Now they were planet-side, and there was little room inside the refectories Tathe and his men had to train outside in the courtyard. The damned smog-covered and pollen inflicted courtyard. They'd chalked up target outlines on the rockcrete wall and practising their marksmanship with their lasguns on their lowest power setting as Tathe watched on over their shoulders.

Tathe knew he was rather redundant here, he was never even close to being the best shot in the Velrosian regiment than the contingent, and they could drill without or without him. Still, under the circumstances, he felt like his presence might help somewhat. In contrast to the CQC sparring, the Sovrithians excelled over the Elbyrans, which didn't surprise Tathe; he had learned of their marksmanship first-hand during their brief conflict back on Sarkeath. Tathe had questioned the six Sorithians who'd elected to come with them during their trip, troopers Quadron, Verlik, Tarri, Holyon, Vorrostyr and Vettryli; none of their senior officers or NCOs had survived the battle. All were good, dedicated men, maybe a bit too dedicated; tathe wasn't sure how they would cope dealing with the more morally ambiguous situations a servant of the Inquisition might have to deal with. Although, they had to travel in a Xenos ship. All six were more than capable at shooting; it'd been a large emphasis in their training as line-infantry, the philosophy being "one shot, one kill," and, "there was little point of focusing on close combat when you're able to lay down a wall of las-fire no enemy can ever get close." A philosophy Tathe could understand and even appreciate, but that might work on a battlefield in a regiment with a thousand men. Still, in the small team of black-ops wet work the Inquisition usually deal in, it just wasn't practical, and the Sovrithians had seemed to agree. So Tathe had worked to diversify their skill-set, especially hand-to-hand combat and individual combat drills. Turn them into warriors rather than soldiers to be able to think on their feet and improvise rather than just follow orders like the Velrosian scouts and, to a lesser extent, the Velrosian regiment as a whole. But the Sovrithians had been well trained and drilled and brainwashed into their tactical philosophy, so it was going to take a good long while. The difference between a warrior and soldier mindset was a murky one and could become even murkier as they often can mix together. But typically, a warrior was a fighter who fought as an individual, who focused on personal martial prowess, to think outside the box and adapt through imagination and creativity. Still, they also saw battle as a competition, as a way to prove their mettle and earn their own glory and honour. And on a tactical level and especially on a strategic level, one man can only do so much no matter how skilled they are. Soldiers, as hinted at, fought, as a team, always together and to keep cohesion, they weren't encouraged to improvise as much; that was up to their unit commander. They fought more for their squadmates and overall victory. A scout trooper and assassins like Attelus Kaltos were a combination of the two; individual ability and free-thinking were held above all things, but they held the concepts of honour and glory almost in contempt. They also attempted to negate the weaknesses of being alone by using stealth and every possible weapon in their stockpile. They fought to win and the overall victory like a soldier. Although a scout trooper would work in a team far better than Attelus Kaltos, scouts had to fight in both capacities more; this Tathe had seen first-hand during their battle against the Resurrected on Sarkeath.

Speaking of scout troopers, Dellenger was with them now, his sharp features still drawn and even more pale and his abilities not what they once were, as he took shot after shot at his target, which were either near misses or near the edges. Dellenger, for the first time since Tathe had first met him, had grown ragged stubble as black as his hair, and he struggled against the pain in his chest. But it was good to have him back, despite the strange circumstances. Tathe and Dellenger hadn't spoken often since the scout trooper had claimed he was Adrassil, only when they had to for professional reasons. The scout trooper seemed back to his old awkward, stoic self, but how much of that was genuine?

Tathe glanced at the entrance of the refectory's main building. So far, none of the Throne Agents had deigned to join them in training since they left Sarkeath, not even after their de-briefing. In fact, Tathe hadn't seen them ever training, too busy rolling in self-pity and angst and their own relationship drama, he supposed, another problem with the warrior mentality as the constant discipline of being forced to work alongside your brothers in arms makes it harder to wallow in angst. But then again, it made a soldier suppress that pain, potentially making it worse in the long run.

