Chapter 2, Identity

Trained through years of law enforcement under the Arbites, my voice rings strong and clear. Within a moment, Winter is under the table, having dropped immediately upon hearing my command. She is on her knees with her back bent forward, sheltering her head as well as the base of her neck using her arms and hands. Classic hivequake survival position.

Wakefields, on the other hand, had been slower on the take, and had flattened himself on the bench, his upper body now occupying the place Winter sat just a few moments ago.

Emperor's throne, why now?

The Farsightians, used to life far less regimented than the hiveworlds, are in utter disarray. Some had heeded my words, but they were the minority. Most had simply started stampeding out of the exits the moment the shots started to fly.

The results are predictable.

Many of the Diner's patrons are slumped on the tables and floor, blood pouring from bullet wounds or deep gashes caused by still imbedded shards of glass.

God-Emperor, good thing I intentionally picked the windowless table.

Paranoia, the God-Emperor's gift to Inquisitors, Arbites, and Auditors everywhere. No wonder I have it in spades.

I take in my surroundings.

No scorch marks, only bullet holes. Apart from the shattered glass, nearly none of the bullets had managed to punch through the diner wall.

Solid projectile, high rate of fire, low penetration.

They had been using chatterguns. So it isn't the Mafioso. Too low tech.

The cursing mercenary behind Winter's bench. Black uniform. So it isn't Sentinel Security either, not openly at least.

The Watch? They won't dare. This street is Sentinel turf through and through.

So that left the SS and the Green Faction. Too far away for the SS, no motive either. So it should be the Greens.

The sound of revving road-wheelers and the whine of motorcabs were fading away in the distance, along with the chattering gunfire.

It had been a pass. A sweep and spray by the Green Faction. The Diner's sin was being next to the main road. Good. They weren't gunning for me. Aren'

Winter. Evacuate before people calm down. Before they start asking questions.

"Winter, Wakefields, we've gotta go." They both look at me.

Winter tries to get out from under the table only to be stopped by Wakefields. "Wait, damn it, we're safe where we are." Wakefields states, his head indicating the Sentinel besides us, who was now cautiously peering out of a shattered window frame.

Idiot.

Mob mentality doesn't work that way. Especially armed ones.

"Look," I start, "It's getting dark. The Green Faction isn't known for its good marksmen. It just needs one stray bullet to brain you."

"Listen to the wise guy there!" Bellows the merc, "If those bastards decide to try to loot the Tabernum Centralis downstreet, things will get ugly." He then rushes out of the Diner, autogun in hand.

Upon the Sentinel's exit, I give Wakefields a scathing look. "Want to stick around?"

The man pales, before hastily grabbing the documents and forms I had filled in and stuffing them into his bag. While he does it, I address the waiter who was prone on the floor, having dropped Winter's meal when the shooting started.

"Get us to the back exit."

She looks at me with eyes glazed with panic. She starts stuttering.

"Cassie, we need to get out of here NOW. Where are the employee exits?" I reiterate firmly.

"T-this way." She says, running to the kitchen entryway. I grab Winter's suitcase and follow right behind her.

It is a small and cramped kitchen, but at it's back is the exit. With the barman already waiting nervously at the door.

"Cassie, God-Emperor, why did you take so long?" The mustachioed man cries.

"I don't wanna talk about it." She says. "Let's just get the frack out of here."

We part ways with them and hasten away.

Almost automatically, I lead my two companions through the alleyway I had previously scouted out.

I run through the twisting turns and the darkly lit paths, mindful to give anyone following us a hard time.

The alleyway ends at Artery Street, which is still rather too close to the Diner for comfort.

The once peaceful district is now filled with the sound of distant but intense gunfire. So the Greens are trying to storm the Tabernum Centralis after all.

Like animals from a burning forest, the civilians are fleeing from the area around Centrali Street in throngs.

Then I hear honking and shouting, and the masses part before a vehicle. My eyes widen, it is a Tauros Military Terrain-Wheeler.

Worse, there are trucks filled with combat ready men behind it.

