Danforth Laertes

Lord-Inquisitor Danforth Laertes

The son of Canoness Shania and Inquisitor Daneel Cygnus and twin brother of Palatine Alicia Laertes, Danforth Laertes was a significant figure in the history of the Daughters of Verity, the Ophelia System and the wider Imperium. A pious devotee of the cult of Verity, he fought in both the relief of Ophelia and the Ophidian Crusade, and met his death in the Sanctum Imperialis on Terra.

Physical Description

General Physical Condition

Like his father, he is tall and well-built - with a tendency to heavy bluntness in his physicality. He keeps himself in excellent physical condition but is not "ripped", instead appearing solid and well-padded with muscle and dense flesh.

Facial Features

Heavy-set features, almost jowly when he scowls or is tired. Invariably has five-o-clock shadow, even a couple of hours after shaving. Seems to be "more handsome than he really is".

Special abilities

Alpha-grade telepath psyker

Apparel & Accessories

Wears the classic leather trenchcoat and tall hat of the Ordo Hereticus over a suit of flak armor.

Specialized Equipment

Gifted a verum Viscera sword and a suit of Custodian armor from the Crystal Vault by Verity.

Mental characteristics

Personal history

Early Life

The child that would become Danforth Laertes was found by then-Postulant Shania in a basket beneath the statue of Saint Danforth outside the door to the Crystal Cathedral and handed over to a 'Dust Zone orphange to be raised. As an Ophelian orphan of unknown heritage, he was formally adopted into the family of the Cardinal-Governor and given the surname Laertes and named after the eponymous Ecclesiarch who had given the Via Imperator to the Daughters of Verity.

A physically-imposing, intelligent and pious child, Danforth did well in the schola and his teachers marked him for an exalted position - as an Ecclesiarchy priest, Administratum Adept, high-ranking officer in the Navy or Guard, or other senior role in the Imperium. But Danforth showed little ambition and, while applying himself astutely to his studies and devotions, expressed interest in no higher position than being a machinist in the 'Dust Zone factories, diligently working with his hands.
The pedagogues of course considered this a waste of his talent and the aptitudes the Emperor had gifted him with, and harsh lectures were employed to get him to change his mind. Joining his teachers was Shania who had taken an interest in the boy she had rescued. But even she was unable to impart ambition to him; the most strident of lectures and pious exhortations - and no-few corporal persuasions - were unable to change his mind. His tutors knew the willful ways of talented orphans all-too-well ... almost as well as they knew the ways of the Imperium's bureaucracy. They knew he would serve the Emperor in the role He demanded, willing or not.
How he ended up serving Him they would never have imagined.

Witch Hunt

Danforth matured and he grew from a boy into a young man. The pedagogues were prepared for the usual difficulties - lack of focus, outbursts of emotion, even midnight-crossings of the orphanage cloister to meet pupils of the opposite sex for immoral assignations - but they did not expect the witching powers that manifested. As Danforth's voice deepened and chin darkened with stubble, so too did his psychic powers blossom. Raised in the pious atmosphere of the Daughters' schola he had been taught psychic ability appeared because of moral failing, that it was a soul corruption caused by the Ruinous Powers and a lack of will and devotion. Consumed with self-loathing and desperate to resist this awful corruption he threw himself more deeply into prayer, fasting, and increasingly-brutal penances. But it was to no avail.
His devotion sharpened his already-iron will and while it perhaps prevented grotesque explosions of uncontrolled witching-power it was not enough to suppress it completely and certainly not enough to drive it from him. Despite himself, he answered the pedagogues' questions before they were asked - seeing things with precognitive sight. Psychic frost spread where he touched. A bully who shoved him in the gymnasium fell to the ground screaming and with blood pouring from his ears and eyes. The Sisters, well-versed in the dangers of uncontrolled psykers, watched him carefully and reported to their superiors.
For their part the older Sororitas and members of the Adeptus Astra Telepathica brought in to observe realized Danforth was a potential asset to the Imperium, a stable-enough psyker that he should be given to the Blackships and not killed out of hand. As fate would have it, the Blackship Midnight was in-system and subluminally making its way to Ophelia VII to collect the tithe. Preparations were made to safely sequester Danforth in the null-shielding cells on distant islands, far from the main centers of population - there to await the coming of the Midnight.
But Danforth had other plans. The propaganda of the Cult Imperalis, preached incessantly by the Sororitas, he believed without question; he was a damned thing, a monster, a mutant, a conduit for the Ruinous Powers that could destroy the planet if he could not master the evil within him. He hated himself for his weakness, not knowing the slight manifestations of his powers that snuck past the gates of his will were a sign of strength, not any failing.
He fled the schola, running into out into the streets of the 'Dust Zone, hoping perhaps to hide amid the teeming millions of forgotten workers. Panicked and consumed with self-loathing, his iron grip on his powers weakened and they manifested - drawing the attention and ire of the superstitious populace. A mob formed, howling and hounding him through the streets, tearing his clothes and flesh, pelting him with stones and thrown bottles. Desperate, he fled towards the Crystal Citadel - uncertain whether he would beg the Daughters for execution or sanctuary.
He received neither. The mob caught up with him at the very gates of the Crystal Cathedral, in the shadow of the statue of Saint Danforth under which he had been left as an infant. They seized him and held him fast, tying him to the statue and piling kindling around its feet. Prometheum splashed on his clothes and stung his eyes, filling his nostrils and making him choke. The leader of the mob hefted a makeshift torch and made to throw it onto the pyre.
He exploded into bloody gobbets an instant before the sound of the bolter's roar reached Danforth's ears. A Sister was standing alone within the postern gate of the Cathedral, her bolter held unwavering. The mob halted, uncertain, and she took advantage of their hesitation to run forward and place herself between them and Danforth, reaching backwards to push her bayonet into his hand. "He's a witch!" one of the mob screamed. "He should die!" shouted another.
"I am Shania, Palatine Daughter of Verity," she answered. "I am the fist of the Emperor here, and I decide who dies." The mob wavered, and then broke and ran when she fired three warning shots into the ground at their feet, explosions tearing the rockcrete into splintered flinders. Behind her, Danforth fumble-cut the rope binding him to the statue and he toppled forward, coming to rest staring up at his savior.
"Don't look at me!" he screamed. He scrambled away from her as she reached for him, furiously shaking his head. "I'm a witch! I'm a sinner! Grant me the absolution of death, in the Emperor's name! Don't let me live like this!" Shania grabbed him by the collar and hauled him upright.
"The Emperor has need of you, Danforth Laertes," she told him, "as He does of us all. How you will serve him I do not know, but I know it is not given for you to die today." As he sobbed and begged she fastened an occluding null-helm around his head, plunging him into darkness and - as the psyk-out circuits deadened his powers for the first time in his life - painful unconsciousness.