Tathe wanted to bring this up to Attelus as he felt a wall being made between the Throne Agents and his soldiers; he only hadn't already because the Commissar felt he shouldn't have to. Some of the troopers were beginning to feel like they weren't good enough to them.

Clenching his teeth, Tathe activated his vox bead and tuned it.

'H-how can I help you, Commissar?' said Attelus.

'I would like you down in the courtyard and soon,' said Tathe; Attelus might've "outranked" him, but he was still a leader, he'd been that his whole damned life and this little bastard would listen to him, by the Emperor.

'Okay...but why?'

Tathe bristled. 'I will inform you when you get down here.'

'Okay, Darrance and I have just finished an errand, so we'll be there soon.'

'Good,' said Tathe, and cut the link before the little fool could reply, and he sighed; Attelus Kaltos still had much to learn.

But at least he seemed to have the self-awareness to know this somewhat.

Tathe only had to wait a few minutes before Attelus and Darrance emerged from the black stone building around twenty metres away. Attelus, as usual, had his hands in his pockets and a Lho in his mouth; he seemed relaxed, but Tathe knew he would react to anything in less than a split second. Darrance walked with his normal haughty, pronounced, almost effeminate gait. Darrance was still an enigma to Tathe. He had seen his incredible ability as a pilot, but nothing else, but Darrance was an assassin supposedly close in ability to Attelus. Attelus raised a hand in greeting as they began to approach, a gesture Tathe didn't bother to return as he stormed towards them. Both Darrance and Attelus seemed taken aback by this but kept walking toward Tathe.

'I need to bring something up with you, Attelus Kaltos,' said Tathe as they halted about a metre from him.

'Yeah, I guessed that,' said Attelus. 'I know you have...issues with me, and I'm sorry-'

'Oh, stop with your apologies, and frigging listen to me. You need to begin working to integrate my people with yours.'

'Uhh, o-okay, how?'

Tathe couldn't help sigh and roll his eyes. 'For Emperor's sake, isn't it obvious? Get your group down here to begin training with mine. How did you not see that?'

Attelus and Darrance shared glances, and Darrance said, 'That is a good question; how did you not see that, apprentice?'

'I-'

'And why do you allow this ponce to disrespect you so much?' said Tathe, ignoring Darrance's dark look. 'You are a terrible leader.'

'I know,' said Attelus. 'I know I am. I'm learning, though and...'

'And?'

'You couldn't teach me to be a better leader?'

Tathe snorted. 'That's what I'm doing; now, you didn't figure that either?'

Attelus sighed. 'N-no, I didn't, in all honesty. I guess that was pretty obvious now you mention it.'

Darrance tilted his head to look over Tathe's shoulder, and Tathe followed his gaze. The guardsmen and women had stopped their shooting drills and were watching them.

Tathe looked back to Attelus and Darrance, who stared at Tathe.

'Damn it! What did I just say? Hurry up and get on with it!' Tathe snarled.

The beeping pierced the nothingness and into Attelus' very skull. His eyes twitched as his consciousness slowly seemed to comprehend it wasn't just a by-product of a dream but from his micro-bead, which lay on the table beside his bed.

With a groan and his eyes, three quarters closed, he reached his scrambling fingers for the little device. It took him a good few seconds to finally grasp it, push it into his ear and accept the call.

'H-hello?' he croaked.

'This is Throne Agent Kaltos of the Ordo Hereticus?' said the nasally, creaking voice of the administratum woman who Attelus' had already forgotten the name of.

'Speaking.'

'The Astropath has received a reply.'

Attelus sat up straight suddenly, slightly more awake. 'Really? Already?'

'Yes, sir.'

Attelus checked his wrist chron; it was 3 am sidereal. 'Excellent, yes. I'll be right there soon.'

'Good, farewell.'

The Adept then cut the link.

Attelus shook his head and rubbed his eyes in a bid to pull himself further into the conscious world.

That was quick.

Then finally, he seems to awaken entirely as another thought hit him, a frig ton too quick.

