Today it was Regicide, chosen because it was a game Jonas was occasionally able to win at. His ornate and cumbersome robe was draped over a nearby protruding bit of metal from a bad patch job, a relatively simple staff beside it, tipped with a sharply curved blade, a black and white trinket in the shape of a skull hanging from its tip. Beside them rested the well-worn but finely crafted Omnisian Axe that served Roderick as weapon and badge of office alike.

To one side of the table they were playing at, the holofeed that served as a window displayed a fine view of the planet their ship was floating next to. A poorly defended fringe world that they had stopped at to raid for materials needed to make field repairs and to replace the plants in their hydroponics section that were lost in another of Mr. Thaubosek's bright ideas. Lacking many large settlements, the planet was a sea of greens and blues from this distance, occasionally broken up by the white of clouds and the brown of less verdant areas. Smaller craft occasionally flew past the window, like bees going to and from the hive, collecting nectar.

Several bottles were laying beside the table, and easy laughter filled the room as Roderick finished recounting another tale.

"-So we opened up the chassis, and the imbecile had installed the daemon core upside down and backward, and the poor creature could not tell his rectum from his battle cannon!"

The two roared with laughter. Jonas swigged down the last dregs of his drink before tossing it with the rest of the empty bottles, his movements made sloppy by the alcohol. "I swear, Ricky" Jonas began, a slur in his voice kept at bay only by ironclad discipline, "I don't know how you stand it sometimes, working with those dullards." He shook his head in disbelief, chuckling derisively. "I can barely stand the other magicians at the best of times..." he started to say, before stopping suddenly. "Besides Rando," he amended, "who hardly counts. But those... Hereteks, you called them? It sounds like they're on another level entirely."

Roderick gave him a sagely smile, one that spoke of wisdom and an endless font of patience. "It is the sacred duty of those who follow the Omnissiah to aid and educate those less endowed with expertise and worldly wisdom" he replied solemnly. His enigmatic smile broke out into a slight grin as he finished with "and the leeway the Warsmith gives me in how exactly I put my 'badge of office' to use 'maintaining discipline' doesn't hurt."

Jonas cackled in response as he popped the lid off another bottle of amasec, their game mostly forgotten. "Oh how I wish I could do the same, my friend!" he exclaimed, his voice alight with exaggerated sorrow. "Alas, half the sorry lot we have would probably piss themselves and become a daemonhost if I so much as smacked them upside the head. And the other half might do so on purpose, out of spite. Besides Rando, for obvious reasons, but he hardly counts."

One of Roderick's mechadendrites extends over the table to pat his shoulder sympathetically. "And don't even get me started on their miserable attempts at rituals!" Jonas continued.

"Very well then, I will not," Roderick responded dully.

Jonas goggled, bewildered at his interruption of the building rant before it could truly begin, until he noticed Roderick trying and failing to hold back a smirk. Jonas brought his hand to his face, shaking his head in a mix of irritation and amusement. "You ass." he huffed. "Don't do that to me, man. You're far too good at that sort of blank, guileless monotone, and I can never tell when you're serious or not.' Roderick merely cackled and took another swig from his bottle in response.

"But seriously, man, their bloody rituals!" Jonas continued, gesturing wildly as he fell back into his chair. "Fething Khornates could do a better job! Their ritual circles have all the artistic skill of a hormagaunt, and you would not believe the number of times I've had to halt a whole summoning because someone put the offerings on top of the binding sigils! And of course, if one of them screws up and gets killed, our grand and mighty Warsmith stick-up-the-ass decides that, as the only one with half a brain, I'm clearly to blame for not micromanaging every second of their lives, and I get a whole fething lecture about 'wasting resources' or some warpshit like that. But of course, every last one of them will balk at the idea of supervision, because they are grand and mighty sorcerers who need no such aid!"

"Indeed," said Roderick, "trying to educate those who do not believe they have anything to learn can feel like a Sisyphean task, oftentimes. Much like my own efforts to spread the wisdom and grace of the Omnissiah's teachings to the ignorant Hereteks."

"Heretek, you call them..." Jonas mused. "I've always wondered... You still follow the Omnissiah, and you make no secret of your lack of reverence for chaos, both the gods themselves and as a whole. Frankly, your beliefs strike me as fairly orthodox machine cult stuff, from what limited understanding I have of that sort of thing. Honestly, I'm not sure why you aren't still back in Mechanicum, instead of shacking up with this band of fools. I'm certain a man of your talents and... relative charisma would be rising up the ranks as we speak."

Roderick's expression became strained, a faraway look spreading across his face...

"Heretek? You damnable fools! I am the one pursuing the Omnissiah's will, not you hidebound idolaters. You want to keep knowledge in cages. A library is not a zoo! A book is not a prison!"

"There were... philosophical differences." He finally said, haltingly and grimacing. "Regardless, I am far better off here. The Omnissiah's will shall not be accomplished by puttering around a forgeworld, I must go out into the world and spread his teachings where they are needed. They are, I am, needed here." He gave Jonas a small smile.

"Hah, sorry for asking," Jonas replied. "I of all people should know better than to dredge up the past. Probably a sign I've had too much to drink." He glanced down at the bottle in his hand for a moment, then shrugged and downed the rest.

"And what about you?" inquired Roderick.

"Hmm?" Jonas responded, confused. "Haven't I already-"

"No, that is not what I meant." Roderick interrupted. "You have paid me several compliments, Jonas, let me pay you one in return: you are a fine example of a sorcerer. Certainly, the Warsmith would never have made you High Magus and put you in charge of managing that unruly rabble if he didn't have the utmost faith in your abilities. Why are you here, of all places? A man of your skills ought to be ascending the ranks of some reputable Grand Battalion, earning prestige and glory."

"Hah! you flatter me, friend," Jonas said. "I may seem skillful and cunning to someone who's only seen the likes of the 39th, but I'm just a medium fish in a small pond. Land of the blind and all that."

"But you admit that you are at least a medium fish." Roderick pointed out. "That's still more than enough to avoid your career terminating here. You are avoiding the question."

Jonas shook his head in irritation. "Yeah, you got me," he admitted. "It didn't use to be this way. I was once like any other up-and-coming sorcerer, slowly gathering power and knowledge, ascending the ranks..." His face grew bitter and hard as he spoke. "Back when I still had faith," he spat the word.

"What happened?" Roderick prompted him, softly.

"Oh, quite a lot happened," he replied sardonically. "But it doesn't matter now. All that matters is that I realized, finally, that I was nothing but a pawn in the schemes of alien things that cared not for me, to be tossed aside on a whim. A mushroom, kept in the dark and fed warpshit. The gods cared not for me, for any of us, and worship of them is a futile endeavor. If you can even call them gods at all.

"And the other sorcerers found your lack of faith... disturbing." Roderick finished, seeing where this was going.

"Got it in one," Jonas said, a tinge of joviality returning to his voice. "The gods don't give a frack about me, or my blasphemy, but their followers sure do. And let's just say my departure from their little cult was... not the most subtle. Explosive, you might say."

"Burning bridges often is," replied Roderick. "But sometimes it's the only way to move forward."

"Sounds like you're speaking from experience," commented Jonas, knowingly. "Do you ever regret it? Your own burnt bridge."

Roderick gazed at him for a long moment, and a smile crossed his face once again. "...No," he said, finally, "Not for a moment."

Jonas grinned. "Me neither."

Easy laughter and the clinking of bottles filled the cramped room in an out-of-the-way corner of the beaten-down pile of rust and hasty patch jobs they called a flagship, as the two returned to their game.