Faction The Tribunal of Eustace Mendel ][ Inquisition

[Bram]

---

BY ORDER OF HIS MOST HOLY MAJESTY
THE GOD-EMPEROR OF MANKIND

SEQUESTERED INQUISITORIAL DOSSIERS
AUTHORISED PERSONS ONLY​

---

COURT PROTOCOL 147:01T:EG:EM8:Bpm
Please enter your authority code > ******************************

Validating...

Thank you, Inquisitor.
You may proceed.

---

The Hall of Judgement on this world had not seen such attention in decades.

Once a place of routine arbitration and minor ecclesiastic disputes, it now stood transformed into the focal point of power, fear, and scrutiny. High-vaulted ceilings disappeared into shadow, broken only by the cold gleam of lumen-strips and the flickering light of votive candles. Imperial iconography dominated every surface: golden aquilae, stern-faced saints, and the ever-watchful gaze of the God-Emperor, yet beneath the sanctity lingered something else: tension, coiled and suffocating.

Armed Arbitrators lined the periphery in rigid silence. Servo-skulls drifted in slow, methodical patterns, their lenses recording every movement, every whisper, every deviation from protocol. The great doors stood open, for now, allowing a steady procession of sanctioned personnel, petitioners, witnesses, and those who simply needed to be present.

For today was no ordinary proceeding.

Today, the Imperium would pass judgement upon Eustace Mendel.

Once a respected figure within the Jovinay Trading Company, Mendel had operated in the quiet corridors of commerce and logistics, precisely the kind of position that rarely attracted scrutiny. That anonymity had been his greatest weapon. Beneath layers of legitimacy, he had orchestrated something far more insidious: a sprawling network of cult activity, seeded across trade routes and planetary administrations alike.

Through illicit dealings in xenos-warp artifacts, objects whose very existence defied Imperial doctrine, Mendel had not merely spread corruption, but refined it. His agents were not the raving zealots so often purged in backwater uprisings. They were disciplined. Educated. Embedded. Individuals capable of rising within Imperial hierarchies without detection, perfectly mimicking loyalty while serving darker masters.

The revelation had shaken more than a single world. It had forced questions - dangerous questions - about how deeply such rot might spread.

And so, the Inquisition had intervened.

Now, beneath the authority of rosette and seal, the Tribunal would convene. Inquisitors, acolytes, and operatives moved through the hall with measured purpose, their presence both overt and deliberately ambiguous. Some came to prosecute. Others to observe. A few, perhaps, to ensure that certain truths never reached the light of record.

Yet they were not alone.

Civilians, merchants, scribes, minor nobles, and functionaries, had also been drawn into the orbit of this event. Some had business with the court. Some had been summoned. Others sought opportunity in proximity to power, danger, or revelation. In the margins of such a trial, alliances could be forged, information traded, and fates quietly redirected.

The air itself seemed to listen.

Every conversation carried weight. Every introduction could matter. Every misstep could be fatal.

At the far end of the hall, behind reinforced adamantium barriers and layers of null-field containment, the accused awaited his moment before judgement.

For now, however, the Tribunal had not yet begun.

And in that fragile interlude, before oaths were sworn and verdicts pronounced, the court belonged to those who walked its floor.

---

SEALED
BY THE ORDER OF HIS MOST HOLY MAJESTY
THE GOD-EMPEROR OF TERRA

---

 

[Richter Ignus of Koviel]

---

INQUISITORIAL EXECUTION PROTOCOL ENGAGED
ORDO MALLEUS – AUTHORITY ABSOLUTE

CICERON, RICHTER IGNUS FRIEDERIX
TRIBUNAL OF EUSTACE MENDEL: PART I
HALLS OF JUDGEMENT
TAGS: OPEN

---

Richter had arrived two days prior on board the destroyer Knight of Retribution. The vessel was nominally under the control of the Imperial Navy, but the Inquisitor had been living on board for the better part of a century now. Once requisitioned from a dock as it had to undergo serious repairs, it was never recommissioned to naval duty and had remained His to use ever since. It was an exceptional tool to have at disposal, a war-going vessel with potent combat capabilities, but it had proven its worth over and over again.

Further, He did not like the idea of giving His enemies any angle of attack. A holdfast on some world would never have His full attention, never be the same as a mobile headquarters. The Knight has become His base of operations and by now all libraries, archives, armouries and quarters have been moved aboard, housing and training His staff and retinue.

