The Sister listened while Victorine spoke, her helm tucked under her left arm, plasma pistol and chainsword at her belt and bolter with scope and drum-magazine hanging from a black leather sling adorned with golden fleur-de-lys that wrapped around the neck of her ceramite armor. Her hair was freshly trimmed and dyed into a white bob-cut, as was the custom of many Sisters. 

	[i]Miracles[/i]. Her lips pursed into a frown. Was it truly? Perhaps it was but the common folk were often deceived by charlatans and their own imaginations which ran wild after decades of monotonous physical labor. The mention of the ruinous powers turned her frown into a scowl. Such things were not to be trifled with and a small village was unlikely to have the resources to sniff out the complex deceptions the [i]enemy[/i] could muster. 

	Vitruvia didn't have any questions. She rarely did. For months she had lived the life of a ascetic warrior, eating, sleeping and driving her body to it's limits. Now the God Emperor had honored her ([i]her![/i]) with the chance to destroy his enemies. Just the chance. It was possible it was a true miracle, or a miscommunication. Goosebumps ran up the back of her neck as she offered a silent prayer of thanks.