[IC] The Enemy Within: Warhammer 40K RP

[POOHEAD189]

"Burn them all. The Emperor will know His own."

999.M41
Pavonis (Mining World)
Governor's Palace

There were three knocks on the door. They echoed down the halls of the Governor's mansion, though Palace seemed a more apt word to describe such an immense complex. The Courtyard was large enough for the annual parade, and the entire force of Adeptus Arbites was housed across the expanse, within the walls of the Palace. Outside the door, stood the adept that awaited judgement. He had faced cultists and criminals, and even the brutal Xenos called the Orks in a short but furious day on the planet of Zorlago. However, his heart still could not remain steady, for he was to face the three Inquisitors that stood within the next room. The ones that now summoned him for an audience.

Hieronymus Baldemar had spent a dozen standard years as an acolyte, following Inquisitor Aldrik in all of his endeavors. Many mundane tasks, to be sure. Fetching the Inquistor's pen and ink, carrying his equipment. He had taken various tests and exams, some scholarly and others under live fire. However, he had also seen more of the Imperium than nearly any guardsman could ever dream. Heironymus would never forget the day he had floated within the orbit of Holy Terra, and witnessed the birthplace of humanity. He had not felt worthy enough to step foot upon it, and when he was denied the chance, he felt both intense disappointment, and thankful ecstasy, as if for fear the Emperor himself would stare into his soul and would find him wanting.

Now he found himself on Pavonis. A mining world in the Ultima Segmentum, where the Ultramarine's 4th company and the deceased Inquisitor Barzano of the Ordo Xenos had foiled a heretical rebellion, begun by the machinations of the dark eldar and the being labeled 'The Nightbringer' within the planet's lower reaches. For two years, various members of the Inquisition had labeled it a planet that could potentially be subject for investigation if not purging. It was now being decided on if the heresy had been quelled or not. Though it was a different matter being discussed in that room now, one that involved Heironymus himself, and the young adept's very future.

The adept opened the door, standing rigid and at attention, his clean shaven face as sculpted in a visage of civic virtue and staunch acceptance of whatever his master had deemed worthy. The door opened up to reveal the highest authority on the planet, the Governor Mykola Shonai. However, her power paled in comparison to the three men that sat across from her. Inquisitors Alrik, Falke, and Ludewig. The man who had knocked was one of the Governor's servants, an attendant that was now under the authority of the Inquisitors, as the lady Governor was. She was a statuesque woman, aging in years with a fine silver in her hair, with a competent stoic nature that would fool any of her subordinates, though any Inquisitor or adept could see her wariness, and even fear at having to deal with so many of the Imperial Inquisition.

"Adept Baldemar, step within please. We were just discussing you." Inquisitor Alrik said, his nonchalant tone somehow carrying the weight of authority that none save the Chapter Master Dante, or perhaps the Emperor himself could match. Heironymus stepped inside and stopped a few paces away from the cloaked men, who all stood up to attend to him.

"Are our negotiations done, gentleman?"" The Governor Shonai asked, trying to be as polite as possible through a near unreadable face of neutrality.

"No, but we're simply pausing, Governor. It will only take a moment." Inquisitor Ludewig said, and Alrik faced his adept squarely. The master Inquisitor wore a dark coat and a dark leather hat. Though his shirt underneath was covered by carapace armor. He wore plated recoil gloves, and at his neck was an auspex scanner that he could don when he felt it prudent. And though he was often distant, even cold. He held a smile that some might even call warm. "Harry," he began, using Heironymus's informal name he would often only use to demean the adept in front of others, but somehow, he knew he used it differently this time. The Inquisitor placed his hand on Heironymus's shoulder. "For twelve years, you have served faithfully. You've proven that you are just and determined, and with wisdom beyond your years. Now, you have one final test to perform, to prove that you are worth the seal of the Inquisition."

That statement caught adept Baldemar off guard, though he didn't show it. He had thought he would either be accepted or rejected the position to join the ranks of the Inquisition. What final test could he possibly mean? After a brief pause, gauging Heironymus's reaction, Inquisitor Alrik continued. "You are to be given the rank of Interrogator, and are to travel to the world Meridian in sub-sector Aurelia to investigate the disappearance of the Lord Leopold, and the many citizens that have vanished over the past three years. You will go with my aegis, and with the full authority of the Imperial Inquisition." His eyes were set hard, and Heironymus did not know if he should speak or not. He decided to remain silent. "I will remain here,the business is not yet done. I will await your return and your reports. However, you will not go alone. We have an adept here, and though she does not go as an Inquisitor, you're under my orders to treat her as an equal and to heed her advice. From all reports, she's quite good, lad. Understand?"

"It is," Heironymus said, nodding. The newly appointed Interrogator had a dashing quality to his looks, with a fine jawline and short cropped brown hair. He was six foot, with a trim, healthy physique and a slim waist, and eyes of storm blue. He seemed the perfect choice for a young Inquisitor, and he had a single-minded determination in purging all things heretical. However, he somehow felt this new assignment would test him to his limits. He had never operated for more than a tenday without Inquisitor Alrik. As the knock came at the door, all in the room turned to see the newcomer, the future partner of the recently advanced Interrogator.
@Penny

[Penny]

“Guilty,” the fat Ecclesiarch declared, his flab wobbled as he pounded his fist on the table. Each finger of the rotund man's hand glittered with jewelry. It would have been difficult for a slender man to make a fist but the sausage like digits flowed easily into a mass. Floating servoskulls obediently jotted the word on the transcription scrolls that spooled from their mouths, quills skittering audible even over the murmur of the crowd.

The Theatre of the Graces was attached to the Governor’s mansion and in practice, if not in public record, had been his private auditorium. The massive neogothic collesueum seated twenty thousand and had exceptional acoustics. The steep rise of its tiers allowed anyone present an excellent view of the central stage, it’s cold marble seats cushioned for the comfort of spectators. All of these attributes made it a perfect setting for the First, and perhaps the last, Inquisitorial Court of Pavoins.

Hundreds of people were seated on the first few tiers. It was an odd group, many wore grey Administratium robes, legal experts and functionaries, or perhaps expert witnesses. Other figures wore the gray black uniforms of the Arbities, officially the keepers of law but with no authority beyond that extended by courteously in these proceedings. Occasionally the red robed and heavily augmented figures of Tech Priests could be seen, though their role was to keep the equipment working rather than any active participations. The Ecclesiarchy was also very well represented, white robes with brilliant gold or scarlet ornamentation. Several processions held Icons of local saints or awkwardly positioned jeweled reliquaries. The remainder of the figures were in official Inquisition black, though most were Adepts. Full Inquisitors could be picked out by the instantly recognizeable rosettes that were pinned to their right shoulders. Many of these wore veils or distorter fields to blur their visages. Still more black clad figures were security, hard faced men and women with hellguns or other, less recogniseable weapons.

