Alcander had never liked warp travel. It made his stomach churn, and felt all too vulnerable. The time disparity also never sat right with him. He was never keen on situations he couldn't have some modicum of control. However, after the journey from Castobel to Godfarthing, he recalled he did not much like interplanetary travel either. 

They had been picked up by something Alcander fancied looked like an Arvus Lighter, only sleeker and longer, with a reinforced hull. The liason had called it an Avro-transport, a old craft refurbished by the Arkon corporation, evidently. He had never heard of them, but then again, Alcander had been out of the public eye the past few years. He had tried to bury his head in the sand as much as he could, so it was to be expected. Even so, despite the solid transport and the in-flight refreshments, it was met with turbulence from solar winds, and unexpected void debris, making the two day journey a three day slog with little in the way of sleep. It did little to help his mood. His badge, arm slate, even his laspistol had been confiscated from him by the bastion chief. Evidently it was up to his 'new' employer to provide what he needed for him, beyond his clothes and good looks, and he doubted he still had the latter anymore with his recent luck with women.

The Avro-transport made a relatively smooth transition through the atmosphere, and the hot white planet rose up around them as they approached slowly. He saw the distant figures of great hive cities hundreds, if not thousands of miles away. But where they were landing was in the middle of nowhere, hardly noticable until they were a mere mile above the surface. The starport was bigger than he expected, but still a podunk, obscure spit of civilization in the vast cracked wastes and gullies that filled the horizon. The transport touched down with a soft lurch, and within a minute the door opened, hot air carried by an insistent wind scythed into the cabin. 

Two low level security men and the liaison stepped out first, followed by Alcander, who shielded his eyes from the hot sun above. He wondered if this world even had clouds. 

"There they are," the liaison remarked, pointing north. "You can finally get some answers, and maybe something to eat." 

Alcander said nothing. His armored, black coat had been taken away, replaced by a worn duster. He grabbed the hems and straightened it, despite the wind calming down. Flanked by the security, Alcander approached what looked like two women, his guess turning correct as he walked closer. One was a darker skinned, muscled woman, with a strong jaw and keen eyes. She was nearly as tall as him. To her right was an olive skinned vixen, a woman he had considered merely beautiful that became stunningly beautiful as he approached. Most probators in his position would have counted himself lucky, being taken off world at the behest of a rogue trader, meeting with gorgeous women on a clandestine world. But he had chosen his life of anonymity. That, and he was not so keen on a beautiful woman. He didn't trust them. Call it prejudice, but he had experienced his fair share. 

"-younger than I expected," he heard the dark woman say softly, only catching the tail end of their exchange.

He allowed himself the smallest of smiles, before blanketed his face into a neutral look once again. Despite his reservations, he wouldn't be disdainful. Once the probator was a few meters away from the two, he opened his mouth to speak, but the darker woman cut him off. 

"Welcome. You stand in the presence of Heir Presumptive to the Warrant of Trade, Camilla Belchite Del'a'Trantio. And I am Yvrine, honored Seneschal of Lord Captain and Rogue Trader Orthelio Bathazar Belchite." She said, a small accent slipping through her clipped speech, using the high gothic. This Camilla looked at her funny, but their eyes widened a fraction when he gave the proper hand sign of meeting nobility, speaking back to them in the same dialect. 

"Honored. I am Alcander Mires, probator of Castobel and servant of the Imperium." He said by way of greeting, the wind picking up again, swaying his duster and unruly hair, still unbrushed from the journey of the void. As standard as the transport was, it was still a small vessel without a proper shower. He had to make do with a change of clothes and a small restroom. He cleared his throat, and despite his restless state, his eyes were set and penetrating. "Now, would you be so kind as to let me meet your Lord Captain? I admit I am limited on my information. And could I trouble you for a meal?"