Sentinel Security's swift and brutal response.

I curse under my breath. I need to contact Arklight ASAP.

I feel a tug on the edges of my trench coat. It's Winter, she is frowning, eyes steady but worried.

"Where are we going to go, Uncle?" She puffs, still slightly winded.

Ah, yes. Slow down. The attack was just a bad coincidence. They aren't gunning for me. I have time.

I have time.

I point at one of the side-lanes. "This way. Let's get to somewhere safe."

I greedily tore the wrapper and munched on the hard bar underneath.

It tasted like condensed salty something.

Yet, despite it's dubious qualities, it was the second of its kind that I had assaulted in the last few minutes.

Its dutiful compatriot was already crunched, munched, and gulped, and was slowly being digested in my stomach.

For once, I felt thankful to Wakefields.

Apparently finally taking pity at my foodless plight (Or realizing he hated hard bars), he had handed three of them to me shortly before we parted ways at the Taxicab station.

He'd given the throne chips containing our inheritance shares to Cyrus.

Cyrus had stated that finding a chip scanner was a pain on this world.

We were now briskly walking down yet another road.

It was far away enough from Centrali Street that running away was no longer anyone's top priority.

So, as the pedestrians around me were aptly demonstrating, people had switched to the next thing on their priority list.

Namely, staring and gawping at my hair.

Oh, and gossiping afterward.

"My goodness, that juvie must be going through so much stress!"

"Well, you know what the schola puts them through nowadays."

I inwardly groaned. I think Cyrus snickered.

No wonder they decided to make schola tougher.

"Winter, let's stop by that shop." I looked to where he was pointing. It was a hat shop.

A pretty one at that.

A two-storied house-shop. Made from white painted bricks, it had a single large display window that presented many different and enticing caps, hats, and bonnets.

It was a shame it was already dark, as rays of light would have made it much more appealing.

Well, it's been a few months since the last time I did any shopping.

It should be fun.

"Marco darling! She's telling the truth! Look, her hair is grey right to the base!" Comes the thoroughly fascinated yell from the shopkeeper.

I manage to keep a straight face. The shopkeeper's husband doesn't.

Winter, on the other hand, is too busy trying (and failing) to fend off the accosting old lady.

She is headlocked. By a nearly toothless granny. One complete with an old-style cloth bonnet.

I have to admit it was amusing.

Winter sighs gloomily, obviously caught between her desire to forcefully free herself and her fear of hurting the shopkeeper in the process.

The shopkeeper though, has had her eyeful of my charge's hair and relinquishes her.

"Young darling, I must say its been ages since we last had an offworlder visit us! Oh, I have so many things that would fit perfectly for you!" She startes to go through her shop, "Marco! Get the feathered hats from Doversatz!"

I step in. "My apologies madame, but I'm afraid we're in quite a hurry. I was only looking for a Gatsby for her."

She glares at me, aghast. "A Gatsby? Her natural hair color would be wasted on one of them, absolutely wasted I tell you!"

"Here darling, how about this feathered hat from Doversatz? Look, its blue fabric and white and lilac feathers would make you look like a proper princess."

Winter is blushing and stammering.

I frown. This could snowball badly. Telling Winter to shop while I rested my hands had been a bad idea after all.

Ten minutes later, we exit the shop. Winter is now wearing the Doversatz hat that the lady had been so keen to offer to her. She looks embarrassedly pleased.

Considering that she is wearing travelling clothes, the hat seems to be ill matching. Nonetheless, it does look good on her.

Her Gatsby is in one of the many pockets of my trench coat.

I smile, that enthusiastic shopkeeper had been all too happy to see Winter leaving with the Doversatz. I had pleaded that she needed to get back home to unpack.

Now though, I am back to lugging her suitcase. Good thing we are nearly to the apartment.

I check my pocket chrono.

7 pm. Late enough, but the Voxhub doesn't close until 12am.

Winter is tired, but this is a pressing concern.

After all, the faster she knows, the better. I have already resolved to tell her about her new life at the fastest convenience.