The Courts had been conveend to deal with charges of Heresy too wide spread for the normal mechanisms to handle. This was a fairly typical procedure on worlds which had recently been bought back into the Imperial Fold, or had, like Pavonis, suffered a major insurrection. The focus of the even were seven podiums arrayed around the central stage, and a single chair in its center. The chair held the accused, presently a terrified looking man of middle age who stood accused of trying to purchase sorcerous help to settle some petty business rivalry. The seven podiums were given over to seven judges. Each of the five central podiums displayed an inquisitorial rosette at its edge, though the judges that sat behind them might or might not be themselves of Inquisitorial rank. It was not uncommon for authority to be delegated in situations such as this, nor was it uncommon for an Adept to fill the position while communicating with their principle via vox, or more esoteric means of communication. The last podium was for the Marshall of the Adeptus Arbites and the first for the high Ecclesiarch. While both of these had a vote, neither of them carried any weight and were purely another example of offical courtesy. That was good, because the fat Ecclesiarch had voted guilty for every single one of the three hundred and twenty two cases they had thus far reviewed.

“Guilty,” seconded a bored looking Interrogator with thinning blonde hair.

“Not guilty,” a palsied savant answered in a querulous tone.

“Guilty,” declared a straight backed man with close cropped hair and a military background.

“Not guilty,” hissed a hooded figure with an augmetic voice. He was bulky but that might have been armor rather than physique.

The fifth judge was a young looking woman in a white dress of conservative cut. Her figure though generous, was slightly distorted, input jacks were visible at her wrists and hinted at by slight irregularity in the hang of the fabric. A white cowl, stitched with intricate verses from the the Litany of Saint Emilia in fine gold thread, framed a smooth face of sharp angular features. Silvana Magdalena Euphrati was not quite as young as she looked. Juvenant treatments concealed the fact that she was approaching her fortieth year and it was always difficult to tell someone's age when you couldn’t see their eyes. Her eyes were concealed by a broad strip of black silk, similarly inscribed with the Litany of the Saint. In truth the blindfold concealed not eyes but empty sockets. Years before, on Holy Terra, she had undergone the shattering initiation rites of the Adeptus Astra Telepathicus. The memories of that time were mercifully vague, though she could still recall with crystal clarity the moment here eyes had been burned away. Medicae treatments had removed the scars but her optic nerves were too badly burned to ever admit of augmetics.

Silvana’s podium bore the rosette of her master, Inquisitor Alrik, whos authority she had borne since the beginning of the Court. Three hundred and twenty two judgements of life and death which the Inquisitor had entrusted to her. Seventy three of those men and women had been ushered to the rear of the theatre and unceremoniously shot. There was no time for traditional fires, much to the irritation of the rotund Ecclesiarch. Alrik had found her years ago on Caravagio, she had deserted her post and had been working on the black market. An unregistered astropath was a powerful draw for businessmen and nobles who wanted to send and receive messages without official records.That same lure had made her attractive to heretical cults that wanted to speak with others of their ilk off world. Astropaths could transmit a message without understanding it by means of various codes and ciphers and there was no way to know what they contained. That fact alone had spared her from the fires when Alrik had closed the noose on the cult he had been hunting on Caravagio. That and the fact that she had retained the sending datum of every transmission she had made. With her help he had been able to follow those datum to other cults within the sector. He had forgiven her and taken her into his service, using her psyonic gifts to serve the Imperium. Inquisitorial medicae surgeons had removed her sanctioning brands, repaired her scars and made her whole again for one purpose.

Silvana reached out with her mind, delicately brushing the mind of the bound prisoner. He mewled slightly and would have lost bladder control if he hadn’t already. The impression wasn’t precise. Any cases which could so easily have been solved had been executed or freed days ago. The mans mind was filled with terror, but it was the terror of a man holding onto something. A tiny something that he was trying to conceal. She teased at it trying to fathom it. Whatever it was it was old guilt, predating the uprising.

“Guilty,” she said in a clear voice that carried through the theatre. The man shouted in agonized terror, drowning out the Arbites ceremonial vote, but black clad Inquisitorial troops were already dragging the man from the stage. The Ecclesiarch nodded at her, rolls of fat rolling around his bejeweled pendants. She fought the urge to frown with distaste, even a broken chronometer was right once a millenia.

They recessed after that. It was midday and time for her to meet with Inquisitor Alrik as she had been directed. Despite her blindness, her abilities allowed her to move without aid. Many astropaths choose to ignore the physical word entirely but if one had the patience the psychometric image was close to what true sight could provide. She reached the Goveneros office without incident and knocked on the door. A moment later livery clad servants swung the ponderous door open.

Inside she saw Governor Shoani, looking nervous, as well he might, as well as three Inquisitors including Alrik himself. She stepped inside and curtsied to her Lord. The waves of discomfort rolling off Shoani were palpable. No one liked to be in the presence of a psyker, much less a telepath. A fifth man stood in the room a tall healthy looking man with startling blue eyes. She recognised him as Hieronymus Baldemar. Baldemar had been an Adept for several years. During that time she had glimpsed him only from afar. Most of her duties had been detached from Alrik, running lesser operations further afield, her gifts made her the perfect choice for such assignments.

“Ah Silvana my dear, I would like to officially introduce you to young Hieronymus,” the Inquisitor declared, slapping the Governer’s eyes away with a glance.

“She is formerly of the Astra Telepathica but had been my servant for over a decade now.”

“You are my most trusted servants, I would not order you to this task if it were not of the utmost importance.”
@POOHEAD189

[POOHEAD189]

There would be a flicker of recognition in Heironymus's eyes when he saw the Astropath, though in truth as soon as he saw her he recognized as her one of the Inquisitor's lesser adepts; that is, one not often directly under his supervision or tutelage. Silvana Magdalena Euphrati, an Astropath of some skill if he recalled correctly. Almost immediately he began to raise mental walls within his mind, as if he perceived her as a threat. But she had made no move to even probe his thoughts. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised. Inquisitor Alrik would not trust her unless she was trustworthy. The young Baldemar had simply heard of (and seen for that matter) too many psykers that needed to be executed.

"I recognize her, yes," Heironymus said, his voice low and smooth. His rougher accent having been refined over the years into a cultured tone. He pondered for but a moment, weighing the pros and cons of bringing along an Astropath. He wondered what information Inquisitor Alrik did not share with him if such a servant was needed, and to be his partner no less. "Inquisitor, I must ask what makes this necessary? Mere kidnappings can be solved with far less than a telepath. Surely she has other assignments she is in need of to fulfill." For his part, Inquisitor Alrik smirked for but a moment. "No, this will be perfect for her. She'll be a fine companion and you'll value her skills before long, as she will undoubtedly value yours."

The barest hint of praise drew Interrogator Baldemar's attention back to the Inquisitor, and he stood tall and firm. The very epitome of obedience to his master. "Sir," he said in acceptance. He wished to ask more, but he knew if he did, the Inquisitor would chide him for impatience or simply say he knew nothing else of value to the investigation. Alrik continued. "You're to board the Frigate Certatus tomorrow morning. You'll be traveling with the crew that is transporting raw materials to Meridian. I suggest you get some sleep."

