Jakada got out half a chime before he was punched into the ceiling. The skin-splitting pain in her knuckle and rageful adrenaline in her veins made Go Soo-Hee wide awake. It was not the first time Jakada had interrupted her dreams, yet she was more irritated than ever. It was a clear day where she could see the beauty of Gyeo out her window: the awesome spires, emblazoned with Imperial iconography, towering above hab-hills, artificial rivers, cherry blossom groves, agri-factorums, all of it a testament to mankind reshaping its environment. She looked out the door of her bedroom to her son and saw everything she ever loved and called her own. Yet neither of them could quiet her unease.
Perhaps it was the emerging threats to what she held dear that unsettled her.
To begin with, the Sinui and their dark god have been an inexcisable tumor on Incheo and expected to be a constant, if contained, threat; however, after so long, it was inevitable that a new Epidemic would occur, if not in her lifetime then certainly in her son’s. The witch, just as much a perennial curse on this world, could bring down a hex on the lands at any moment, only kept at bay from Gyeo by the Emperor’s protection.
But now there are mutants breeding into hordes in the dark beneath the hive city. Now, there was a snake that slithered its way into every slit it could find, attempting to gape even the most imperceptible cracks into cavernous fissures, with no telling when or where it would find its mark. Now, they were told of xenos, with profane technology and skill more than a match for the sisters, here to hunt man and beast alike for sport, for exhibition, for slavery.
She brought her son close and held his head to her chest, her fingers combing his hair. God-Emperor, you have given us so much, but so far from you, against so many terrors, will it be enough? We held for so long, and all that has been delivered are more enemies. Have we been forsaken? Has the Imperium entire fallen? The pyre can only be fed for so long in the winter, and so long has it been since we have known the sun. She wishes she could tell her son more than just bygone stories, show him more than the twinkles of far-flung stars. Instead, the galaxy threatens to take everything she has left.
She gently fell away from her son’s embrace and cupped his cheek. If every horror in the galaxy was coming for her, then she would meet them. He on Terra has kept his fire burning for a hundred lifetimes; she could last for one, for both of them.
The sanctum was bustling like a Valerio Saturnalia, complete with their being more nobles and generals than Sisters. They were flanked by sister-chatelains who no doubt used the opportunity to receive favors, or repay old ones, threading and scheming their way through society as they always do. They were here for the hiverat; unsatisfied with waiting and searching for second-hand accounts, they were here to hear of the xenos threat from the source. All of them here to hear from one rat whose name now tainted the discourse.
Yoon Si-nae, Hae Nyeo’s beloved protege.
With authority as Mistress of Novitiates and the repute of a Zephyrim-in-all-but-name, Hae Nyeo had the leeway to allow this rat into the spire some years ago, and already she befouls the sanctum with her presence like a nurgling in a hot spring. Her crude speech insults the dignity of the schola progenium. Her undignified manners mock the graceful kinesics of nobility. Her breath pollutes the refined air with the stench of the underhive. Her oily sweat drops and flaking skin cells each a piece of litter upon these beauteous tiles in these vaunted halls. Despite these crimes that would have seen Go Soo-hee caned a thousand times over when she was the same age, here was the rat, soaking in the attention with a smile.
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+And it’s just the beginning,+ wordlessly said the eyes of Whang Ae-cha as hers met Go’s. The rat’s first mission as a seraphim and an entire flamewing squadron is kidnapped, including a member of Whang’s house. Even before that, she had unleashed the mutants and snake daemon into the heart of Imperial territory. Just one of them has delivered troubles beyond their lowest expectations. Forget bringing the underhive, she brought the throne-damned stars upon us. Go would ask what kind of blackmail Hae Nyeo has on the canoness if it did not inevitably mean having to interact with the Famulous.
Jakada caught up and let her know that the lander was ready. Go and Whang parted with a final exchange of knowing glances.
Of all the provinces on the continent, Hanyang is the closest to the Sinui nation. The mountain range is thinnest here, allowing plague rains and foul winds to pass over civilized land. Not just inclement weather, Sinui forces raid these lands for bombing, plunder, and slaves. Especially common are the ratlings, mutants that insult the human form with their stunted, bestial frames; naturally craven and treacherous in equal measure, they are the Sinui’s reconnaissance, saboteurs, snipers, and kidnappers who regularly harry this province and prepare the way for Sinui forces. Worse still are the warp-borne diseases, spread by polluted weather and ratling poison attacks. Faith can keep the worst bay, and medical personnel across Incheo commit at least one semester in practice here to ensure familiarity with the Fly God’s maladies, but so long as the great tumor remains, Hanyang will always be the most diseased province.
Given all this, it's no surprise that Hanyang contains the most dour citizens of Incheo, as none come or remain here by preference. Gloomy clouds perpetually hang overhead like swords. Coughing, hacking, rasping, wheezing, and other such irritant reactions are ubiquitous enough to be part of the accent. Other symptoms mark the skin with boils and hives, again so common that they no longer stand out here. Finally, every time an Epidemic has occurred, the cities of Hanyang are the first to fall and last to be liberated, a death warrant well known as the risk of living here.
It is the fact that these lands are unwanted that they are inhabited by the unwanted. Especially after an Epidemic has emptied the populace, new numbers come to fill the vacancy. It starts with cleansing and reconstruction, as the houses send labor to recivilize these lands, with labor eventually becoming the first resettlers. But cities cannot be fed with purgating flames and calloused construction hands; they also need food distribution and waste disposal. Once the infrastructure is developed, the rest trickle in over time: the impoverished, the persecuted, the expelled, those with no opportunity where they come from stake their claim here as their last resort.
The Hanyang preceptory is a naval aircraft carrier docked in Nusa, the city on the northernmost tip of the continent. It is the sororitas detachment of a larger Incheo Defense Force navy that patrols the sea for smugglers and monsters while providing support for ground forces. When an Epidemic overwhelms Hanyang cities, the refugees flee down the coast while the military retreats to the fleet, where they wage war from offshore. For now, the lander would deliver Go Soo-hee to the receptory for debriefing and armoring.
Most of her armor was already assembled onto full limbs with her pistols off to the side. As she slid the ceramite on, the dogmata informed her of the situation: there have been ambushes and raids conducted on Nusa that have been unusually effective; suspecting a traitor, communication limitations have narrowed the possibility to the eastern block; the zephyrim is to assist in eliminating opposing forces while assessing for a traitor informant. Once Go’s armor was sealed, she and Jakada stepped into a decontamination chamber where they were hosed with sterilants. They could expect to take another shower when they leave Nusa. A boat would bring them to and from their destination.
With the information conveyed, the bleary dogmata returned to her duties. Jakada may grumble about it, but Go preferred their straightforward nature. No local politics or native customs to worry about, just straight to heretic killing.
Throne knows she could use it.
