[center][color=red]On The Frontier, aboard the Karamzina: Day 3[/color][/center][hr]

Oren, for the most part, had wandered the Karamzina, familiarizing himself with its layout. It was a habit he had become accustomed to… a part of his training. Figure out every corridor, every staircase, memorise each door and where they led. If he knew those, he would always know another escape route, another way to run circles around his target or his pursuers.

There was probably no need for this ritual... the chance of a fight breaking out on the Karamzina was unlikely, but it was a habit hard to break. One of many.

The other settled over him like a warm blanket. He had slipped back into the shadows, going mostly unnoticed by his subordinates and peers. 

And thus when he appeared in the meeting hall outside the War Room, the soldiers and officers who stood waiting for the staff meeting to begin looked on in surprise. It was a rare sight to see Father Oren out in the open like this and many of the senior officers hadn't even formally met the elusive inquisitor. They stared in silence, some slack-jawed, some unsure of what to make of him. It was then that Mother Yonah, flanked by her bodyguard, the soldier Banou, and her young handmaiden, Sister Mal, made her way into the room.

The other personnel in the meeting hall immediately bowed their heads, yet Oren stood silent and still.

"Please! There is no need for that. We are all here equals before the grace of our Lord," she exclaimed in a practised tone, clasping her hands together in casual prayer. Despite her command, the soldiers did not lift their heads. Years of ceremony and routine had cauterized within them the iron truth that the high priests of the Divine Order were to be respected and heralded among the rank and file. It would take more than a gentle urging from Mother Yonah to get them to stray from tradition.

It wasn't until Lieutenant Dragonov made the call for his officers to enter the war room that they found it appropriate to lift their heads. As the hall emptied, Yonah smiled at Oren, her powder blue eyes taking every measure of him. 

"White hair. Pale skin. A storm of unstaunched light within those eyes. Not too many scars. What commendable work your masters at the Atelier have done at cultivating you," she spoke, as if she was admiring a statue in a museum on the Godsfall. "And to retain such unmarred beauty through the horrors of the Seminary, you are of enviable stock indeed, Father Kanus." Mother Yonah tilted her head, scrutinizing him further, and that's when the wonder in her voice turned to worry.

"And yet, there is a... weariness to you. Have you been sleeping well, Reverence?" she asked in a concerned voice as she focused on the darkening skin beneath his eyes.

Despite the Mother’s scrutiny, Oren offered her a hint of a smile and lied through his teeth. “I am unaccustomed to sleeping on arks, that is all. Restful nights will find me eventually.”

One of the two women who had entered with Yonah -- the one who might have disappeared into the background entirely were it not for Yonah's handmaid at her elbow...the the spear erected behind her like a deadly ice spire growing from her skill -- stood quite motionless as first Yonah, then Oren spoke. Yonah's handmaid watched the exchange with some interest, a smile dimpling cold-reddened cheeks. But the other woman, the silent bodyguard, seemed only faintly aware there was even a conversation happening (though he could tell by the subtle but dangerous tension in her body just how present she was). She stood still as stone, hardly seeming even to breathe, even as Yonah's young handmaid suddenly grinned wickedly and leaned over to whisper something in the other's ear. The silver-haired woman gave no response, save the slightest shift inward, nearer Yonah's handmaid.

Mother Yonah then turned her attention to the open doors of the war room. Within, a great oaken table dominated the center of the chamber, with the high command sitting on one side of the table and most of Father Oren's brethren on the other. 

"Of course, leave it to Ragnar and Ilya to keep us from starting this damned thing," Father Hassan could be heard protesting from within.

Mother Yonah smiled.

"I suppose it is time we joined your friends," she said, leaving Oren with a curt nod. As she walked into the war room, Banou stood at attention by at the side of the door. Sister Mal, strangely, remained by Oren's side.

"If sleep should continue to elude you..." she whispered to him before swiftly placing a small object wrapped in black cloth within Oren's coat pocket. Bowing her head, a few stray locks of dark hair spilled out of her nun's habit. She cast one final glance at Oren, the handmaiden's cloudy grey eyes filled with a strange look of pity, before turning to join her mistress within the war room.

Upon passing by Banou, who now stood sentry alongside another SA soldier on the opposite side of the double doors, Sister Mal smiled nervously at her mistress' protector and smoothed the unruly locks of hair back behind her ear, securing them in place beneath her nun's habit.

At that moment, Ragnar came stomping down the stairwell leading to the upper deck, making sure to nod at all of the SA soldiers as he walked by them. Upon noticing Oren, Ragnar clasped him by the shoulder with uncomfortable familiarity, beaming at the Leviathan inquisitor as he always did, as if it were the first time Ragnar had seen Oren that day, despite that never being the case.

"Come on, let's sit together!" the young protector said cheerfully before heading into the war room.

Oren just gave the back of Ragnar’s head a soft glare, before closing his hand around the object Mal had slipped him. He thumbed the cloth and looked around him before carefully unwrapping it… and then immediately shoving it back in his pocket. Gantleaf. She’d given him a small case of gantleaf. How had she…?

A cold chill ran down his spine. Of course, Mother Yonah had found out. She had eyes and ears in places he couldn’t even reach. And she had found out about his… dependency. He clenched his fist and squared his shoulders. She wanted eyes on him? Then he’d have eyes on her. He followed Ragnar into the war room.