It was quiet inside St. Katerina's Cathedral. A solemn silence that weighed as heavily on Eric as any suit of armour or pack he'd worn in the Korps, interrupted only by the faint clinking of the incense pots carried high overhead on gilded chains by porcelain faced cherubin servitors. Stylistic renditions of joy, contentment, and awe intermingled among the masks.
They glittered gold and chrome, swooping and rising just out of the soft light surrounding the solid gold statue of the Emperor that dominated the pulpit of the cathedral. Erich imagined that if he listened hard enough he would be able to hear the anti-grav or repulsor lift technology that powered the cherubins. Incredibly expensive technology, but also quiet as to not interrupt the reflections of faith of the Cathedral's patrons. Its very wealthy patrons.
The soft emanation of light from the Emperor's statue bathed the coterie of stone angels that surrounded him in a warm glow. Lighting their wings and swords as though they were bathing in radiance of the Emperor's holy fire. The rest of the cathedral was unlit, giving the appearance and suggestion that the further one strayed from the Emperor the deeper into darkness and despair they would sink. An apt allusion, since Erich felt he had been straying too far as of late and was becoming lost in the void. Too many secrets, too much shame.
There were pinpricks of light around furthest edges of the cathedral however. Tapestries and murals abounded, with images of saints, crusaders, and the faithful stitched in lumo cloth. Brief dots of light in a sea of what was otherwise heresy or apostasy.
Were the cathedral's lights not dimmed and the stained glass windows covered with blackout shrouds, he would be able to tell the history of this cathedral and its four thousand year existence by following the tapestries and the tales they wove. How the previous structure, the one built by St. Katerina herself had burned to the ground in a great fire after standing for six millennia itself. Back when Burgrundy was more of an agriworld, rather than a hive world.
How a plague of disbelief had affected the people of this world, and it was only by the grace and fire of Saint Katerina that had seen it put to an end. How she had fallen in the final battle against the apostates, her crimson battle robe serving as her funeral shroud. The hallowed catacombs beneath the old cathedral her final resting place.
Several stories up, Erich could make out the outlines of the galleries were the Sororitas choirs would gather and sing during sermons. Great black marble outcrops, they jutted out from the walls in layered tiers, though none dared to rise higher than the top of the Emperor's statue.
Higher above still, sitting on perches and ledges in the farthest reaches of the vaulted ceiling of the cathedral, past even the stained glass and tapestries that wrapped around the expanse of the place of worship were the gargoyles. Dark, silent figures of judgment. If Erich could see them, he would see fearsome, snarling faces with rows of sharp teeth. Bat-like wings, horns, pointed ears, and forked tongues like those of daemons. Meant to both protect the faithful and fall upon the heretic without a moment's hesistation. Erich half wondered if they would fall upon him, tear him apart into so many bloody ribbons.
They were simply carved and made of base. cheap stone. Hard, crude, and menacing. Silent figures of retribution and wrath, stripped of pretense and finery. Just as they were meant to be.
Erich knelt at the base of the statue of the Emperor, having passed under the faceless statues of angels that ringed the effigy. Their wings and swords outstretched, creating a sort of archway that one even of regular height would have to stoop to pass through to approach the Emperor's statue, so that no one could approach the Emperor standing tall and proud, but rather force all who approached to show deference and submit to his very image. Erich had needed to nearly crawl to the statue.
The tiles on the floor were uneven and misaligned, their texture even somewhat jagged and rough. They were raised and lowered seemingly at random, so that no matter where one were to kneel they would never find comfort. The meaning was two-fold, pain could serve as expiation for sins or failings, muted as that pain was since this cathedral was meant to service the wealthy of Kisograd. The other, was that even in the light of the Emperor one must never become complacent or comfortable, for the Emperor is always watching, always judging. His enemies always waiting and corruption always a simple lapse away from taking hold.
Erich felt a sham kneeling before him. He'd joined the Korps for personal revenge, not out of a sense of personal duty. He'd long realized that he'd made a mistake in joining if all he wanted was vengeance on the Eldar. With his family's wealth and influence he could have raised any number of mercenary armies or given money enough to convince a sympathetic High Lord that a crusade against he eldar was warranted. Instead he'd condemned himself to die on some backwater before his task was even started. Stupid petulant youthful emotion would see his father's death unavenged.