The Forgotten Archipelago

When Danforth came to he was within the obsidian walls of a psypressing oubliette on the islands of the Forgotten Archipelago, naked, isolated and alone. A single glowglobe burned endlessly in the ceiling, high above and out of reach, and water trickled down one corner - enough to assuage his thirst but not to drown himself. There was no bedding he could use to garotte himself, no hook to hang himself from. Even the food shoved through the door's grille was ill-formed nutrient cakes, malformed rusks without plate or knife or bowl. Shania had told the Arbites guarding the cells of his despair, and they were determined prevent him from denying the Emperor his service.
He did not know how long he remained there - there was nothing to mark the time save the delivery of food, but he had no way of knowing how often it came or even if it was on a consistent schedule. The oppressive bulk of the null-circuit-laced obsidian surrounding him weighed on his psyche, making him nauseous and craving sleep even as it was denied him. He spent his time in prayer, imploring the God-Emperor for the mercy of death. But his prayers remained unanswered - and, moreover, the Emperor was silent in a way He had never been before.
After some interminable time something came though the grille - but it was not food. It was a grenade, which tumbled and bounced as Danforth frantically scrambled as far as he could from it. It detonated, but not with an explosion - rather, with a flat "plink" sound and a pressure wave felt rather than seen. The psyk-out grenade nullified his powers, but the obsidian-oppression had inured him to the pain of it and he did not pass out. So he was awake and aware when Arbites in null-weave carapace stomped into his cell and, menacing him with shock-mauls, roughly dressed him in rude tunic and breeches, shackled his hands, and - finally - strapped a null-helm on him.

The Midnight

He perceived little of his journey - the null-helm not only suppressed his psychic powers but robbed him of most of his other senses. He could not see, smell, or hear - only taste the metallic awfulness of the null-circuits and feel the jostling of his body, the cramped pressure of others against him, the slimy wetness of their panicked sweat and fearful secretions. He felt an unfamiliar sensation of sudden heaviness pressing him down, an awful pressure that only let up with a nauseating sensation of weightlessness. He wanted to vomit but held it with an effort, knowing that enclosed in the null-helm he would choke on his own spew.
It was only later he realized he had stopped wanting to die.
He was herded along with the mob of his companions, the helm finally stripped from his head as he was shoved tumbling into a cell large enough for twenty. There were fifty or more people in it, milling around in confusion. The walls were obsidian once more, laced will null-weave. Some sobbed and cried, others raved and screamed. More simply curled up in despair and sat in sullen silence.
Days passed - they were marked by the artificial light cycles of the voidship, for it soon became clear that is where they were. Whispered rumors and speculation flowed around the cell; they were psykers, taken by the Voidships for punishment, for reward, to serve the Emperor, to be sacrificed to him, to be executed, to be elevated . . . No-one could agree and tensions boiled over, fights breaking out. The prisoners were half-starved, numbed by weak-toxins in their food, and so most fights ended in inconclusive exhaustion. But there were some deaths. Vulpine females in skin-tight leather that the psykers screamed away from in agony entered the cell and burned the corpses with flamers. The air became thick with ash and cold smoke and the stench of excrement and fear.
There were other visitors, too - wearing green robes and guarded by warriors in beetle-black armor with contoured breastplates of burnished obsidian, faces concealed by a mirror helm and armed with long, black-bladed lances. They swept through the cell, examining the prisoners with sight, auspex, and witching power of terrible focus. Silently, they indicated to the warriors what should be done - some were branded, either with the image of a crowned figure on a throne or an eye superimposed on a column, but most were simply cast back into the filthy, starving mob, untouched and as-yet ungraded.
Some were taken away - the most disturbed, the most deranged. Of those, some resisted and were unceremoniously bayonetted and their corpses dragged out, leaving a trail of blood. Nevertheless, those taken still resisted - perhaps their own instability gave them no choice, or perhaps they instinctively knew death would come either within or without the cell.
But when the green-robed assessors came for Danforth and indicated the warriors to take him away, he did not resist. He understood their gesture and stood before he could be lifted, limping out of the cell with as much dignity as he could amid a guard of the warriors. He found himself in an ante-chamber, confronted with one of the alluring, awful females. His guts churned and his mind struggled as the coruscating hatred pouring through him warred with the fire of his young desire for her beauty. The warriors and the selector left them. "Come with me," she snarled in a voice as harsh as a raven's and melodious as a requiem. She turned on her heel and strode away, not bothering to see if he followed her as he scampered meekly in her wake.

The Inquisition

(Read "Danforth & Daneel" microfiction)

Daneel Cygnus by Nightcafe AI with postwork

He was brought to Daneel Cygnus; an Inquisitor travelling on board the Blackship, assessing the tithe of psykers and watching over subversive cults on the planets it visited. The Inquisitor was impressed with Danforth; although not possessed of psychic power himself, her recognized it and its utility in the young man and knew he was possessed of sufficient will and discipline to become - with training - a Primaris Psyker. He made Danforth an Acolyte and ordered his training to begin immediately.
It was a demanding and diverse program - drill and physical exercise, lectures in naval strategy and voidwar, dirtside tactics and exercises, boarding actions and CQB, atmospheric dogfights and bombing runs. In each facet of war he was trained by the best the ship had to offer - petty officers of the Armsmen, the Wing Commander of the hangar decks, the Colonel of the boarding regiment, even the Captain of the vessel. But war was not all he learned - psychic training under the Adepts of the Astra Telepathica, of course, but also history under Savants, open secrets of the Mechanicus by Magi, theology from the Priests (although they were surprised by how much he already knew and were privately humbled by his piety), even being taught etiquette and elegance by the Captain's majordomo.
But Daneel did not rely on those outside his household to teach its new member; his blademaiden taught him forbidden fighting techniques, his venom-master the secrets of poisons, his chirurgeon a corrupting appreciation for torture, others skills and knowledge even more illicit. But he reserved what he considered the most important education to himself - not merely investigative skills, interrogation, and the history of the Inquisition, but morality and ethics.
In this Danforth rebelled, for Daneel was proud and privileged, enjoying the luxuries his position granted him and even succumbing to lascivious venality. Daneel offered his protégé every expensive luxury the Midnight had to offer but, while not living an ascetic life and willing to enjoy the cuisine and entertainments the ship's officers did, Danforth was always careful to avoid gluttony; he feasted soberly and fasted when the liturgical calendar proscribed or he needed clarity of thought.

First Assignments

To hone and test his burgeoning skills, Daneel assigned Danforth simple criminal investigations; brawls, drunkenness, petty thefts, vandalism among the crew of the Midnight. Not only would these help train him but also educate him as to the true nature of Humanity and teach him valuable disdain. Blackship naval crews were the scum of the galaxy, and Daneel hoped this would inculcate an appropriate attitude towards those he would hunt.
But Danforth disappointed him. He was a careful and patient investigator, unwilling to condemn without evidence and reluctant to deploy fatally harsh punishments when others might net a better result. The ethics of the Daughters of Verity - who had been founded to protect and nurture the workers of the 'Dust Zone from neglect and ignorance - blossomed in him, and he accepted his duty with serious gratitude. No matter what Daneel might do - exhortations he made, savage denunciations of soft mercy, appeals to his vanity or pride - the boy would not be turned from this path. The Inquisitor, frustrated and scornful but even growing embarrassed and ashamed, resolved to break his gentleness with the pleasures of the flesh.

