Day 33, Continued
Jal had served in the Janus PDF for five years, ever since he'd survived to reach his teens. Through it all, his service had been quiet, uneventful. Then the Orks had come. And then Janus and four other hives had rebelled.
"FORWARD! FORWARD, YOU WRETCHES!" Shouted Preacher Moradash, leaping onto the barricade in defiance of the enemy's fire. "FIGHT AGAINST THESE BLASPHEM-hurk!"
The foolish preacher was shoved off his feet, a splatter of blood coating the greasy ground. Emperor's shits, Jal swore as the man didn't get back up. He crawled over to the immobile preacher, checking his wounds. The hel? The man had only taken a shot in the leg, so why was he unconscious? Had he hit his head?
He'd never liked the man, who had always spoke of the great changes that were to come with their inevitable victoriy, but Jal still moved to check the preacher's head, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him as Glaia shoved his autogun back into his hands.
"Forget him!" She shouted over the echoing roar of battle. "Get on the line!"
She was the same rank as him, but he obeyed nonetheless, finding a hole in their defenses, little more than a hastily constructed wall made of scrap that had barely managed to hold the preacher's weight, nestling his gun into place.
The enemy rushed at them with inhuman fearlessness, not even bothering to take cover as they rushed down the long corridor, illuminated only by the steady stream of muzzle flashes, which made them cast strange shadows and seem almost monstrous. Jal had gotten quite good at headshots, but for every Malumite whose skull exploded in a shower of brains and bone, another ten seemed to take their place.
Jal had heard the enemy were supposed to be outnumbered, ill-equipped, and poorly trained, driven only by their fear of the Sisters of Battle… Jal had never imagined fighting against the Order of the Cleansing Rains, quite the opposite, having dreamed of serving alongside them in valiant battles against xenos. But, the Order had betrayed the God-Emperor and the Imperium, or so his superiors said.
Closer and closer, inexhaustible and unbreakable, the enemy came at them endlessly. Each step nearer grew the dread in his heart and Jal sent prayers to the God-Emperor, who almost certainly wasn't listening, to see him through this.
He heard a cry of pain to his left and glanced over, seeing Glaia falling backwards, blood spouting from her shoulder. She should have been back up in a moment, but she fell still, just as the preacher had. What was going o-?!
Jal felt something like a fiery brand being pressed into his shoulder, felt his shoulder snap. For a single, excruciating moment, his world was focused on that pain and he lurched back, a scream on his lips. Then, in a second, the pain was gone and he felt incredibly drowsy.
Glancing down, he saw what at first he thought was his own bones sticking out of his flesh. However, even in his addled state, he realized that wasn't quite right. The bone-like substance was carved like a bullet, partially embedded into his shoulder. Then, right before his eyes, the bone dissolved into him and the drowsiness rushed up all around him.
The last thing he saw was the Malumites leaping over the barricade with unnatural strength, not stopping to so much as glance down at him in their rush.
Three power-armored warriors stood in the middle of a vast throne room. Two were sorcerers, one was a dust-filled automaton from an age before either of them had even been born. In the shadows of the hall, daemon-possessed flesh writhed and twisted in complex and strange patterns, while a dim blue light flickered between the sorcerers, forming the structures of Janus.
"Kalak's horde is broken," Uirus spoke first, his arms crossed. The words should have brought him at least some satisfaction, for the bull-headed monster to have had his followers broken and slaughtered. Unfortunately, that small victory was far outweighed by his next remark. "We are likely going to lose Janus."
"They've been sieging the city for how long?" Ahsael asked, though it was clear he didn't expect an answer. "A week? Even if every officer we had was either incompetent or a traitor we could not have lost so much ground against an ordinary enemy in just a scant few days."
Uirus wasn't sure if Ahsael was calling him incompetent or a traitor or just the mortals under his command. Uirus had no illusions about the willingness of Ahsael to kill him if he failed too many times, brother or not. Janus had been a horrific loss, but it did not seem Ahsael blamed him specifically for it, even if the hive city was placed under his command.
"Where is Kalak himself?" Ahsael asked as he magnified the view of Janus to the battlelines, which could be seen to shift in real time as they were steadily pushed back by an implacable foe. The updates to the map was a combination of reports from the front made by spies both mortal and otherwise as well as through Ahsael's own powerful sorceries.
