The pronouncement of Lord Inquisitor Varrus's arrival fell like a shroud of ice over the forge-cathedral. The zealous, celebratory energy of the Adeptus Mechanicus evaporated, replaced by a cold, disciplined apprehension. Even Archmagos Valerius-9-Tane seemed to shrink, his many lenses retracting slightly as he processed the summons. A Lord Inquisitor did not make social calls. They arrived to pass judgment.
Kael, his face a stony mask of duty, turned to Rimuru. "The Lord Inquisitor will see us aboard his flagship. The Stellarr Peregrine is now under his command. We are to present ourselves immediately."
There was no room for negotiation. This was a summons, not an invitation.
They ascended from the forge-world's smoggy heart to the cold, clear void of space. The Stellarr Peregrine, once Kael's private vessel, was now dwarfed by the ship it was docked with. Varrus's flagship was an ancient Obelisk-class vessel, a black, monolithic blade of a ship, its hull devoid of the proud heraldry of the Navy, marked only with the stark, unyielding 'I' of the Inquisition. Its presence radiated an aura of silent, absolute authority.
The bridge of the Obelisk was not a bustling hub of activity, but a dark, sanctum-like chamber. The viewscreen was a vast sheet of armored crystal, looking out onto the fiery sphere of Ryza. The crew were silent, augmented servitors and grim-faced acolytes who moved like ghosts. Arcane machinery hummed in shadowy alcoves, and the air was heavy with the scent of ancient parchment and the chill of recycled air.
In the center of the chamber, his back to them as he observed the planet below, stood Lord Inquisitor Varrus.
He was a tall, imposing figure, clad in ornate but unostentatious black power armor. He was old, impossibly so. His face, when he turned, was a roadmap of centuries of strife, his skin pale and tight over a noble bone structure. But it was his eyes that held the true weight of his age. They were ancient, weary, and as cold and deep as the void between stars, glowing with a faint, psychic light. This was a man who had seen galaxies burn and had judged the souls of heroes and monsters alike.
"Interrogator Kael," Varrus said, his voice a low, resonant baritone that commanded absolute attention. "Your reports have been… vivid. You have managed a volatile situation with commendable initiative." He paused, his ancient eyes flicking to the towering Archmagos. "And considerable risk."
Valerius-9-Tane offered a deep, clanking bow. "Lord Inquisitor. The Omnissiah's will has manifested in a—"
"Your faith is a valuable tool, Archmagos," Varrus cut him off, his tone not unkind, but utterly dismissive. "Your zealotry is a liability. The entity is a subject of an Inquisitorial investigation of the highest order, not a new icon for your Magi to worship. You will temper your flock, lest they attract a far less… understanding branch of my Holy Ordos."
The Archmagos fell silent, the implied threat of the Ordo Hereticus hanging heavy in the air.
Finally, Varrus turned his full, undivided attention to Rimuru. His psychic presence washed over Rimuru, not as an attack, but as a deep, probing scan that sought to read the very essence of his soul. It was a pressure far more refined and potent than Corvus's had been.
Rimuru, protected by the absolute fortress of his will and the ever-watchful Ciel, remained an enigma. He met the Inquisitor's gaze with a calm, polite curiosity.
Varrus's eyebrow raised a fraction of an inch. He had just psychically interrogated a star, and the star had politely stared back.
"They call you a king, a prophet, a miracle-worker," the Inquisitor Lord began, his voice taking on a conversational, almost scholarly tone. "You speak of peace in a galaxy that has forgotten the meaning of the word. You wield a power that is not of the Warp, yet it defies the known laws of reality. You are the single greatest anomaly I have encountered in my three thousand years of service."
He gestured to the star chart on the main holo-lith. "You are the greatest opportunity the Imperium has seen since the Great Crusade. And you are, potentially, the most insidious threat. My purpose here is to determine which of those you will be."
He walked towards the star map, his gaze sweeping across the flickering icons of entire sectors. "Your desire to return to your home is a logical, understandable goal. But your journey requires a map of the unmappable and a source of power beyond the ken of even this great forge world. The Imperium can provide both. But nothing is given freely."
His finger traced a line to a festering wound on the map—a solar system colored in a sickly, corrupted violet.
"The Helios Sector," Varrus stated. "Lost to the light of the Emperor two centuries ago. It is now the domain of the Daemon Prince Vorlag the Vile, a favored servant of the Grandfather of Plagues. It is a bastion of Chaos, a plague-system that corrupts all it touches. Fleets and armies can contain it, quarantine it, at the cost of millions of souls and centuries of war. It is a stalemate bought with blood."
He turned back to Rimuru, his ancient eyes filled with a cold, terrifying fire.
"You have demonstrated an ability to neutralize fleets and an immunity to the horrors of the Warp. Your very nature, this 'order' you seem to embody, may be anathema to the chaos that fuels them."
The grandmaster's gambit was laid bare.
"Help us, King Rimuru," Varrus said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Help us cleanse the Helios Sector. Use your power to destroy the Daemon Prince and break his hold. Rip this cancer out of the Emperor's domain. Prove that you are a true friend to Mankind."
He let the offer hang in the air before delivering the price, and the prize.
"In return," the Lord Inquisitor finished, "I will grant you access to the knowledge of the Eldar of Craftworld Ulthwé, who know more of dimensional travel than any human. I will place a Black Ship and its cargo of psykers at your disposal, to be used as a power source for your device. I will give you everything you need."
It was a test disguised as an offer. An impossible task tied to an irresistible reward. He was being asked to be a weapon in the Imperium's oldest, most desperate war.
Kael and Valerius stared, stunned by the sheer, audacious scale of the proposal. This was a move that could change the fate of the entire Segmentum.
Rimuru was quiet for a long time, his golden eyes thoughtful as he looked at the blighted, violet stain on the star map. He had felt the foulness of the Warp. He had been disgusted by it. This was an offer to confront that filth at its source.
He turned to the ancient Inquisitor, his expression no longer that of a lost tourist, but of a sovereign considering a formal declaration of war.
"A Daemon Prince," Rimuru said, his voice a low, thoughtful hum. "Tell me more about this… Chaos."