Midnight Ladies

Courtesan by Nightcafe AI generator

Daneel did not love - perhaps such emotions are the one luxury an Inquisitor cannot afford - but that did not mean he rejected the pleasures of the flesh. Far from it he embraced them, enjoying the attentions of foolish maidens beguiled or threatened into his bed as well as professionals - both down-deck harlots and the expensive, perfumed courtesans of the officers' levels. When Daneel thought Danforth old enough the older man paid a skilled escort, who rumor had it had been the Voidmaster's favorite for some cycles, to educate him and usher him into what he considered manhood.
Danforth refused but did not shame her - they spent the evening playing Regicide and when she grew weary she slept in his bed and he dozed on the couch. In the morning she kissed him chastely on the cheek and made to leave, but he - in a final courtesy - rumpled her clothes and disheveled her hair to give credence to their lie.
The deception did not last long - a whore might be the soul of discretion when it came to her clients' proclivities, but when treated with kindness she blabbed to her sisters and they to others; Daneel heard it as pillowtalk the next night and did nothing more than snort in derision at Danforth's choirboy pretentions. For their part, the courtesans treated him with respect - and brought him no-few secrets when his investigations required. The officers' mistresses were not molested at their work - save by the weight of lucre - but the same could not be said of the down-deck harlots; they suffered violent abuse and cruel indignities at the hands of the ratings and press-ganged malcontents manning the machinery of the gundecks and engine rooms.
Danforth's reasons for refusing the courtesan had been simple; the woman was not his type - beautiful, yes, but ephemeral and effete, perfumed and preened in impractical clothing. His time in the 'Dust Zone - among the hard-scrabble daughters of the workers and the majestic Sisters - had honed his desire for unaffected women, plainspoken and direct, practical and naturally athletic. But that was not the report that came to the whores of the lower levels.
In Danforth they saw a savior, a protector, someone who would exact bloody revenge on the johns who abused them. Danforth embraced this alternate identity, and began to think he had refused the courtesan for noble reasons, not merely because he was not drawn to her. He assumed a chivalrous piety towards the female of the species, protecting them and treating the basest of whores with a courtesy more suited to a noblewoman. He descended into the bowels of the ship, hearing the stories of bruised and battered women and punishing their abusers. In his initial prosecutions he had modelled the ethics of the Daughters of Verity, not Daneel, showing mercy and tempering the brutality of Emperor's justice with pragmatic rehabilitation - but now he responded with awful violence and savage cruelty. He became an avenging angel of the down-decks, stalking transgressors through the greasy iron of the dingy corridors.
Rumors swirled among those he hunted - that his mother had been a whore, and that was why he held such affection for them. Unable to deny the possibility of their truth, he wondered who she had been and why he'd been abandoned.

Danforth Cygnus

Under Daneel's tutelage Danforth became a skilled servant of the Emperor, but quite a different man. He was pious and careful, weighing testimony and evidence and never quick to judge. Sober and restrained, he resisted the temptations of luxury and disciplined his mind and body. For his part Daneel was impressed - the young man was a fearsome investigator, tireless and devoted, possessed of phenomenal psychic power, and his record of success policing the myriad crimes, cults and heresies aboard a Blackship was second-to-none - but disappointed. He told himself the boy's pieties were a front, that he was weak and his justice and mercy would be his undoing, that disdain of inferiors and lustful misogyny were more suited to an Inquisitor than chivalrous service. In the darkest watches of the night, however, he found himself close to admitting Danforth's nobility pricked at his conscience and reminded himself of what he could have been.
Danforth, with his psychic power and natural acumen, could not fail to see how the Inquisitor viewed him - and yet despite this he loved him. Denied his parents and raised without strong masculine influence he latched onto Daneel as a surrogate father, desperately seeking validation and praise ... even acceptance. He even went so far as to adopt the last name Cygnus, abandoning the orphan-moniker of Laertes - something that did nothing to bridge the gulf between them and only made the older man resent him more.

Terra

"See Terra and die." So says the ancient proverb, but for the majority of the Midnight's passengers this was literally true - the Blackship finished its tour of the galaxy and returned to the Throneworld, there to disgorge its cargo of psykers to be fed into the Golden Thone. Docked at Lion's Gate, Daneel was surprised but pleased to hear rumors of a fellow Inquisitor and former ally planetside and - after determining her intentions and with a plan forming in his mind - hurried Danforth down the spaceport to the Inquisitorial chapel within the mesophex. There he met Jessica Stark, newly come to Terra from her service in the Cadia system.

Jessica Stark by Nightcafe AI with postwork

A violet-eyed Cadian by birth Stark had recently suffered grievous losses to her entourage in the perpetual war within the lashes of the Eye, and was seeking recruits to replace them. When it came to soldiery she was spoiled for choice on the Fortress World, but she wanted a psyker and chose to recruit directly from the Adeptus Astra Telepathica on Terra. She and Daneel had been allies but rivals; they had served their former master together but he had risen to Interrogator before her while she only achieved that rank when he received his Rosette. Even then he had been swaggering and brash, somewhat misogynistic but able to be manipulated by her. He owed her a debt ... a boon she had been careful to never call in.
But in the intervening years Daneel had become more wily and now he was able to manipulate her. He presented his apprentice to her, extolling his virtues and powers and innocently asking why she was on Terra. She did not ask him what he was doing there - the assignment to a Blackship was one of no great prestige, of course, but she knew very well why he had been forced to take it; it was because of her machinations - a thing Daneel suspected but could not prove. Instead she answered him - she was seeking new Acolytes, a psyker in particular. It was clear to everyone her eye was on Danforth - a psyker who could be more than an Acolyte and rise to Interrogator and beyond.
It was clear to everyone, including Stark's senior surviving Acolyte Anastacia Ternovnik. a Vostroyan noblewoman possessed of skills, beauty, and ambition. Like her mistress she possessed no psychic ability and felt threatened by the impressive young man Stark was eagerly eying. She worried that if she took him into her entourage he would rise further and faster than her, eclipsing her career. She knew what happened to Stark and feared the Inquisitor would, perversely, repeat her mentor's mistakes.
Daneel feigned ignorance and then - when Stark's interest was made more-than-plain - reluctance; it was true he owed Stark a debt but the boy was greatly skilled, he would rise far and be of great value to him on the Midnight. The boy was family - he had taken Daneel's name - and he had practically been raised on the Blackship - if he, Daneel, were to continue serving there he would need the boy beside him.
Understanding, Stark smiled grimly and agreed - she assured Daneel she would use her influence to find him a new assignment in return for the young man. Daneel didn't speak, simply looking expressionlessly down at Danforth. The boy stood aghast, even reached for the older man, but Daneel did not even knock his hand away - he merely stepped back and jerked his head towards the Cadian. Wordlessly, he spun on his heel and vanished amid the columns of the chapel and Danforth's mist of tears.