Well, better bring her to the voxhub. I'll tell her afterwards.

After dinner of course.

"Winter, go ahead and take a quick restroom break. Hang your hat at the hanger pole over there. We're leaving again in 15 minutes."

"Isn't it already dark?"

"This is twilight season. It gets dark three hours faster then normal." Cyrus rubbed his midriff, "Besides, I need to eat, and I doubt you're happy with hard-bars."

The mere intonation of real food was enough to gain my stomach's vote. "Well, ok."

I finished up my bladder obligations with enough time to spare to take a quick look at my uncle's apartment.

It was a modest but cozy home. With a single small bedroom and a living room that also served as the kitchen and dining room.

"I'll be sleeping on the recliner there." Cyrus pointed to the comfy, if a bit weathered, looking piece of furniture. "You'll get the room."

"Well, let's go, and Winter, try on the Gatsby. It might not 'highlight your hair and face' as much as the Doversatz, but it's comfy." I felt mildly embarrassed as he quoted the shopkeeper.

I put on the Gatsby. As suspected, it covered most of my hair.

We left his apartment and went down a single flight of stairs. From there he quickly hired what he called a pedalcab, a peculiar hybrid between a bike and couch.

He was right, even though it had been dark for ages, many people still walked down the alleyways, or chatted away in the many restos and recaff shops.

Weird. It was like nothing happened just a few hours ago.

Then again, I realized they were always walking in groups.

We reached the voxhub building in about ten minutes. Cyrus went up to the receptionist, paid the fare, and took his number.

It was similar to the voxhubs at Hive Redsand, only much smaller. The voxhub was a two-story, rectangular brick building.

Apart from the row of receptionist's desks in front, the rest of the building was fully dedicated to the housing of the voxcasters and the seating of those in line for them.

Each voxcaster was put inside a booth, and the booths were placed in the center of each floor, with waiting areas around each one of them.

"Floor 1, booth H, number 116. Must've been a busy day." Cyrus remarked. "There, that's waiting area 1H."

We were soon sitting. I looked at the blue painted voxbooth in front of us. At the top of its entrance was a large capital "H". Next to it was a mechanical card counter.

It read "114".

We waited silently.

There seemed to be a lot of women and families in the waiting areas.

I glanced back at the booth; it was made from wood. Well, that's a change. Never thought I'd see wood used for such a mundane object.

Well, come to think of it, lots of the furniture I've seen lately has been made of wood. Guess I got used to it by the time I realized it.

"It's our turn." We walked to the booth. "Winter, stay by the door will you?"

So waited again I did. I yawned. It really had been a tiring day. I wondered if uncle Cyrus would enroll me into a local schola. Hopefully it would be an adept training schola like Flavius was. Maybe I'd even get to use my old jet-black uniform.

Uncle was from the Administratum after all.

Was he?

My thoughts lazily drifted towards my uncle's actions during the shootout. The speed of his reaction.

Also, his voice. The timbre, the tone. It had been powerful. One that did not accept rebuke.

I realized that his voice was similarly, if not more so, commanding as my instructors at home.

It was a voice that downright expected to be obeyed. Immediately.

Wait, Redsand isn't home anymore. Home is here. With him.

That though derailed me. Unasked questions cascaded through my mind.

How shall he raise me?

Does he care about me?

Would I be considered a burden?

What does he expect of me?

What will my chores be?

I frowned. Why was I asking so many questions?

Because I needed to know.

My father had always taught me to be aware and logical. My mother taught me to be dutiful and devoted.

"To know your place, Winter, is to know your duty and excel at it. That is the fulfillment of faith." She said.

"And how do you excel? Read, Winter. Read the situation, read the motivations of those around you, and read between the lines of text and speech." He would pipe up.

Of course, mother and father would bicker after that.

Just like they bickered every time I went home during the holidays.

Funny, I thought, they always bickered when it was about me. They even bickered on that train ride.

The final train ride.

I felt tears on my cheeks.

I bit back the sobs. It had become a habit. Wakefields never liked it.

