The Adeptus Sociological, a man of great intellect and curiosity, had become detached from his name. He was a scholar, consumed by the study of human behaviour, particularly personalities. As a member of the Adepti, he was seen as uniquely social amongst them, and his knowledge had been turned into a weapon by the resurrected dictator, Technocrat Rodney Limos.
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In 33 YBP, the desperate Technates of Blix, Ekholm, and Ravillion appointed the notorious Technocrat Rodney Limos as their emergency controller to quell the "Great Hunger". With a calculating gaze, Limos prioritised efficiency over compassion, ordering a brutal purge of the population without hesitation. His mechanised police forces, programmed with precision and devoid of empathy, mercilessly swept through the Technates, leaving death and despair in their wake. The famine finally subsided, but Limos' grip on power remained as tight as his iron-fisted rule. His reign was eventually ended by the Directorate, who sent in the elite Directorate Gaurd, augmented with advanced technology, to forcibly remove him from office - but not before Limos had left a trail of shattered lives at the cost of his own.
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And now he is alive again thanks to Æcordia the Temptress. Limian Technocracy is a system of power nearly identical to what was present in Vorantis before the Era of the Æbyss, apart from one key difference: Technocrat Limos has powers to veto any proposal from the Directorate and his own vote is worth one hundred; whatever Limos says goes. The Ætharch is far less cruel than the other leaders placed in power by the Covenant of the Void, but the man is nonetheless a dictator.
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The Adeptus Sociological completely and utterly hated him. He had been forced to work on a project to make the citizens of Vorantis more obedient and devoted to the Faith of the Æbyss by any means necessary. The Adeptus had looked to educating the population about the positives of the Faith, such as the Covenant of the Void, keeping the region more secure – a half-truth at best and a blatant lie at worst.
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The Adeptus Sociological cradled the cup of steaming coffee he was drinking like it was a precious treasure, maybe it was – he refused to take Æther Foci Capsules after seeing the effects of the Æther Fatigue with his own eyes. The Adepetus was a young man, in fact, the second youngest Adepti ever after the Adeptus Æther. His spectacles perched on the end of his nose, attempting to fix his poor vision that had not been helped by years of studying long into the night.
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Much to his annoyance, all of the documents that had been sent to him were not written in Empyrea Basic, but rather in the language of the Void – a writing system that the Adeptus was still learning.
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The one that lay delicately on the top of the pile of papers and graphs was a letter from the Proctor of the Austerium Academy of the Adept – the very one that he had studied at – A man who was openly opposed to the Æbyss and refused to allow Covenant members to study there no matter their talent.
It read:
𐐓𐐭 𐐝𐐬𐑅𐐨𐐪𐑊𐐲𐐾𐐨,
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𐐌 𐐸𐐰𐑂 𐐺𐐮𐑌 𐐶𐐫𐑉𐑌𐐲𐐼 𐑄𐐰𐐻 𐐓𐐯𐐿𐑌𐐲𐐿𐑉𐐰𐐻 𐐢𐐮𐑋𐐬𐑆 𐐮𐑆 𐐹𐐲𐑉𐐻𐐮𐐿𐐷𐐲𐑊𐐲𐑉𐑊𐐨 𐐲𐑌𐐬𐐩𐐲𐐼 𐐺𐐴 𐑄 𐑉𐐨𐑁𐐷𐐭𐑆𐐲𐑊 𐐲𐑂 𐑋𐐯𐑌𐐨 𐐊𐐿𐐰𐐼𐐲𐑋𐐨𐑆 𐐻𐐭 𐐲𐑊𐐵 𐑀𐐮𐑁𐐻𐐮𐐼 cultists 𐐻𐐭 𐑅𐐻𐐲𐐼𐐨 𐑄𐐯𐑉. 𐐐𐐨 𐐮𐑆 𐑊𐐴𐐿𐑊𐐨 𐐻𐐭 𐑅𐐯𐑌𐐼 𐐸𐐮𐑆 𐐁𐐼 𐐻𐐭 𐑁𐐬𐑉𐑅 𐑄𐐵 𐐻𐐭 𐐿𐐲𐑌𐑂𐐮𐑌𐑅 𐑄𐐨𐑆 𐐮𐑌𐑅𐐻𐐮𐐻𐐭𐑇𐐲𐑌𐑆 𐐻𐐭 𐑅𐐻𐐪𐐹. 𐐌 𐐰𐑅𐐿 𐑄𐐰𐐻 𐐮𐑁 𐐷𐐭 𐐪𐑉 𐑅𐐯𐑌𐐻 𐐻𐐭 𐑄 𐐊𐐿𐐰𐐼𐐲𐑋𐐨 𐐻𐐭 𐐿𐐲𐑌𐑂𐐮𐑌𐑅 𐑋𐐨 𐐷𐐭 𐐮𐑌𐑅𐐻𐐯𐐼 𐐸𐐯𐑊𐐹 𐑋𐐨 𐑁𐐩𐐿 𐑋𐐴 𐐼𐐯𐑃 𐑅𐐬 𐑄𐐰𐐻 𐐌 𐑋𐐩 𐐾𐐬𐐩𐑌 𐑄 𐑀𐐳𐐼 𐑁𐐴𐐻 𐐷𐐭𐐹𐐨 𐐤𐐫𐑉𐑃. 𐐌 𐐸𐐬𐐹 𐑄𐐰𐐻 𐑄𐐩 𐐪𐑉 𐐩𐐺𐐲𐑊 𐐻𐐭 𐐸𐐯𐑊𐐹 𐐷𐐭 𐑅𐐭𐑌.
