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Dargonus, the garden. She is a Rogue Trader. The bells on her festive dress jingle as she marches towards a group of guests at the entrance. Step. “We are happy to see you in good health, Your Ladyship!” Step. Foreign backs look up to the sky. Step. This submission is loathsome. Step. They bow not out of obedience, but from a desire to please. Step. And she stops, while others bow again. Except for him.
Cesselie turns her gaze towards the agent of the Golden Throne, towering in his power armor among her servants and aristocrats.
“Welcome, Inquisitor. I am sure you will find this place to your liking.”
“Do you think so? I’ve heard that my colleagues and I are hard to impress, especially where there is no vested interest.”
“I will make you think otherwise.” The von Valancius bows her head in a short nod so that her hair hides her face from the stranger's view.
And this compels him to think about how little she resembles Theodora.
…
Dargonus, the office. She is Lady von Valancius. Music from the throne room seeps into the office, even through the walls. Several people are present in the room, but only two have the right to break the silence. Two Lords. Two hunters. Yet, Cesselie von Valancius kneels on one knee before the table. Her worktable, in front of which servants report to their lady. Her expression is not one of blind obedience, but of firm determination.
Who is the real master of this meeting? What drives the heir of the late Theodora, so boldly entering the game of the overseers of the Expanse, firmly grasping its parts? Is she easily broken, or is she about to have the last word? Xavier is yet to discover how to get under Cesselie von Valancius's skin.
The shadow of the Lord Inquisitor casts over von Valancius's body, shielding it from the moonlight pouring in through the open balcony doors.
“Rise.”
He gestures for her to stand.
“Do you think this is the cost of my condescension?” A spark of interest is evident on the Inquisitor’s face.
“You've already considered how I can be of use to you.” Cesselie lifts her gaze and smiles lightly.
And this compels him to gaze into her dark eyes, ablaze even in the darkness.
…
Footfall, the Liege's palace. She is a Lord Captain. The Rogue Trader, who has since Dargonus changed her dress for a sturdy jerkin, walks confidently into the Liege's office. Her retinue is behind her. Master van Callox is also present. Calcazar is pleased that Cesselie does not hide from the Inquisition agent left in her suite. However, the nature of their relationship is far from purely business.
Does she care about her secret? Too audacious. She behaves as if she’s ready to stand before the Tribunal naked. Is the investigator trying to hide something, something that he is bound to lose? Oh, Xavier knows. Knows that Lady von Valancius will be the first to bury their relationship. Their roles are too different, their debts are far too unequal.
The room, where diplomatic dinners were held, is transformed into a command post base. Ironically. Two mugs stand on the long table.
Fiery and brutal. Strong and scorching. This is how she remembers his taste.
“After Eufrates II, I hope you will join me one evening.”
“Do you think I have free time?” Froscher manages to replace the cooled recaf while the Lord Inquisitor poses the question.
“You did not decline. I look forward to accompanying you during diplomatic visits.”
And this compels him to examine the old scar on her cheek, stretched by a bold smile.
…
Epitaph, the Yoke. She is dear Сesselie. The monster has fallen. Xavier turns his gaze to the Rogue Trader, slowly making her way towards him. Fresh blood stains adorn her outfit. Clearly, hers. The xenobeasts have no blood.
The Lord Inquisitor admires her like a ceramic doll once squashed in a sculptor's hands. His hands. How many times has Theodora cursed him from her grave? The dead heretic would now be screaming in fury, knowing how proudly Cesselie labors for the Imperium.
She may be the victor, but her actions do not reek of faith in the end of the fight. Cesselie von Valancius continues to fight on another front. Emotions and feelings. What a pity. Calcazar would like to see how the Rogue Trader truly ends the battle. What emotions appear on her face as she makes the final shot? What thoughts visit her mind as she achieves her goal?
This Cesselie continues to hold the pistol in her hand, ready to wound her body and soul again if the Imperium requires it.
“You survived.” He greets her succinctly.
She stands motionless, studying the cracked floor.
The Rogue Trader replies without lifting her gaze to him. “Thank van Callox for that.”
“It is nice to hear that Heinrix was useful to you.”