With that, he turned to Silvana. "I have informed Heironymus to heed your council and treat you as a valued peer. I expect you to do the same, and follow his lead. I have raised him to the rank of Interrogator, and he will carry the seal of the Inquisition. The Lords of Meridian cannot see a Psyker questioning his authority in public. He shall listen to you, fear not. But he will lose their support if he loses yours. Is that understood?"

[POOHEAD189]

@Penny

[Penny]

Silvana observed the by play without comment. Some Inquisitors had psychic gifts but they were often looked at with suspicion by the more puritanical factions. The Holy Ordos was riven with internal politics and division which would have dismayed any Imperial citizen who could attempt to fathom the arcane workings of the Inquisition. Alrik himself rode the line between the Amathian and Monodomiant parties and his tolerance for psykers in general was low, if it hadn’t been for her long ago Soul Binding, she didn’t think he would trust her. Little wonder his student had similar misgivings.

Crossing the room she took the intricate Inquisitorial Rosette from her pouch and passed it wordlessly to Alrik who secreted away in a pocket in his vest. The implicit gesture of trust more impactful than any words of confidence might have been. She also withdrew a small data slate containing the transcription of the three hundred and twenty three cases she had thus far adjudicated and passed it to the inquisitor who set it atop a small table of brightly polished wood.

“Yes my Lord,” she said in a neutral tone, not pleased to be placed under the command of the newly minted Interrogator even if it were only titular. Years of careful training made it possible for her to keep it from her voice. Silvana wondered if Alrik really thought her Psykanna abilities would be needed or if he merely wanted to have a convenient channel to communicate with his apprentice. It could be either or both. If nothing else it was likely to be more interesting than sitting through the next several thousand cases here. She glanced at the sweating govenor wondering if the court would conclude with his case. No man was so without sin that the Inquisition didn’t make him nervous.

“Good, good,” the Inquisitor declared clapping them both on the shoulders.

“Gather what supplies you will require and get some rest there will be a lighter to carry you to the Certatus at dawn, the Throne go with you.”

It took two hours for the shaking to stop. The Certatus’ transition into the Immaterium, like all such transitions, was traumatic for Silvana. In ordinary circumstances an Astropath entering the warp would do so in a warded sanctum that would cushion the worst of the psychic shock but that chamber was reserved for the ships official astropath who might be needed to receive messages at a moments notice. A knock sounded at the door of the stateroom. It wasn’t the first such interruption but she had ignored the first several attempts. With a groan she pushed herself out of the large four poster bed and took a few unsteady steps to the porcelain wash basin. Splashing the cold water on her face didn’t help exactly but it did wash away the worst of the sweat.

The state rooms they had been given were baroque and luxurious. The carpet was of an expensive natural fibre, intricately woven into a geometric pattern. Large paintings, mostly oils of landscapes and various saints, hung in gilt edged frames. One of the paintings was a copy of Darsari’s Gethsemane and was particularly fine, clearly reproduced by one of the Master’s acolytes rather than a reprinted pict. Ignoring the knocking, Silvana seized a crystal decanter of amasec and filled one of the small glass, knocking back the expensive liquor in a single shot. It burned down her throat and warmed her belly steadying her.

The parlour attached to the bedroom was even more grandiose. Hand embroidered divans were placed strategically around the room each one worth more than the yearly income of most Imperial citizens. A large table of polished firestone stood in the center of the room surrounded by a dozen chairs and overhung by a large chandelier meant to suggest a saint borne aloft by wings of crystal. Discrete controls bespoke a holoprojector set into the table, but the transmission heads would have been invisible even to someone with organic eyes to see. One corner was a library, lined fine wooden shelves housing leatherbound books of ponderous antiquity and a smaller table that held a regicide board which had been carved from veined obsidian and electrum flecked quartz. The effect was somewhat spoiled by five large wooden crates which sat where the servitors had put them. Each one secured with purity seals to discourage the curious from exploring their contents. The journey to Meridian was to be five weeks if the Warp currents held. Not enough time to justify Silvana unpacking the crates herself.

The infernal knocking continued. Multiplied within her aching skull it sounded like the drum beats of damnation. She wanted to lash out with her gifts and drive the visitor away but that would have been an inexcusable abuse. She opened one of the finger seals on a crate and slid it open. Her wardrobe lay inside, neatly folded by the staff on Pavonis. She withdrew a black body glove and let her silk dressing gown fall to the ground. Naked her form was voluptuous and ripe but somewhat spoiled by the input jacks fused into the base of her spine and between her shoulder blades. She almost didn’t recognise herself as the emaciated scarred woman she had been before she began her association with the Inquisition. Her augmetics had been far larger and cruder then, replaced at Alrik’s orders to make her less conspicuous. It wasn’t perfect, it couldn’t be if she were to retain her ability to practice, in mute testament transmission wires, partially grown into her flesh, ran downwards from the shoulder jack before disappearing beneath the scapula. Old scar tissue puckered around the entry point, ugly and rough.

The body glove went on with the ease of long practice and she closed the seals on the front with a soft click. The garment hugged her body while still allowing her freedom of movement. Like all her garments it had been specifically tailored to conceal the augmetic input jacks. She ignored the knocking for a minute longer as she pulled on black dress boots and a long half duster of dark brown leather. Finally she added a utility belt though she neglected to add her holster and las pistol. It was mostly for show in any case. As an afterthought she wound the silk blindfold over her empty sockets. When she reached Meridian a more complete disguise would be needed but this was only for the comfort of others.

Moving to the door she waited until the knocking began again and deliberately pulled it open between blows so that a second knock fell on empty air. Baldemar stood there, one hand in the air and the other clutching a large data slate. He looked irritated at having been kept waiting but was struggling manfully to conceal the fact. A good instinct in an Interrogator. She felt a little jealous of Heironymus Baldemar. If Alrik were a little less hard line she might have been able to dream of a Rosette of her own oneday but there was little use in ignoring a field of blessings for the one ploin that had turned.

“Come in Interrogator,” she invited, making a gesture to the large table in the center of the room. THey hadn’t seen each other except for the ten minute shuttle ride to the ship and there had been too many naval personnel present to allow them to converse on sensitive matters. His surface thoughts skittered beneath mental shields, unreadable and opaque to her without serious attempts to probe. That would have been beyond inappropriate.

“You have come to discuss the case I take it?” she asked closing the door as he stepped inside.


@POOHEAD189

[POOHEAD189]

There was clear displeasure on his face. Over the course of minutes he had waited for a door that should have been opened immediately, and even past that, he would have sufficed for her to speak up. He had already been wary of her, but now he was quite annoyed with her to boot. The Inquisition and all of its adepts had been trained to deal with psykers, for psychic attacks could come from the daemon, the xenos, or the heretic. He knew its weaknesses and its uses, and though she would no doubt be invaluable in certain circumstances, he felt she also might be a potential liability on the mission.

"I have," he acknowledged, though he made no move to enter the room at first. "I had called one of the crew members to summon you, but when you wouldn't answer I came to see if you were in good health, myself. I see you were just taking your time." His tone was not particularly menacing, but disapproval was clear in his voice. "I had thought one as extensively trained as you could handle the transition into the warp with more grace." He did not particularly look forward to 5 months with psyker under his supervision, much less a somewhat rude one.