"Still fighting, I believe," Uirus said. He pointed to a part of the map, where the lines of the enemy were strong but unmoving. "This is him, I believe, and what remains of his beastmen."
The lines of the enemy could be seen to grow wider and wider, clearly preparing to wrap around and encircle the one area of stalwart resistance. Further past that, the rest of the enemy line was already bypassing the area being defended. Uirus held back a snort at the futile and pointless nature of Kalak's last stand. How very like the beastman.
"And the rest of our forces?"
"Around a quarter have been positioned in static defenses to try and slow down the enemy. I've promised them reinforcements will arrive soon," Uirus said, manipulating the map so it went to the other side of the hive city. "The rest of the troops are being withdrawn to Dolus."
"The defenders are entirely made up of the uninitiated?"
"Yes. Around two thirds of those being withdrawn are as well, but I've prioritized-."
"Leave them."
Uirus blinked. "My lord?" He asked, not sure he had heard correctly.
"They failed to hold Janus for more than a quarter of a month. The cultists can be retrieved. Send the rest to die. Let their souls feed the local daemons, we may gain an advantage that way."
Uirus almost spoke back. After all, there were nearly twenty regiments that could defend Dolus ready to be withdrawn from Janus. Forces that were more reliable than hungry daemons, who might not even see the surplus of souls as anything more than tribute, not something to be repaid. However, whether it was his training, his loyalty, or his fear of Ahsael's reprisal that drove him, he simply nodded.
"Yes, my lord."
He could only trust the older and more powerful sorcerer knew what he was doing, that-
"My Lords-!" The outcry was cut off by the sound of a windpipe being closed as Ahsael whipped around, hand extended, sorcerous power circling the throat of the mortal who had dared to barge into their proceedings. The daemonic entities that swarmed the shadows drew closer to the intruder, before drawing back.
Uirus took a moment to study the man. He was one of the initiated, a worshipper of Tzeentch if his robes were anything to go by. Quite a high-ranking one, it seemed too, since he was vaguely familiar to Uirus, and the space marine rarely dealt with anyone but the upper echelons of the cults and his robes were finely made, with patterns of silver running throughout them.
"I gave orders not to be disturbed," Ahsael stated icily as the mortal floated towards them, held aloft by an invisible hand around his throat. The mortal's eyes bulged. "I should feed you to these daemons for retribution."
The look of terror on the mortal's face seemed to delight Ahsael for a moment, until the sorcerer relaxed his power and the mortal dropped to his knees, wheezing and gasping for breath.
"F-forgive me, my lord!" The mortal begged.
"Then tell me what was so important that you would defy my command," Ahsael stated.
"The scriers, my lord!" The mortal explained quickly. "They saw something from afar!"
"That is their job," Ahsael said drily, sorcerous power weaving around his fingers. "Perhaps you would care to explain what it is that they saw?"
"I… I don't know how, my lord," The mortal said, pressing his head to the ground. "I have never seen anything like it! It was like… starlight given form!"
"Well, I suppose we shall just have to go see for ourselves," Ahsael said, turning towards the exit and walking off, Uirus following. The mortal slumped forward as if in relief. Once Ahsael and Uirus had both passed through the great doors of the hall, they slammed shut behind them and the screams of the mortal as daemons suddenly descended upon him began.
Selvik did not often sully himself by travelling below the clouds of Monstrum, having only seen the surface of the world he ruled twice in several centuries of life, both times being exceptional circumstances. Yet, neither occasion had been as exceptional as this.
"You are certain they are from Malum?" He asked for what must have been the fourth time from the aid, staring very hard at his own shoes. "Not another hive?"
"Yes, your excellency," The aid said, his eyes never once looking up. Such lower beings were not permitted to look at him. Normally, they would not have even been allowed within thirty paces, but it would be difficult for the aid to provide updates from outside his private shuttle currently dipping below the black clouds of Monstrum.
"Why was I not told of their arrival sooner?" Selvik hissed and the aid wisely remained silent, though whether the man's shaking was caused by his fear or the turbulence of their transport was anyone's guess. Selvik knew exactly why he wasn't told, he had been partaking in a party with his court and left orders not to be disturbed. Thus, learning that Malum's regiments had not only managed to make it to the other side of the Burning Lands and reached the outskirts of the capital in a mere two days, in complete defiance of how swiftly an army could have been ready to move out. While Magos Zalum had said that such a speed could technically be achieved, if an army started from Malum immediately and taken the trains that connected the various hives at their top speeds, such a thing was impossible without an army of trained Tech-Priests to ensure the machine spirits of the trains were in working order. Something Malum decidedly did not have.