He lunged off his bed, snatched up his syn skin bodyglove and began slipping it on. The training between his Throne Agents and the Imperial Guard had gone well and seemed to have bonded them a bit over. It also seemed to distract them from their problems, and they'd seemed to enjoy it.

Attelus had taken on six Imperial Guard at once on close-quarters sparring and had a frigging blast none could lay a finger on him, and after a few minutes of this, Tathe had to call a stop. But even so, Attelus' opponents seem to enjoy it as well. Adelana had gone mono e mono against a guardsman too and had performed pretty well, managing to dodge and dart around him for about a minute and a half before being pinned. Attelus would've liked to have sparred Darrance, but he'd gone back to keep an eye on Hayden, freeing up Delathasi and Adelana to take part in the training regime. He would've also liked to have challenged Dellenger, but the scout trooper was still too weak. Karmen had refused to come out of her room to join in, though. Whether that was because of her anger toward him, or she thought she didn't need to train due to her psychic might, Attelus didn't know. But he was pretty sure it was the former reason; Karmen was a die-hard pragmatist; she knew the importance of physical training, just in case.

He finished slipping on his bodyglove and turned to grab his shoulder rig and equipment belt; he couldn't be bothered putting on his jeans. In hindsight, it'd been so frigging obvious to get them training together; why hadn't he thought of that? Attelus sighed and facepalmed; he'd been so embedded in feeling sorry for himself and all the drama even to consider such an idea. In truth, perhaps he couldn't order around the men and women of the Elbyran contingent as he'd held them up so high in his mind for so many years? That if he did something such as this, it'd step on a great leader such as Commissar Tathe's toes?

Attelus snatched up his flak jacket, put it on with practised ease, and took up his sheathed power sword. He paused, eyeing the sword with a frown. Karmen or Estella had given it to him back on Omnartus three years ago just before the shit really went south, and it was frigging luck too, as he needed it far more than the monomolecular sword he'd wielded before that, as almost every enemy close combat specialist he faced used a power weapon. Attelus hoped Karmen would forgive him one day; he was truly missing her company and...

Or was it luck? It could've been Faleaseen manipulating Karmen into giving it to him. Speaking of the Farseer, she hadn't spoken to him since just after their pyrrhic as hell victory back on Sarkeath.

Attelus shook himself back into reality and slipped his sheathed sword into the loops on his left hip. Could this be a trap? It was frigging likely; their enemy seemed to know everything so that they could have agents here on Iocanthos, more of the brainwashed, undead, enhanced beings they'd encountered on Sarkeath and Omnartus before that. He just hoped that one wasn't...her again.

Emperor damn it, why the frig did Etuarq bring her back? Why! In all honesty, Attelus knew why there were many reasons, but it all could be summed up with: "Etuarq is a psychopathic, sadistic bastard."

Sighing, Attelus grabbed the cameleoline cloak hanging from a chair, placed that over his shoulders and began securing that. Yet here he was about to slip off all alone in the night into what could be an obvious trap. Although Kalakor was out there somewhere keeping an eye out and yet, it seemed prudent to inform someone that he was going, just in case, and Attelus knew exactly who that had to be.

'Karmen,' Attelus sighed as he began for the door, but another thought caused him to pause. The head adept woman seemed frigging fresh at 3 am in the morning; why was that?

Attelus snorted and rolled his eyes as he started on again; it was probably because she'd just begun working. Attelus wouldn't put it past an Adept of the damned Administratum. It was a shame she'd called as he was finally sleeping well for the first time in a long time.

As he walked toward the main entrance of the refectory, Attelus finally gained the courage to call Karmen over the vox, and much to his surprise, she answered after a few rings.

'Hello, Attelus. What do you want?'

'I didn't expect you'd answer, in all honesty, Karmen.'

'No? You calling so early means it's important; I am not that unprofessional.'

'Hmm, makes sense,' he said. 'And it is, the local astropath has received a reply from the Inquisitor, supposedly. I'm going to the Counting House to see it.'

'Supposedly? I see; you want me to keep an eye on you, just in case it's a trap? Do you want me to follow you in spectral form?'

'You read my mind, Karmen and no, if our enemy have psykers, they might detect you. And...and I'd like to apologise.'

