ALL NOVEL Chapter 14: 14. The Sisters.
The mix of truth and speculation in the rumors made Gladys realize that the situation in this sector might be even worse than she had previously imagined.
"Do the governors of Joachim have any other plans?"
Gladys directed her question to the stern and breathtakingly beautiful Ecclesiarchal Confessor standing beside her, reviewing her copy of the Lex Imperialis even before battle. Her cold demeanor sent a chill through Gladys' heart every time she looked at her.
After conducting a brief ritual to pass along sacred relics, filling in gaps left by the last skirmish, Gladys had reorganized her squad, restoring it to the combat effectiveness it had before the previous battle.
When she uttered the word "governors," the corners of her lips curled slightly.
Like all Sisters of Battle who served the Emperor, she bore a striking head of short, white hair. However, unlike most, the left side of her scalp was adorned with golden ribbons tying her hair into a braid. The exposed skin was tattooed with the Emperor's prayers, names of Saints sung by the Adepta Sororitas for millennia, and the names of warriors who had fought and fallen alongside her.
Just last night, she had added a new mark to her scalp. As she observed the eager young novice before her, she sighed inwardly.
This was already her ninth bodyguard.
She did not know how long this girl, named Milianne, would last.
From Gladys' perspective as a veteran warrior who had served the Emperor for over 250 years, survived countless deadly battlefields through His divine mercy, and witnessed far too much bloodshed, this young Sister fresh out of the Schola Progenium was far too naive.
Milianne's innocence prevented her from grasping the intricacies of the Imperium, the complex relationships between planetary governors, or the subtle political maneuverings of the Ecclesiarchy's Cardinals.
Gladys doubted that Milianne was suited to express her devotion to the Emperor through combat, a path fraught with peril.
She had even considered, after this mission, writing to her old superior—now a Canoness of the Ecclesiarchy—requesting that Milianne be reassigned to a less dangerous position. Perhaps serving as a performer in processionals on Holy Terra, singing hymns or dancing for the nobility...
Before Gladys' increasingly blasphemous mental images—blasphemous enough to earn her a flogging from even the most revered Canoness—could fully take shape, the Confessor's timely response snapped her back to reality.
"They don't. Those governors are too busy tearing each other apart to bribe the local Sector Priests into issuing new orders for us."
Melissa's voice was as cold and unyielding as the doctrines she upheld.
Her monotonous existence was perhaps only brightened by reading the tragic stories of martyrdom from the early days of the Ecclesiarchy, tales of Saints who sacrificed themselves for the Emperor. These stories, often shrouded in myth and exaggeration, were the sole embellishments of her austere mental landscape.
Gladys once asked Melissa why she didn't read the more contemporary works of scribes and court poets from Terra.
After all, such works, having passed the Imperium's rigorous censorship and the Inquisition's predatory scrutiny, were eloquent, logically sound, and often authored by well-connected individuals.
Melissa's curt reply had left Gladys reluctant to openly read the romance stories that many young Sisters used to entertain themselves in their downtime.
The stories themselves were formulaic, merely set against the backdrop of the Adepta Sororitas' battles for immersion.
The authors were often Sisters themselves, who, in moments of idleness, indulged their imagination.
The main issue was the subject matter. The protagonists were often figures of renown: a grim Canoness and a kind-hearted choir Sister, or an incompetent Ecclesiarchy Commander entangled in a forbidden romance with her innocent aide.
Gladys often marveled at their audacity to write such tales. Weren't they afraid of the Confessor's lash?
And yet, she couldn't help but suspect that such authors might find the punishment… inspiring.
Though Gladys claimed she read these stories with a critical eye to identify heretical elements within the Sisterhood, Melissa always responded with a look of silent disbelief, as if to say, "You're not fooling anyone."
Melissa's lineage, rumored to trace back to the legendary Sisters of San Leor from the 36th millennium, added to her intimidating presence. Though not a direct descendant, her heritage weighed heavily on Gladys.
When Melissa explained that she avoided modern accounts of heroic Sisters because "they're too pretentious," Gladys found herself even more cautious in her behavior.
After all, Melissa had pointed out, her ancestors didn't need such theatrics when they overthrew the heretic Vandire and restored order to Terra.
These thoughts returned to Gladys as she glanced at the Confessor. The woman's indifference often contrasted with the zeal of her youthful squad members.
"Mission targets have breached the first defensive line—"
The voice of Tech-Sister Giovanna Yano interrupted the room's contemplative silence as she manipulated the hololith projector.
Everyone turned to watch as the projector displayed a battle. The second son of House Aurelian, alongside two of his retainers, swiftly dispatched the guards at the gate.
One of the warriors, a woman whose skill even Gladys had to admire, was said to have been summoned by the young noble using some form of sorcery.
Yet Gladys couldn't discern any signs of psyker activity from Leon, which puzzled her greatly.
What surprised her more, however, was Melissa's reaction. For the first time, the ever-stoic Confessor's face showed a mix of complexity and astonishment as she stared at the figure in white robes on the hololith display.
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15. Before the Battle.
16. Foundation.
17. I'm Doomed! Surrounded by Sisters of Battle!
18. Stay Here and Wait Quietly.
19. Is it a Matter of This?