Yet he also loathed himself for these thoughts. As of late they buzzed around his head, stinging and biting him, giving him nary a moment of respite. He knew it was his duty to serve in the Emperor's armies, that it was weakness that clouded his thoughts and weakened his resolve, that only through death in glorious combat could he hope to find atonement for his sins and those of his world. Kriegers were born to fight and die, everything else was at best a dalliance, at worst a dereliction of sacred duty. That doubt or hesitation were nearly tantamount to heresy.
He'd fought daemon, traitor, and xenos in his short tenure with the guard so far, and he had done what was expected of him. Though Erich felt pride in what he did and what he had done, he felt as though instead of strengthening him, it only served to fill him with uncertainty. He could not forget the voice of that medic, the one who had saved him. The one who had carried him to safety even though it had meant her own life. Had she known that outcome, but been so committed to her oath as a medicae that she had helped him regardless? Had she remained loyal through it all? Through the sieges, the months of harsh battle, and even genestealer infiltration? Had she been working against the traitor government on Athena II the entire time from within and sought to find her way back to loyalist lines? But most of all, was her life worth his?
A man who professed utmost loyalty while hiding the very trait that would allow him to be of most use to the Imperium? A man who had been schooled in Xenos history and language while carrying the symbol of humanity on his flesh? A man who even now was carrying on like he was still living a life he had all but promised to give up in service to the Emperor? Who knew things that the pious and loyal were not meant to even gleam the very surface of? A man who's first kiss, though unwillingly had been shared with a daemon. But then his second, far more than willingly shared with a mutant? A Krieger who did not want to die?
That last one was the most shocking of all to admit to himself. He was willing to fight, to the end if necessary and against any foe, but given the choice? He'd walk away at the end of it every time, postponing his promised atonement for a longer stint in this mortal plane. For a Krieger, every moment of continued life was a sin, yet it was one he was happy to commit.
His thoughts were like a storm raging inside him. One of pride, purpose, self loathing, hate, shame, duty, and doubt. The conflicting emotions collided within him and made him feel very nearly physically ill. It felt as though he was being pulled apart by his commitments, that he was trying to be too many things. A Krieger, a loyal son of the Shreider family, a loyal citizen of the Imperium, a faithful and pious servant of the Emperor, and finally a good man.
He stayed kneeling there at the foot of the Emperor's statue, unsure of what to say, afraid to ramble out a prayer, lest he let something slip that if overheard would bring shame to himself, the Korps, and his family. Perhaps even damnation. Eventually, a simple prayer came to mind.
"O' Lord and Saviour thy God Emperor of Mankind. I beseech you in this, my time of doubt, that you guide me to the path you have ordained, for I have lost my way. Banish my wayward thoughts and instead give strength to my force of arms and forge my will to be like that of steel. Hard and unyielding against the trials you set before me. If I am to meet my end in your service, see that it is with honour; but I ask O' Emperor, apotheosis and God of Mankind, grant me my vengeance that I set out to achieve, before I meet my end. I also ask O' great Emperor...that you extend your forgiveness who stray outside your light, but ever try to return to it."
Erich made the sign of Aquilla, then lit a candle that he placed among the others long since burned down to waxy stubs He then stood, still hunched under the outstretched swords of the stone angels. Bent double he retreated down the steps of the altar. Taking special care that his furred mantle didn't catch on any of the faceless sculptures.
He walked down the aisle between the great pews made of rich oak, the kind of which had to be cultivated in specially controlled greenhouses on a hive world like Burgrundy. Incredibly expensive, though aesthetically pleasing and would last many years with proper care, other materials could have achieved a better result for a fraction of the cost. To call them pews would be misleading though, they were more like individual chairs set into rows rather than benches for the faithful. Cushioned and padded for the comfort of their occupants, they were upholstered with satin and silk. Some even displaying personal family crests. Many more like thrones than simple seats, more than one with room for a servant to stand beside and tend to the whim of the occupant. Even in this place of worship the rich and noble of the Imperium had to let all know just how rich and noble they truly were.
He recognized one such throne, made entirely of glittering white ivory. It was inlaid with rubies, sapphires, diamonds, emeralds, in a visually pleasing pattern, while a family motto was stencilled around the whole of the backing in gold filigree. It bore the heraldry of a prominent jeweller on the thickly padded upholstery. The man was very well known, the master jeweller Orlov. Clasp that held his mantel together at his throat was a work of him. His family crest of a snarling dragon wrapped around an aquilla forged of platinum and gold.
