Extracts from Archive log 1366907A-3F

Gedael crouched at the edge of the clearing idly thumbing the selector switch of his rifle as the Thunderhawk settled to the ground in front of him, his camouflage cloak shifting gently in the breeze. The ramp lowered and a lone figure emerged, encased in armour the colour of flame-blackened steel. Blue robes covered his shoulders, sweeping aside as the figure moved purposefully down the ramp to the forest floor below. The figure reached the bottom of the ramp, turned to face Gedael and beckoned.

Gedael smiled, knowing that although he was effectively invisible to normal eyes, the subtle powers of a Chronicler Librarian would not be so easily fooled. Standing, he stalked towards the gunship, halting and kneeling several metres from the Librarian.

The armoured figure spoke, repeating the words he had said a hundred times before, on a hundred different worlds, “Petitioner Gedael, you aspire to join the ranks of our battle brothers, and leave the 10^th Company which has been your home. You have called and we have descended from the void. Have you completed the task that was given by the Keeper of Mysteries?”

His head remaining bowed, Gedael replied in the ancient form without yet understanding the full meaning of the words, “I have returned from the wasteland. My task is complete, and yet my burden is just beginning. I become Unforgiven, but you cannot grant me forgiveness. I would return to the fortress to petition the Keeper.”

“Very well, Gedael, rise and enter.”


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Gedael knelt in the shadowy alcove, quietly speaking to the servo-skull scribe floating in front of him. Almost fifty alcoves cut deep trenches into the walls of the Chamber of Authors, although at this time only three were occupied. Gedael had knelt unmoving for 96 hours since returning to the Chapter fortress on Mortikah VII, and felt stiff and fatigued despite the improved metabolism of his gene-enhanced body. His report was almost complete, however, and his mind turned to the upcoming interrogation by the Chroniclers and Masters of Sacraments. The Librarians and Chaplains would no doubt be true to form in their questioning, ensuring that he had completed his mission to the harsh standards required, before recommending him to join the 9^th Company as a full battle brother.

The servo-skull’s mechanical eye blinked in front of him, giving the impression of impatience where none existed. Gedael realised he had stopped speaking, and quickly regained his focus. He was nearing the end of his tale, one that a human youth might find full of heroes and derring-do, but which for him was simply the culmination of 2 years of lone intelligence gathering for the databanks of the Chapter. His mind strayed briefly once more, contemplating the irony of a Space Marine scout carrying out secret intelligence gathering operations against an Imperial world.

And such intelligence that he had gathered!

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Twelve hours later, Gedael stopped speaking and stood. Turning, he strode purposefully over to the duty Sergeant and bowed. “All done Gedael?” asked the Sergeant, smiling and ignoring protocol for once. As fate would have it, the Scout Sergeant had supervised most of Gedael’s early training, and was pleased to see him on the verge of becoming a full battle brother.

“I have, Sergeant”, replied Gedael, “and I place myself at the convenience of the Interrogators”.

“Good. Return to your cell and await them, Gedael, but take sustenance first. You will need your strength for the trial that awaits.”

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The Keeper of Mysteries looked up from his desk as the Master of Sacraments entered his chamber.

“You have read the report of Petitioner Gedael, Brother?”

“I have, Lord Keeper.”

“And your thoughts......” The Keeper left the words hanging as he leant back into the overly large chair.

“His words are, well, I am honestly not sure how to describe them, My Lord.”

The Keeper sighed, “The Master of Sacraments at a loss for words. Not something that happens every day. Let’s just say that they are not what we were anticipating when we sent him on the mission. You must administer this trial personally Brother. Zianor will be your Chronicler.”

“As you wish, Lord Keeper.”
 
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Gedael stumbled to one knee, centred himself, and slowly rose once more. Blood pooled on the stone floor of the cell, his blood. In a bizarre parody of normal human thought processes, his mind flickered between thoughts of having to clean the cell, and whether or not there would be stains for the next occupant to see if he didn’t survive to clean the mess himself. Two armoured figures slowly revolved around him as he struggled to focus in his psychically addled state. Blue robe, black robe, blue robe, black robe .... it seemed to go on forever. He snapped back into focus, drawing on the reserves of his strength, and took stock of his surroundings once more. This was his cell, the one he had slept in for the entirety of his training when not off planet or engaged in field exercises. It was the way of the Chapter, prisoners were interrogated in the hidden dungeons, petitioners and battle brothers in their own cells. By this subtle difference alone did he know that he was still in consideration for joining the ranks of the battle brothers, and not simply being tortured to death.

The black robe halted in front of him, “Chronicler Zianor, you are sure you detect no taint?”

The blue robed figure responded front behind Gedael, “I am certain, Brother, he tells the truth, shocking though that truth might be.”