'Apologise?'

'I-I'm sorry I sided with Kalakor and not you.'

There was a pause. 'I shouldn't have been surprised you made sure I knew what's going on between us was "just casual", didn't you?'

Attelus flinched.

'And was it worth it, Attelus? Did you get the knowledge you wanted? Did Kalakor tell you what this "Imperial Truth" was?'

Attelus sighed. 'I don't know if it was worth it, in all honesty. I miss...'

He swallowed back the desperate words. 'Kalakor did tell me his history.'

'Okay, and what about "The Imperial Truth"?'

'No,' lied Attelus. 'No, he didn't tell me that.'

There was a pause.

'I will find out; eventually, you know that, right, Attelus Kaltos?'

'I know, Karmen.'

'I mean it, Attelus. I frigging mean it.'

'Just...just keep an eye out on me, Karmen. That's all you need to worry about right now. Oh, and make frigging sure you're out in the courtyard with us tomorrow...I mean today.'

Then he cut the link before she could reply.

It was raining, the sound of it clashing and ringing off the rusty metal roofing all around so strongly the sound seemed to engulf everything, including every inch of Attelus' pained throbbing skull. It silenced any potential sound of his footfalls, but it also silence those of any enemy trying to sneak up on him; ironically, it made it worse for him due to his enhanced hearing. Slipping from shadow to shadow, the cameleoline cloak wrapped around him; Attelus paused and knelt, watching the street. About twenty metres away, the street opened up into a large courtyard where the Counting House's black walls and the building itself beyond. He slipped his scope from its pouch and zoomed in on the place. Guards patrolled the wall and the building's balconies; they seemed bored but still alert and quite disciplined distinct improvement over the local militia of the locals on the outside walls. Impressive, they were a testament to Imperial soldiery.

Attelus lowered his scope and glanced around himself. He'd a paranoia of streets and alleyways, especially after his misadventures on Omnartus, but he knew he had to reveal himself for the guards. So he slipped off his cameleoline cloak and began for the gates.

Two guards took shelter in the small guardhouse on the right, both poor bastards looked frigging miserable, but even still, one of them walked out, shimmering beneath his wet weather overcoat.

'Are you the Throne Agent?' the guard yelled over the downpour.

Attelus wanted just to nod, but the guard probably wouldn't be able to see, so he just showed him his sigil.

The guard stared at it for a good few seconds before beckoning Attelus to follow as the large steel gates began to open. They only had to wait a few seconds before there was enough room for them to walk through, and they began onwards. By frig, Attelus wanted a smoke, but the rain would disintegrate it in seconds. Anyway, the main entrance wasn't too far and-

Attelus attention snapped up to a roof about seven metres above without moving his head, covering a balcony on his left by the slightest of movement. Attelus didn't slow, though or even take his hands from their pockets, he just hoped like hell it was Kalakor, but he doubted that roof could hold the Space Marine's weight.

Even bigger than the gates, the huge Gothic doors into the building began to roll ominously open. It amused Attelus that even in a backwater, but important nonetheless, shit hole, the Imperium still had to flaunt their over the top architecture. The Counting House almost reminded Attelus of many an Inquisition office throughout the Calixis Sector.

Then he and the guard finally stepped inside.

Like last time, Adept Kolmoroff was waiting for him in the foyer; ten guards accompanied her. The old woman's piercing augmented gaze seemed glued to Attelus. Her face so lined, it was hard to believe she wasn't born a short, wizened, hunched old hag in worn Administratum robes. Attelus frowned; hag? That was too harsher a word; so far, he found he liked the old woman.

Unless she'd sold them out, of course.

'Greetings, Agent of the Throne,' she said. 'How fairs your stay in the Refectory?'

Attelus shrugged. 'Alright, I guess, mamzel Kolmoroff. How fairs you doing Administratum...things?'

There was a pause. 'Alright...young man. Come, I will take you to the Astropath's quarters.'

Attelus raised a hand in acquiescence with a nod, and Kolmoroff nodded back and turned and led him onwards.