Vitruva's forces were victorious but victory was, as always, the moment of greatest vulnerability. Battle had exhausted them and as the wave of righteous wrath and the jubilation of victory pass they were left drained of all vitality and vigor. The wounded screamed or begged for water and the rudamentry squads the Sister of Battle had established disintigrated as the survivors decended into an orgy of looting.
Frateris militia were the final line of defense for a reason. Discipline, order and leadership were more than just words.
The sun crept through the sky as she fought a one woman battle against chaos. The wounded were separated into groups based on the severity of their wounds and those with rudimentary medical skills assigned to aid those who could still be saved. Those who could not were taken into a nearby basement and given the emperor's mercy with a rusted laspistol. Squads were reformed and looted equipment distributed among the surviving militia which provided a considerable boost to their firepower. Prisoners were interrogated by Vitruvia herself, though not a Hospitaller the horrors a chainsword could inflict in the hands of a fanatical holy warrior snapped the will of more than a few of the PDF unlucky enough to not perish in the fighting. It was through intelligence gathered by crude and brutal interrogation that she learned of the base from which the PDF had been dispatched.
Vitruvia summoned one of the militia and gave orders immediately upon discovering this. "Go to Horacio, if he yet lives. Tell him of our victory and that we have learned the location of the PDF's base, which I strongly suspect is the den from which this heresy springs. Also convey to him the location of said base and that I and my forces will be making my way there with all speed so that it may be assaulted before they understand what has happened here. The fog of war will shield the righteous if we have the wisdom to strike now."
Orders given the holy warrior set out, driving her exhausted militia with merciless zeal. Some stragglers fell to the wayside, unable to keep the pace and weighed down by looted weapons and armor taken from the defeated PDF. Others were brought low by the respiratory wasting sicknesses brought on by a lifetime of breathing the suffocating smog the lower classes dwelled in. And others still slunk away, their taste of battle breaking their courage, some thinking they had done their duty to the Emperor and others simply frightened by the grusome reality of violent conflict.
It was a much reduced force that arrived at the compound with Vitruvia at their head, a psalm building behind her lips and visions of glorious battle against the enemies of the God-Emperor playing in her minds eye.
The reality was a crushing disappointment. Inquisitor Kliment and her sisters had already stormed the compound. There would be no climatic battle against the beating heart of this heresy; the Emperor in his wisdom had seen fit to deny her that honor. She choked back her disappointment as she entered the compound, black power armor covered in dust and the smeared blood of her forgotten wounds.
For a moment she imagined what could have been if she had been quicker. More disciplined. Better. A final battle, side to side with the Inquisitor! Glory or martyrdom in the Emperor's name!
She removed her helmet and tucked it under her left arm as she made her way through the remains of the battle, arriving at the scene as Kilment emerged with his prisoner in tow.
It was a victory but to Vitruvia it felt hollow and she silently vowed to devote herself to the study of leadership, tactics and swordplay like never before. Mere service to the Emperor was not enough. The God-Emperor of Mankind deserved greatness.
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