The Daemonhunter had just finished a campaign in a neighbouring sector to cleanse a blood cult on an agri-world. The fire was righteous as it devoured the heretics while screams echoed from them. A hundred stakes, a hundred cultists. The flames lit the night sky while their screams echoed far and wide, an example that would invoke fear into the superstitious minds of the farmers and landowners. Now He came here to witness the end of a heretic whos exploits He had only heard about, who had finally been tracked down. It attracted attention, even by such elusive and reclusive figures such as inquisitors, this kind of event.

So Richter set down on the world and met with His esteemed colleagues.

The tall, gaunt-faced figure walked down a corridor in the Halls of Judgement of the local Ordo with three acolytes trailing behind him. His sabatons echoed with heavy clanks from below the long, red robes that were dirty and rough due to the ankle-high length. The power armor hissed as He moved, chains clanking, the grimoire humming with silent but vicious energies. One of the robed followers carried Blackfire, His Daemonhammer, another carried a gilded relic, a skull, on a chain from its eyes streaming the smoke of incense. The last was a scribe and had an autoquill and long strings of parchment all around his spindly figure.

---

---

 

[Inquisitor Yesen]

Quiet, that how Inquisitor Yesen came and landed on the planet. He was fortunately nearby when he heard of the 'trial' of a despicable cultist. Thus, he had to come by and pay witness to such an occasion. Though more to specifically see how many of his fellow inquisitors would be there. It would be good to talk to them as a proper inquisitor and not as the high interrogator of his old mentor. Though Yesen would wonder how many he would recognize or even be willing to talk to him considering the circumstances and Yesen's own nature of being a psyker.

But those are thoughts that are pointless to ponder on. As Yesen would be wearing his inquisitorial outfit, his psyker hood in full display, and a carefully maintained grip on his hand that would keep his coat pushed to the side somewhat to help show off his rosette. His eyes scanning the crowd as he would be approaching the Halls of Judgement at a steady pace. For there was no point in hiding himself, in such an occasion there likely be enough inquisitors here that only the most foolish or boldest of enemies would dare attempt a strike.

Yet, even with that, it is best to not be slack. Thus with him walking into the Halls of Judgement, Yesen would continue to survey every area he walk through, every hallway, and every person that walked nearby. With Yesen's servoskull following right behind him. No retinue or pomp from him in the viewing of the upcoming trial. Just a relatively new inquisitor in austere inquisitorial garb and a servoskull.

 

[Kadmius Kronus]

Rimefire had been the closest Kill-Team to the gathering when the Watch-Commander had become aware of it. Kadmius could only imagine the groan that had come out of the Battle-Brother when that realization had solidified and been confirmed after a rechecking of the information. Probably another long, deep sigh when logistics had informed him that no other Kill-Team could get into position in a reasonable amount of time. Because there had definitely been something of a long-suffering tone to his voice as he'd given the order to attend this conference to Baldur, their Watch-Sergeant. Almost as long suffering a tone as Kadmius had injected into his own voice when saying 'yes sir' to the addendum that HE should be the one to do the actual attending. The pitfalls of being a Salamander by origin, he acknowledged to himself while politely ignoring that he was easily the most socialized member of his Kill-Team if not the most gregarious in demeanor.

The rest of Kill-Team Rimefire was nearby, but only Kadmius strode through the doors thankful that the Imperium's architecture was built on such a scale that beings of his size had little trouble navigating through doorways even in places that hadn't been built with Astartes, let alone Primarus, in mind. He was armed, but not heavily. His heavy weapons were out with the rest of the pack... by the Throne, Baldur had him using Space Wolf terminology in his own head now. But in black Mk.X Gravis armor save one pauldron that identified him as a Salamander, the bolter pistol and combat knife at his belt would be more than enough for any trouble that might occur until such time as the rest of the pa... Kill-Team arrived to get their licks in. Technically, all was right in the world. The Watch-Commander just wanted to know what was going on with this whole event, particularly what was happening to the warp-related Xeno relics the pre-convicted had been dealing in and where they had come from.

Kadmius strode to a point where he could clearly see the figure behind all the shielding and bars, not difficult given his comparative height advantage. He then surveyed the rest of the room. Inquisitors. Dealing with things beyond the scope of Kadmius' mission most days. He would ask what needed asking when the time to ask came, unless he could find the appropriate type of Inquisitor to source the information from directly. That would be best, Inquisitors tended to react oddly around Astartes at the best of times but the Ordo Xenos had a much more formal working relationship with the Deathwatch than most other such encounters. Kadmius glanced down and found a woman, a servant, holding a tray of drinks. Like this was some sort of ball like held amongst the nobility... but he supposed they didn't want the Inquisitors getting ornery due to thirst. "You will need a bigger cup, citizen," he rumbled gently.

She shot off like a bolt to obey what she'd apparently taken as a command. Kadmius sighed.