He stepped into the room, and shut the door behind him. Her chambers were much like his, with a dark, grim quality of the frigate while maintaining an air of lavish taste befitting one of his station. To be honest, it was something he was unused to. Inquisitor Alrik had kept him in very spartan quarters, and was a frugal man at the best of times. He could tell now why that was. When you had essentially unlimited power to wield in the Imperium and you can requisition whatever you wished, you should never abuse such a power and waste it on frivilous things. The enemies of the Imperium were ever present and ever watchful.

Heironymus Baldemar walked past her and sat down at one of the tables where food would be eaten, indicating her to sit as well. He chided himself. He did need to give her the impression he did not think ill of her, even if he did. Inquisitor Alrik had brought her for a reason, and he needed to trust in his judgement. "I know you are not thrilled at my being here, and my role in this mission. I can tell you the feeling is quite mutual." He assured her. "However, we cannot be at one another's throats when we reach Meridian, nor can we have a...volatile relationship onboard the Certatus."

He paused for a moment, clearly not wanting to utter his next phrase. "I apologize for my prejudice." His face did not look warm, but he seemed to be attempting to meet her halfway. "Now, when we get to Meridian, we're likely to see a situation that is even worse than was last reported. Though our contacts are within the Lords towers at the top of the Hive. Have you ever been to a Hive World?"
@Penny

[Penny]

Having no eyes had few advantageous, among that meager list however was the fact that others struggled to read your expressions. So much of human expression was held in ones eyes or the set of muscles around the eyes. Silvana’s glare was distinguished from neutrality by nothing more than the slight curve of her lips. No non-astropath would ever feel the shattering impact of a warp jump without secondary shielding. He didn’t know what it was like to feel, to see, the icy fingers of the warp reaching for you, trying to pull your mind appart. She took a deep breath, he was ignorant but that was not his fault.

“I apologize if my incapacity inconvenienced you Interrogator,” she replied, her tone tinged with frost despite her best efforts. She gestured to a chair with formal politeness inviting her guest to be seated. Hieronymus took a seat though she could sense his reluctance. She moved to the sideboard and retrieved a decanter of amasec and two glasses, set them down on the table.

“If the Inquisitor had time he would have installed a second warded sanctum, that is the usual practice,” she went on sitting in the other chair and steepling her fingers before her.

“A few hours of shivering and vomiting is a small price to pay for haste the Inquisitor felt.”

To give herself a moment she poured both glasses half full of the liquor, judging the level by the sound against the leaded crystal. It had a slightly spicy aroma that was not unpleasant.

“Regardless of what you might think. I do not have a problem with you being here. It is not for me to question Lord Alrik’s decisions,” she went on her tone completely neutral in tone and inflection. The amasec tingled on her lips as she sipped it and she felt the clenching muscles of her stomach relax. The psychic over pressure was beginning to fade as her mind grew used to the vibration of this particular Geller field.

“As it happens I have been on Hive Worlds before. Cadeus Majora, Syndicar, Anacton, that mess on Ijeina III,” she trailed off on the last, fighting back unpleasant memories of burning buildings and screaming victims. Her grip on the glass tightened slightly.

“But I have never been to Meridian.”
@POOHEAD189

[POOHEAD189]

Heironymus took the glass and twirled it within his left hand with an unpracticed elegance, as if it came naturally. He had taken on many of Inquisitor Alrik's habits. He had been a mere soldier of the Astra Militarum, set to die on an insane charge before the Inquisitor had taken him under his wing, having been observing him secretly for some time. Heironymus did not really recall his homeworld very well. It had been a feudal world, he had been told. It matched his memories from childhood. He still remembered when he had been taken when his family had died, and he never knew who had taken him until Inquisitor Alrik had come and saved him from his unit's last stand on Porellia.

He too what she said with a silent contemplation, giving the slightest nod as he gazed into what would usually be someone's eyes. Perhaps he had spoken a bit too rashly earlier, but admitting that in no uncertain terms would be ill advised for any Inquisitor, and it was what he needed to act like. However, he did not want her to think he held a personal grudge against her. "Inquisitor Alrik has told me he's killed quite a few Psykers in his time. But he does trust you. I should look past my prejudice, as he did." Heironymus conceded, and took a small drink of the amasec.

"I have a similar amount of experience. Armageddon and Necromunda, I have been to, albeit briefly. But Meridian is new to me. I trust we can resolve our issue there quickly and head back to Pavonis as soon as possible. Though we'll need to watch for the Lords and their schemes. From my datapad, there seems to be quite the amount of scandals." He scanned the screen once more, and then set it down between them. "I suggest you have a look at it as well, when you gather the time on our trip."

There was a low thrum that occurred from down the hall, Heironymus recognizing it as one of the auxiliary power supplies coming to life. It happened at least a dozen times within warp jumps. He quite liked the sound, if he was honest. Hard to believe that daemons of the warp were just outside the gellar field, meters from the ship. "Tell me of your duties for Inquisitor Alrik," he said, and then added as an afterthought. "If you would, please."
@Penny

[Penny]

Silvana suppressed a flinch at the momentary flicker of the Geller fields oscillation. Suggest she look at it indeed. Reaching out she touched the dataslate he had set down, the sense of his intense study lingered on the thing as well as determination to get to the bottom of the mystery that it laid out. She couldn’t read the slate in the way that he understood it but Astropaths had faced that problem for millenia. A snap of her fingers bought a whining servoskull into the room from the storage annex. The thing hovered just above head height on its antigrav plates as it zipped across the room to its mistress. The skull settled above her shoulder like a falcon, purity seals fluttered as it settled. Two long mechadendrites slide from its mouth, one of them encircled her wrist, the other plugging into the input jack of the dataslate with a metallic click. The air hummed slightly with the hiss of compressed air as the servitor began to tap out the contents of the files in extremely rapid pulses on her bare forearm.

“The Inquisitor used me in a number of ways,” she began, her mind was partitioned by her training, part of it completely absorbed in the information being transmitted to her and another part of it equally absorbed with the conversation.

“I have considerable skills in telepathy and mental manipulation, that is useful in interrogations as you might imagine,” Silvana explained she briefly considered speaking directly to his mind but decided that such an act of petty insolence was beneath her.

“Im also able to conduct auto-seances and psycometry. The Inquisitor finds me useful for my astropathic abilities as well, it is useful to have me with operations taking part far from him so that there is a reliable vessel of communication available without having to go through the Administratum.”

Alrik, like many inquisitors, had at least a dozen Adepts that often worked in teams of four or five. Sending the pair of them after something like this was an unusually small footprint. There was no way for her to know if that meant he thought it would be simple, or he was merely forcing his Interrogator to work outside his comfort zone. She had been working independently since before Blademar came to the Inquisitors service and so all of her information was second or third hand. Perhaps when they reached their destination she would suggest they hire some local talent.