On a passing whim of fancy, Erich veered away from the red carpet leading to the great double doors and entrance to the cathedral and instead walked to the a great organ placed against the wall. He took a seat on the bench in front, a simple cheap polymer mix since it would be a servant of the church who sat here, not one of its rich flock. Bench worn smooth from the long hours serving as a rest for its organist.
Erich's gloved fingers brushed across the brass keys of the organ, and though it had been two years since he had touched an instrument, his hands found their resting places as naturally as making a fist. Without a thought, he began to play. At first, some of the earliest and simplest pieces he had learned, then as he grew more confident he played more complex and intricate pieces as they returned to his mind. His fingers moving as if on their own accord, the interior of the cathedral resounding and echoing with the notes sombre tones of hymns, upbeat and inspiring brash notes of anthems, and even short and provoking ballads. His only audience the stone angels, swords raised high and wings outstretched in victory, and high above them the gargoyles, refusing to let their stone sneers slip at the music resounding throughout the cathedral.
Erich then began to play a song that Sister Freya had taught him what felt like a lifetime ago. A Sororitas song. It was a call to arms, a call to faith. But more than that, a song of hope. Some would have said a tad radical with the fast pace of the music and its need to be accompanied by drums to be truly appreciated. So engrossed was Erich in his music that he was halfway through the song, before he heard the soft singing.
"To the outsiders, we provide our burning grace. Though the others fear the flame, I will cherish its embrace. I will take the pain in stride, when our resolve collides. As these monsters defile our homes, we clutch tightly our hallowed tomes. Then descend; to turn their world to catacombs."
The music stopped abruptly as Erich's fingers paused mid-stroke, a soft gasp sounding over his left shoulder. Looking back, he saw a woman of diminutive stature, clutching a rosary between white-gloved hands. Grey eyes like raw iron peering from within the depths of a thick cowl and grey habit. Face hidden by a veil save the for sliver of skin visible around the eyes. The only identifying mark on her a faded fleur de lys on the torso of the habit.
"My apologies my lord, I did not mean to disturb you during your devotion," said the sororitas quickly, like she was used to often and harsh rebukes. Voice quiet and subdued, as though afraid any tone or vigour would cause offence. Performing a quick curtsy she seemed awkward, like she wanted to flee, but was unsure how to extract herself gracefully.
"No, the fault is mine. I should have not presumed such familiarity in this house of worship, nor I am worthy of such a title of lord while in the presence of the Emperor."
"Well...there isn't a rule saying you can't play the organ," said the Sororitas, tone saying that it was very heavily implied that you weren't supposed to. "Still, we're not to disturb the worshippers during their private reverence sessions my lor-...you," finished the Sororitas somewhat awkwardly. "It's just that they frown upon that song in this convent and it is one of my favourites. If I may be so bold...where did you learn it?" The Sororitas wringing her hands nervously, fingering the rosary beads between, as though expecting rebuke.
"I was taught it by my Sororitas instructor, a long time ago, though she passed in battle against wretched xenos."
"My sympathies for her passing, it is always such a bittersweet thing when one of sisters makes the ultimate sacrifice. We miss them terribly, but they now stand by the Emperor's side as honoured servants. O-oh my apologies, I haven't introduced myself to you. I am Sister Velouette of the ordo fenestrus. You must think me terribly rude, my...oh."
"Not at all, I should have introduced myself to you first. You can call me Erich if you wish informality, or Mr. Shreider if you prefer."
"Of course Mr. Shreider. Well, I should leave you be. I'm terribly sorry to have intruded."
"It's no intrusion Sister Velouette, if anything I am at fault for having used the organ without first obtaining permission. Your gentle rebuke is by far the best outcome I could have expected of my actions."
"N-no!" blurted out the sister with such vehemence and volume that Erich nearly took a step back in surprise. A kind of almost rabid fear in her voice.
"I-I would never rebuke a guest of the cardinal! Truly, I would never!" continued Velouette, voice quieting as she realized just how loudly she had spoken. She tore her eyes from his, white gloved hands clasping the rosary tightly between them as she seemed to deflate before him, terribly embarrassed. Almost seeming like she expected a scolding or harsh rebuke herself for the outburst.
"I...see," was all Erich managed.
"I should leave you be Mr. Shreider. I am terribly sorry for the intrusion into your time of devotion," said Sister Velouette, voice subdued and sounding so beaten down that Erich felt a surge of empathy for the woman as she turned to leave.
"Sister Velouette, a moment of your time?" asked Erich.
