The Martyerd and The Murdered – Dark Future Sci-Fi WH40k

I wrote this in 98 or 99 I made one last push to get published. I play Warhammer 40k and at this time Games Workshop had a short-fiction magazine. Obviously, I never got published I pushed their narrative, which is the main reason I was rejected. I guess you would call this fan fiction now.

Fall of Grace

The great hall flickered sinisterly in ceremonial torch light as two sword brethren dragged the beaten body of one of their own; his armor stripped from his bloody frame. Almost the entire crusade was present, a sea of white iron crosses flooded his blurred vision, their jet black power armor was soaked up by
the darkness.

They stood at each side of him creating a corridor for the brethren to bring him up to the front. He could smell their anger and
intolerence. It made him angry.

“You are charged with crimes against the emperor, your chapter, and the
imperium of man. What do you plead”, Chaplain Carex spitefully not so much charged but condemned as fact. The
Emperors Champion stood next to him, expressionless with his black sword ready
for the execution.

“Not Guilty.” He softly blurted out. His lungs hurt from being continually beaten for almost a week. His body was blotched with bruises and he was hacking up blood from his sore lungs.

One of the sword brethren reactively punched him in the stomach, the tortured templar spouted out blood, pooling under his dry cracked lips, spilling ok the floor in thick viscous globs.

“Sword Brother Atticus! This is a tribunal not an interrogation!”

“Sorry Chaplain Carex, I couldn’t hold my anger for this despicable worm!” Carex snivels in his retort.

“I can’t believe I followed his orders. We should just kill him now and be done
with this retch. He’s a heretic and a traitor!!” Atticus replied, tightening his grip on the traitors neck.

“I understand, but hold your anger.”

“Do you understand the severity of the charges against you?” Carex waited
for the traitor to acknowledge him; but he did not as the traitor spat out another chunk of congealed blood, coughing a large spray of crimson oxidized chunks on the white granite floor.

“I see,” Carex paused and pulled off a
a pouch attached to his belt, pulling out a document.

“These are the charges against you. One, Disregarding a direct a order from the
inquestion. Two, killing an inquisitor and three and by far the worst, Aiding in the escape of heretics & the witch. Four, the breach of the Templar code of celibacy..and these are just the most severe ones my brothers. A long list follows this,’ Carex finished as his face turned into a expression of pity filled hatred for his fallen brother.

Carex now glaring at the traitor,
“If you plead guilty, acknowledging your guilt. You will be executed now. At least you will be able to regain some of your honor, and perhaps the emperor will put in a good word for you when you go to the afterlife and meet the creator of us all.” Carex spat sarcastically.

“What do you plead, traitor?”

“Brother Carex,” Acari pauses, sucking in air with his hand in the air as blood from his broken lips slides down his battered chin.

Acari looks up at the Chaplain Carex. “I am not guilty.”

The entire crusade let out a collective gasp they began yelling at Acari, calling for his head and for him to be impaled and burnt to a crisp.

“Silence!” Carex yelled at the force of a thousand Templars. They instantly
obeyed.

“Brother Acari will be stripped of his title as chaplain, stripped of his status as a Black Templar and exiled to the closest inhabitable planet.”

“Acari, this traitor to the Emporer, will wait
until which time that the High Marshal can come and deliver his righteous judgment,” the chaplain pauses,”’There is no doubt in my mind that you are guilty Acari, I’d have your head now as a warning for your sins, but these are my orders from the High Marshall.”

Deadly silence encompassed the great hall as the templars watched a once respected battle brother, teacher, companion, along with his terrible jokes being dragged away.

Acari filled with anger, perhaps it was just the gene-seed or his wits as a man, he could not tell anymore, as if he really cared anymore either. I did what I had to do he said to himself, but my will matters not.

Atticus punches him again with his armored fist, cold cocking him on the side of the
head.

Acari’s vision blurred into seething hate of Atticus’s snide grin, the last image before he fainted.