“It sounds like the local nobles might react poorly to the open arrival of Inquisition Agents,” said the part of her mind fully occupied with the data slate. They would react with fear, fawning or obstructionism according to the assessment in the files, none of which would be conducive to finding answers. Perhaps the small commitment was intended to provide a touch of subtlety to a sensitive situation.

“I am aware of several occasions in which the Inquisitor has executed rogue psykers,” she replied in a dreamy voice, her mind increasingly fragmented by the multiple pathways it was pursuing.

“I have some training in dealing with such individuals, as you might imagine.” She was glad that her partitioned mind made the statement emotionless. Alrik was not comfortable in the presence of psykers, it was one of the reasons he prefered to keep her operating at a distance. It was a shame, though not a surprise, that the same mistrust had been transmitted to his student.

@POOHEAD189

[POOHEAD189]

Once she was done with the datapad, he took it back and powered it down. He believed that was enough discussion for the day. If she had anything she wished to speak with him on, she could find him in his chambers. He took one last sip of his drink, and stood up. "Thank you for your time. If you have other duties, see to them. If not, you can accompany me to the deck." He took only a moment to wait for her response, before he turned, his cloak flowing from the motion. He found himself in the outer corridor, and he made his way further back into the Certatus. The regular crew quarters were 3 floors below, but Heironymus and Silvana were in the 'Luxury Quarters.'

They were comfortable as well as practically placed, being a mere lift ride from the bridge and the chapel. He merely needed to step onto the simple but ornate platform, a few hundred meters quicker and closer than any of the other crew members. The lift would moved swiftly, though it gave an audible grinding as it moved, as if this was the area where the Certatus' Machine Spirit would let out its frustrations and woes to having to travel through the warp.

On Heironymus's person was his Ceres Pattern Bolt Pistol, and the seal of the Imperial Inquisition hanging around his neck. He placed his wide brimmed hat on his head, giving the man a more aged and intimidating look to present to the crew for now. He took a breath, and then the lift doors opened to reveal the baroque and grim room, with small consoles of lights and a raised platform that displayed the lower consoles where the Captain stood.

Heironymus strode into the room, his face impassive and stern as he stepped onto the bridge. The Captain Tiberius turned, a grizzled war veteran that had done one of the few impossible things in the Imperium. He had lived long enough to have changed careers. He had seen battle against the Xenos, and had been lucky enough to go and learn how to be a pilot in the Imperial Navy, and had battled the vicious Eldar for a decade, before he was given his 'retirement,' as the Captain of the shipment Frigate Certatus.

"Status, Captain?"
@Penny

[Penny]

Silvana stepped onto the bridge in Harry's wake. The bridge crew didn't react. There were dozens of officer overlooking hundreds of servitors, each hard wired into the ships electronics. Every time a servitor ran into a problem beyond its simple program it made a chirping sound. The human officers responded to each chirp, making a split second decision or, on rare occasions forwarding the information to the captain or first officers. The officers didn't react to the presence of a psyker, the bridge of a warship, particularly a small one, was one of the few places an astropath could expect to pass without a second glance. Astropaths and the ships Navigator were frequent visitors to the captains station and as such were able to pass unoticed.

"All is well Inquisitor," the captain replied, demonstrating a comendable ignorance of the inner workings of the Holy Ordos.

"At this rate we will reach Meridian within four weeks and four days."

Whether by particularly astute astrogation or good luck, the Certatus slipped from the warp four weeks, one day and six hours later. It was an exceptional run, though whether that was due to the Navigators skill or pure luck Silvana couldn't have said. The time had passed quickly. Much of the time she had spent in meditation and study. The data slates pictured a world of extreme divides between rich and poor even by imperial standards. It seemed to her that the disappearances might have more to do with the bored scions of a decedant nobility than they did with heretical cults. When she spoke of this to Harry he down played the notion. She had the feeling he was desperate to uncover some vast and malign heretical plot which would put him in Alrik's good graces.

Silvana consulted the Emperor's Tarot several time but each reading proved more confusing than the last. The spheres seemed to be as oppositional as they could be, as though primordial forces were clashing endlessly and mindlessly, leaving fate no room to declare itself.

"Sir," Tiberius declared clapping his heels together in naval salute.

"We shall have a launch prepared for you and you will be on the ground within the hour." The naval officer seized Silvana's hand and kissed it formally.

"Madam, our mess shall be poorer without your company, though I will confess that my regicide game will fell less inadequate for your absence."

[POOHEAD189]

The Inquisitor and the Astropath had arrived, and was formally introduced to the Governess Derosa via comm link after a short wait within her Palace at the top of the Hive City 'Angel Forge,' a city of 7 billion people, with a rich history that Inquisitor/Interrogater Heironymus had studied thoroughly during the warp jump. The Capital World of Subsector Aurelia, recently it had been under attack by a Leviath Hivefleet, designated Hive Fleet Leviathen, only barely surviving thanks to the Blood Ravens Astartes Chapter.

It had lived, thanks to them and the vast amount of munitions and weaponry the Hive Cities produce here. Lasguns and Starship Cannons are created in the middle reaches within the immense compound refineries and factories. With these types of resources, a heretic could destroy various other Imperial Worlds and kill countless billions. Inquisitor Baldemar was here to make sure that did not happen. Unfortunately, there had also been plenty of rumors the vile Eldar and their subtle activities within the past millennia, something else to keep an eye out for.

Sitting within the lavish foyer, Baldemar simply contemplated to himself before the Servitor entered the room through one of the side doors. To many lower class people, it would have seemed like a mutant. It was a machine, for all intents and purposes, save for the human form riddled with metal beneath it, and a skull-like head with skin still attached at its base. Servitors were the closest things the Imperium allowed to true Abominable Intelligence.

"Please, follow me," it said, its voice echoing within its own vox chamber. It whirled around, its six arms seemingly moving at random as it glided over to the main, decorated blast doors. Inside, if Silvana were to look, she would see a dark haired woman in a Governor's attire, awaiting anxiously and attempting to calm herself from scheduling a meeting with an Inquisitor and a Psyker. Despite her nervousness, the woman had seen many terrors over the past decade, and had grown accustomed to danger.
@Penny

[Penny]

Silvana followed Baldemar into the audience chamber. The room was a soaring testament to Imperial Architecture, to Silvana's psykanna sense it shown with the wonder and awe of a hundred thousand first impressions. Soaring columns rose skyward, each barrel was carved with images of the lives of the saints. Here Saint Eudoxia ministered to the insane guard veterans of the lost legion, there Aurelius the Golden smote the daemon Vivathrax atop mount Syragasus. A pair of magnificent stained glass windows showed the familiar scene of the Emperor enthroned and an unfamiliar woman, perhaps the founder of Meridian smiling down at a multitude of tiny people, each carefully rendered in leaded glass.

