Lazarus had always found Horatio's friendliness and camaraderie a fresh, if ultimately irrelevant, change of pace from the usual spic-and-span, overly formal nature of the Imperial Navy, and upper-class Imperial society at large. Lazarus also found Horatio's courtesy to the common folk of the vessel a peculiarity as well, noting it when Drake directly addressed the armsman Karl. As the shuttle drifted down to the planet, Lazarus made a mental watch to keep an eye on this armsman, finding that if Horatio would acknowledge such a man, he must be important enough to regard as an asset.

When the shuttle landed, Lazarus quickly disembarked alongside Drake and the armsmen...and was very much unimpressed with what he saw as he did so.

The squalor of the...he couldn't even bring himself to call it a settlement, was astounding. Most of the habs were simple structures barely fit to house a grox, the smell was appalling, and the majority of the residents they could see looked like they hadn't held more than a single throne gelt in their entire lives. Lazarus reached into his coat and thumbed the holster of his autopistol as Drake reached for his chain-axe. Horatio's disappointment was very noticeable in his tone of voice, and Lazarus wasted no time in making his own thoughts known. "It would seem, my lord, that whatever informant you received the information about this place from was greatly exaggerating."

As he finished speaking, a person garbed in the red flowing robes of the Adeptus Mechanicus would come approaching from the crowd, seeking to appease Lord Drake with kind words and the sign of the Aquila. Lazarus carefully withdraw his hand from the autopistol under his coat, instead clasping it together with his other hand behind his back, eying the newcomer carefully, and awaiting what would happen next.