Chapter 30: Attendants

"Parade practise?" Clauda asked the question we were all thinking.

"Yes, a necessary element in your training," Alexei replied. "But first, you must receive your dress uniforms, which will involve going to the tailors, and all the nonsense that entails."

We looked at each other in confusion. I was very sceptical of the ability for a tailor to produce a tailored outfit for an event on that very same day, but I figured that when Alexei said tailored, he likely meant a premade outfit. Everyone else seemed equally confused.

"We have an appointment within the hour, we cannot miss it," Alexei said, ordering us to rise. I guess that meant no training today, then?

I had to suppress a grin when I realised I was right. After breakfast, Alexei lead us through an entirely new section of the ship, down a wide corridor lined with plants and marble columns. Statues of Imperial Guardsman stood over us, and the lights were bright and clear. We walked through several atriums, under the roof a marble vaulted ceiling, where a giant iron chandelier hung, huge candles mounted on skull ornaments. Immense pillars of stone rose around us, and we descended down a vast spiral staircase. We passed by scores of robed and veiled figures, ship menials, Tech-priests, even armoured navy bondsman. There were precious few Cadian's here, almost everyone was part of the ship crew. Everywhere, there were branching corridors into the bowels of the ships, and the tiled marble floor far below us was packed with people. It was hard to wrap my head around the size of the ship. This atrium was the size of a small skyscraper by itself, and here it was just another room in the ship, an easy way to access its various levels. And this was still likely all part of the hangar network on the ship, not even close to the real interior.

Sergeant Alexei led us throw a set of silver and brass doors, emblazoned with the Imperial Aquila. Egeers bowed to it as he went through. The hallway we walked through now was stone walled, lined with flickering braziers. Servo-skulls flew by all around us, and beside every golden door, there was a stone altar, where stacks of paper and parchment were left. I realised that the altars were really just stylised letterboxes. Purity seals lined the walls, and melted wax pooled around the floors, clogging steamy vents.

Alexei seemed to know where he was going and took us through to the end of the hallway, where we entered a vast waiting room. Rows and rows of pews lined the room, and at the other end, behind a huge metal grate, was an admissions desk thirty metres long, flanked by two huge steel blast doors on either side.

The room was packed, but not full. I groaned internally when I saw how long the waiting line was. Sergeant Alexei was unperturbed, however, and simply walked right up the front desk, where a series of Imperial scribes sat behind their ridiculously oversized bronze typewriters, reams of parchment pouring from the antiquated looking machines. The wrinkled old man behind the machine lowered a set of green tinted glasses to look at us.

"Sergeant Alexei with the Practica 1532nd, here to fulfil session 7A-299B," he said, sliding a sealed envelope to the scribe. The scribe lowered a set of rose-coloured lenses over his green ones, taking the envelope and inspecting it.

"I see, yes, 7A-299B," the scribe said. "That will be 45 minutes."

"That's too long!" Desmond groaned, and a series of slaps and shoves from the squad got him to shut up before Alexei could give us a lecture. This was one hell of a tailor if they had an office this big just for admissions. And a 45-minute wait was bad, but I've definitely waited longer for the wheels of government administration.

Of course, when I did that, I had my friends to talk to. Or my phone. Damn, I missed my phone. I missed the internet. I missed making jokes about shit. The more I stayed here, the more I realised how much I was leaving behind. Every day, I realised something new.

Squads filtered in and out of the giant blast doors, roughly every fifteen minutes or so, led by an attendant who scuttled forth from the cavernous interior on the other side to admit them through. Sergeant Alexei made us sit here in silence, and after 45 minutes, much fidgeting and shuffling around on the wooden pews, we were told by a brown-robed attendant to follow him through the giant blast doors, which opened into another vast room, a multi-levelled complex with dozens of doors per level. A golden statue of a robed man carrying a giant banner dominated the main floor, and huge marble staircases hugged the walls on either side of the room. This was certainly very ostentatious for the Imperium, but then again, they did like their giant architecture. It was just crazy to think this was all on a spaceship.

It was funny to see the squad staring at the room with awe written across their faces. Even Desmond seemed shocked, perhaps more then the rest of them, when he saw this room. This one room was likely more ostentatious then his entire manor. It might've even bigger, too. It was like something you'd see in Rome, giant architecture that dominated its surroundings.

The attendant took us up the flight of stairs and down another corridor, where murals depicting an Earth-like world on one wall and a red wasteland on the other. Was this Earth and Mars? Cadia and Mars? Who knew? I didn't think it'd be Earth, very few people knew what Earth actually looked like before the Imperium or the Dark Age of Technology. The other one was almost certainly Mars.