Rivals

Anastacia Ternovnik by Nightcafe AI generation with postwork

And so began Danforth's service under Inquisitor Jessica Stark. They remained on Terra for almost a Solar year and the Throneworld had no shortage of traitors, recidivists and subversive cults to investigate. A harsh, uncaring mistress, Stark recognized Anastacia's animosity toward Danforth and forced the two of them to work together, hoping their rivalry would spur them to greater achievements. Anastacia was threatened by Danforth's novelty and psychic powers, constantly striving to outdo him in their mistress' eyes and undermining him with her when she could. Stark, manipulative and dispassionate, pretended not to notice what the Vostroyan was up to and guilelessly praised Danforth over her, goading her to ever-more extreme efforts and greater resentment of the perceived favorite of her mistress.
For his part, Danforth had fallen in love with Anastacia the instant he had seen her - perhaps it was not love at first, but it was a sweeping emotion that tumbled him and left him floundering. Her beauty, cold aloofness, and brilliance caught him, and despite his best efforts to escape as the days turned to weeks and then months his initial crush matured and solidified. Faced with her ever-growing animosity he did his best to hide his affection for her and treat her with cold professionalism, but it was impossible; his infatuation only angered her and deepened her resentment. She weaponized it against him, asking him to undertake more menial tasks and reserving the glamorous ones for herself . . . which he did gladly and efficiently, and which Stark never failed to notice and compliment.
Nevertheless, while they did not work well together, they were formidable alongside each other - each tempered the other and mitigated weaknesses. Anastacia was more experienced but her cynicism blinded her to possibilities, Danforth was naïve but idealistic and his psychic powers and physical prowess saved the Vostroyan's life more than once. At first, she was purely resentful - especially when Stark pointed out she owed her life to the Ophelian - but she gradually came to tolerate and then even welcome his chivalry. She thanked him, grudgingly and then willingly praising him to Stark. For her part the Inquisitor watched carefully; her goal had been to goad Anastacia into greater ambition, to ape the dispassionate detachment of the scions of the Fortress World. Instead - and she noticed this before the Vostroyan did - Anastacia was falling for Danforth and becoming more Ophelian and less Cadian.

Lovers

When she came to him, one cold night when he was hunched over a rickety desk in a tiny bureau-cell within the curtain walls of the Outer Palace, he suspected a trick. He was finalizing paperwork, electro-quill scratching ink made black with the soot of burned heretics over velum made of their skin, and she bought recaf and a blanket. Silently, she lay the synth-lana over his shoulders and poured him a cup. Warily, he lifted it and sniffed - there was something more than recaf there. "Just amasec," she promised, "not poison."
He set the cup down without tasting it. "Let me finish these records first," he said. "Even excommunicates deserve accuracy."
She rolled the velum up and pushed it and the inkwell aside, sitting on the desk where they had lain with her calves either side of his thighs. "They will be just as dead in the morning, Danforth," she smiled.

He jumped up and back, putting distance between them. "What do you want, Anastacia?" he asked, eyes narrowed and psychic power reaching out. Already cold, frost played at the hems of her fur-lined robe. She bit her lip and slipped off the desk and out of it - beneath she wore not her customary flak armor but a diaphanous dress, jewels and perfume at her throat and wrists, her body peaking with the chill and her own eagerness.
"You," she said simply, and reached for him - but he pushed her back. She stumbled, sprawling onto the desk.
"I don't know what your game is, Anastacia," he snarled, "but play it with someone else." He turned to leave, but her desperate voice stopped him.
"Wait! Danforth, please . . . wait," she begged. He turned back - she had propped herself up on the desk, the neckline of her dress falling open and he felt the heat of his desire rise in the chill of the room. "No games, I promise. And not with anyone but you."
Angrily, he tightened the crustgaunt of his will around his lust and strode towards her. She gasped as he grabbed the straps of her dress and pulled them together, hauling her upright to sit on the desk. "Did Stark put you up to this?" he demanded. "Or was it your own idea? Tease me and lead me on and laugh when I respond? Or would you let me and then go blabbing to Jessica so you can get in her good graces?" He shook his head. "You're already her favorite, Ana," he said wearily. "If you can't see than then . . ."
She darted for him while he was distracted, grasping his face and kissing him furiously. He struggled, got his hands on her shoulders, and shoved her back, pinning her down to the desk. "I was wrong!" she shouted. "I was wrong and I was cruel and I was jealous and I was stupid and I . . . I wanted Stark to like me, I wanted to be her successor, to be made Interrogator." Tears beaded in her sapphire eyes. "I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I don't want to be her favorite, I want to be yours."
Danforth was still looming over her, unsure if it were a trick and if he should believe her even if it weren't. "You always were, Ana - you've always known that. From the moment we met I . . . I loved you. But you didn't and I'd accepted that and . . . and now this?"
"I'm sorry I wasted so much time," she whispered.
His eyes and voice deepened as his hands roved off her shoulders and down her body. "I don't want to waste any more," he said softly, and dropped his lips to hers as her limbs encircled him. Long minutes later they pulled apart and, her dress and his tunic and breeches dropping to the floor as they went, moved as one towards the narrow cot in a corner of the bureau-cell.

Promotion

There is no keeping a secret from an Inquisitor at the best of times, but Danforth and Anastacia were unsubtle in their affection so Stark soon became aware of her subordinates' relationship. Short weeks later, when their sojourn on Terra drew to a close and it was time to return to Cadia, Stark summoned Danforth alone to her office. Each of them had grown alongside the other and were skilled operatives, both worthy of the title Interrogator, but Stark's own experience being marginalized by Daneel would not allow her to promote them both. Nor could she countenance their loyalty and affection for each other - both were virtues more akin to vices in the Cadian's eyes.
And so she resolved to split them apart and introduce discord to their harmony, with ambition and jealousy as the wedge. She pretended ignorance of their love and informed Danforth one of them would be raised to Interrogator; which of them did he feel was more deserving of the honor? Before he could answer she reminded him Anastacia was the senior - she had served Stark for longer, of course, but she had also done better on Terra by her own reports. The Vostroyan had let the Cadian know of the Ophelian's failures and errors, and he had never made any negative report about her, so it must be the case she was the better Acolyte. "Of course, you have always been neglected, overlooked," Stark continued artfully. "Your mother, I mean - she abandoned you. The Sororitas sent you on the Black Ships. Daneel handed you to me. I suppose you must be used to it by now."
She expected him to react with indignation, insisting the pretty little blonde was a manipulative liar poisoned by ambition, reminding her of all the times she had praised him over Anastacia, and denigrating the Vostroyan so he might usurp her place by Stark's side. Instead he nodded and spoke judiciously. "Anastacia is senior, and an excellent investigator. It would not be appropriate for me to recommend she is made Interrogator, however." Inwardly Stark smiled - she had hoped for more rage, love turned to resentment, but this would do - but as he continued her eyes narrowed and anger eclipsed her satisfaction. "My love for her may very well impair my judgment. You have always been dispassionate, Inquisitor - I leave the choice in your hands."
And so it was that Anastacia was made Interrogator and Danforth remained Acolyte as Stark and her entourage left Terra and journeyed through the Warp to the Fortress World of Cadia, there to investigate recidivists, heretics, cults and witches within the lashes of the Eye.