The Sororitas turned to him, grey eyes flicking to meet his own and showing such anxiety, it was as though she expected a great deluge of abuse to be levied against her. Something that her meek countenance suggested happened with great regularity. Her hands trembling ever so slightly.
"I must apologize for this unfortunate misunderstanding between us. The fault is mine and I would like to make amends if at all possible. You Expressed a fondness for a song I was playing, correct? Would you like to hear it again? Start to finish?"
Surprise flitted across the Sororitas' eyes as her hunched posture straightened, as though she was no longer expecting a lash. Then her eyes lit with excitement, but there was still a reservation to it. Like she was used to cruel tricks.
"Only... if it would please you to do so of course Mr. Shreider," offered Velouette, trying hard to contain her excitement, but failing miserably.
"It would please me greatly to have an audience to celebrate the renewal of my long neglected musical talents," said Erich taking a seat once again on the bench. The Sororitas standing at his shoulder the instant he began to play again, softly singing along with the notes.
Her voice was soft and lovely, like a gentle massage by someone wearing silk gloves. Reserved, yet boisterous. Quiet, yet resounding. Fading only as the final note faded away.
"Could...would you play it again? If it's not too much trouble?"
Her request was polite, reserved, the one of someone asking for something they thought too extravagant yet wished to have anyways. Gray eyes hopeful.
"As the lady wishes," said Erich and played the song for a third time that day, Sister Velouette humming along pleasantly with it. Falling silent once more as the final note died away.
"That was quite wonderful, thank you," said Velouette.
"You are most welcome, but I hit the wrong key in the third stanza, and I was too quick in the fourth," said Erich, upset at the fact.
"It was still good regardless, I enjoyed it very much. Would," asked Sister Velouette, voice trailing away, as though nerves were giving her second thoughts even as she sought to give voice to them.
"Would you like to see something?" she suddenly forced out. As though the words were like a splinter, needing removed quickly.
"Of course," answered Erich cordially, following the Sororitas as she led him to an alcove just out of sight of where the main congregation would sit in the great cathedral, yet it gave a near perfect view of the main atrium. In the alcove was a nondescript metal breaker box with a simple padlock that Velouette produced a key for from the hem of her habit. Inside were dozens of brass switches, each labelled with a stencilled copper plate beneath indicating a letter and a number.
"I'm with the Order Fenestrus, which basically means that I fix and maintain the stained glass of the Ecclesiarchy, or any glass really. Or...really anything they want me to fix," added Velouette. "I'm still an apprentice, but I'm almost fully qualified, I can work on my own now. I just need someone to look over my work. Originally I wanted to be a hospitallier, but I don't do too good with people, I always bungle something up. Oh, I'm rambling, here," said Velouette, without the almost involuntary twitchy movements of a neurotic used to walking the minefield that was people's displeasure. She flipped a handful of brass switches and the blackout curtains began to move away from the stained glass.
Metallic clicks like dry-firing autoguns in rapid succession as she manipulated the control box. She revealed some great panes of stained glass entirely, others, she only revealed a fraction of them. For a moment, Erich didn't notice too much out of the ordinary from other Cathredrals he'd been in, then with a final manipulation, it was like the entire interior of St. Katerina's was awash in gold fire.
The solid gold form of the Emperor's statue looking like it was fully engulfed in flame and the source of the light, heat waves radiating from his form. It was like seeing the glory of the God Emperor in person and it evoked a feeling of awe in Eric to see it.
"They use vents hidden behind the statue to blow hot air for the heat wave effect, to make it look more like fire," said Veloutette, casually giving away likely guarded secrets as she flipped a series of switches again.
When she was satisfied, it was like the interior of the cathredral was bleeding. Shadows formed on the wall that looked like gashes from which bright red blood fell from. A harsh red glow suffused the interior, the most baleful of which fell on the pulpit that the bishop would be occupying when he gave his sermon. Where the parishioners would be seated, it looked as though they sat in a sea of congealing blood. The light making the Emperor look angry, vengeful even and he was loosing his coterie of angels to slaughter all those present. Face partially hidden by the manipulation of light, but eyes glowing a fiery golden red.
"We use this one when we're trying to put the fear of the Emperor into people if there's been an uptick in absences from sermons, or if the Bishop just wants to be a bit theatrical."
Flipping a series of switches again that saw the blackout curtains rise and fall again like a puppeteer pulling on the strings of their dummy, the cathedral turned blue, interspaced with rays of violet and black shadows played across the interior. The faded visages of primarchs in their stains visible overhead like they were muted in sadness, while the Emperor glowed with a soft, mournful blue-white light with only the tiniest hint of gold. The bishop's pulpit all but hidden in darkness while just the tiniest bit backlit by soft blue-white light.
