The fragmented history of Askellon is steeped in religous tradition, and so the Ecclesiarchy has always claimed an intimate connection with the wellbeing of the Sector. The Lords of Askellon may be the face of local Imperial rule, the saying goes, and the Administratum its cumbersome hands, but the Imperial Cult will always lay claim to the Sector's fervent, choleric heart.
This is more than mere rhetoric. With its sermons and confessionals, as well as the attentions of the Orders Hospitaller and other outreach organisations, the Ecclesiarchy has a finger on the pulse and whisper in the ear of almost every citizen of Askellon, from the proudest Lord to the most cowed Mutant. It is a foolish Governor indeed who neglects the upkeep of the Imperial Cult's many magnificent cathedrals and monuments, or dismisses the deliberations of the many synods and convocations as mere theological puffery. Askellon was spared many of the ravages of the Age of Apostasy, but the the local Ecclesiarchy is hardly passive, Decree be damned.
Indeed, in the last century or so the Adeptus Ministorum has only become more prominent in the operation of the Sector. Pilgrims by the million flood the space lanes once dominated by Chartist cargo ships and the Tithe haulers of the Adminstratum. Indeed, the prominent Anzaforr Rogue Trader dynasty now actively curries favour with Arch-Cardinal Harus by conveying the faithful along the most sanctified routes the Pandaemonium will permit. From the ranks of the common citizenry, too, cult upon cult takes to the streets every year, in seeming response to the Great Storm's ceaseless waxing. Cries to the Emperor for mercy, salvation, or reward rise ever higher, mixed with the sound of flagellation and the wailing of their percieved enemies. Keeping track of them all would strain the wit and will of even the most well-resourced institution, and so the distinction between a mob devoted to some new expression of the Imperial Creed, and one worshipping The Ruinous Powers is frequently lost upon the worthies of the Ministorum and Ordo Hereticus.
One fell day, the Pax Imperialis shall forever recede from the Askellon sector, and the Great Storm shall break upon it one last time. On that day, the voices of the people will rise to beseech the god in whom they have been taught to place their every hope.
Only time will tell if that god deserves their faith.
The Flow of Power
As with all wings of the Priesthood of Earth, the Ecclesiarchy's base of power is located upon Juno. From the Basilica of Valerius Risen, Arch-Cardinal Harus brings down his judgement upon the people of this capital planet, and, by extention, the entirety of Askellon. His eschatological fundamentalism, demanding strict adherence to the teachings of the vaunted saint Valerius, reaches ears across the system and spreads out across the sector via the Grand Processional. So far, the fires of devotion have no distinct foe aginst which to turn; it is only a matter of time before the rampant congregations turn their pent-up zeal upon themselves, or set upon whatever hapless group of outcasts happens to catch their attention.
Those unnerved by Harus' belligerence may look elsewhere for spiritual guidance, and find a plausible candidate in the form of Arch-Cardinal Bavarus Konseig. Not only has this student of history ruled the prominent Shrine World of Ossuar for over a century, she has also been the de-facto Sub-Sector Praefectus of Thule for almost half that time, ever since the assassination of her secular predecessor. Her steady hand and unparalleled knowledge of the many legendary figures at the heart of Askellon's enduring legacy could be exactly what this benighted sector needs, as its hour of greatest trial paces hungrily at the edge of the light.
Of course, the Emperor's Light burns in the breast of every loyal citizen, and the less people have, the harder they cling to the little that remains. Cults of the faithful have always been a way in which the people of Askellon to give voice to their collective id, whether for the pure expression of catharsis, or as the spark for genuine, transformative violence. Many such organisations have sprung up in the wake of the Vaxi Atrocity. Some, such as the Sons of Temperance or Servants of the Iridescent Aquila, can be understood as semi-political entities, vectors and vents for frustration with local authority in a legitimatised, and therefore controllable, context. Others, such as the traditions around mythologised figures such as Saint Daphon or The Belle of Lost Souls, speak to something more instinctive, and therefore draw significantly more suspicion from the few members of The Inquisition who deign to notice them. Some eruptions of zeal, such as the genocidal Consanguinity or the psytheistic Adorii Cults, take things too far even for the uncompromising Imperium, and so are subjected to proscriptions of their own. For every such congregation put to the flame, however, another dozen show up, each screaming their devotion to the roiling sky.