Especially when I woke him up.

I heard the creak of the door behind me. "Thanks for waiting, let's eat." Came Cyrus's voice behind me.

I looked back. There he was, looming above me.

"Win-" He saw my face.

There was a moment of pause between us.

He looked into my eyes, and I felt his understanding.

He gave me a sympathetic frown of mutual sorrow, before one of his hands dug into his trench coat – producing a small handkerchief.

I gratefully took it.

He placed his arm on my shoulders, and I leaned slightly into his trench coat.

He led me out of the voxhub and across the street. We entered a yellow tiled building.

Feeling a bit calmer, I wiped my tears. Looking around, I saw that we were in a cafeteria of sorts.

People sat around cream-colored round tables, drinking hot beverages while they talked and joked.

"Sit here. I'll get our meals." He ruffled my hair before he walked away.

I felt consoled. In more ways then one.

In no time at all, he was back.

Two bowls of wet grox noodles. I smiled, and then, in a bout of sudden fear, eyed my surroundings.

We were at the very edge of the cafeteria. Seated at the corner. As far from the main road as we could be.

My smile came back, wider this time.

I started eating.

To say it was good was an understatement.

It was a rush of taste and texture. I felt my teeth clomping down on the delicious meatballs and noodles.

Unlike the hard bars, chewing the food did not feel like a struggle, I did not have to systematically crush and scrape the substance with my teeth.

This meal practically melted in my mouth.

I ate and I ate. I really didn't realize how hungry I was until then.

When my fork failed to fish anything out of the murky depths of the bowl, I bought it up to my mouth and started to gulp down the slightly salty mix of liquids.

When I bought the bowl down, I was confronted by the grinning visage of my uncle.

"Want bread with that?" He said, an eyebrow arcing questioningly.

"Um…" I clutched my waist; it still felt a bit empty.

"Give me a sec then." He pushed a mug to my side of the table. "Drink some of this, you'll need it."

As he walked back to the cafeteria counter, I looked at contents of the mug.

Recaff.

Pitch-black recaff, with small pieces of shrivelled leaves floating at the top.

I had recaff before. Though never one as dark as this.

A small voice in my mind whispered that the darker it looked, the stronger the kick would be.

I still drank it. It was hot but not scalding. Must have cooled down a bit while I was busy stuffing myself.

Also bitter. Very bitter. My tongue recoiled.

But as the recaff slid down my throat, I felt relief and warmth. I could feel the dryness ebb away.

Encouraged, I drank more.

When Cyrus came back, with a glossy half round piece of bread, I was halfway through my drink.

The bread was equally nice, but I was able to eat it in a more dignified fashion.

Cyrus went back to eating his bowl of grox noodles.

There was still quite a lot left.

I ate slowly, trying to finish the same time as him.

Now that we were actually staying still for once (And I wasn't being assaulted by an old lady), I found myself studying his features.

Like father, his hair was a crisply combed crop of dirty blonde, somewhere between blonde and brown.

His features were also similar, if somewhat more youthful. A sharp but proportionate nose, a faintly weathered face structured precisely and slightly narrow, adorned with a stubble.

He finished eating and moved his bowl aside. I took the last bite of the sugary and sweet bread, before neutralizing it with the last of my bitter recaff.

"Winter." His hands were clasping each other. "I think its time that you get a better understanding of what your future family life is going to be like."

I really didn't know what to say. I decided to take a book from mother and plastered a small, hopeful smile on my face.

Cyrus cleared his throat. "This will in large be effected by my profession."

Another moment of silence. I realized he was waiting for me to speak.

"You mean your job in the Administratum?"

"Not quite..." He pulled out a badge from his trench coat.

I looked at the silver badge in rising confusion.

Upon it was an emblem of a balanced scale, the symbol of the Adeptus Arbites, but instead of the expected icon of an iron gauntlet in circle at the center of the scales, there was instead the etched sign of the Administratum.

"You… work for the Adeptus Arbites?"