"We use this one for mourning sermons or funerals," added Velouette. "I can turn up or down the opacity of the Primarch's stains depending on what the Bishop wants, or what Primarch the family most likes. And this," said Velouette flicking more switches, "is my favourite."
This one took the longest, the clicks firing off like a heavy stubber as she manipulated, flicked, and seemed to gently caress every single switch in the box. When she was done, it was like they were standing in a kaleidoscope of colour. Savage reds, sad blues, deep greens, and majestic golds played against each other, reflecting off of hidden mirrors alighting every sculpture within the St. Katerina. Every tapestry, every painting.
The tapestries showing victory and triumph were awash in golden glory, while those that showed defeat or loss were shaded in dark blue hues. The early history of Burgrundy was covered in hues of green and new life. It was like the cathedral held a massive diamond in the centre of it and was turning the light of Burgrundy's sun into every colour imaginable to be played against the interior of the cathedral. It was beautiful.
"This is wonderful," said Erich, gazing around.
"I found this one myself," said Sister Velouette, beaming with pride. Gray eyes alight with joy. "It took a lot of work to find the combinations to get these effects, and we had to move around a more than a few tapestries, but in the Order Fenestrus, we light to think that we don't just fix glass."
The display of light was disrupted, like a distortion ran through it as though someone had run a hand through a pond disrupting the water, but an instant later it returned to normal and Erich heard the great wooden doors close.
Alarm and anxiety flashed into Sister Velouette's eyes and she mashed the brass switches, lacking the finesse she had displayed before and the blackout curtains almost seemed to go into freefall above the stained windows, once more blanketing the interior of St. Katerina's in absolute darkness, save for the pinpricks of light from the tapestries and golden glow from the Emperor.
With a clatter of steel, the control box was once more locked up and Sister Velouette was once more fingering her rosary nervously as she followed Erich out of the alcove.
The fist thing that Erich saw was the pointed hat of an ecclesiarchial biship, decorated in golden glit and holy iconography. The second thing he saw was the pair of Sororitas Sisters of Battle at his side in full battle dress, though their weapons unloaded and fixed with purity seals, maglocked to their thighs. Their chainswords, likewise covered and affixed to their waists, were still very much functional.
An acolyte trailed behind the bishop, holding a brass pole that a pot of incense hung from sending sweet smelling smoke into the air. An altar boy followed directly behind the bishop holding up the hem of his great and trailing robe. He seemed amicable enough, until he was just a handful of paces away and then he fixed a murderous gaze on Sister Velouette, who had adopted a near permanent curtsy for the bishop.
"I told you not to interrupt the parishioners! Especially not my guests," barked Bishop Kozlov. His face was craggy and lined with age. Lips pinched this with dark brown eyes, one of which was a very high quality augment with the pupil in the shape of an aquilla. His face was clean shaven and although being a man in his two seventies, his posture was ramrod straight. "Why is it any time there's trouble it's you?"
"A-apologies Bishop," said Velouette. "I-I was seeing to repairs that Sister Superior Popova said to see to and-"
"Be silent! You'll be dealt with in time," barked Kozlov, and Velouette fell silent under the glowering glare of the Bishop, who seemed almost irrationally angry. In fact, even the Sororitas bodyguards seemed to be shifting uneasily, as though it made their skin crawl to be near the girl. The acolyte refusing to even look at her, while the altar boy, thinking no one could see him, made a face at her. This was...odd, to say the least.
"Forgive me for this, normally we take much better care to allow our guests to worship in peace. I'm very sorry that I had to rebuke her in front of you Lord Shreider, but discipline is a virtue that must be upheld. I'm terribly aggrieved that your worship was interrupted, we would never condone such an interruption. I know that you asked for a private session, but I can assure you, that something like this will never happen in the future," added Kozlov, shooting a venomous look at Velouette that saw her begin to tremble.
"Your concern is most appreciated Bishop Kozlov and speaks well of your principles. If nothing else I have been both reassured by it and the impeccable reputation of St. Katerina's cemented into my mind," said Erich giving a short bow as was proper, a plan beginning to take form within his mind to help the sororitas. "I will be sure to give a favourable recommendation to the board of ELS for this and see that St. Katerina's is given all due consideration for company devotional days."