The Governer herself seemed plain and nondescript compared to the exalted architecture. She appeared to be in her early twenties but that was a result of extensive juvenant treatments, the files listed her actual age as closer to ninety standard. Early middle age by upper class Imperial standards. Constantina Von Ackavae had come to power a decade before after the sudden and tragic death of her father who had choked to death on the bones of a Kannabec Fowl. Poison had been widely suspected but no known toxin had been identified in the post mortem. The governor wore the loose white robes and red sash of her office, a small coronet set with rubies lay across her carefully styled hair. Silvana couldn't sense anything from her other than a generalized fear that was easily explained by an Inquisitorial visit. In some ways it would have been more alarming if she were completely calm. No one was so without sin that the sudden arrival of Throne agents wouldn't set off a few alarm bells.

As they approached she rose and smoothed her robes, and stood, her face a mask of frigid politeness. Two guards in ornamental uniforms and flat featureless masks flanked her like living statues. Silvana felt only a dull fuzz from their minds, a sure sign that they were combat servitors wearing implant masks rather than fully sentient humans. That was an unusual step, though hardly grounds for official attention. The Imperium indulged its upper class, but only to a point.

"Inquisitor," the Governor began. She made a slight nod to Silvana though the astropath's veil concealed her true nature. She was easily dismissed as a servant or perhaps a minor member of the Ecclesiarchy or one of the non militant ranches of the Adeptus Sororitats.

"To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?"

[POOHEAD189]

Interrogator Baldemar approached the Governor without betraying any emotion, save a stern, observing look as if he were inspecting the room for whatever he may deem unfit, be it dust or heretical activities. "I am quite certain you know why I would be here, Governor." Heironymus said. "Things would go much smoother and quicker if we did not need to play this little game." Though his words were curt, he seemed to add a (extremely marginally, mind) sympathetic tone to his voice, to show he was here to solve a problem that could spiral out of control, one she would be held responsible for.

However, Heironymus Baldemar's words also had a secondary purpose. With he not announcing exactly why he was here, he would watch her now, for if she had more things to hide than even he knew of, she would dare not confess now. For showing ignorance to what an Inquisitor knew to be truth was heresy of the highest order. No one was foolish enough to withhold information that could prove vital to an Inquisitor's case.

For her part, the Governer's lips thinned, and she hesitated for the sparest moment. Heironymus had to admit she was good at hiding something if that was indeed the case. He couldn't tell if she was taken aback by his words or if she truly was keeping secrets. He would need to have Silvana read her mind, later. "My apologies," Governor Von Ackavae replied in High Gothic, a dialect Heironymus was not used to after having spent five weeks with a crew that spoke the lower language. "The disappearances, of course. As you know I've had much on my mind, and I should have guessed that was why you were here."

"Why don't you tell me of them in whatever detail you can manage?" The young Interrogator requested, indicating she continue. The Governor looked as if she would, and then she blinked. "I'm sorry, have you just gotten off the ship? Have you dined?" Her eyes flicked to Silvana curiously, then switched back to Heironymus. Some Inquisitors would have thought it a drastic change of subject, however he saw it as simple good manners, as she had just resigned herself to the fact she would be seeing Heironymus many times for the unforeseeable future.

"We have not, no. Thank you for the invitation. However I will like the information you know on hand, if you would."

"Of course," she replied with a demure smile, smoothing her cascading wave of brown hair behind her left ear, the rubies sparkling in the light of the stained glass windows behind her. The young Baldemar was not certain if that movement was deliberate. Most men would find her attractive, and Baldemar would have agreed. However his face was as stone. He had too much to prove and the Imperium had too many enemies for him to have any thoughts of fancy. "I did not receive reports of the disappearance for far too long.," The govenor said, drawing herself up as merited her station. "The lower hives, I try to keep a watch on but it is nearly impossible, and many gangers down there kidnap for a variety of purposes. It wasn't until the Lord Sarkonad's heir disappeared that I had been informed of intel of an increase in kidnappings."

"Your informants?"

"Some were disciplined, and others executed."

Heironymus nodded, understanding the example she had to give. Not providing the information to her, no matter how minute and insignificant it might have seemed, could have perhaps condemned an heir apparent to death or heretical practices. Constantina drew him out of his consideration. "Would you dine as we talk?"

After a moment, the young Baldemar nodded. "That would be acceptable, thank you."
@Penny

[Penny]

“The Arbites doo their best of course,” The Governor explained as she led them from the imposing grandeur of the reception chamber through a smaller connecting corridor that would still have admitted a Leman Russ without difficulty. Silvana nodded at the trite useless statement. The reality in most hives was that the lower levels were a completely uncontrolled warzone, riddled with gangers, mutants on the other assorted sewage of the levels above them. Few hives had the manpower to patrol the dilapidated and long forgotten lower levels. As a practical matter the Arbites tended to draw a line beyond which only the occasional sweeps were conducted, and those in full armor and in force. Govener Ackavae wasn’t able to admit that. It clashed too strongly with the official Imperial Truth to be said aloud.

“We are familiar with the problem your Highness,” Silvana said quietly. Constantina’s head pivoted in surprise as though shocked that the other woman had spoken. She didn’t know who Silvana was, other than she was vaguely associated with the Inquisition and people who spent their lives in hierarchies didn’t do well with ambiguity.

“Ahh,” she said, evidently decided to treat her as an extension of Hieronymus rather than risk insulting her. A good instinct.

“Well than you can appreciate how thin the information I have is about what is going on below 221.” Silvana assumed 221 was the lowest level the Arbites had any pretentions to controlling. They entered a large dining room evidently prepared for the occasion. A table, set with formal dinnerware and overhung by an impressive chandelier of glittering storm diamond, was the central focus. The governor took a seat at the head of the table at a high back chair of dark black wood. Silvana waited for Hieronymous to sit before taking her own chair. Servitors with the faces of gilded angles glided into the room and set silver chased platters on the table in perfect choreographed silence, whisking away the covers to reveal candied ploins, intricately carved garan nuts and artfully arranged sweet meats. A second set of servitors produced crystal flutes of a bluish sparkling wine.

“From what we have been able to determine the rate of kidnapping increased sometime in the last two or three years,” the Govenor explained as she picked at some of the sweetmeat, dainty fingers prying apart the sticky dried fruit pulp.

“So long as it was just gangers and degenerates we didn’t pay much attention. Perhaps six month ago the first disappearances began in the lower levels. Of course I increased Arbite patrols.” Silvana didn’t doubt that the records would show that Constintina had increased patrols, although she wouldn’t have put a lot of gelt on it being true. Carefully she removed her veil to expose her mouth and the black silken blindfold she wore. The governor glanced uneasily at her but made no comment. Silvana sipped the wine finding it spicy and sharp. She had a momentary glimpse of fields of green blue vines under a pair of alien suns, somewhere incalculably distant.

“The vanishings continued, and they rose to better and better levels, people began to be afraid to go out into the streets. I had to call out the PDF to force workers into the factories,” Ackave went on, clearly disgusted.

“Nothing has helped, I am even considering declaring martial law, I suppose I shall have to if another high ranking noble goes missing.” There was real concern in her voice now. Though the governor didn’t care about a few thousand of her subjects going missing, the fact that it might make her look weak infront of her peers was a serious concern. It was not impossible that some group or another planning a coup had reached out to the Inquisition for an unofficial blessing, triggering the dispatch of the pair of them. Such things were common enough, the Imperium had an interest in stability in a general sense, but they tended to let matters on its billions of individual worlds sort themselves out.

