Time was untraceable in the darkness.
Creed had no idea how long he'd been in the dungeon, only that his beard had grown longer. The stormtroopers of the Tribunal, stationed at the entrance, showed respect for Creed, often sharing with him bits of news from the outside world, even sneaking in a cigar every now and then.
Creed learned that his confinement by Greyfax had neither been sanctioned nor made public; the people of Cadia believed the Lord was merely resting from exhaustion. Nearly all the Inquisitors deemed imprisoning the Lord a reckless move, and some even drew their weapons on Greyfax, but she held her ground steadfastly.
The stormtroopers thought Greyfax would release Creed soon, as an order from the Tribunal to have her removed from Cadia was imminent. The Tribunal believed that while the Lord should be scrutinized, it should not be done in a dungeon.
Creed, however, only listened, never fully trusting these words. He suspected that the two stormtroopers at the door had been strategically placed by the Inquisitors, and that every word they spoke was carefully orchestrated.
After an unknown span of time, the dungeon door creaked open.
Standing in the doorway was Qin Mo, his metallic frame gleaming. The stormtroopers opened the door and silently departed.
"You've been locked up for five days," Qin Mo said as he entered. The dungeon's low ceiling seemed insufficient for his towering form, yet he stood upright, as though the space had bent to accommodate him.
"Five days? I thought it had been fifty years!" Creed chuckled bitterly.
Qin Mo drifted toward him and handed him a belt. As Creed touched it, a cigar materialized in his hand.
"I thought you were joking about this before," he said, quickly buckling it on.
"What did the lady Inquisitor ask you?" Qin Mo inquired.
"You can probably guess," Creed replied, shaking his head in resignation.
Qin Mo had long suspected that Creed's confinement stemmed not from a simple investigation but rather from the Tribunal and the Empire's mounting hostility towards the Tyrone sector.
"Let's get you out of here," Qin Mo said.
Creed wasn't sure if he was allowed to leave, but he trusted Qin Mo and followed him out.
Outside, an Inquisitor was pressing Kyle to sign a document swearing secrecy about Creed's recent ordeal. Kyle refused until Creed nodded his consent, at which point he signed. Creed, too, was required to sign a confidentiality document, which he did.
An Inquisitor approached Creed, offering an apology, draping him in a military coat, and tidying his appearance to restore a semblance of dignity.
Once they were out of earshot, Creed turned to Qin Mo. "You should consider easing tensions with the Tribunal. If you're branded as heretics, it could be disastrous."
"I am already a heretic."
The words stunned Creed momentarily.
"If this universe were less perilous, not crawling with wolves at every turn…" Qin Mo continued, "I would indeed become the Empire's enemy, eradicating everything that plunges humanity into ignorance and suffering. I stand here in Cadia by your side, not out of loyalty to the Empire, but out of an even greater hatred for the filth of chaos."
Hearing this, Creed's emotions grew conflicted. He understood Qin Mo's perspective; back in the Tyrone Hives, Qin Mo had declared that his allegiance was to humanity, not to the Emperor.
As Cadia's Lord, Creed should, by right, have viewed Qin Mo with hostility. Yet he found himself unable to do so.
"Lord of Tyrone." An Inquisitor suddenly interrupted their conversation, approaching with a polite smile. "The Lord of Cadia has been released. Might your ships now withdraw their sights from ours?"
Qin Mo nodded in silence.
It was only then that Creed realized the gravity of what had transpired during his confinement. The Tribunal's stance, he thought, was intriguing—a curious balance of animosity towards the Tyrone sector, yet a desire to avoid outright conflict. How long this precarious balance would hold was anyone's guess.
"I will be leaving Cadia in three days," Qin Mo told Creed once the Inquisitor had left.
"In any case, you've helped Cadia," Creed said, grasping Qin Mo's hand. "When crisis strikes the Tyrone sector, Cadia will aid you in return."
"Thank you," Qin Mo nodded.
"I'll also support the spread of your Dimensional Engines," Creed continued. "At the very least, Cadia's transport ships must use them. And if the day comes when they don't, it'll be because I've lost my position over it."
"Then perhaps it's best not to push it—losing your title is one thing, but assassination attempts are quite another."
"It's no cause for fear. I'm sure that belt you gave me doesn't just supply endless cigars; it must have a shielding function, right?"
"There's no shield, but if danger strikes, a 'Cigar Guardian' will leap from your belt to protect you."
"…"
The two shared a few lighthearted words, but soon Creed's usual stoic expression returned. Taking a deep breath, he bade farewell: "Until we meet again."
Though Qin Mo would remain for three days to prepare for his departure, both men knew that this would be their final meeting.
"Until we meet again."
…
Three days later.
The Tyrone Army boarded their ships, setting out with the Navy vessels toward the vast reaches of the star system. The celestial engines disengaged from the solar orbit, propelling them to the system's edge.
Cadians gathered on the planet's surface and in the orbital docks, bidding farewell to their former comrades.
Massive banners, adorned with words of gratitude, hung across the Tyrone ships, crafted by the sector's Ecclesiarchy in honor of their contribution. The Ecclesiarchy even presented a colossal double-headed eagle emblem to commend the Tyrone Navy's loyal service in this war. Rather than take it with them, the Tyrone forces gifted it to Creed.
Qin Mo stood on the viewing platform of the Tyrone Lord's battleship, watching as the fleet receded into the distance. The platform, positioned at the ship's bow, was used for inspecting the fleet. His spirits were high, for Cadia's Blackstone Obelisk was preserved, and the looming catastrophe averted.
Yet amidst the triumph, a concern lingered.
The people of Cadia had glimpsed demons—secrets the Tribunal worked hard to keep hidden. But this time, Qin Mo doubted they'd be able to.
Too many had witnessed the creatures; even wiping out all Cadians wouldn't silence the Tyrone soldiers who'd seen them as well. Not that he feared the Tribunal's ruthlessness, only whether Creed might be made to answer for it. But then he shrugged off the thought; Creed was no child—he was a Lord, well-versed in handling trouble.
"Gaius is likely still under the Tribunal's scrutiny," Grey remarked from behind.
"Gaius? An Astartes of the Ultramarines?" Qin Mo asked, turning to him.
"A captain, a veteran of ten millennia. He and that lady Inquisitor were both present on the Celestial Engine," Grey explained, "Their armor, different from the others, was ancient."
Qin Mo chuckled, looking forward once more. "The Inquisitors are in for a rude awakening from the dawn of the 41st millennium."
The fleet continued its course.
As they neared the system's edge, Qin Mo glanced back one last time but did not see Cawl or his Explorer King.
"That man sure takes his time," Qin Mo muttered to himself.
Little did he know just how much he'd accelerated the course of the 13th Black Crusade; at this rate, it seemed Cawl would never catch up. Qin Mo kept his interest in Cawl alive, knowing that the Mechanicus sage bore a mission—the resurrection of the thirteenth Primarch, Guilliman, using a creation called the Armor of Fate.
Qin Mo ardently hoped for Guilliman's return. The Primarch was a man of vision, far superior to the current High Lords. How could he fulfill the grand mission of eradicating the influence of the Warp with such parasitic overlords at the helm?
"Alas," Qin Mo sighed deeply.
"What troubles the Lord?" Grey asked.
"We've won the battle, but much remains to be done," Qin Mo replied, casting his gaze upon Grey's torso. "Starting with extracting that claw from your belly when we return to Tyrone."
Grey offered a resigned smile, glancing down at his midsection.
For now, the augmetic covering was still absent. Horus's Claw, embedded within Grey's metal skeleton, gripped the sole remaining reactor core with an eerie persistence.