I didn't have time to admire the incredibly detailed murals, much to my annoyance, as the attendant opened a set of golden doors and bowed as we entered what looked like another waiting room, although this one was much cosier.

There were actual couches to wait on, and the floor had a rug which depicted a stylised angelic being clutching the sun in its hand. Was that meant to be the Emperor, Sanguinius, or a saint? I could not tell.

There were banners hanging from the wall, green and white banners bedecked in purity seals, and golden plaques denoting their age. Some were…ancient. Thousands of years old. All of them were Cadian.

A small marble table sat in between the couches, and on it were stacks of…magazines? No, they were prayer books. Of course. How very Imperial of them. Incense burned from small alcoves in the corner of the room and two braziers hung from the walls, fires burning gently behind iron bars.

"Master Dastahein will see to you now," the robed attendant said, bowing and scraping as he left the room. As if on cue, a tall, well dressed man stepped out from a wooden door at the end of the room, smiling warmly.

"Ah, another squad to work, I see," he said, shoving some green robed assistants in front of him, looking at us all merrily. He was dressed in blue robes with a red cape, gold embroidery glinting in the light. A purple feathered collar was around his neck and little golden baubles clung to his chest and shoulders. He was the most flamboyant person I'd seen here so far.

"Alright, alright, let's get the tall ones first, shall we, I do like to work with the tall ones, don't I, Markus?"

One of the assistants nodded silently, and beckoned Prassus, Clauda and I over. Alexei just shrugged.

"He's the one in charge here," he grunted, sitting down on the couch and taking a prayer book. Another attendant grabbed a handful of the squad and had them follow him into another side room.

"Yes, we split them up, makes it easier to get things done, let Maggie handle them, I'll take these tall lads, and uh…this lass," Dastahein said, looking at us up and down. We all stared resolutely ahead.

"Well, c'mon, follow me," he said kindly, leading us through the doors he came from. Only a third of the squad was left behind with Alexei. Dastahein took us down a plain metal corridor, through an unmarked door, and waved us inside. Within the room was one giant metal tub, and a wall lined with mirrors. Some other attendants stood dutifully along the other wall, clutching an assortment of cleaning and hair dressing tools. Well, what fresh hell was this?

"Undress, please, I don't want to measure up dirty and unclean bodies, if you don't mind, and we must get you all cleaned up and your hair nicely done and your nails trimmed and your skin smoothed and…oh, forgive me, I do get ahead of myself so much, but I take pride in transforming whoever comes through these doors into their best selves. Soldiers may be about getting into the blood and guts and dirt but once the enemies dead and the war is one, oh, they want parades, nice parades, and you can't have nice parades with dirty, ragged men, can you? No, no, you can't, so they need us to clean them up, dress them, sow their nice fancy clothes and make their banners. Did you see the ones on the wall, when you came in? Family work. Thousands of years of proud army service. Heraldic officers, yes, fine service. Fine service. My ancestor of two thousand years, oh, he got to make a banner to celebrate defeating a Black Crusade, can you imagine? Oh, I see my words fall on deaf ears. Well, why are you still dressed, we need to get on with it, yes, we must hurry, c'mon, hurry!"

Holy crap, this guy speaks like a maniac, a million miles a minute. What an absolute madman…but an endearing one. He seemed a little…off, but he was undeniably passionate about his work, and didn't seem to be as dour or fanatical as everyone else I'd met so far. In fact, he'd probably fit in back on Earth…after a fashion.

Prassus, Clauda and I undressed, and the attendants took our clothes. Dastahein all but pushed us into the giant metal tub, which was, as it turned out, a massive bathtub. Filled with warm, soapy, steamy water, it was the most luxurious thing I'd experienced since I got here. The other two seemed even more amazed, based on their expressions. Faintly, a small part of me reckoned this was all part of a scheme to seduce us into service, to show off all these bells and whistles, to wave hints of luxury and splendour in our faces before we went off to war. I was quite certain we'd not experience this again any time soon.

But I didn't care in the moment. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the water. I didn't know how long we'd be here so I'd best make the most of it.

"This is…nice," Prassus said, pouring water over his face. Clauda nodded, rubbing her arms down and sighing.

"Yes, it is. A little too nice, don't you think?"

"I'm not complaining," I said. Clauda snorted.

"Of course you wouldn't," she said snidely. Prassus laughed

"Only you would," he shot back, and Clauda rolled her eyes. This banter would've gone on longer had Dastahein not ordered the attendants see to us. They began by combing and brushing our hair (not too gently, mind you), followed by lathering us in some sort of cold oil. I winced as it ran down my back.

