Chapter 1

Steps of the enforcers echo down the alleyway as they pass, the figures huddled in among the refuse of humanity watch in still attention as minutes pass by. Once the march fades in passing from one of the many cold entrances of the Shadow Quarters slums, a crowd emerges.

Nearly five hundred strong, they trickle out in groups of fours and fives. Scattered, but still acting with a singular purpose, the dispersed mass of unassumingly dressed men, women, and children made their way through to one of Footfall's numerous docking bays.

Ignatius can feel it as someone of stronger than average will tries to focus on the abnormal flow of the crowds. Just another sign that he was right in moving his people from the central hub of the Cronus Expanse. Too many of the Inquisitor's people were digging themselves into lower levels of the station, he's been having to actively turn away attention more and more with each passing cycle.

He feels out the mind carefully, and with gentle command turns Acolyte Isabella's focus onto the smuggler passing by, his cargo poorly concealed shipments of obscura intended for the exhausted hands of dock workers eager for a reprieve.

No matter how brief or self-destructive.

The whole exercise was the work of moments, but it's back to quickly masking their presence among the throngs of Footfalls' denizens. He picked the closest exit to the docks as safely possible, but it was proving to be a mistake born of an overabundance of caution.

Ignatius had heard more than one rumor of a Rogue Trader's temper when inconvenienced, arriving later than their agreed-upon embarking time wasn't likely to end well for anyone. Whether it was his people or the Rogue Traders, the senseless deaths brought on by an offended aristocrat were never a pleasant sight.

"Sophia" the mental whisper reached out to her in the middle of the carefully managed migration. When he felt her attention catch he continued, "We're going to have to pick up the pace. I'll thin the crowd, but I'm going to need you to make sure we don't end up with any stragglers in the rear."

Her reply came with a hiss of agitation, the emotions flowing over the pathways Ignatius had forged. "I hate it when you do something this stupid. It's one thing to pull something like this on the enforces in the lower quarters of the station, but here?"

"I won't risk the Rogue Trader's ire, especially when we can hardly go back to hiding after this." He took a moment to mentally brush up against the little troublemaker trying to break her way into the conversation, a laugh bubbling up to his lips as he felt her pout. "Tell Alicia she still has a ways to go before she slips through my attention like that."

"You can tell the little princess yourself once I've finished throttling you, I'm sure she'd be more than happy to join in if I told her it was a new game." Her annoyance bled through, along with a no small amount of satisfaction, as she no doubt imagined carrying out her punishment

"This, little sister, is why letting you babysit is always a terrible idea. I leave my little angel with you for a few hours, and I always come back to find she's learned new ways to use her gifts to torment me."

"If you'd spent a little time on biomancy, you'd have been able to turn your hair back all on your own. It's hardly my fault she took issue with you taking her dolls away." The smug amusement sang through the connection like a chorus of bright and loving laughter.

All at his own expense, of course.

"Really though, you need to be careful. We're only halfway there, and if the Inquisition has a psyker here skilled enough to feel your monkeying around, we're in for it."

The conversation ended there as he felt Sophia pull Alicia to her side and drop back slowly to the end of their people. It was then that he reached out to all of the minds he'd grown familiar with over the years, feeling at first their fear. A sense of hopelessness had set in, no matter how hard he'd tried to stymie the talk of them being "run off" the station. He knew many of the foreigners to Footfall had been in situations like this before.

Situations where they'd been forced to run, die, or be taken.

"Everyone, I'm going to clear the way a bit for us all. When you notice the crowd begin to thin and move aside, I want everyone to move quickly, but never go in front of me. Keep pace, we'll be moving fast, but no running. I know the children won't be able to make that kind of effort, I want all parents and minders ready to pick their kids up when they need it."

He felt their growing torrent of fear rush over him, and, as always, he allowed it to flow through him and out into the others nearby. Several people stopped short, hyperventilating from the sudden spike of raw terror that tore through them. Using the opportunity as an easier starting point for his mental push to those masses surrounding them, the collective throngs of Footfall's streets fell under his sway.