Then again, Selvik had been quite certain Malum didn't have forty-eight regiments or even more than twenty. And yet, the reports had stated that not only had eight been sent west with the Sisters, but indeed the fifteen regiments sent by tired old Coris had arrived on the promised date.
It was impossible and Selvik could not believe it until he saw it with his own eyes.
Their journey was a short one, little more than an angled descent down onto Monstrum's surface. Selvik was aware of the risk he was taking by moving in the open like this, even if there were over a dozen Eagle Shuttles providing an escort, each filled with the best Arbites in Deimos. However, some things could not be helped.
Finally, his shuttle came to land in a hastily cleared landing zone, though not before half the Arbites had landed and set up a perimeter around the site. Personal bodyguards rushed down the ramp, lasguns at the ready for any sign of danger. Only after several minutes, when it was determined to be safe, did Selvik finally stalk down the landing ramp, followed by the aid unfortunate enough to be the bearer of bad news, who swiftly resumed the thirty-paces rule.
Selvik's eye twitched at what he saw.
Rows upon rows, columns upon columns, rank upon rank of men and women, dressed in Malum PDF uniforms, autoguns held at rest. Fifteen regiments, seven and a half million troops, just as promised.
And, at the head of the army was the rude colonel himself, the man whose name he still didn't know, striding towards Selvik without an ounce of fear or nervousness. As if that wasn't strange enough, the Arbites did not even seem to notice him, allowing him past their encirclement without so much as a sideways glance.
Selvik brought himself up to his full height as the man approached. The governor was quite tall, if thin, towering over the colonel, who was quite short by comparison, though looked quite a bit stronger than Selvik.
"Colonel Marcus Agrippa," The man said with a salute and a wry smile that made Selvik want to order him shot.
"Your rudeness is as apparent in person as it is over hololith, colonel," Selvik sneered. "Perhaps you should mind your tongue in the presence of your betters, lest you lose it and your head."
"Indeed, governor," Agrippa said, never losing the smile.
"I will overlook your repeated lapses in protocol," Selvik said, an insincere smile on his own face to match the colonel's. "And I will even grant you a special honor. You will lead the vanguard of our force when we march against Whiro."
"Oh, I believe you're operating under a misunderstanding, governor," Agrippa said, suddenly producing a paper. "I will be commanding the vanguard… Along with the rest of the army too."
"What?!" Rage boiled his blood and Selvik snatched the paper from Agrippa with claw-like fingers. Only then did he notice the seal pressed into its bottom, a seal he had grown all too familiar with in recent months. The Inquisitorial Rosette.
So, that woman had finally come out of her hole. If this wasn't faked. Selvik handed it off to an aid that came forward with a flick of a wrist, allowing them to determine its veracity. Throughout the wait, the colonel never lost that damned smile. It was several minutes before the aid held up the scroll, an almost reverent and terrified look on his face.
"It is verified, your excellency," the aid said, seeming desperate to be rid of the document as though it might detect some small heresy within him. "Acolyte Purilla provided the necessary authentication codes."
Selvik bit back a swear and snatched the document again, the aid fleeing from his presence. Indeed, the document did command that Agrippa be given command and Selvik, for all his attempts to seal Catherine Ellen within her chambers, could not disobey… At least not openly and certainly not in front of a fully armed army that almost certainly would side with Agrippa and the Inquisitor over him. Hel, his own Arbites might not obey him over an Inquisitorial order…
"By all means, colonel," Selvik hissed. He doubted the Imperial Guard would accept being commanded by a PDF colonel. And, even then, there were other means of ensuring his own name returned to command over the army.
"Excellent, we'll be heading out then," The colonel said, rounding on his heel immediately. Selvik blinked at that.
"Wait… what do you mean?"
The colonel turned, his smile widening. "I'm taking the assembled troops to Whiro, immediately. The rest of the army you've so helpfully gathered will catch up once they're ready, assuming we aren't finished by that point."
The man was insane, Selvik realized. Completely insane. Selvik didn't need to do anything, the man would be ripped apart by the defenses of a hive city. Just like the army Coris claimed to be sending against Limos in the south would be. Selvik almost grinned at the thought.
