throughout the planet. The surveys revealed that whilst there were considerable mineral deposits throughout the Fontannus system, the real wealth lay underneath the seas of the systems principle ocean world, Vernox. 

Castor brought up the population analysis and accident reports for the planet. For the most part, life expectancy had been above the standard for a mining world, with few incidents thanks to a well managed and trained workforce. He noticed that as tithes had increased, the average age had declined, but was within the acceptable tolerances of an operation such as this. Reading on through the Konstruct's files, one thing stood out above all others. Something that would have been easily passed over by others not possessing his gene-enhanced intellect.

What piqued his interest was an accident report pertaining to the loss of the Andalucía Mining Vehicle. The report was overly vague, simply stating that the diving vessel had been lost with all hands due to a ‘Gas Pocket Explosion’. 

It didn't add up.

The Andalucía Mining Vessel

Miners with multiple generations of experience and expertise wouldn't have allowed themselves to fall foul of a rudimentary threat such as gas build-up. Through further digging through the archival data, Castor found no other reports of such incidents in the history of the colony, and no surveys done by The Konstruct or Mechanicum had highlighted venting gasses as a danger or risk to Polonium extraction operations. The whole thing stank of a cover-up. This coupled with the mysterious 'Brotherhood' of the Konstruct warranted further investigation. Valentius immediately boarded next available passenger frigate and began his journey to the Fontannus colony.

Within two weeks standard, Castor had made planetfall on the outskirts of the system, beginning his search for the truth in The Rich Seam of all places. The Bar was located on Aronnax, fourth planet of the Vernox system. To avoid suspicion, he had travelled as incognito as he could, finally finding passage on an automated bulk-hauler that was scheduled to stop off at Aronnax. The weekly communo-shuttle to Vernox was scheduled to arrive the next day, and so Castor spent this time observing the population, gauging the mindset and attitude of the people of The Konstruct.

The Rich Seam was located on a hillside overlooking the settlement of Conseil, a short skimmer ride from the sectors largest starport. Keen to avoid any unwanted attention from local PDF or Arbites headed for the nearest shanty town. Castor favoured smaller settlements whilst laying low. Still, with his intimidating frame and striking features, this was easier said than done. A lack of law enforcement  in the area would make travelling considerably easier.

The Settlement of Conseil

Castor took another sip of the foul Amsec and noticed that he was being observed by a group of five miners sat around a table across the room. He could tell from their glances and body language that they were discussing him. Even though his auditory senses were extraordinary, the hushed tones and distance from the group made them impossible to hear. However, Castor could lip read and understood their intentions completely. They were debating as to whether they could take him in a fight.

They reached a consensus, downed their drinks and approached him. The leader of the group propped an arm on Castor's table, the other four miners forming an intimidating wall behind him.

“You’re a big bastard, ain't ya? What you doing ere off-worlder?”

Castor sipped his Amsec, his hood drawn low revealing only the bottom half of his face.

“Just passing through, friend.”

“Well, we don’t like people passing through. Strangers bring trouble, and if there’s one thing me and the lads don’t like, its trouble”. The miner spat on the floor, oblivious to his own hypocrisy.

Castor perceived the stress level inherent in the man's speech. It was obvious that this situation was only ever going to resolve in one direction. The man was going to attack Castor. The alcohol level in his bloodstream was at a sufficient level to dismiss any doubts, and his aggressive tone was summoning the level of Adrenalin needed to enter a state of combat. Valentius was keen to avoid this.

“There's no problem here friend. Here, buy yourself and your companions a drink, I was leaving anyway”

Castor placed a handful of standard imperial credits onto the table and slowly stood up. The amount wasn’t insignificant, at least it wouldn’t be to the miners. It was easily a month’s wages. The miners looked up at him and back to the credits

“Big Bastard!” the leader looked up and exclaimed.

It was true, Castor was over a meter taller than anyone else at the bar.

The miners seemed to instantly forget the hooded figure, as they scrabbled across the table to grab the credits, bickering between themselves and they clawed at the small fortune left for them. As they squabbled, Castor quietly slipped out of the bar and into the cold night.

He made it about 30 paces down the dust track towards the settlement of Conseil when he heard a familiar voice shouting behind him.

“Oi! I was talking to you!”

Castor continued to walk away, ignoring the challenge. He could hear them running now. from the sounds made on the dirt road, he easily identified them as the same five men from the bar. Same gait, the weight profiles matching the displacement he felt on the ground behind him. They weren't finished. As he turned to face them, he noticed that the individuals were now armed. Crude, improvised knives made from plasteel offcuts and leather straps. One of them had found an old metal pipe, crumbling with rust as he held it aloft.

“I don’t want any trouble,” Castor said calmly.

“I don't care what you want. You'll hand over the rest of your credits and whatever else is in that bag  of yours, and we'll consider letting you live"

Castor let out a short sigh.

“I think not” he breathed.

The men were incapable of even registering movement of the speed at which Valentius moved. It takes an unaugmented human brain half a second to process any kind of sensory data or incoming threat. In under half that time, all but one of the men lay dead at Castor's feet. The leader was left alive, barely, but would be gone in moments. As he propped himself up, a leather rope necklace fell out of his tunic. On the end of the loop was a medallion the size of a large coin. Made of high gold-content alloy, the disc was emblazoned with a highly-stylized engraving of a tentacled creature. Around its rim, written in High-Gothic, were the words ‘The Blood is Strong’. 

Castor took hold of the talisman in one hand and studied it.

"Where did you get this?" he demanded. There was an urgency to Castor's tone that revealed itself for the first time since he had encountered the miners.

"I f-f-found it" the man sputtered, coughing blood on to the floor. "In Conseil, d-d-down there. What...what are you?" with this last question, he finally collapsed to the floor, succumbing to the massive trauma he'd been subjected to.

A later autopsy would reveal that the men had died due to massive organ trauma caused by hydraulic shock. The incident was attributed as a hit-and-run with a Goliath supply truck, the only thing on Aronnax with enough weight and force to cause such injuries to a man.

Castor quickly searched the body and found the man's ID. Max Tarros. Foreman for one of Conseil's Tunnel Mining Collectives. His address was listed as one of the slum blocks on the outskirts of the settlement. Castor yanked the medallion from Tarros's neck and turned it over in his hand. It was obviously a religious or occult symbol. But of what? It had nothing to do with the Ecclesiarchy or even one of the many Saints Cults that were popular on worlds like this. That left only a couple of alternatives and both disturbed Castor greatly.

Max Tarros

He placed the trinket in a pocket underneath his robes and hurried away into the pitch darkness of the desert. He walked up to a small dune overlooking Castiel, covering his tracks and ensuring there wasn't anyone for miles around. As he looked out over the collection of dim lights coming from the settlement, he retrieved an ornate, ovoid device the size of his fist from his satchel. He placed his thumb on the gene lock and it whirred open to reveal an alphanumeric keypad.

The device itself hailed from the Dark Age of Technology, and was on loan to Castor from the Shadowkeepers. How it functioned was a mystery even to the Custodes, although they'd theorized it took advantage of quantum entanglement. Castor keyed in his galactic coordinates and a short message.

“Have located cult. Potential Chaos or Xenos involvement.”

Thousands of light-years away, a similar device was sat on a marble desk, in the Imperial Palace of Terra. It began emitting a dull tone. Sheild Captain Maxentius reached for the device and read Castor's short missive.