The distaste seemed to lift briefly from Kozlov's face and a warm, almost fatherly smile split his face. Such a recommendation and possible patronage from Eternal Living Solutions, the primary pharmacare provider of the subsector was no small feat.
"We all do strive to serve the God Emperor in whatever way we can and if it would please you to allow us to help ELS see to their spiritual needs we would be all too happy to see to it. And I assure you, it would be free of interruption," added Kozlov, sending a sideways glare at Velouette.
"St. Katerina's is indeed wonderful," said Erich gazing at the Golden statue of the God Emperor. "I believe that within these walls act of everyday piety and devotion has the potential to breathe life anew into faith and allow such introspection that one alone could never achieve. Yet," said Erich pausing, allowing sufficient time to pass as to make it seem that he was searching for some profound epiphany. "Were I to have worshipped alone like intended, I would never have been so inspired to redouble my own efforts at faith as I am now."
"Oh?" said Kozlov simply.
"I believe that the Emperor works in innumerable ways through his endless faithful. Wouldn't you agree?" asked Erich, but didn't wait for the Bishop to respond.
"I knew of St. Katerina's Cathedral, knew of the Sororitas within, but I never truly knew about it, you understand. I could see the great vaulted ceiling, the expert stonework, the imposing and wondrous form of the God Emperor, but I realize now that it was the smaller things that always escaped me. The things that without proper guidance can go unnoticed and unappreciated and it is these things that have inspired me so."
Kozlov blinked dumbly, wondering where Erich was going with this.
"I had never truly given much thought to the stained glass of Ecclesiarchial temples. I suppose it had become so commonplace and familiar to me that I gave it no more thought to see than I do my own hands," said Erich holding up his gloved palms. "But what would I do without my hands? I would be crippled would I not? I would lose such a range of function and ability without it and my life would be irrevocably less. And without hands, would any of this be possible?" asked Erich gesturing around him.
"Sister Velouette here has been instrumental, vital, in facilitating my new appreciation for the oft overlooked Order Fenustrus and their important work. I had not realized how beautiful simple stained glass could be," added Erich. "It has opened a new avenue for me to appreciate the Ecclesiarchal teachings. A great medium to help convey the beauty of its words and teachings. Yet, this thought I have, it grieves me you see. As it is often overlooked, what would happen if it were to fall into disrepair? To lose such beauty would be a stab to the heart."
"I can assure you Lord Shreider, that we would never allow any such malfeasance or neglect to befall any part of St. Katerina's."
"Your assurances calm the heart, but I would like to make my own contribution to ease the care of it as well as my own mind," said Erich. "I have no talent for glassblowing, nor knack for repairing stain, but to each of us the Emperor gives a means to perpetuate his faith. I would like to donate to ensure that St. Katerina remains as beautiful as it is today for all to enjoy in the future."
"Of course Lord, Shreider," said Kozlov, one of his Sororitas guards producing a data slate that the wealthy patrons used to donate to the cathedral. Clearly having expected at least some sort of donation after he had finished his prayers besides the hefty fee that ELS had paid for his private audience. Cash was still the master of currency, but the wealthy could hardly carry around their vast wealth on their to spend or flaunt if they needed the physical medium with them at all time.
Erich took out his credit chit and tapped it to the data slate, taking it from the Soritas, and putting in his access codes to get past the quintuple factor authentication and encryption. Then, put in his pin and entered an amount to donate. Accepting the prompt, he handed back the data slate to the Sororitas who very nearly choked when she saw the number, the odd noise making its way through the vox speakers of her helmet.
The bishop saw what Erich had donated and a ripple of shock went across his face, before a beaming smile took its place. Laugh and smile lines deepening as he did so. Although it was not his field of expertise, indeed little was considering he was only 17 years old, nearly 18, it appeared that those lines were the result of cosmetic work. Just as augmentic as the bishop's eye to give him a warmer appearance. A more welcoming demeanour.
"This is indeed most generous Lord Shreider and I do believe that you are right. Though it was unplanned, I do believe that the Emperor had a part in Sister Velouette's intervention and guidance in your devotion. Sister Velouette, I do hope that you accept my most humble apologies," said Kozlov, smiling at the Sororitas, but it was so obviously forced it was cringe worthy to witness. Like it physically pained him to do so and to be anywhere near the girl caused him physical discomfort.
Sister Velouette looked like she had been caught in flood lights, grey eyes wide and uncomprehending the turnaround and subsequent escape from punishment that she had happened upon.