Almost.
Because… even though it was impossible… Malum had already wrought the impossible into reality.
Selvik returned to his shuttle, unwilling to imagine such a thing any longer.
Aliciel waded through the water, feeling the sand between her toes, the chill of the waves contrasted against the warmth of the sun. She breathed in and smelled the salt of the ocean, felt the brush of wind against her hair.
As always, he did not so much appear in her senses as much as he emerged from all around her, like the ocean itself extended into a new shape, simply a wave of a different sort. He was behind her and she could see his reflection in the shimmering waves, feel the ripples his movement sent through them.
"I felt something, the other night," She said after he did not speak first.
You were not the only one. Your Sisters, both here and outside this place felt it, along with many others.
"What was it?"
The birth of something new and wonderful.
She looked down and saw new reflections in the water. The sun had set at some point and the stars had come out, but they were not the usual stars. Instead, what looked like bridges or a spider web of starlight connected the countless distant suns. Not something that existed now, she realized, but something that one day could.
"My… sisters, you said." She looked away and back into the sky, which had returned to the time of early morning, the sun hanging low on the horizon. "Are they really my sisters?"
Do you not consider them as such?
Aliciel was quiet at that for a time.
"I do," She finally admitted. "But I don't think I should."
Why?
"They're…" Aliciel sat down in the water, feeling the waves rising up to her neck. She stared up at the sky, filled with clouds moving slowly across it. "We have committed such horrors. Killed so many, destroyed so many lives simply because we thought it just. Righteous."
Yes, you did.
Aliciel almost flinched at that, wrapping her arms around her knees. But he wasn't finished.
And you all will have the chance to be better.
Oddly, she felt some semblance of relief at that. Was it odd though? While none of the Order of the Cleansing Rains had been among the Sisters she had been trained alongside, they were nonetheless women she had fought alongside, bled alongside. Women she had called friends, mentors, and more, who she, not too long ago, would have gladly died to protect. Would still die to protect.
And therein lied the problem.
"How can I feel… at peace when I know that I would defend people who would… who would…"
I understand.
She glanced back at him and, for the first time, saw his face. It was… strange to look at, solid, but also not. It was like staring at the edge of an event horizon, a glimpse of something strange enough to know it was not normal yet still something real. She couldn't describe or really determine his exact features, or even if he was really a man, a woman, or something else. The only thing she could tell was what expression he had on his face. It was a sad smile that conveyed far more meaning than could be spoken, but she felt as though she was only able to parse a fraction of it.
I help those who could rightly be called monsters to try and be better. Even as I look at what they've done and see how little it weighs upon some of them.
"So… why bother?" Aliciel did not need to be told that she was among those monsters. Her own past was far from pure, as laughable as such a term seemed now. She look away from him and up at the sky. "Why not just… kill us?"
Let me ask you something. What purpose would your death serve?
She turned around, opening her mouth to answer, but he had disappeared or, rather, receded. He was still present all around her, but the conversation was over.
In the tallest spire of Malum, within the palace of the elderly governor Coris, several men occupied not the throne room but a far smaller chamber adjacent to it, sat around a grand table that could easily seat dozens and had as many chairs. Only four were in attendance for now, if you didn't count the dozen scribes sat directly behind them, as this was an official Administratum matter, a meeting called out of necessity and, most alienly to such figures, urgency. The first three, each the highest ranking official of the Adeptus Administratum located in Malum, were Ordinate Hilnat Ros, Ordinate Gallius Domor, and Ordinate Mirnew Vengun, each with backs permanently curled forwards from decades of sitting hunched over their papers. The fourth was the governor himself, sitting in the largest chair at the head of the table, as was only right, and sleeping just as soundly.
Such a meeting had not been called in living memory, perhaps not ever in all the Imperium's history, if only for the speed at which it had assembled, save perhaps during the days of the Great Crusade when the God-Emperor still walked His most blessed realm.
"Mortality rate in the lower levels has dropped to almost nothing in the last few weeks," Hilnat spoke first for this specially called meeting, not having had to wait more than a few moments before the governor's eyes had shut and his soft snoring had begun. His voice was scratchy, almost like static thanks to the mechanical device that had replaced his rotting vocal chords some decades prior. "Absolute zero in the case of infant mortality."