Cadia

"This is Cadia, you silly fool! Cadia! Right on the doorway of Chaos! Right in the heart of everything! The seepage of evil is so great, I have a hundred active cults to subdue every month! This place breeds recidivists like a pond breeds scum. This is Cadia! This is the Gate of the Eye! This is where the bloody work of the Inquisition is done!"

— Inquisitor-General Neve

Danforth and Anastacia stayed by Stark's side on Cadia for nearly a decade, nine Terran years of ferocious education and baptism by fire. Anastacia was now her mistress' right-hand, given wide latitude and great responsibilities, and Danforth was constantly by her side. On Cadia the duties of the Inquisition are constant and, although violent, perversely require delicate handling. With a majority of the population under arms the danger of the simplest investigation boiling over into a bloody insurrection is ever-present. Some Inquisitors care nothing for the collateral damage, reasoning the cancer of Chaos is so great any surgery - no matter how blunt the cauter-knife - is acceptable.
Danforth did not believe that, and would not countenance it.
His education by the Daughters of Verity had taught him the virtue of honesty, if not always its practice, and his youth among the workers of the 'Dust Zone had made him appreciate the value of all the Emperor's servants. He was merciless to those who had foresworn the Emperor's light or refused the yoke He laid upon them, but he was fastidiously careful in who he put to the sword or the pyre. He demanded evidence, never condemned on a mere accusation, and punished vindictive hysteria as harshly as he did heresy. Perhaps his overweening sense of justice would have been his undoing were it not for Anastacia, whose harsher mien and less-trusting mind tightened the holes in their net of suspicion.
Stark never wearied of trying to divide them. One of her attempts was a play on Anastacia's - not Danforth's, for she knew he had none to speak of - ambition; she promoted him to Interrogator too a few years after they arrived on Cadia. There was nothing preventing an Inquisitor from having more than one Interrogator - the Inquisition is bound by no rules save its own faint sense of tradition, and it is certain the vocation is a dangerous one so additional successors might better ensure a legacy - but Stark hoped Anastacia would be panicked by the Ophelian snapping at her heels and race away from him lest he caught her. But it was too late - not possessed of the virtue natively, she had nevertheless learned enough humility from Danforth to accept the news with good grace, even though she knew it meant Danforth would receive his own entourage and the two of them would be separated.
But Stark kept them together - she could have split them up, sent one of them away, assigned them to different continents on the Fortress World, but physical separation would mean nothing without emotional schism. She knew absence would do nothing to cool the fires of their tawdry affection and resolved to bide her time. It was a decision she would come to regret.

Discovery & the Return to Ophelia

As a planet-wide military installation Cadia played host to representatives from many arms of the Imperium's war-machine and bureaucracy, and the Interrogators encountered them all. It was an encounter with an Adeptus Mechanicus Magos that revealed a piece of Danforth's history and started a chain of investigation that changed his and Anastacia's life forever.
Danforth's native 'Dust Zone dialect had been smoothed over by years on the Midnight and time on Terra and Cadia. Now it was broadly Imperial-standard, common to administrators and Adepts throughout the Imperium, but with elements of his native accent and especially vocabulary. On Cadia, few would recognize their source or even notice - and certainly would not have assumed Ophelia was their origin; patterns of speech in the 'Dust Zone are quite unlike those of the clerical dialect associated with the Shrine World. But one who did was an Adeptus Mechanicus Magos. He correctly identified Danforth as a native Ophelian of the 'Dust Zone, something the Interrogator freely admitted.
Danforth would have let the matter lie, but Anastacia asked how the Magos could tell - to her, the accent was just "Danforth's" and certainly not so dissimilar to any other Adept's. The Magos launched into a long analysis and explanation, playing back recorded fragments of Danforth's speech, explaining vernacular terms unique to the 'Dust Zone and displaying comparative audio wave-forms on the video screen he had by way of a face. "No," interrupted Anastacia, "how do you know? You're a munition-smith - is this a hobby or . . . ?" The Magos responded he had served in the 'Dust Zone on Ophelia, giving dates in the binharic Mechanicus calendar that dated from the Treaty of Olympus Mons. Danforth, passingly familiar with it from his time in the 'Dust Zone, calculated and remarked the Magos had been there when he was born.
The Magos, synthetically attempting small-talk, asked when that had been and Danforth told him - along with the fact he'd been abandoned outside the Crystal Cathedral and found by Shania, a woman the Magos was familiar with from his time in the 'Dust Zone. And then the Magos dropped a bombshell as great as any ordinance battery; he had observed the bassinet being abandoned and - concerned lest the child was abandoned because of mutation - approached once the woman had left and performed a bio-scan on the children within.
"Children?" asked Danforth. "Plural?"
"Affirmative," said the Magos; a male and a female, logically deduced to be twins. The Magos verified they were genetically pure, determined extermination was not warranted, and left. But it was what he revealed next that shocked both Interrogators; it was not some woman of the 'Dust Zone who had abandoned the children - the woman carrying the basinet had come from inside the Crystal Citadel and it had been Shania.
Utterly confused and his mind churning with wild speculation, Danforth immediately made preparations to leave for Ophelia to confront Shania. Despite Anastacia's protestations he would not be gainsaid and it was mere moments before she agreed to go with him. The two of them left Cadia the next morning, using their Inquisitorial rank to acquire passage on a series of ships that would eventually see them arrive on the Shine World.
Once there Danforth would have thrown himself into an unsubtle investigation had not Anastacia tempered his hot-headedness. Relying on the affection of the Daughters to their returning son, they avoided their natural suspicion and were able to get access to the Citadel's archives. Reasoning Danforth and his unknown sister must have been born within the Citadel they scoured the infirmary records - no births were recorded, but that was not unexpected; there was no maternity ward within the celibate Sisters' Cloister-Fortress. But there were enough clues to piece together a theory; Shania had been a Postulant at the time and had been detained within the infirmary for unspecified reasons. An Inquisitorial Rosette will unlock any door, but even an Interrogator's rank and wiles are enough to get access to a patient's medical file. There was no explicit confirmation, but the pharmaceuticals and treatments applied to Shania left little doubt she had given birth and that she was Danforth's mother.

Confrontation

(Read "Danforth & Shania" and "Revelations" microfiction)
Danforth insisted on confronting her on his own - Anastacia understood and embraced him before retiring to the Crystal Cathedral to pray. Danforth went to the Canoness' cell - for in the intervening years she had been promoted to the leader of the Daughters of Verity - and revealed he knew she was his mother. But he was not prepared for what she told him about his father.
Daneel Cygnus had come to Ophelia VII before he arrived aboard the Midnight; he had visited thirteen years earlier when Shania was a Postulant. He had been consumed by lust and forced himself on her, raping and impregnating her. He attempted to deny the accusations, trying to cast the violated Shania as a harlot eager to avoid responsibility, but the Daughters' divine gifts meant they saw through his lies. Beyond the reach of law but not their vengeance, he had fled the planet. Nine months later Shania gave birth to twins, a boy and a girl. To spare her the shame she had been sequestered in the infirmary and now the hospitalières permitted her to abandon the newborn children at the gates of the Cathedral so they would be found and taken into the orphanages. But the night was cold and no-one came, and Shania could not stand their cries, so she "found" them herself and - carefully saying nothing more than "they were outside, and I brought them in" - she gave them over to the orphanage and returned to the barrack-dormitory.
The two children were, as was the practice for Ophelian orphans, adopted into the ruling family and given the name Laertes. The boy was named Danforth after the saint and the girl Alicia after Alicia Dominica, the founder of the Adepta Sororitas. They grew up, each unaware of the other. Twelve years later Danforth left Ophelia aboard the Midnight, while Alicia remained in the schola, becoming a Postulant, Novice and eventually rising to the rank of Palatine.
Shania took Danforth to Alicia, and the truth was revealed to her. She reacted with rage and anger, demanding their father be brought to justice. Initially more wary and still somewhat devoted to Daneel as a father figure Danforth was persuaded only when Alicia made it clear she would do it alone if she had to. The two of them left Ophelia in haste, searching for Daneel.

