Yvrine's already dark face darkened further and she tensed, her hand straying for a weapon. Camilla placed a hand on the Senshal's wrist, restraining further action. Alcander looked mildly perplexed but not worried. The situation was more complicated than the investigator understood but Camilla fancied she could follow the gears turning in his eyes.

"Yes Yvrine, let's feed the good probator then take him to meet the Rogue Trader."

An hour later, after a meal of pickled vegetables fried with some kind of cheesy flour bater, Camilla led Alcander into a cold, sterile room beneath a local medicae facility. They were deep below the ground and the air was so cold that their breath steamed out in long plumes that caught the bright overhead lumens. There was a strong smell of counterseptic overlaying the more unpleasant scent of death and base organic chemicals. Medicae Mortis in their dark robes shuffled past, faces wrapped in heavy woolen cloth, pierced only dark red lenses mounted in dark tubes. Some sported brutal looking mechadendites tipped with saws, clamps and other surgical tools that gave them an oddly arachnid appearance.

 Camilla pushed open a door to a room that contained three steel plinths with surgical drains ringing their edges. Only one of them was occupied. The Old Man lay in state, he was as he had been found, still stained with the dirt and blood of his death. Camilla had ordered that no cleaning be done, nothing beyond what was absolutely necessary by the autopsy which had been conducted. She had wanted to set up a stasis field at the murder site but Yvrine had pointed out that by the time they bought one down from the ship, the blowing grit of Godfarthing would have scoured his flesh from his bones. The Rogue Trader's modesty was protected by a plastec sheet that concealed his wounds and most of his body.

"It is my honor to present Orthelio Bathazar Connar Travegion Sindilo Belchite, Duke of Cabreze, Hierophant of Colton's World, Captain General of Spinward League, Hereditary Colonel of the Coldface Dragoons, Lord of Breka, Commodore of the Illiadyen Argosy, by the Grace of the Immortal Emperor, Captain and Rogue Trader," Camilla intoned with funereal dignity. Yvrine shifted uncomfortably.

"We need you to find his killer."