“I pray to Terra that the Inquisition may turn up leads we have missed.”
@POOHEAD189

[POOHEAD189]

While it was not necessarily surreal, it was an odd feeling for Heironymus. Or at least any rational man would see it as odd. Not two galactic months ago he was an apprentice under a very strict mentor, and now he had been invited to dinner by the attractive governor of an entire planet, and what's more, she was scared of him. At least in a fashion. He wasn't entirely sure if he should be insulted or impressed by her transparency when it came to her own self interest. Despite the Inquisition's reputation of killing civilians to attain a goal, there was a clear difference between he and the Governor. Inquisitors did it in order to preserve the larger Imperium. She merely looked to retain her own position.

He now saw the wisdom of bringing Silvana, and he glanced toward her for but a moment. He would need her skills before long. "Martial Law would have been prudent, you are correct." Baldemar said amid a polite meal of this very delectable food. He wondered what world in the system transported their foodstuffs to Meridian, it was quite good. "But as I am here now, there is no need, Governor." To Heironymus' credit, he made no hint of his thoughts as he spoke, save a stern disapproval of how things had been handled thus far. "I appreciate your position. Cooperate, and before long this problem will be abated."

Constantina gave a smile. "Very good, Inquisitor. Shall we-"

"Who is your head of the Arbites?"

The question seemed to catch Constantina off guard. Her full lips nearly curled into a scowl, though she caught herself from saying anything uncordial. "We have local arbites forces, Inquisitor. Only just recently did a Marshal of the Adeptus Arbites grace Meridian with his presence." Heironymus could not help but give a small himself. Local Arbites forces were often well trained, but second rate compared to the Adeptus members who dispensed justice throughout the Imperium. "I had invited him to help quell the unrest, and he has been...effective thus far. He has a small force stationed within the Spire, two miles beneath us in the Omega sector."

"Very good. His name?"

"Herold Ortega." She said, clearly wishing to change the subject. As Heironymus had received all information he needed from her about it at the moment, he would oblige her. "I would like his name and credentials, as well as the names and ranks of every lord or reputable person voxed to me within the day, Governor. Now, if you shall excuse us. My colleague and I have much to do, and I am certain you are quite a busy women."

"Inquisitor-" she began. But he cut her off as he wiped his mouth with a cloth and stood up. "I shall call you before long."

She seemed to want to protest, but graciously stood up as well, and gave a bow to he. Heironymus turned to Silvana, though he spoke aloud to both. "I would very much like to see the estate of our missing heir."
@Penny

[Penny]

The estate of the Sarkonad family was only a short drive by ground car. The governor provided them with one of the official vehicles, reflective black but otherwise nondescript. Two of the palace guards, plain clothed men of a severe and military bearing, accompanied them. There minds were brighter than the governor’s had been their desires simple and primal. Get off shift, get drunk, get laid. They hadn’t had training to protect their thoughts, lacked the discipline to stop the mental leakage that made them easy marks.

The estate itself was a towering stone edifice surrounded by carefully constructed gardens. Vast glow lamps hung from the hive superstructure to provide a simulacrum of daylight. Spires and flared arches reached skyward, glittering with points of light. The whole complex was surrounded by a stone wall interspaced with pillars and topped with razor sharp fluer de lys wrought in beaten black metal. Two enormous gargoyles stood empty eyed vigil at the front gate, itself a triumphal arch that many a rural world would have killed for. More practically a pair of arbite patrol cars were parked across the entry way. Four officers reclined against the vehicle cradling riot guns and looking bored. It appeared that the govenor or the local arbites intended to firmly bolt the door now that the grox had well and truly bolted.

A flash of the palace guards ID was all it required to win passage. Silvana felt that to be very lax but was just as pleased that Hieronymus was able to keep his Rosette in his pocket. Alrik had always held that it was better to avoid such notice if it were at all possible. The Inquisitorial badge was an ace in the hole, guarded against need.

A pair of nobles were gathered on the cobblestone steps flanked by servants and guards. They looked nervous and haggard amid their expensive finery. Silvana touched Hieronymus, seated across the way from her, on the knee. As the Interrogator looked up she reached out with her mind and gently discouraged the attention of the guards. It didn’t make the conversation inaudible but it made it so boring that neither man would recall a word of it later.

“How do you want to play this,” she asked and then paused before adding, “and what would you prefer I call you when Interrogator isn’t appropriate?” She might have prefered to be leading her own team, but Alrik and the Emperor would find no fault in her service.

@POOHEAD189

[POOHEAD189]

Heironymus wasn't entirely sure what to expect. Though Imperium worlds were designated with certain classifications; Death Worlds, Agri-worlds, Hive Worlds, Forge Worlds, etc. They were all different past the basic structures. Meridian was somewhat of an oddity, a Hive World that produced nearly as much weaponry as a Forge World or a colony of the Mechanicus. The walls, while clean, had a very metallic look to them when traveling in between levels of the Hive City.

As the vehicle stopped, he began to tousle his hair and give himself a somewhat unkempt look, just as Silvana had begun to use her abilities on the guards that sat mere feet away from them within the next area of the vehicle, and she spoke plainly. The Interrogator might be a bit traditional and fresh to the field, but he had been trained extensively. He was glad to see shapely astropath had the right idea.

"When we greet them, refer to me as Adept Baldemar. Of the Administratum. If necessary, you can claim I work for the Estate Imperium, though only if they dig." He told her, ruffling the collar of his dark cloak. He rubbed his face with the heels of his palms, and yanked at his top beneath the cloak. He looked much less professional, yet still had an air of authority about him. "I will call you Silvana, if that's suitable. It's best they know as little about either of us, as possible."

Heironymus opened the door, and held his hand out for Silvana to aid her out. He wanted to appear as congenial to the nobles towards someone on his side as possible. Once he helped her out of the vehicle, he turned and approached the two downtrodden aristocrats, with Arbites glancing their way as Heironymus and Silvana approached, muttering among themselves. The male lord lifted his head up and saw the two approaching, clearly not in the mood to entertain guests at the moment. "What in the name of the Emperor is it now?" he asked in High Gothic.

An Arbites stepped in the path of Heironymus, asking his business. The Interrogator pressed past him, despite the man's attempt at appearing intimidating. "Rough fornite, Lord Volantus?" the young Interrogator asked, a hint of masked amusement behind his face, as if he was merely trying to appear professional. To Silvana, she would see he learned his acting and subterfuge lessons well from the Inquisitor. "Adept Baldemar of the Administratum, here to inspect the premises. Governor Von Ackavae told me some misfortune had befallen you these recent months."

The Lord went from antagonistic to hopeful, even pleased to see Heirnymus, and Silvana by extension. "The Administratum? Here?" He asked, and regained his sense of self. "Yes, yes, do come in. This is my wife, Gracinia." She was a woman in her middle years, which meant she was probably twice Silvana's age, with dark skin and a tired smile for one so rich.