"Yes, the hair, always the hair, under those helmets it gets so bad, best to get rid of it, shave it down. Uh, a ponytail for the lady, yes? Shave the men, trim the women," Dastahein said.

"You get to keep your hair, princess," Prassus smiled.

"You didn't have any to lose," Clauda growled, as they began to trim her hair down, cutting away chunks of it from the sides and down the back. I grimaced as they ran a shaver over my head. I wasn't too attached to my hair, but I did like it. Well, I'd manage. At least I wouldn't have to worry about lice. We all suffered through getting our haircut, or, more accurately, Clauda and I did, since they just trimmed and tidied Prassus up. Then we had to endure them rubbing weirdly scented oils into our scalp. We grit our teeth and bore this too.

Then came the scrubbing. Attendants, standing behind us, rubbed our arms, shoulders and backs, doused us in oil and waved incense around, chanting all the while. Kinda creepy, in my opinion, but it was working wonders. Whatever they were doing was making me feel more relaxed, my muscles better, and skin clearer. Dastahein watched over the whole process with his authoritative aura, pushing attendants around as he barked orders and regaled us with tales of his families long and faithful service to the Imperium, often all at the same time. He certainly was a character, that man.

Eventually, we were told to rise from the tub, and were told to stand on a soft mat as attendants dried us, running thick towels down or bodies. It was very weird to be so…coddled. It felt infantile, to be bathed, cleaned and dried like this, but a part of me suspected this was intentional. It was to break us down. Make us do whatever they wanted. It was a little unsettling, but there was no way out of it. Dastahein worked feverishly and never allowed us a moments silence, or let us get a word in.

What followed was a somewhat awkward process of them cleaning, rubbing and spraying us in places I would have preferred to do myself. None of us looked at each other as they did…whatever it was they were doing. However, soon enough we were squeaky clean all over, and Dastahein was satisfied, so we were marched into the next room, still buck naked, where rows upon rows of tables covered in cloth, sewing machine, yarn, wool, dyes and all manner of miscellaneous gadgetry. Dastahein guided us to our spots, and then him and his attendants got to work measuring us.

"This is…odd," I said, as one of the attendants measured my inner thigh.

"Like you have it bad," Clauda grunted, and I looked over to see an attendant was taking a measurement of her bust, wrapping a measuring tape around her breasts.

"Yeah, sure, it's such a pain having those things, isn't it?" Prassus smirked, and Clauda glared back at him.

"Come on," Dastahein chided, wagging his finger, "the lady has a…prominent bust. There is nothing to be ashamed of. It is no deal, as I shall endeavour to find a suitable brassiere for her."

None of us said anything about that, because we had no idea what to say in response. This guy was so candid it was off-putting. Was he even a soldier?
"Uh, thanks?" Clauda said eventually. Dastahein just waved his hands in the air.

"It is my job, no thanks required. And, of course, the gentlemen need attention to, yes. Quite tall, they are. And strong. Not too strong yet, I daresay, but they will need good belts. Suspenders, yes. Suspenders are part of the whitesheilds parade uniform. Hmm, as for tailored underwear for the gentlemen as well, yes, I could see regulation issues might not be the way to go there, hmmm, and of course jackets, yes, vests, broad shoulders, both of them, yes," Dastahein muttered under his breath, inspecting us with critical eyes. It was hard to keep pace with what he said, but it seemed encouraging. I just hoped he could get on with it.

I wasn't really the biggest fan of people measuring every inch of my body, or having people cut and trim my nails for me, or douse me in chemicals that smelt like bleach. I didn't want to begin to contemplate what sort of chemicals the Imperium would use in its cleaning processes. Not to mention…clinical it all was.

As with everything I'd been through this part week, I grit my teeth, steeled my mind, and endured the torment of this humiliating experience. No matter how weird things got, I'd push through. I had to.

I had to make it. I had to survive.

Survival was what really mattered, in the end.

Authors Notes:

You're getting an early release today! How lucky you are. We've gotten the chance to see what sort of role the squad will be fulfilling on the battlefield, a general idea of their individual strengths and weaknesses, and some idea of the basic tests the Guard put you through.

Now, we're taking a look at the other elements going into training now, starting a look at the sort of mental conditioning and mind games the Imperial Guard plays on its new recruits to get them into the right mindset. And, of course, the Guard wouldn't be the Guard without some parades in there.

Then, we can get into some real exciting stuff, the real training, and, of course, wargames.