From that day on Maximilian had a purpose. To seek out justice, or more importantly its consequence; the punishment of the wicked. He would not merely consign himself to the orphanage, but also wandered the streets and alleys of the local hab-block, and even beyond that when he grew older. He became an expert at observation, deduction, reading people, learning of their hidden secrets and transgressions. Living in the lower part of a Malfian Hive taught him important lessons – there are no innocents, everyone is guilty of something. Being a kid he couldn't do much himself, not directly anyway. Instead he applied other key principles of life; there was always victims, there was always enemies, and there was always a desire to visit vengeance upon your tormentors. Maximilian became, in his own eyes at least, an agent of justice, helping facilitate the punishment of the wicked.

Late, when he was older and his body had grown strong and lean, he would learn another lesson; that sometimes justice could only be done through the application of violence – sometimes even fatal violence. There were times when the victims were dead, or too weak or frightened to rise to the occasion. There were times when the perpetrator was too strong. There were times when Maximilian knew injustice had been done, but when proof of the crime proved hard to find. But when a crime was committed, punishment must naturally follow, lest justice be denied. And so Maximilian became something of a vigilante – or an agent of justice, depends on the eye of the beholder. He'd beat the smaller kids if they did anything wrong. He'd carve the older ones with his shiv in the dark of night if he thought they deserved it. He'd shoot an alley-scum in the face for molesting one of his brothers. Whatever it took to satisfy Maximilian's sense of what justice required. All the while hiding under the wings of Ballack, who had become something of a leader among the boys after the incident with the toy.

Ballack, who had at first been quite please to have the slightly crazy boy loo up to him, eventually began to tire of him. He was trying to build himself a gang out of the elder orphanage boys, meaning to expand into the streets and carve himself a turf. He considered bringing Maximilian into the gang, for he would have made a good enforcer, but the smaller boy had made too many enemies and Ballack wasn't entirely sure he could be trusted. He sensed, correctly as it were, that Maximilian had no true loyalty to him. As far as Ballack could tell the boy was completely self-centered and loyal only to himself. And so he decided that it would be best for Maximilian to go away, directing two of his minions to carry out the deed. The very next morning the two boys were found brutally murdered and gang-raped; foolish boys, to have entered onto the turf of a rival gang in the adjacent hab-block. Ballack must have taken their deaths very hard indeed, for he was found hanging in the shower with a noose around his neck, and a short suicide-note scribed upon the tiled walls of the bathrom.

Shortly thereafter, Maximilian was around twelve at the time, he was taken to the Headmaster of the orphanage, something that but rarely happened to any of the boys (and when it did it was never pleasant). The Headmaster informed Maximilian that he had seen fit to sponsor him into the Adeptus Arbites College. He was to leave that same day. Maximilian was both confused and elated – him as an Arbitrator? It seemed impossible. But yet it was true. To the young boy it was as if the Emperor himself had seen his actions and approved of them. Yes, that's how it was. His quest for justice had been noticed by the Imperial saints, and now they were giving him his just reward. As the boy left the he Headmaster poured himself a very large amasec, drinking it all in a few large gulps before helping himself to another and heaving his great bulk onto his favorite couch. The boy was trouble, no doubt about that. Completely insane most likely. But now he was gone and would never trouble Headmaster Guilus again. He wouldn't last long with the Arbites. He'd break some regulation or law and then he'd spend his day as a mind-scrubbed servitor, endlessly cleaning the flagstone floors of whatever Precinct he was assigned to. Finally some justice for all the trouble he'd caused at the orphanage, the headaches caused, the revenues lost. Ah, the Emperor helps those who help themselves...