"Huh...it's okay."
Melissa Springer tried to relax, reminding herself that the explanation of prophecy was never straightforward. After all, even the library of the Psychic Academy was often filled with the most ridiculous meditation visions, often those that had passed through Verified predictions.
But she still hesitated, disturbed by the vividness of the dream.
"It's me, but...but I look different, I'm in tatters, and...there's blood on my face. One of the...oh, the throne...one of my arms is missing... ...Blood gushed out like a fountain...I wanted to say something, but the wind was too strong and I...I couldn't hear it, and then I saw...I..."
She was vaguely aware of a tear slipping down her cheek, and distantly, surreally, wondered why it was there.
what does that mean?
All the words tangled together now, refusing to stop, and she felt herself falling into the same horrible terror as the meditation, writhing and screaming and freezing, all at once.
"I looked at it...that shadow, I mean...like I was falling, straight through the snow to the ground, and...there was something chasing me, burning me from behind my eyes... By the Emperor's grace, it was the size of a hive city, falling from the stars... and then...".
"...Darkness crawled out of her womb."
She forced her eyes open long enough to check that the servitor had registered every word.
It watched her silently, waiting for her next command.
She sighed, allowing herself to fall into a deep, exhausted swoon.
But her slumber was soon interrupted.
"who?"
"you're awake?"
"Ah, the Inquisitor."
Melissa Springer bowed respectfully, her eyes lowered.
She had not yet become accustomed to her new master's eccentricities, but soon learned that his unusual temper was more easily reflected in those who failed to show due respect, considering his insistence on wearing only the narrowest of eye slits Mirrored Helmet, and perhaps unfortunately, any interested glance at his peculiar headgear would be mistaken for disrespect, possibly igniting his full wrath.
In short, Inquisitor Lennart Meyers has always been not an easy person to get along with.
Even most of his fellow Inquisitors thought so.
But Melissa figured she was relatively safe for now, as long as she kept her head down and let the hem of his plaid robe and heavy armored boots dominate her view instead of his feathered cape and reflective mask.
"No need."
But today the facts proved her wrong. For such a majestic figure, the judge's voice today was surprisingly soft.
"I will not let my assistant grovel like a commoner. I am your supervisor, girl, not your master."
"I'm sorry, my lord."
She straightened up and adjusted her gaze upwards, showing a look of remorse. Maybe chest high would be more appropriate.
At the same time, she looked over the Inquisitor's shoulder to the rear, where were the masked figures who formed the Inquisitor's entourage. Several of them chuckled, amused by her gaffe.
She suppressed the strong desire to push their heads down and forced herself to calm down.
As the newest member of the entourage, she quickly learns that rank doesn't matter at all: she's technically second only in importance to the Inquisitor himself, but among this colorful crowd, respect seems to be earned, rather than requested.
Each judge will have a team of entourage of different sizes. The size of the entourage is often related to the might and power of the judge. Of course, wealth is also a part, but it is not the main factor.
Lennart Meyers has more than sixty followers, who cover many fields such as negotiators, businessmen, liars, killers, soldiers, psykers, mutants, etc., and these followers who follow the Inquisitor are based on each other on the one hand. Prestige, on the other hand, is seeking asylum.
Of course, the large political legacy left to Inquisitor Lennart Meyers by his late mentor also plays a role.
"I have read the scene you described."
Lennart Meyers' voice was confused and she waved a slender dataslate in her field of vision.
"You had fainted before this happened."
"Because... the prophecy is too realistic, sir."
"I don't care how realistic it is, girl, but I won't tolerate one of my minions passing out at an important moment."
"This won't happen again, my lord."
"Of course it won't."
As the dataslate tilted upward, the Inquisitor's eyes wandered over the spidery text.
"Your description... is interesting to read. What does it mean?"
"I don't know, there are no brooders here to decipher—"
"I didn't ask what the Emperor's damn machine would do, girl! I asked you what you thought."
She swallowed and resisted the urge to look into his eyes.
"I...I feel like something is coming, my lord, coming here, I mean-"
"'Something,' is that the best you can do?"
She was almost trembling with nervousness, clenching her fists at her sides, trying to suppress the bitterness in her voice.
'Something from the stars, a big dark thing... a dark thing,'
There was a moment of silence, dust particles circulating in the beam of the hovering illuminator, and at the edge of her vision, Melissa could see the entourage shuffling.
Did her words resonate?
Suddenly, the inquisitor's rich voice broke the silence and her hopes.
"The blood of the Emperor."
he said loudly, regret in his voice.
"How should I deal with this in such detail?"
As expected, the room was drowned in laughter as people vented their fawning fun in a fit of guffaws.
For a moment, she found herself hating them.
She allowed herself to relax, taking the humiliation gracefully - digging her nails into the flesh of her palms, blood oozing between her knuckles.
"enough."
The Inquisitor's smile faded, and a sudden silence enveloped the room. He squinted at the crowd, his strong shoulders hunched.
The words were like a spring breeze to Melissa who was reluctantly basking in the din of spiritual release, she had had enough of them, fools though they may be, but they shut up.
"The operation will take place in half an hour."
The Inquisitor cocked his head at his staff and barked orders.
"Prepare all tools and vehicles immediately, and adopt B-level grouping mode, now."
Soon, the group of people were divided into several groups in a short time like machines. Melissa was not familiar with everyone here, but she could still see some clues about the allocation of resources: there was at least one strong warrior or soldier in each group. , a psyker hiding a mask, a Mechanicum believer playing with devices, a hooded priest holding a chain saw, and a sniper with cold eyes.
With just one command, the Inquisitor's overall abilities and expertise come together just right, no nonsense. Even for Melissa, who was still reeling from their slights, this was impressive efficiency.