"Down from what?" It was Mirnew that asked the question. Of the three, he was by far the youngest, barely a decade over three hundred. The youngest Ordinate in several millennia, as it happened, perhaps the youngest ever. Either no one had bother checking back further or the documents containing that information had been lost. Likely both.
"In the case of those labor-worthy… Daily? Point-oh-oh-five percent," Hilnat replied. "If the trend continues across the entire year at the present rate… One-point-eight percent of the population, give or take."
Gallius let out a low whistle at that or tried in any case. His lips and mouth were drier than the papers spread before him, and the sound was more like a dying breath. "Not including those under the age of labor?"
"Not one reported in this last week," Hilnat shook his head dismissively, thin strands of ancient white hair waving gently from the motion. "Down from fifty percent of those under the age of eight years."
"Work-related incidents are down, particularly lethal ones?" Mirnew noted, gesturing to a stack of papers nearly as thick as a fist.
"Indeed," Hilnat nodded.
"That's not all," Gallius said, gesturing to a stack before himself. "Food-related protests have all but disappeared entirely. Crime is down across the board. There are whole barracks of Arbites who haven't had any serious work to do in days other than patrols."
"They're just sitting there, twiddling their power mauls?" Hilnat asked in amazement.
"Well, they still have their quotas to fill," Gallius replied with a shrug, an odd motion for his hunched over frame to perform. "But they normally exceed them by large margins."
"There's more," Mirnew said, referring now to his own pile of documents. "Sickness and disease appears to have been eradicated."
"What?" Hilnat asked, blinking with a look of incomprehension on his face. Gallius scoffed, though it could have just as easily been a dry cough.
"Not one person in this entire hive has so much as a cold, as far as the reports I've received go," Mirnew confirmed.
"But that's impossible."
"Have a look yourself," Mirnew said, pushing the pile over to Hilnat, sat directly next to him. Hilnat spent the next several minutes flipping through the summary at the top, a mere thirty pages efficiently condensing thousands. Through it all, the old eyes of the Ordinate grew wider and more disbelieving.
"Were these things all from only one department, I would assume supreme incompetence or even sabotage to be at fault," Hilnat finally declared after reaching the end of the summary. "On the part of the lower orders, of course. However, if all three of our departments have such irregularities… then could this really be true?"
The three looked up from their papers at what they could only assume to be the root cause of these sudden changes. Sitting prettily on the table before them was a single, bright red fruit. The thing had appeared on their scopes only a day ago, but the trio suspected it had been around longer than that. How else did one explain all these sudden changes? They couldn't have happened overnight, regardless of what their reports claimed. Clearly these fruits had been growing in the lower levels for years, perhaps even decades.
None of them could possibly know, or even believe, that the fruits had been around for less than a week and the very changes before them were not years old, but in fact less than a month.
"It's a disaster." Hilnat said.
"A calamity." Gallius agreed.
"A catastrophe." Mirnew nodded.
"We have to nip this in the bud," Gallius began. "The rations we provide the laborers were carefully portioned to ensure they accomplished their workload. These… fruits places that equation in danger."
"They'll get lazy if they don't have to work for their food," Hilnat added. "And this sudden drop in the mortality rate… Terrible. They already breed like vermin down there just to replace the dead. We can hardly afford more of them. We'd practically have an infestation on our hands, sucking up all our resources. And then what happens?"
"Social disorder," Gallius added, shuddering at the thought. "If they're fed, they might start to get ideas above their station."
"Any ideas are above their station," Mirnew pointed out and the other two Ordinates nodded sagely.
"Our prisons will also suffer," Gallius continued. "The quota of arrests for each Arbites will have to be increased, otherwise we won't have anyone to… Well, whatever it is the criminal rabble does in service to the God-Emperor's people as payment for their sins."
"I think some are given to the Mechanicus to be made into servitors," Hilnat said ponderously, though he wasn't sure.
"Unimportant. What is important is that we need to ensure the supply of new prisoners does not diminish," Gallius said.
"Well, we at least shall not lack for recruits," Mirnew said. "For either the prisons or the defense forces. Have you heard our regiments have more than doubled?"
"Preposterous!" Hilnat probably had meant to shout, but his voice box seemed to not be set to such a volume, fortunately for the peace of a certain sleeping governor. "We barely had enough uniforms for twenty regiments. How are we supplying forty?"
"Forty-eight, as I recall from the most recent report," Mirnew corrected.