Hunting

Danforth did not tell Anastacia his plans - he thought she perhaps would not understand, and feared that if she did she would be implicated in his vengeance. Anastacia learned of it from Shania - and the Interrogator harshly lectured the Canoness not only for allowing Danforth to leave but for letting him leave without her. Finally realizing the foolhardiness of her children's crusade of revenge, she mobilized her squad of Celestians and she and Anastacia left to pursue Danforth and Alicia.
But the Laertes children - for Danforth had reverted to his original name by this time - were wary and had a head start. Alicia was not given to subtlety or deception but she was an experienced veteran of a hundred campaigns, and while her brother did not have her knowledge of the wider galaxy his time on Cadia had taught him many valuable skills in manhunting, surveillance and intelligence-gathering. And in the intervening years Daneel had become complacent, exulting in the luxury and glamor of his position even more than when Danforth had known him aboard the Midnight. No longer did he just have a single ship's company to lord it over - the galaxy was his playground. He travelled from system to system, establishing a luxurious headquarters at the expense of the Planetary Governor under the unspoken threat of a scouring investigation. In return for the Governor's largesse Daneel would prosecute political enemies or business rivals for heresy or other violations of Imperial law.
Danforth and Alicia caught up with him on one such planet, finding him in the middle of a investigation on trumped-up charges against the leading industrialist and owner of a majority of the planet's lucrative mines. With him and his supporters removed, the governor could seize the mineral rights and take the wealth for himself. If Alicia had had her way she would have made a direct assault on the Governor's palace where Daneel was staying - a probably foolhardy endeavor - but Danforth was more measured. He was not squeamish about killing Daneel but he knew simple violence would prove ineffective as well as leaving them naked to the retribution of Imperial law.
Instead he began his own investigation, piecing together the fake case Daneel was building by studying where he went and who he interviewed, worming secrets from them with deception and no little use of psychic power. Unbeknownst to Daneel, his former son built a point-by-point refutation of each and every one of the charges the Inquisitor would bring before he brought them.
The trial - merely a piece of theater, as Daneel was both prosecutor and judge and had already made up his mind - was conducted in the main square of the capital, with vidcasters beaming the proceedings to every corner of the planet; the Governor wanted everyone to see and condemn his rival to legitimize his seizure of the mines. Daneel began by sonorously reading the charges against the industrialist and demanding his plea. Then, with dramatic flourish and breathless eagerness, he laid out the evidences against the industrialist on the first of them. When, after an hour or more, he was done he sank triumphant back onto the judge's throne and bade the defense council to try to challenge them.
Daneel knew - or thought he knew - the lawyer would present no strong case. He was the industrialist's lawyer, it was true, but Daneel had got to him months before - bribing him with illicit pleasures and then blackmailing him with recordings of him enjoying them. And so when the lawyer stood - pale, waxen, sweating and swaying - the Inquisitor thought it just nerves.
But then the lawyer systematically refuted each point of evidence Daneel had presented. Not only did he challenge how it was obtained and question its veracity, but he showed the contrary was true and then, to Daneel's wonder and horror, detailed the illegalities the Inquisitor had used to obtain it. Now both men were ashen-faced, but when the lawyer leaned heavily on the defense table frost curled on the yellow vellum and wraiths of condensation rose from his hands. Daneel narrowed his eyes and stood, pointing at the lawyer with a trembling finger. "This man is merely a puppet!" he declared. "He is acting under the control of another; a psyker is using his witching powers to control him - using his Warp-craft to challenge the authority of the God-Emperor and His Holy Inquisition!" He drew his bolt pistol and pointed at the unfortunate lawyer. "Thou art in league with the Malignant Powers and I dub thee diabolus," he snarled. "I find thee guilty of treason against Our Beloved and Most Holy God-Emperor and His laws and sentence thee to swift and sudden death!"
He pulled the trigger and the lawyer exploded into bloody gobbets with a roar, showering the industrialist and those nearby with viscera. Daneel turned his gun towards the defendant. "And thou, too . . ." he began, but then stopped when a black-armored figure wearing a blue habit and a white-carnodon cloak dropped into the square on the flaming pinions of a Seraphim jump pack. She hefted a monstrous golden axe and interposed herself between Daneel and his prey.
A figure stepped out from the crowd, psionic frost stiffening the hem of his hooded cloak. He lifted his hand and Daneel felt his limbs grow heavy and his finger slide off the pistol's trigger. "Give me your name, witch, that I may pronounce sentence upon thee!" the Inquisitor demanded.
The figure drew back the hood of his cloak, revealing a face in which Daneel recognized the boy he had know now grown to terrible manhood. "Danforth Laertes. Interrogator. Ophelian. 'Duster. Twin brother to a wounded sister, son of a raped mother."
In an instant Daneel knew his past transgressions had caught up with him and the terrible danger he was in. The people - both in the square and throughout the planet - had seen his case against the industrialist demolished and the trial was exposed as a sham. Whipped into a frenzy by the witch Danforth they might very well turn on him, certainly would not support him - and he could not rely on the PDF as the Governor would probably renege on their deal to save his own skin. With a desperate cry he unleashed his Felinid blademaiden and fled back into the palace, protected by his stormtroopers.
The lithe female vaulted forward, flipping and spinning as Danforth fired at her, his shots going wide. She landed in front of him, her blades weaving a complex net of light that slashed his hand and made him drop his pistol with an oath. Springing back he drew his sword, but she just laughed. "I taught you, little choirboy," she purred. She trapped his blade with one of hers and twisted it away, slicing his face and chest with playful strokes. Desperately he swung at her but she meowed and dodged out of the way, rolling behind him and driving a stiletto into his thigh so he fell to the ground with a cry. She reversed her grip on the blades and, as he rolled over and raised his arms to feebly defend himself, made to drop and drive them into his heart.
She staggered away in two different directions, sundered by a falling thunderbolt of gold and ruby. "Didn't teach me," spat Alicia as she hauled her brother to his feet and the two of them ran into the palace after their father.

