Kozelian was pure Underhive scum, through and through.
No parents, no origin, just a baby who came down through the massive pipes with the rest of the garbage.
A trash-rat in every sense.
The White Rebar gang took the infant in.
They handed the baby off to an old man to raise.
The old man went by Old Rotten Tooth.
The name Kozelian came from a piece of discarded packaging Old Rotten Tooth had found.
It seemed decent enough, so Kozelian became Kozelian.
Old Rotten Tooth carried little Kozelian on an old back across every garbage heap in the Underhive.
By the time Kozelian was old enough to walk, skinny as a stripped wire, the ability to identify anything valuable in a pile of refuse had already become second nature.
The greatest joy in life was finding even a scrap of food in the garbage that came pouring down from above.
The happiest day Kozelian could remember was the thirteenth birthday.
The day apparently had a name, “Emperor’s Ascension Day.” Kozelian had no idea who the Emperor was.
Probably some powerful Hive City boss.
That day, a flood of uneaten food came tumbling down through the pipes and set off a scramble among the Underhive trash-rats.
Using a small, skinny frame to every advantage, Kozelian fought through the chaos and came away with half an energy bar for Old Rotten Tooth.
The two of them sat together and took turns bite by bite until it was gone.
On the days when dumping was prohibited and nothing came down, Kozelian had nothing to do but sift through whatever reading material had arrived with previous loads of trash.
There were a few books that Kozelian particularly liked, ones with plenty of illustrations.
Kozelian loved to read.
Nobody had ever taught the letters, so it was one character at a time, piecing things together from the pictures and sheer stubborn talent.
Eventually, Kozelian became one of the very few people in the Underhive who could actually read.
But literacy had its limits.
It couldn’t do much against the sickness that had taken hold of Old Rotten Tooth.
Old Rotten Tooth couldn’t get up anymore.
Kozelian tore through garbage with frantic desperation, trying to scrape together enough batteries to buy some medicine.
The search went so far as crawling nearly 200 meters of pipework into the Lower Hive just to dig through the trash there.
Today, Kozelian slipped quietly back to the dwelling, if the oversized tin shack could even be called that.
Kozelian crept inside.
The next instant, a furious roar erupted right beside the ear.
“You little wretch — how dare you come here looking to collect.”
Something slammed into the side of the head.
The floor came up fast, and then the kicks started.
Several gang members laid into Kozelian viciously, pinned the body down, and ripped away the piece of numbered sheet metal that had taken all day to find.
That thing was worth a fortune.
It could have been traded for a whole bottle of water.
“No — give it back!
That’s mine!”
“Yours?
No — that belongs to the Blood Fang Gang!”
The leader turned the numbered panel over with a smug, satisfied look.
“So you’ve been digging down in the Lower Hive lately.
“That medicine is for my father.”
“Your father?
A dying old wreck.
What does he need medicine for.”
“Today’s haul is just the interest.
In three days I’m coming back to collect again.”
The gang turned to leave, laughing.
And then the leader walked face-first into a steel plate.
“What the, who…”
Looking up along the steel plate, the leader found a massive iron tin can looming nearly twice as tall as any of them.
The gang went quiet.
A voice came from beside them.
“Which one of you is…
Ko-de, Go-de, Kozelian?”
Bonar sounded out the name carefully.
He’d been staring at the crooked, uneven characters for a while before he could make out what they were supposed to say.
Every head turned toward the figure lying on the ground, covered in wounds.
Bonar’s brow furrowed.
He walked over and helped Kozelian up.
“Excuse me, are you Kozelian?”
The blood-streaked face stared back blankly for a moment.
Kozelian had never seen clothes that white.
This had to be a lord from the Upper Hive.
Terror came flooding in without warning.
Kozelian scrambled upright and started kowtowing frantically.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to steal the garbage, I thought nobody wanted it.”
“I only wanted a bit of scrap to pay for my father’s medicine.”
“I’ll pay it back, I promise, please don’t throw my father out.”
Bonar’s expression was difficult to read.
One look was enough: the Thunder Warriors clamped hands over the gang members’ mouths and dragged them away without a word.
He looked back at Kozelian.
The frantic trembling gradually began to ease.
“Don’t be afraid.
I only have one question.”
“Mm,” Kozelian said, still not quite settled.
“Roughly forty-two days ago, did you sit an examination?”
Kozelian thought back.
Some time before, while digging through garbage in the Lower Hive, Kozelian had stumbled across an Adeptus Arbites patrol and bolted in blind panic into the nearest building.
Once the doors were sealed, Kozelian sat with the rest and answered the questions they were given.
“I’m sorry, my lord, I didn’t mean any harm, I just panicked.”
“I’m so sorry for the trouble, I’m sorry.”
“Quiet.”
Bonar’s voice cracked like a whip, and Kozelian went still.
He held up the examination paper.
The writing on it was so crooked and uneven it was nearly impossible to decipher.
“Setting aside those who only wrote out Imperial prayers, and those who couldn’t write at all, you gave the best answers of anyone in Lower Hive sector C-2.
Your answers at least showed genuine practicality.”
“The Adeptus Arbites said they couldn’t locate you, so I came to find you myself.”
“Now answer me one question.”
“Are you willing to become an official of the Interior Ministry?”
Kozelian had no idea what an Interior Ministry official was, or what one was even supposed to do.
Both hands came up in alarmed refusal.
“I can’t, my lord, I still have my father to look after.
I can’t leave him.
He’ll starve.”
“Please, give me a little time.
Once I’ve seen to my father, I’ll come and work for you.
I’ll definitely come.
I promise.”
Bonar’s brow creased, and Kozelian, mistaking it for displeasure, started kowtowing again with renewed panic.
He reached down and pulled Kozelian to both feet, leaving long smears of grime across the white robe.
“Kozelian.
I am not putting you to work as a servant.
You are a person.
Not anyone’s slave.”
“I am calling on you now, in the name of the Emperor of Mankind, to give your energy and your time, to work for the future of humanity.”
“Do you understand?”
What he got back was a face of complete incomprehension.
Once again, an Underhive dweller had pushed the floor even lower on Bonar’s already subterranean expectations of how little the people of the Imperium could know.
“Fine.
Kozelian, just come and work.
Your pay will be roughly ten energy bars a day.”
Kozelian’s eyes lit up.
“Yes, my lord.
I’ll work as hard as I can for you.”
Then came a move to kneel and kiss Bonar’s shoe, stopped by a firm hand pulling upward.
“That’s enough.
Come with us.”
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