The interior of the Estate was an impressive as Heironymus had been led to believe. It reminded him of Governor Shonai's palace back on Pavonis, though with a much more utilitarian and martial aesthetic. It seemed Lord Voluntis enjoyed the style of AngelForge as much as a patriot would. That must have been a story, as he did not look like one who had been shipped off to an Atra Militarum regiment.

"Who is the missing person again?" Heironymus asked, turning to Lord as if he was somewhat absent minded. "Your son, was it?"
@Penny

[Penny]

“Yes, Leopold my eldest,” Volantus replied, a slightly pained look crossing his aristocratic visage. A slight tinge of grief and hopelessness slipped from his mind like a vapor from a closing refrigeration unit. The walked through a hall flanked by large statues of various saints.

“Is that why you are here?” Lady Sarkonad asked, her voice brittle with hope she knew to be oh so fragile. Her eyes flicked to Silvana as she spoke, the slight pressure of her regard obvious to the astropath in the same way a guardsman might feel the eyes of an enemy upon him.

“I am Sister Silvana,” she said with a demure bow to the grieving noblewoman. Lady Sarkonad’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Adeptus Sororitas?” she asked slightly incredulously. The Sororitas was a broad organisation, though the Battle Sisters were the most recognisable arm they had many other functions. Over the years Silvana had found it to be the best cover for her to use, providing easy explanation for her tendency to cover her face and eye sockets.

“I am a Magos Medicae Pathologika,” she expanded nodding her head towards Hironomoys.

“You study the insane sister?” Volantus asked, his tone cooling several degrees at the notion. Silvana nodded her head placidly.

“In simple terms my lord,” she responded.

“Are you implying that my boy was mad?” he asked, teeth clenched and evidently upset. Silvana shook her head in calm contradiction.

“No lord Sarkonad, but whoever kidnapped him may have been. I understand there has been no demand for ransom as yet,” she inquired politely. The emotional temperature in the room fell to more comfortable levels and the Lord’s tone grew more contrite.

“Ah, forgive me, of course,” he apologised. It was a simple trick used to inspire cooperation, deliberately leading a subject to a conclusion that would make angry and then undercutting that anger with good and pure intentions. When it came to emotional manipulation, subtlety was the watchword.

“Sometimes in cases as strange as this, the Administratum seeks counsel from specialists, the right piece of data can often be overlooked in the course of a normal investigation,” Hieronymus chimed in amplifying her statement and drawing a sage nod from Volantus.

“Where was your son last seen my Lady?” Silvana asked. They were entering an indoor garden in which a marble fountain gushed fresh water. Exotic shrubs about the size of a man rippled with color, chemical changes in the leaves triggered by the minute variations in sound.

“He retired to his room after dinner,” Lady Sarkonad informed her, voice trembling as though on the verge of tears.

“In the morning he was gone, no one saw him leave, at first we thought he had just snuck away for some privacy but not a single security picter or servant saw him.”

“May I see his room please?” Silvana asked. She made a clandestine gesture to Hieronymus indicating that he should go on with Lord Volantus. There would doubtless be valuable information to be gained there and what she intended to do was best done alone. The signalling system was something all of Alrik’s adepts learned. Silvana could have spoken directly to the Interrogators mind, but such things were not usually done without the permission of the other party and there was no time to ask.

“Of course Sister,” Lady Sarkonad replied, “we will leave you gentlemen to your discussions.”

Leopold Sarkonad had evidently had pretensions to artistic talent. His quarters, a dozen rooms and galleries, all sealed with Arbites crime streamers, were filled with paintings and sculptures many of them only partially completed. Silvana dismissed the mother with a vauge comment about needing time and solitude to work. She was starting to regret that decision as she moved from room to room. Her psychic vision was adequate for most tasks but it was a poor choice in an environment so visual. Perhaps she would need to ask Blademar for his opinion on the pieces which were propped up on various easels and hanging from the walls. Leopold’s enthusiasm and creativity were much more real to her than the actual brush strokes were.

In the main bedroom, a chamber large enough to rival the great state rooms aboard the corvette which had conveyed them, she found a single painting. It was a massive thing, six feet tall and four wide, it stood out to her for the attention that had been lavished upon it. She reached out with her fingertips to brush the canvas. There was nothing there, her fingers passed through empty air. She frowned perplexed. That something so vivid in her minds eye was absent was unusual. Normally sensations and feeling clung to the physical object, not the space it had occupied. Something tickled the back of her throat unpleasantly and she felt the hair on the back of her neck rise. The smell of paint and pigments swelled suddenly and then dyed away. Something was very wrong here.

For a minute or two she considered her options. The smart move was to call Hieronymus, although what was the Interrogator going to be able to contribute to the situation? There were no security picters in this room to have recorded what transpired nor were there likely any witnesses that he could speak to. His best chance of uncovering information was elsewhere, speaking to Lord Volantus and the rest of the household. Her best chance was here. Crossing back to the entry chambers she methodically sealed several doors against unwelcome intrusions.

With privacy assured she drew several small items from her satchel and set to work.

@POOHEAD189

[POOHEAD189]

"As you will, sister." Heironymus said, giving a slight bow to Silvana as she and the Lady of the House went upstairs to perform her business. His eyes lingered on them for a moment. He wasn't entirely sure if trusting her was the right idea, but then he scolded himself mentally. He needed to trust Inquisitor Alrik to trust her, and so far she had been nothing but helpful. Unfortunately, a psyker with the best intentions can still be corrupted by the warp. He had a small sense of sadness as he saw her ascend the stairway. He disliked having to be wary at all times around one who still wished to serve the Imperium.

"Shall I show you the central room?" Lord Volantus asked, and Adept Baldemar turned to regard the man with a sympathetic smile. "By your leave my lord," the young Interrogator replied. "Why I daresay we may yet find clues even within the main area of the house. How often did he leave his room? Was he a recluse?" The young Baldemar placed a hand on the Lord's shoulder as they both strode into the next room. Above them, a depiction of a crimson raven over a horizon of steel was portrayed upon the ceiling. It only took the Interrogator but a moment to realize what it stood for.

"Well the lad enjoyed his privacy," The Lord said, and he took a load off by sitting down on a very comfortable looking chair of swelling cloth. "But no, he was not a problematic loner. He would often come down and spend time with his family, and he was always quite fond of his sisters."

"Ah he has siblings. Where are they now? How old are they?" Heironymus ran a finger over the front wall, feeling the smooth surface and looking for any oddity. Xenos or Chaos driven, there were many subtle ways to infect a home of the Imperium. Behind him, the Lord spoke up. "They're receiving their education at this hour, both younger than Leopold. They were devastated when he disappeared, perhaps even moreso than myself or my wife. They were-are quite close."

The room was large, hexagonal in shape. Despite the very bland coloring of the walls, it was covered in tapestries and paintings to add much more life and color to the area. The largest painting of which was of Sebastian Thor, one of the most influential saints of the Imperium from the 36th millenium, having saved the Imperium from the Tyranny of Goge Vandire. "A marvelous piece..." Heironymus said as he examined the painting.
@Penny