Vengeance

They caught up with him while he was still in the great foyer, trying to move deeper into the palace and the secret escape tunnels beneath. But troops of the PDF were preventing him and his stormtroopers from going further. "I knew nothing of this man's treachery!" the Governor exclaimed from the landing half-way up the grand staircase, flanked by this lifeguards. "I thought him an honorable servant of the God-Emperor, as am I! I thought . . ." He got no further before Daneel snarled in betrayed anger and shot him through the forehead, his decapitated body tumbling over the rail.
All hell broke loose. The PDF opened fire on the stormtroopers, the stormtroopers closed ranks around Daneel and drove forward in a wedge, pushing through the archway between the two flights of the great staircase and overrunning the troops there. Danforth and Alicia chased after them, as a Sororitas lander came to a screaming stop at the end of a powered glide above the square outside.
The stormtroopers realized the siblings would catch Daneel and so some of their number turned to face them, letting the Inquisitor run. Hotshot lasgun fire burst off Sororitas battleplate and the conversion field of Danforth's Rosarius and did not even slow them down. They hacked down the stormtroopers without ceremony and pressed on, catching the fleeing Inquisitor as he fumbled to press his Rosette's omniclavis into the lock of the secret door. Alicia's axe lopped the head from one stormtrooper and Danforth's sword eviscerated two and then she grabbed her father by the shoulder and hurled him back with the full strength of her armor and rage.
"Danforth! Danforth!" he implored. "I know you don't understand - you were always more noble, more honorable. I know I mocked you for it, but have sympathy for me! I'm a weak man! Whoever sent you, she's not telling you the truth! They were all harlots, all temptresses! I'm only a man - you understand that, don't you?" Unable to bear it any longer, Alicia smashed him across the face with the cheek of her axe, lifting him into the air and sending him crashing to the ground three yards away. "Danforth!" Daneel wailed. "I made you who you are! I was like a father to you!"
Danforth strode forward, pushing past Alicia, and drove his sword into the Inquisitor's guts. "You are my father, you bastard!" he screamed. "You're my father and I'm your son and I'm nothing like you!"
Daneel coughed and retched, blood bursting from his mouth and curtaining over his lip. "Who . . . who is your mother?" he burbled.
Danforth grabbed him by the throat and hauled him upright. He didn't notice when a venom-dripping needle-knife slipped from Daneel's sleeve and stabbed towards the younger man's stomach, but Alicia did and savagely broke every bone in his shoulder with a pommel-strike from her axe. Daneel screamed and the knife fell from nerveless fingers. "Who?" asked Danforth, incredulous. "You don't . . . ? There's been so many . . . ?" He broke his father's nose with a brutal headbutt and drove his knee into his groin, tossing him away. "You Throne-damned, Eye-bound, grox-fething son of a . . ."
Daneel somehow remained upright, hunched over, one hand hanging uselessly, clutching his wounded abdomen with the other, blood and snot bubbling from the ruin of his face. "Who . . . ?" he begged.
Alicia smashed the pommel of her axe into the side of his knee, blowing out the joint in a crackle of cartilage. "Shania!" she screamed. "Shania! Say her name!" Daneel tumbled to the ground and Danforth stepped forward and savagely kicked him.
"Shania! Shania! Say her name, Throne-damnit!"
Alicia stomped his hand as it fumbled for a weapon, snapping his fingers. "Shania!"
Danforth grabbed him by the throat again and hauled him upright, slamming him into the wall again and again as he screamed his mother's name. "Shania! Shania! Shania!"
Alicia shouldered him out of the way and slammed the haft of her axe into Daneel's throat, pressing him against a column. "Shania!" she roared. "Say her name so the daemons know why you're there when your soul goes screaming to damnation!"
Daneel chuckled. "Shania," he muttered thickly. "Shania." He nodded. "I remember her. She was ... fun." He looked deeply at Alicia's enraged face. "It must burn you so, daughter. Both of you. You don't look like her. You have my eyes."
"Not any more". Daneel screamed as Alicia popped the eyes out of his skull like pits from cherries. She stepped back and let him fall to the floor. The impact tore the wound in his abdomen further open and thick blood oozed slowly onto the tile. He was trying to crawl away with one ruined arm and one broken leg - Danforth drew his pistol and blew out his other knee, while Alicia snapped his humerus with the butt of her axe. Breathing heavily, the two of them stood over him and watched him die.
There was a commotion from back towards the great foyer; they turned, realizing the PDF hadn't followed them into the palace. The Governor's troops were standing with their hands raised, rifles hanging impotently from shoulder straps. A squad of Celestians of the Daughters of Verity were guarding them, golden bolters held unwavering. Marching angrily towards Danforth and Alicia was Anastacia, Shania following uncertainly in her wake. The Interrogator folded her arms and stood glowering at Danforth while the Canoness loomed uncertainly over her tormenter, watching him draw his last breath. She looked over at her children. They glanced at each other and shrugged. "We're done," Danforth assured her.
"You certainly are," said Anastacia, stepping forward and ratcheting cuffs on Danforth's wrists, as Shania held out her hand and gestured for the Palatine to surrender her weapon.