The Chaplain lifted Gedael’s chin, the gentleness of the movement making a mockery of the physical and psychic punishment he had been dealt over the past week. “Petitioner Gedael, you have returned from the wasteland, and your task is complete. Your burden has begun.” The ritual words energised Gedael; was he nearing the end of his ordeal? And yet, as soon as he had begun, the Chaplain deviated from the ritual. “Gedael, the report you have filed contains revelations which are difficult to believe. No, difficult is not the correct term. They are abhorrent to the Chapter. And yet there is no taint within you, and both I and Brother Zianor can detect no deceit. You present us with a puzzling situation. Await our return.”

With that, both robed figures swept from the cell, leaving the door swinging open. This is unusual, thought Gedael, as he sank to the floor and finally passed out.
 
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An hour later the robed Astartes returned, flanking a third figure robed in red and armoured in gold. The golden figure entered the cell, and knelt in front of Gedael, laying a hand on the arm of the slowly stirring Scout.

“Gedael” he said gently, “I make no apology for the harshness of the interrogation carried out by Attaris and Zianor. It was necessary in order to satisfy ourselves that you had not been compromised by our enemies. Now, look me in the eye and answer a single question. Did you see it with your own eyes?”

Gedael looked into his eyes with trepidation, the breach of protocol almost unmanning him, “Yes, My Lord Guardian, as close as you are to me now.”

The Chapter Master of the Guardians of the Covenant nodded, stood and turned to the others. “Brother Attaris, continue the trial in accordance with the Requiem Angelis, I will investigate this matter personally. Zianor, follow me and kindly inform the Keeper of Mysteries that I require his presence in the Inner Sanctum.” With those words spoken, he pulled the red robe around his body and departed, Zianor close behind.

Interrogator Chaplain Attaris, Master of Sacraments, moved slowly into the cell.

“Stand, Gedael”, he said firmly. Gedael pulled himself up a final time.

“Petitioner Gedael, you have returned from the wasteland, and your task is complete. Your burden has begun”, the Chaplain repeated his earlier words. This time however, he continued the ritual. “You have become Unforgiven, but I cannot grant you forgiveness. You have been found worthy, and may petition the Keeper.”

The Chaplain turned and walked out of the room, stopping once at the door and turning. A rare smile crossed Attaris’ face and he fixed Gedael with his piercing gaze, “Well done brother, you will be a credit to the ranks, and have strength enough for the Chaplaincy...... should the Chapter survive that long”.

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The Keeper of Mysteries bowed deeply, the act casting even deeper shadows across his hooded mien. “Welcome, Supreme Grandmaster, to our humble fortress.”

A flicker of a smile shot across Azrael's eyes, although the rest of his face remained impassive. “You haven’t changed, my old friend.”

“Changed, My Lord? There are those that would declare change to be tantamount to heresy.”

A snort of derision erupted from beneath a third hooded robe. The figure, swathed in black, approached the pair and declared, “And those fools would have damned us all a hundred times over if they knew the truth of it”.

“My Lord Consecrator”, replied the Keeper of Mysteries, once again bowing deeply. “I thank you for your presence. I regret that my own Lord Guardian is absent at this time. However I have been instructed to take his place in the Inner Sanctum”.

“Very well”, said Azrael, “is the rest of the Council assembled?”

"My Lords of Redemption and Absolution are not in attendance, Lord Azrael”, responded the Keeper, reverting to the vernacular, “they are currently prosecuting rumour and supposition in the search for our dark brethren.”

“Do not refer to them as such, Keeper”, snarled the Lord Consecrator, “they are traitors who do not deserve the accolade of being called brethren.”

“As you say, My Lord. Nevertheless, once they were called our brothers, and we do well to remember it”. The Keeper motioned for the two Chapter Masters to follow, and led them towards a shadowy alcove in the corner of the chamber. Hidden in the recesses of the alcove, the entrance to a long narrow corridor could be glimpsed, flanked by two hulking members of the 1^st Company elite, the Tutores Foederis. A pair of storm bolters rose to the ready as the trio approached, and the terminators moved to block the entrance. The Keeper of Mysteries spoke the approved words of passage, and the guards stepped aside, raising their powerfists to the salute.

The trio of Unforgiven entered the long corridor, and began the twisting and torturous descent to the chamber hidden deep in the bedrock of Mortikah VII. Braziers lined the corridors and passageways, the crossed swords icon of the Guardians of the Covenant backlit by deep red flames, echoing the Chapter colours from time immemorial.

Finally, they completed their descent, halting in front of a pair of doors crafted in ancient days from the trees of lost Caliban, flanked by a second pair of Tutores Foederis. Placing his palm against the sigil in the centre of the doors, the Keeper spoke the words of entry, and they swung inward, revealing the hidden Council chamber, and the waiting Chapter Masters of the 1^st Legion, the Lion’s Legion, the true Dark Angels.