A Grim Love
an excerpt

The tang of blood was thick in the air. Every time her mouth opened, she could taste it on her tongue, the sharp, coppery taste excluding all else. Incense hung heavy and low in the enclosed structure even though its arched roof hung countless dozens of metres above her head, while hooded priests of the Sacrament slowly swung their incense burners from side to side, standing at the edge of the raised platform as they sanctified the punishment that was to be meted out. Low murmurs sounded from every side, the dull mutters of a vast crowd hushed in anticipation. So large was the crowd and so thick the incense that she could see neither the far walls of the court nor the edge of the morass of humanity, so that it seemed that the human tide stretched on forever.

In the centre of the stage upon an elevated dais was the main attraction, the thing for which the crowds had flocked like crows to carrion. Bound to upright wooden stakes, three men hung limp and exhausted from their bonds, their will to resist having been long since crushed. It was from them that the taste of blood originated; the crusts of half-scabbed whip marks marred their lean bodies, charred patches of flesh marked the searing touch of the hot irons while blood dribbled down in tiny rivulets where cuts had not fully crusted over. Their spirits destroyed, they now hung there, motionless, waiting for their bodies to follow suit.

Inquisitress Loazna Yeowind turned away from the debased creatures hanging from the stakes, turning to face the flocks of the loyal, the bloodthirsty mob. She doubted they had come for the lesson, to witness the punishment of one who had broken the laws of the Empire of Mankind. No; they had come for the pain. The suffering. The death.

Regardless, these men were going to die.

Loazna walked to the edge of the platform, deep blue ceremonial cloak dragging along the ground, almost hiding the shaped synth-plate armour beneath that was as deep a red as her hair, interlocking plates that covered her whole body shifting as she moved. Her eyes wandered appreciatively over the few visible columns and mosaics that were visible in the dim light. This Inquisitorial Court was one of the largest in the world, build to accommodate thousands.

A perfect place for a show.

With a raised hand, she quieted the assembly, the dull roar of thunder receding to a mutter in the distance. The vibromic at her throat hummed as it activated, picking up the vibrations of her vocal cords and transmitting them to the metres tall speakers upon which the platform was suspended.

"Citizens of the Empire of Earth," Loazna began, her voice echoing off the unseen walls in lost in the smoke, "Today the justice of the Imperator is served. Three men are before you. Some may recognise them as brothers; some as fathers; some as sons; some as friends.

"LIES!" she roared. "These men have lied to you! They live amongst you not as companions - they live among you as criminals most foul! Who could forget the Bread Heist of 2177, masterminded by these deviants? Tens of thousands were starved out of house and home so that men such as they could further their plots of anarchy! Or the bomb scare last year, throwing the city into disarray as tens of thousands fled the Imperator's Cathedral, drawing down the weight of martial law upon us all. The crimes these men have perpetrated through their association with the Old World Order are enough to warrant the death penalty many times over, even without the dozens of charges of murder, extortion and deviancy they are guilty of.

"The days of this terrorist group are numbered. Even as I speak, plans are being drawn and preparations made to hunt them down and extinguish their threat to our prosperity once and for all. For the security of our lives, for the security of our children and the Empire, these men are sentenced to death!"

With that final shout, Loazna turned and slashed her hand sharply through the air, signalling the black-robed priest of the Sacrament standing next to the dais. Acknowledging the nod with a deep bow, he turned and pulled down on the lever next to him.

With a harsh roar interwoven with screams, fan-driven flames burst from the charred grate beneath the criminals, temperatures in the thousands of degrees incinerating them in a fiery conflagration that burned greedily long seconds after the men's cries of pain had fallen silent. Even after their bodies were scorched beyond recognition, fingers of flame continued to lash them until their ashes were thrown high on the rising heat. With surgical precision the fires were cut out, the after-image the only memento of its presence, the subsequent silence eerie in its purity. Then, a cheer burst from the crowd; a bloodthirsty roar, the howls of a mob whose basest appetites have been sated. Without a backwards glance, Loazna descended the stairway at the back of the stage to the sounds of applause and the drumming of feet, down beneath the courtroom.