Norwich, Kingdom of London
2999
The Norwich Mechanical Cathedral changed hands more times than countable on the hands of every Techpriest in the cathedral, mostly during the early period of the Third Dark Age after the collapse of the British government centuries ago. Pagans, Catholics, Protestants, or secular bandits were usually the takers. The year 2987 was the first time a cult held the city, but Rory would never call it a cult out loud. Rory prayed in solitude in an enclave. Officially to the "machine spirits", which are real strangely enough. Unofficially, he prayed to the same deity his father prayed to, and his father before him, and so on. The language may have changed, from "Atomic English" a thousand years ago, to Low Gothic English, to the current High Gothic English, but the sentiment was the same.
Rory didn't risk even mouthing the prayer in fear a camera watched in the enclave or a microphone.
When the Norwich Republic fell to the Kingdom of London in 2987, one of the first things the theocracy did was expand the infrastructure for the Infinity Circuit. When Rory dies, the Techpriests remind him weekly, his soul will not ascend to the heavens, but descend to power the country and the country's machines of war.
That conversation happened a few months ago, and was plainly uncomfortable for both the Techpriest and Rory. "You're saying that spirits actually do power London's death machines?" Rory had asked. "The 'machine spirits'?"
"Yes. This is how it works."
"Even the souls of the people of Norwich?" The Priest nodded. "There were, and probably still are, a lot of people not happy with London. In the stories, the machine spirits controlled machines. Why haven't we heard of a Vyper firing on Londoners or Soldier-Inquisitors?"
"The stories are true, but only strong spirits can exert power over machines."
"The Champion of Norwich could, I bet." Rory threw down the gauntlet.
The Techpriest frowned, "It is good that he is dead then." The Techpriest had escorted Rory out of the cathedral after that.
Gerald Antweiler, the Champion of Norwich, is rumored to still be "alive" in the Infinity Circuit. The psyker slain hundreds of Londoners and nearly a dozen of London's most powerful psykers when they attempted to take the cathedral twelve years ago. The duel between the future Imperial Patriarch and The Champion had been climatic. Rory still remembered that cool summer day....
Arkos had one spear left, the others broken by the Champion's hammer. The future patriarch charged the Champion with the spear, sidestepped an overhand one-handed swing of the mighty warhammer and ducked Gerald's defensive backhand. The spear pierced the armor and belly of the Champion. Such a wound, while devastating, could be fixed and the Champion still had fight in him. With spear stuck in armor and flesh, Arkos seemed good as dead as the hammer rose again.
But it wasn't a normal spear. The spearhead was a high-tech weapon, designed for piercing armor and filling the wearer with the same liquid used in the shadow weaver. Liquid sprayed from hundreds of microscopic tubes and formed a thread, linked together by magnetic-gravitic clamps that were repelled by the spearhead's magnet. The web shredded organs, flesh, and bones. Rory didn't see that; it was all inside the armor. He heard about that later. What Rory saw was Gerald raising his warhammer....and it sliding out of his hands to land with a heavy thud signaling the end of Norwich's resistance against London.
The memory pained Rory. He had been part of the militia holding up in the fortress cathedral. When Gerald died, the fighting spirit in the defenders died with him.
Rory finished his prayer, rose, and left the dark of the cathedral to the light and cold of the winter afternoon. The garrison had been allowed to leave, but many in that garrison died in the last twelve years due to heresy, blasphemy, illegal possession of firearms or explosives, and a slew of other charges. Rory had kept his nose clean partly because he knew (he just knew) that the Inquisition would be waiting for him to slip so they can catch him in a night web when he falls. If the Inquisition came for him, they will come in the middle of the night while he slept and drag him to wherever heresy was dealt with.
But that was only partly. Rory wondered how his life would have turned out, or ended, if he hadn't meant his future fiance and wife in a bread line a few weeks after the end of the war. If not for her, and the children, he probably would be screaming his confessions to heresy and whatever other crimes he had "committed". Or, more likely, he would be killed by soldiers with an assault rifle in his hands that were still widely available in late-80s.
With a quick, silent prayer, Rory went home to his family.