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[i]The Awoken[/i] sat in orbit above Skuberrima, floating serenely in the dark abyss of the ceaseless void. 

“You seem troubled, my dear.” Euromulus Krynne called out to Laverna, from his throne of lavish cushions. 

“Just a little...apprehensive,” she told him, moving slowly towards the cluster of pillows and sofas where Krynne was sat, sipping from a snifter full of dark yellow Raenka.

“You’re worried about our impending guests?” the merchant asked Laverna, making no attempt to mask the way his greedy eyes drank her in, just as he guzzled the Raenka in his glass.

“Aren’t you?” Laverna sat down on a sette, opposite Krynne. She relaxed her posture, resting her back against the silky cushions. 

Part of Krynne’s larger fleet, the Awoken was a modified [i]Iconoclast Destroyer[/i], which had been fitted with an opulent lounge, where the pair were waiting to receive the killers and mercenaries who would soon form their warband. 

Heavily armed pirates, wearing gleaming silver masks, stood sentinel in the corners of the lounge. They gripped lasguns in their gauntlet-clad hands, and wore body armour beneath multi-coloured shawls. 

Then there was Krynne’s servants. 

The rabble of slaves were dotted about the lounge, waiting to tend to whatever inclinations the merchant demanded be satiated. Some were visibly men, some markedly women, whereas others sat indistinguishably on the spectrum between femininity and masculinity. 

Laverna’s eyes rested on a lumbering abhuman, with mottled grey flesh, covered in cloying bumps and bulges. The mutant carried a tray in its shaky, unsettled grip, which bore a bottle of Vlod. 

“Mutual benefit will keep them in-check,” Krynne assured her “and I am quite confident in the capabilities of my crew, should enmity get in the way of a peaceful meeting.” 

She couldn't help but wonder if Krynne had forgotten that they were expecting rogue astartes, amongst others. 

“The gauntlet is what matters, [i]Sweetling[/i],” the merchant told her, in his usual leering tone “once we have that in our grasp, I will shower you in all the [i]Cursewine[/i] that your pretty little heart can take.” 

Laverna cracked her knuckles, nonchalantly draping one arm over the side of the sette. 

“Just point me in the right direction,” she told Krynne “I’ll get you the gauntlet...even if we have to set Skuberrima on fire.”