"No...apology is needed, your grace," said Velouette dumbly, looking back and forth between Erich and the Bishop.
"You are dismissed Sororitas, go with the Emperor's blessing," said the Bishop still smiling, though it was faltering.
"Yes your excellency," said Sister Velouette, doing another quick curtsy and beating a hasty retreat.
"It was a pleasure to meet you Sister, I pray out paths cross again while I am on Burgrundy. You make for most pleasant company," said Erich.
"You as well Mr. Shreider," said Velouette, pirouetting to perform a curtsy, then spinning again to all but flee, before the Bishop changed his mind. When she was gone from sight, Erich watched a most peculiar thing happen to the Ecclesiarchial party. It was almost like they all subconsciously relaxed. Like they were no longer being forced to stand on a bramble of thorns, or a particularly bad migraine had finally abated.
It couldn't possibly be, but what if it was? Thought Erich to himself.
"Would you like a more personal tour of St. Katarina's?" asked Kozlov, turning his warm smile upon Erich, and by the Emperor this one looked genuine. "It is a very old, and very hold place of worship, with many more wondrous examples of faith to behold."
"The offer is most welcome your excellency and flattering to come from yourself, but I fear I have pressing matters of the material to attend to today. I must take my leave shortly, less I become tardy for the meeting."
"Then I shall delay you no longer Lord Shreider."
"Please your excellency, within these hallowed halls next the Emperor, I do not deserve the title of lord. Mr. Shreider will suffice."
Another smile from Bishop Kozlov, this one seemed genuine, approving of the subservience that Erich showed.
"As you say. Here is to hope that the partnership thought passed between ELS and St. Katerina's is rekindled by this auspicious renewal of faith."
"If the Emperor wills it," said Erich allowing the Bishop to sprinkle holy water on his head, confused by the Bishop's words.
Xxx
"I have to say this is all rather impressive," said Erich, speaking up to be heard over the machinery below busy packaging, measuring, and labelling all manner of vaccines, pills, supplements, and medications.
His polished black dress boots clacked on the metal grating of the catwalk as he walked along preceded by the soft crunch of the paper overboots he wore overtop for sanitation's sake. Looking down at the legions of white clad workers below wearing surgical masks and gloves, they moved much like the machines they operated in their duties. Quickly, efficiently, and with such dull repetition Erich immediately knew where all the repetitive stress injuries they had to pay out originated from. Chromed servitors trundled along on soft rubber wheels, taking packaged boxes and scurrying to and fro like worker ants in a colony.
The entire facility was lit a bright, sterile white and everything the walls were spotless stainless steel. The hum and rattle of machinery, as finely tuned as it was made one need to speak up to be heard, and the air inside was chilly, almost cold. Kept at that temperature for some of the more sensitive medical fluids that were produced here. Erich followed the path of a pill, one among millions of its fellows, travelling down sorters, weigh scales, before being put into a plastek bottle that was given a stuffing of cotton wadding and sealed. He then watched the bottles neatly follow another belt where they were deposited into a simple cardboard box, sealed, and carried away by a trundling servitor.
"Thank you Lord Shreider, we have been hard at work here for your most illustrious family. Might I say that the faith that you've placed in us is to oversee your operations here is still fondly talked about among our executive branch. I think you'll find we've been doing a most admirable job," said Yuri Lukin.
He was the CEO of ELS, the defacto head and lord of the corporation. He was in his early two hundreds, but juvenant treatments had him looking like he was just entering middle age. His hair was salt and pepper, and he possessed sharp, inquisitive eyes the colour of pine. He was slighter and shorter than Erich, though most men were, but he held himself proudly. He had a narrow, pointed face, but he was physically fit which was something of a rarity for a man in his position. His face was covered with a surgical mast and he was wearing a set of scrubs and plastek gloves to help maintain sterility in the facility, much the same that Erich was wearing. The same thing that the small procession of executives, aides, interns, and scribes wore as they followed. The auto quills of the scribes never ceasing.
"We've recently acquired a guard contract to provide them with epinephrine injectors, beating out Lazarus ltd. It should see a .3% spike in our profits. We've been looking at using DJ-32 instead, it's cheaper and easier to produce. It could see our profits rise by .35%. .4% if we equip them with plastek needles."
"No," said Erich flatly, startling Yuri. "DJ-32 has a chance of eliciting an allergic reaction in .03% of recipients and plastek needles, specifically the MR-19 blend you want to use is too brittle, it lacks lateral strength. Stick with straight epinephrine and plas steel needles."