"No. Winter, what you see before you is my badge of office, as well as the symbol of my organization as a whole."

He paused for emphasis.

"That organization is the Officio Mediatorum. I am its herald, and indeed Herald is also my title. Our duty is the prevention of circumstance that could render local governments unable to pay their rightful tithes and tribute to the Imperium of Man."

His words provoked a memory of one of my father's rants.

"You mean… intervening with the planetary government?"

His smile became predatory "Correct."

"But…" I struggled for words, trying to dredge up memories from half forgotten conversations.

"But I thought that the Imperium never intervenes in a planetary government unless they fail to pay their tithes… or you know, try to secede from the Imperium or go heretical."

"That used to be the case, and is indeed the case most of the time. You will learn the details later." He then took out a smaller copper badge with the same symbol of office. "What I do want to cover tonight are your future duties, since you shall be my shadow."

"Open your palm, good, now keep that badge hidden – we're undercover at the moment."

Staring listlessly at the object he placed on my hand, I could only muster a hesitant nod.

"The Officio Mediatorum is still a small and relatively new institution. So there aren't any formal training areas for our Officio yet… and I'm currently taking care of an ongoing mediation myself. So you're going to have to tag along while I do it."

"Consider it a learning experience."

"Um… what will you have me do?" Horrifying images of shootouts, hand-to-hand fighting, and public speaking blazed through my mind.

"I already have a stack of instructional dataslates in my apartment. Don't worry too much, I'll teach you to walk before I order you to run. Your formal training as a Herald's Shadow starts tomorrow after lunch."

Nodding in relief, I finally whipped out a comeback worthy of a former student of Flavius Boarding Scholatica.

"So… I'm going to be a shadow?" Flavius never had the highest standards.

"Yes, you would be called Shadow Harrison on the job. Though as your mentor I reserve the right to call you whatever I please." He stood up from his seat.

"I think it's time for us to go home." I followed slowly behind him; my mind clouded with thoughts of what was to come.

Ten minutes later, well on the way home on the passenger seat of another pedalcab, he asked me a question.

"Winter, you went to a boarding schola, didn't you?"

Distracted from my aimless street gazing, it took me a moment to answer.

"Yes, Flavius Boarding Scholatica."

"What did you learn there?"

"It was an adept school… I learned to read and write, fast typing, cogitator operating."

He arched his eyebrow, "I can't imagine your old man agreeing with that."

A faint smile formed on my face, I remembered father's disagreement all too well. "He wasn't happy with it, but the enforcer academies didn't really have the cleanest record either." I shrugged.

"Scandals?"

"Among other things."

Cyrus stroked the stubble on his chin. He didn't continue the conversation.

We soon arrived at the apartment complex. Upon arriving at my uncle's abode, I took my pajamas from my suitcase. A quick shower later I was on the small bed, eyes wide awake despite my obvious fatigue.

The knock on the bedroom door caught me just as I was going to recite a lullaby to myself. I jumped out of bed to answer it.

"Winter, here, drink this sleeping pill. That mug of recaff you had earlier was a strong one." Cyrus saw my barely opened suitcase. "You can just do your unpacking tomorrow. I have some business to do this morning, so don't be worried if you can't find me when you wake up."

"Ok."

The pill did its job.

Less then a half hour later, I was sound asleep.

A/N: Ok, I hope you enjoy the read. More coming within the month. Unless it hasn't become clear yet, one of the goals of this fic is to present the 40k universe in a less militant perspective then most 40k fan fiction and literature, with Winter Harrison being a former civilian. So don't expect a ton of combat or fight scenes (though there will be some).

Also, If you ever want to write a fanfic, but find out that doesn't have either the story category (Ex: "Naruto" isn't in the anime/manga category) or the character (Ex: You want to make a pairing between 2 characters, but 1 of them isn't listed), then just click the "Help" button at the very bottom of each webpage. It tell you how to request the admin to add them. All 4 characters listed on this fic didn't exist before I requested the admin to add it. The admin is VERY responsive and will usually add the new characters or story categories within 2 days.