The people of Footfall suddenly found themselves, many for the first time in their lives, worrying over the welfare of someone else. They moved to those he'd inflected with his peoples' fears. While others caught sight of a beggar or found themselves in captivated horror as they allowed themselves to think on the nature servitors.

More than once he'd fought off the urge to stop his manipulations. The guilt of seeing more than one elderly still on the rusted metal pathways, their hands clutched to their chests, as the despair he'd set upon them proved too much for their fragile selves.

The first casualties of the day, Ignatius could only hope they'd prove to be the last.

So on it went. For the better part of an hour, he strained with both compelling the numerous people in front and behind to act as he needed, all the while masking his efforts from any psykers too close for comfort.

It was then that he felt it, a brief push against his own will. They collapsed quickly as he bore down on them, but their ability to fight at all was an impressive feat all of its own.

For the unfortunate soul, Aquinas Trapan, his mind would supply, there would be no celebration of his accomplishment or feat of skill. Only the quick and agonizing death of having his mind shredded.

His consciousness was suspended in a moment in time. Ignatius knew just how long the reach of the inquisition could be, even in the semi-lawlessness of the Cronus Expanse. He wouldn't allow so obvious a path to remain for a devout follower of the Imperial Truth to report any suspicions later on.

A brief dive into the mind of Aquinas showed him to be a relatively new addition in Footfalls' Astropathic Choir, his finesse with what psychic power he was blessed was prodigious. Had he slept in that day, perhaps he would have found himself leading the choir someday. Instead, Ignatius found himself pulling back from the other psykers mind, leaving only a ravaged psyche in his wake.

A blank slate remained where had once stood a promising young man.

As the docks came closer, the ship of the Rogue Trader came into view. The dock swarmed with enforcers and officers adorned with the von Valancius coat of arms. They hadn't quite finished loading the ships' numerous cargo, which meant they'd narrowly made the boarding deadline the Rogue Trader's seneschal had issued.

Speaking of the man in question, his imposing stature remained at the ship's ramp. Seneschal Werserian made quite the statement in not approaching them as they neared, the man remained as statuesque as ever in the face of the approaching mass of people. They all seemed to be breathing heavily and leaning on one another as they tried to catch their breath, the children making their noises of discontent clear through the cacophony of noise that surrounded him.

"Seneschal" Ignatius greeted, the sweat heavy on his face and fatigue clear in his labored voice. "We've come to embark upon the Seeker's Haven."

Author's Note

This story will be taking some liberty with 40k lore, you've been warned. If you need the lore to be followed 100% to enjoy, then I don't recommend this particular story to you. Author's notes will also not be a common thing in upcoming chapters, unless there's something quick I feel needs to be addressed.

This will be the longest author's note by far for what I'm planning to be a decently lengthy story. I've been really hesitant to write anything for the 40k setting because of how horrifyingly toxic the community is to anything that doesn't comply 100% with their interpretation of the lore or setting.

The MC is rather obviously a psyker, so if a story that paints psykers as anything other than nukes waiting to blow is too much for you, kindly fuck off and let me write this in peace.

All chapters after this should be significantly longer, I'm aiming for between 2500-4000 words in total for each chapter. I intend for each additional chapter to be added between Thursday and Saturday, if there's a change to the schedule I'll do my best to let everyone know.

Now, to address those of you who need every 40k story to be horrifyingly grim dark and depressing, I wouldn't recommend this story. It will be following an Iconoclast MC, for those of you playing the 40k Rogue Trader game, you'll know what I mean. I have no interest in writing a xenophobic genocidal fanatic, praying to the Emperor every other action, and asking how best to kill the witch/xenos today, fire or bolter?

The new Rogue Trader game finally inspired me to give this setting a try, here's hoping I don't get flamed to oblivion.