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𐐣𐐩 𐑄 𐑄 𐐝𐐻𐐪𐑉 ✵ 𐑊𐐴𐐻 𐑄𐐴 𐐶𐐩 𐑃𐑉𐐭 𐑄 𐐼𐐪𐑉𐐿𐑌𐐮𐑅 𐑄𐐰𐐻 𐐨𐑂𐐲𐑌 𐐗𐑉𐐨𐐩𐑇𐐲𐑌 𐐿𐐰𐑌𐐪𐐻 𐑁𐐮𐐿𐑅,
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𐐑𐑉𐐪𐐿𐐻𐐲𐑉 𐐈𐑊𐑋𐐲 𐐲𐑂 𐑄 Austerium 𐐊𐐿𐐰𐐼𐐲𐑋𐐨 𐐲𐑂 𐑄 𐐈𐐼𐐯𐐹𐐻
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He translated it , at least as quickly as he could, to find that it said:
To the Adeptus of Sociology,
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I have been warned that Technocrat Limos is particularly annoyed by the refusal of many academies to allow gifted cultists to study there. He is likely to send his aide to force thou to convince these institutions to stop. I ask that if you are sent to the Academy to convince me, you instead help me fake my death so that I may join the good fight up North. I hope that they are able to help you soon.
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May the Star ✵ light thy way through the darkness that even Creation can not fix,
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Proctor Alma of the Austerium Academy of the Adept
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The phrase, may the Star light thy way, is an unusual way of signing things off in Vorantis as it is dominated by Techno-Spiritualism rather than Celestialism (sometimes called the Faith of the Star).
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Proctor Alma wanted to join CATAE. This worried the Adeptus quite a bit, though not as much as the warning that Limos might send his aide to him. Aide Audrey Fara frightened the Adeptus of Sociology considerably. The woman was downright sadistic, well known for outbursts of explosive rage and violence. Even worse, she was also openly a senior Covenant member, an inquisitor, to be more accurate. The Inquisitors operated directly on the orders of the Council of Ætharchs, and were even given authority to investigate the High Priests and Priestesses of the Void – who were normally above suspicion – as well as the Abbots plus the rank and file cultists: the Acolytes and Initiates.
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In short, Fara was bad news for the Adeptus Sociological.
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His office was tidy and neat like the man himself, and full of bookshelves and the smell they brought. An oaken desk dominated the room, with papers and graphs neatly organised on it. If only his internal battle between logic and emotion could be resolved, he could be more at ease. But he knew that the Covenant of the Void wanted power and wealth and had gotten it; the Æbyssal Triumvirate tried to corrupt everything they could control and lied at every turn. In short, he was on the wrong side.
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But there was nothing that he could do. Limos had him pinned in a corner. If he tried to leave, then the agents that watched him constantly would kill him in cold blood. Other Adepti had presumably shared his fate.
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There is a sharp knock on the door before it swung open.
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Sat at his desk, he could not help but feel a sense of unease wash over him. The air was thick with tension, and the sound of whispers seemed to seep through the walls like a cold draft. He gazed out the window at the darkening sky, his eyes tracing the lines of architecture as if searching for an escape route. He may well be doing that.
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Limos's assistant stood on the other side. She was a thin, hard woman, almost as if she had been carved from flint or stone. Her green eyes were uncommon for a servant of the Void – they mostly had Azure blue eyes, the colour of the skies – but that only made it more unnerving to the Adeptus as he peered directly into them, Fara's sensory organs were cold and had a far away look to them.
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She stepped into the room. Her lips curled into a smile that had no warmth to it, a mocking grin, perhaps.
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“Adeptus...” she spat the word out in an aggressive contralto voice as if it was a bitter posion. The Adeptus wished it was. “I see you are still stuck in your little world of logic and reason. How... quaint.” Her tone was one of honey this time, sweet and soft. But even sugary things are capable of containing dark secrets: honey can contain a bacterium that causes infant botulism.
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“I have taken the liberty of scheduling a... consultation with the Proctor of the Academy here at Austerium. I am sure it will be an.. enlightening experience for both parties. You see, certain bright, starry-eyed servants of the Æbyss have expressed interest in studying at the Academy of the Adept, and I believe it would be a grave mistake to deny the faithful. The Proctor, I am sure, will understand the importance of inclusivity in the name of progress. After all, we must be open to the enlightenment that the glorious Æbyssal Triumvirate can bring. I expect you to be prepared to make a compelling case for their admission. Failure to comply will be... regrettable. I can send a messenger to escort you to the meeting. Do not be late.” She snarled at him, practically foaming at the mouth with rage at the idea that a scholarly institution would defy her master.
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The Adeptus mentally noted her use of Low instead of High Empyrean, the difference being that the later uses archaic language such as thou in place of you for example. High Empyrean was the dominant dialect in Narciss, Cerulea, and Estrin. While everywhere else – the Eastern regional part of the Dominion, Aquiloria, Vorantis, and Umbracrest – tended to favour the less posh variant. Although the difference was negligible, it could he used to predict someone’s birthplace.
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“I see. Proctor Alma shall never dare to disrespect the Covenant in such an insidious manner again once I have spoken to him. I have no need of a messenger. I assume the meeting is tomorrow, yes?” Asked the Scholar innocently, knowing full well that the Proctor intended to flee north to help CATAE do a lot more than disrespect the Covenant of the Void.
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Her eyes seemed to cut through him as she glared at him before turning on her heels neatly and walking off elsewhere.
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The Adeptus breathed a sigh of relief before another one escaped his lips. Inside him, however, he wilted like a dying flower: one person that he could trust would be gone soon.
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The flower withered away as he felt a sense of despair wash over him.
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