Trial

The killing of an Inquisitor is a crime of such magnitude in the Imperium that it almost transcends it; not even the Arbites would prosecute it - although Danforth and Alicia languished in their cells while waiting for the panel of judges to arrive. For the Inquisition itself would arbitrate the crime, determining what punishment should be handed down. Anastacia had summoned the court, and while she waited for the panel of three Inquisitors to arrive she devoted herself to investigation, poring over Danforth's evidence and his refutation of Daneel's charges - she knew any defense of his actions would have to rest on Cygnus' injustice and abuse of power rather than venality; no Inquisitor would concern himself with such a trifle and would probably see emotional vengeance as a capital flaw in an Interrogator.
For her part, Shania spent her time praying but assigned her Celestians to guard the prisoners. Jurisdiction was unclear; they were in the Arbites' cells and they had violated the Lex Imperialis but they were to be judged by the Inquisition and the Sororitas were the chamber militant of that Ordo. In the end neither trusted the other to ensure they remained both alive and imprisoned and so both guarded them, each watching the other as much as they watched the prisoners and ensuring safety and security.
Finally, after months, the Rota-of-Three arrived - one Inquisitor-Lord from each of the three Ordos Majoris - and began to review evidence. Also arriving with them was Jessica Stark - as the arresting authority Anastacia had the right of prosecution, but she was a mere Interrogator and acted only as a tool of her mistress so the Inquisitor would perform that duty. This, in truth, had been Anastacia's ace-in-the-hole - she reasoned Stark would not grieve her rival's death.
Instead Stark surprised her by throwing herself into the prosecution with a ferocious zeal, denouncing Danforth and Alicia to the court and painting their actions as childish vengeance against a loyal servant of the Emperor. Their assigned defender was passive, silent in the face of the accusations and even sympathetic to Stark's position. To support her lover, Anastacia petitioned the court for and was granted the role of defense counsel and argued against her mistress.
The trial centered on two things - the violent revenge the Laertes children had wreaked on a member of the Most Holy Orders of the Emperor's Inquisition, and the injustice and flagrant abuse of power demonstrated by Daneel. It's center of gravity orbited around them, waxing and waning, now closer to one, now closer to the other, as the mistress and servant tried to persuade the court
For days the arguments raged, until both sides had said all they had to say. The Court-of-Three withdrew to its chambers for deliberation - a deliberation that took mere solar hours. Speaking in unison now via an augmetic mind-impulse network, the Rota-of-Three delivered its judgment;
"Interrogator Danforth Laertes, stand forth!" Danforth stood at stiff attention. "In the name of the God-Emperor of Mankind and by the authority of the Most Holy Orders of His Inquisition, we - the Rota-of-Three here convened - hereby deliver judgment. We declare, in absentia and post mortem, that Daneel Cygnus is found guilty of the crimes of iudicium sine veritate, iudicium cum maledictum, and iudicium lubidinosus et profligatus. We declare him thrice-guilty of treason and heresy by association, by action and by belief. We declare him excommunicate traitoris and strip him all positions, offices, titles, ranks and privileges. Ex post facto mortis he is sentenced to death and loyal servants of the God-Emperor are called upon to deprive him of liberty and of life."
Stark ground her teeth - this had been exactly what she wanted to avoid, and which the smiling Anastacia had hoped for; a trial not of the murderers but of their victim. She half-rose and made to object once more, but the Rota glared her to silence.
"Therefore, in the matter of the prosecution brought against Interrogator Danforth Laertes by Inquisitor Jessica Stark concerning the death of the heretofore-mentioned heretic and excommunicate traitoris Daneel Cygnus, the Rota-of-Three here convened adjudicates his actions under the rubric of iudicium de inquisitionis and judges them to be iudicium sine maledictum et cum veritate. All culpability in this matter and related incidents is remitted and any judgement rendered or penalty incurred ante, nunc, que post under the lex Imperialis or any other judicial authority in His dominions or outside is rendered moot, remitted and pardoned, in the name of the God-Emperor of Mankind and by the authority of the Most Holy Orders of His Inquisition."
Danforth bowed and made the sign of the Aquila. "Thank you, my Lords-Inquisitor. I . . ." but the Rota interrupted him.
"We are not done, Interrogator Danforth Laertes. Approach the bench." The Arbites guards unlocked the defendants' cage and unshackled him, allowing him to step forward and stand beneath the monumental judicial thrones of the Rota-of-Three. "Your actions iudicium de inquisitionis sine maledictum et cum veritate were made in campus disputatio. In light of your status, rank and privilege as an Interrogator of the Most Holy Orders of the God-Emperor's Inquisition, and applying the principle of ubi facere est, esse est, we hereby grant you, in the name of the God-Emperor of Mankind, the rights, privileges and duties of the office, title and rank of Inquisitor Ordinary. Take the Rosette, Inquisitor."
Daneel's Inquisitorial Rosette had been suspended at the center of the courtroom throughout the trial - a palpable reminder of the purpose of the proceedings - but now Danforth stepped forward and reached for it, feeling his fingers turn weightless as they entered the anti-grav field of the suspensorium. But before he could grasp it, the Rota's voice stopped him;
"Not you, Laertes. Stark."
Teeth gritted, as if she were struggling against a compulsion not her own, Stark rose and stalked towards the Rosette, snatching it out of the anti-grav field and pinning it roughly and without ceremony to Danforth's tunic. "Congratulations, Inquisitor," she snarled.
Danforth offered her his hand - an ancient Terran custom, formal and deferential. "We do not need to be enemies . . . " he began, but she slapped it aside and turned away, stomping out of the courtroom without waiting for a response.

Return to Ophelia

Abandoned by her mistress and left adrift, Anastacia was taken under the wing one of the Lord-Inquisitors that made up the Rota-of-Three; he was of the Ordo Malleus and so Anastacia switched Ordos. She and Danforth shared one last night together and then a tearful farewell - she would accompany her new master to his area of operations while Danforth was returning to Ophelia. The judgement of the Rota-of-Three was that, as Danforth had been performing iudicium de inquisitionis sine maledictum et cum veritate in campus disputatio, sub principium ubi facere est, esse est, she had been acting sub necessitas and therefore there was no charge for her to answer. Nevertheless, the Palatine Council of the Daughters of Verity asserted its authority to judge if she should be censured for her actions.
Danforth could have overruled them by the authority of his new office, but he did not - he permitted the Council to sit in judgement and, although he defended her actions before them, made it clear he would abide by their decision. She was, in a matter of minutes, unanimously acquitted.
Grateful to be home in a way he could not comprehend, Danforth threw himself into his duties on the Shrine World. There was no shortage of heretical cults - and most of them truly that; heretical and schismatic deviations from the approved Imperial Cult rather than outright-worship of the Ruinous Powers or rejection of the God-Emperor - to monitor, investigate and suppress. But his first action was to appoint his sister Throne Agent; orphans both they had grown up without a true family even though they had been granted facsimiles of it. But now they realized these had been mere shadows and hollow reflections of the real thing

Sexuality

Borderline-obsessed with casual sexual encounters with blonde women after the loss of Anastacia Ternovnik.

Education

'Dust Zone schola, vocational training under Daneel Cygnus and Jessica Stark

Employment

Inquisitiorial Acolyte, Interrogator and Inquisitor.

Social

Family Ties

Brother of Alicia Laertes and son of Daneel Cygnus & Shania.

Religious Views

Faithful adherent to the Imperial Creed

Speech

Possesses a well-educated and extensive vocabulary. Speaks with a learned-Terran accent with 'Dust Zone elements.

Relationships

Alicia Laertes

Sister (Vital)

Towards Danforth Laertes

5

5

Frank

---

Danforth Laertes

Brother (Vital)

Towards Alicia Laertes

5

5

Frank

---

History

Twin siblings but raised apart, became aware of each other 994.M41.

Anastacia Ternovnik

Lover (Vital)

Towards Danforth Laertes

5

5

Honest

---

Danforth Laertes

Lover (Vital)

Towards Anastacia Ternovnik

5

5

Honest

---

History

Met in 40984 and served Jessica Stark as Acolytes and Interrogators together. They were antagonistic at the beginning but became friends and then lovers over the years.

"All I ever wanted was the truth."

Honorary & Occupational Titles

Inquisitor

Life

40968 41138 170 years old

Circumstances of Birth

Twin brother of Alicia Laertes, son of Shania as a result of rape by Daneel Cygnus

Circumstances of Death

Obliterated by the God-Emperor to fuel the Golden Throne

Birthplace

The 'Dust Zone

Place of Death

Sanctum Imperialis, Terra

Spouses

Siblings

Current Residence

La Pucelle

Sex

Male

Eyes

Piercing "verity" blue

Hair

Thick, black with gray-streaks

Height

6'3"

Belief/Deity

Imperial Creed (Cult of Verity)

Aligned Organization

Inquisition

Other Affiliations

• Daughters of Verity

Known Languages

High Gothic, Low Gothic, Sororitas Battlecant

Appears in...

• Danforth & Daneel
• Danforth & Shania
• Danforth and Amelia: Kuiper Belt
• Perry & her Opus
• Revelations

Character Prototype

The actor Nathaniel Parker was an inspiration for his appearance.