"There are too many irregularities for it to be coincidence," Gallius said. "We must deal with this before this storm subsides and we are next expected to report to the sub-sector Administratum. Otherwise, it may look like we are fiddling with the figures."
"We always fiddle with the figures," Mirnew said, receiving a glare from Gallius.
"Yes, but it must not look like we are!" Gallius said
"Then shall we just do that?" Mirnew suggested, but Hilnat shook his head.
"I have no doubt the other hives will hear of this disastrous turn of events soon enough," He said. "The other Ordinates will most likely inform at least the Lord Palatine in Deimos."
"We can't allow that," Gallius said, pounding his fist against the table, though given his withered bones it was more of a soft tap made to prove a point. "We'd appear incompetent to have allowed such things to occur in our hive city."
"Well… It might not necessarily be determined to be our fault," Mirnew suggested, glancing pointedly at the sleeping Coris.
"Nonetheless, we have to do something to rectify…" Hilnat reached out with a long, claw-like finger and poked the fruit, causing it to rock back and forth on the table. He almost seemed to flinch at the reaction. "This."
"I know how we can do that and fill our Arbites quotas," Gallius suddenly spoke up, a glint of brilliance in his eyes. "Make it illegal to possess or consume these fruits, punishable by either life imprisonment or death. The Arbites can imprison those that they need to meet their quotas and help to ensure the population does not grow too quickly."
"We can hardly expect the Arbites to single-handedly return the mortality rate to a more acceptable level," Mirnew pointed out. "They could go around all day smashing skulls with their power mauls and they wouldn't accomplish more than… a tenth of the proper number, if even that."
"Less, I'd imagine," Hilnat agreed. "We should have asked the Monitor Malevolus to be here, perhaps he could provide some kind of techno-sorcerous solution."
Both Mirnew and Gallius looked at him, aghast. "Bring a member of the Mechanicus in on this disaster?!" Gallius almost cried out in disbelief.
"Besides, Sathar would not likely accept such a summons," Mirnew said dismissively. "I hear he cried out in the middle of court just a few days ago and then locked himself in his laboratorium. Hasn't come out since."
"Priests," Gallius and Halnit said in unison, shaking their heads.
"Even as Logis go, he's an odd one," Mirnew agreed.
"Still, getting a tech-priest to conjure up some trick would be a decent solution," Gallius said, rubbing his chin. "Perhaps have one set off some kind of gas weapon in the lower levels? Do we have such devices?"
"Not as far as I'm aware." Mirnew shrugged. Then, a small smile crept across his face, usually fixed in a permanent frown. "I suppose we could always have the defense forces shoot a few tens of thousands every day. Put those additional regiments to good use."
The three ordinates laughed at that, Gallius devolving into a fit of dry wheezes. Then, slowly, they stopped laughing as they actually began to consider the idea.
"… I don't think we could do that," Halnit finally said, after nearly a minute.
"No, no, you're quite right," Gallius agreed.
"Yes, far too risky," Mirnew added. "We only have ten of those forty-eight regiments here with us, after all. The rest have been sent to fight in this ludicrous war of Selvik's in the east. Well, besides those the Cleansing Rains took west."
"Not nearly enough to deal with the protests that would result," Gallius said.
"And even then, we might lose productivity," Halnit added and the other two Ordinates shivered at the thought.
"The one thing keeping us above the water and our necks from that Inquisitor's power sword," Mirnew said, before turning around to the scribes hurriedly scribbling on their sheets of paper, hissing at them. "Don't write that down, you fools!"
Quickly, the scribes scratched out the last sentence, under the watchful eyes of all three Ordinates.
"Well, as a stopgap measure, let's go with your plan to deal with it," Halnit said, nodding at Gallius. At a gesture, three servoskulls each with an autoquill attachment hovered down from the dark ceiling, moving to blank scrolls brought over by scribes. Over the course of a few minutes, Halnit dictated the necessary words permitting Ordinate Gallius the authority to institute expanded quotas or, at least, to implement the necessary changes to policy. Then, gathering the scrolls and placing them in front of the sleeping Coris, Halnit gingerly picked up the limp governor's hand whose middle finger held the hive governor's signet ring.
As Gallius closed the scrolls and carefully bled wax on them, Halnit pressed the signet ring into the wax on each of them before the Ordinate returned the hand to its resting place on the arm of the chair, the governor asleep through it all.