"With respect Lord Shreider," said Yuri bristling slightly. "DJ-32 has been approved by the medicae association for widespread use and MR-19 plastek has more than passed guard requirements for lateral strength. It would take a very crude medicae to break it during delivery."
"It won't always be a medicae delivering it," said Erich in a deathly cold tone, freezing Yuri in place with a piercing steel-eyed gaze. "It's going to be a lasman crawling through mud trying to keep his squadmate who's missing an arm awake; so he doesn't slip into shock and die. He's going to do it with the injector he took from the corpse of the medicae whose guts are spread trailing several yards behind him. He's not going to know how to do it properly, he's going to stab it in and hope that the makers of it knew what they were doing. He's going to be nervous, he's going to make a mistake. He might hit an armoured plate, maybe he's going to hit a wallet, a spare battery back, maybe he's going to stab at an awkward angle because he's panicking and he's going to stab it in hard. If he meets flesh, your MR-19 should hold. Might hold. If he hits anything else, the needle will shear off and the man will die. If it's delivered successfully and the man struggling to breath suddenly has an allergic reaction, he will die. That, will deprive the Astra Militarum of a soldier, an investment in training and time from returning to duty and fighting for the Emperor. Plas steel needles, and regular epinephrine," said Erich with a finality that brokered no rebuttal.
An uncomfortable silence followed, but Erich refused to acknowledge it, continuing to walk along the gantry, forcing Yuri Lukin to follow him, the mood now much more bitter.
"I understand that you are serving with the guard. I, understand I was being insensitive," said Lukin finally.
"We have the goal of providing medical and pharmaceutical supplies to our customers and turning a healthy profit in when we do," said Erich. "We can not allow excessive greed to harm those that we seek to service."
"That isn't our intention," said Lukin.
"I should hope not. Profits are well above expected projections, 12% profit returns. Admirable, laudable even. I'm highly impressed and this done while delivering for the most part quality product."
"We have an excellent team working at ELS, and much of our success is due to the latitude afforded to us by the von Shreider family," said Lukin, stressing that point.
"And I have no intention to try and take personal charge of the company or policy," said Erich. "My being here is chance by itself. I merely was curious as to the operations and perusing the 401 provided to me, I was able to get a clearer picture of what you've been up to."
"I trust you didn't have to wait too long for the 401 once you requested it?"
"Shorter than I thought I would need to, but I must confess that it has been some time since I've looked over such records. I'm not entirely sure I understood it in its entirety if I'm being honest."
"I could assign a someone from our financial department to walk you through it, if you would like."
"That would be helpful, but at this point unnecessary," said Erich, gesturing for the others to stop following them and letting a gap form between himself, Lukin, and the rest. "For you see Mr. Lukin I was not able to fully understand it, because it was made purposefully confusing. Misleading even. It didn't follow proper format and certain expenses, though explainable, seemingly legitimate did not add up. They were irregularities."
"You yourself admitted a lack of understanding for the report Lord Shreider. I expect our financial department could explain it and clarify and discrepancies for you. You are after all, quite young yet."
"Young, but not naive or stupid Mr. Lukin. You're stealing from me, or you've failed to notice that someone else is."
"That is a very serious accusation. Lord," said Lukin, voice darkening and eyes hardening in rage.
"Now, my family expects a certain amount of spillage. It's the price of doing business. We monitor for it, allow a certain percentage to persist so long as it does not become too extravagent, but his Mr. Lukin, this is bordering on robbing my family blind," continued Erich ignoring Lukin.
"This company is run well, it turns a healthy profit, and I have no intention of meddling in that. However, I will tell you now firms and unequivocally. Stop. The. Theft. Or I will," said Erich, refusing to break the murderous gaze of Lukin.
"If I'm wrong I will apologize and provide compensation for the insult. In the meantime, I want the real 401 Mr. Lukin. Now, the opiate contract you are bidding on for the Navy, how is that going along?"
AN: Six year gap, good God-Emperor. Anyway, I got inspired to get back to it after reading the Ravenor series again and Finding Stringstorm on YouTube. The lyrics are from his song Adepta Sororitas song that Velouette sings and though this is about 3/4 of what a normal chapter is I decided to put it out instead of waiting. Partially worried about my laptop dying like it did last time this chapter was half done, though this chapter is leagues better than the other was set to be. This was mostly laying out plot and development focusing nearly entirely on Erich.
Read, review, and let me know how you think my writing is in 40k after so long.