And this compels him to notice the sorrow on her face as his acolyte's name is spoken aloud.
…
Unknown planet, the forge. She is acolyte von Valancius. Molten iron flows into a mold, ready to create something greater than an old dagger. Xavier is not for the first time granting someone the honor of being present at a forging, but with such a candidate, he meets for the first time. Commissar, Rogue Trader, warden of the Expanse, member of the sacred Inquisition.
Cesselie has long begun her service to the Imperium and now continues to seek new ways to serve it.
A great concentration of power in one's hands rarely leads to anything good, but Xavier keeps an eye on von Valancius. As he once promised her on the Epitaph.
“Congratulations. Whether this is a promotion or not is for you to decide.”
Cesselie holds her old cap in front of her chest. The forge fire lights them both.
“Congratulations accepted. Now will you stop postponing our meetings?”
“You're right. We have much to discuss.”
And this compels him to glance at the Aquila on her cap, which she strokes with her finger through the glove.
…
Dargonus, the dining hall. She is Inquisitor Cesselie von Valancius. This is one of the evenings when the Lord Inquisitor dines together with the hostess of the planet, allowing the Inquisition to settle on Dargonus. However, the Rogue Trader has merely combined a pleasant stay at home with work in the adjacent wing.
The most important skill that Cesselie has learned lately is the ability to observe. To watch as servants discreetly leave the hall when they cease to be useful. To watch as flowers in her room change daily, so similar yet utterly different. To watch as Calcazar continues to sit in his place after finishing his meal.
To observe the reaction of others when you surprise them.
“I like you.” Cesselie wipes her mouth with a napkin.
“Your intentions are hard not to notice.”
The Rogue Trader looks at him expectantly, resting both elbows on the arms of her chair.
“Is that all?” She asks.
“What answer do you expect, Your Ladyship?”
“The one where after dinner you don't go to your office but, for example, to mine.”
“You managed to surprise me. Despite our shared history, you invite me there again.” The Inquisitor smiles thinly and leans back deeper into his chair.
“This time I’ll make sure you are there on my terms.”
And this compels him to smirk at her indecent straightforwardness.
…
Unknown planet, unknown. She is his Cesselie. The Rogue Trader sits on the bed, draping a winter jerkin over her bare shoulders. Behind her back lies the Inquisitor, lost in thought. The woman holds golden watches in her hands, which she examines closely. Does she want to speed up time to escape from here? Or does she want to fast-forward it to a moment when she can again breathe fully? Only one thing is for sure, von Valancius cannot stop its flow.
The Lord Inquisitor does not think so.
“I want us to move on in ten minutes.” Cesselie pronounced the verdict.
“Are you in a hurry somewhere?”
Cesselie can't resist and falls back when a foreign hand pulls her back by the jerkin.
“Your Ladyship, was it not you who insisted on a closer alliance between the sacred Inquisition and the von Valancius dynasty?”
“Your remark is out of place.” Cesselie has to throw her head back to see the face of her interlocutor. With a bored look, the Inquisitor examines the woman's body.
“And why is that? Right now, I see before me a Rogue Trader who has lost not only her clothes but all the rules of decency up to this point.”
Cesselie suddenly finds herself on top of him.
“Lord Inquisitor, your carelessness astonishes me! First, you dared to pull me away from your own assignment for a trip to a planet forgotten by the Emperor,” She pokes him in the chest for the first time. “Secondly, instead of following the plan on site, you decide to distract me,” Her finger presses on his skin again. “Thirdly, you still can't explain why the presence of two Inquisitors is required in this backwater?”
“Tell me, which part of the distraction surprised you the most?”
If Cesselie could strangle him, she would have already done so.
“You can't requisition me for this, covering it up as work!”
“You didn't refuse.” Her heavy sigh hangs in the air.
After a few moments, she continues. “Xavier, if you keep doing this, I'll have to take measures. When does the shuttle arrive?”
“We still have a couple of hours.”
“You're unbearable.” Cesselie fon Valancius leans in to kiss the man.
And this compels him to think that after his death, the Koronus Expanse will remain in the right hands after all.