"...Whisper His prayers with devotion, for they will save your soul."

[i]Beep. Beep. Beep.[/i]

"Honour His servants, for they speak in His voice."

[i]Beep. Beep. Beep.[/i] 

"Blessed Sister, do you need to-"

Agathe's hand shot up, palm-outward, toward the interruption, as she shook her head. She wanted to verbally admonish the short, stocky man that interrupted her - but she was stopped by the knowledge that he was omly nervous, likely afraid of the whip that attended him whenever he slowed in his work.

"Tremble before His majesty, for we all walk in His immortal shadow."

[i]Beep. Beep. Beep.[/i]

Nodding with a warm smile, she clapped the thickly-bound prayer book in her hands closed, though her eyes did not move; a Sister, after all, would memorize her prayers.

"The Emperor is with you, as He is with all of us. Your daughter, too," she said, her gaze sliding from the man, to his gangly wife crouching over a small bed, to the tiny, frail little girl sleeping in it, her breathing labored and gasping. "Always remember that. Now-" she said, briefly lowering the visor of his armour, her vision instantly filled with a heads-up-display. A summons direction her to... Ah! The Central Observation Dome.

Lifting the dark gunmetal iron-coloured visor back away from her face, she cleared her throat.

"I must depart on business for now, but I will do what I can to return to minister to you. I promise." She said, briefly squeezing the man's hand before turning to leave.

[hr]

Sister Agathe, punctual as always, was the first to enter the Dome, her iron-coloured armour glinting ever so slightly in its harsh artificial lighting. At one hip she carried her power maul as always, and at the other, her bolt pistol, a Sacrestan's shield fastened to her back-mounted power unit, altogether pushing her [i]somewhat[/i] impressive two metres of height just a handful of centimeters higher. She anticipated no combat, of course...

But idleness would beget heresy, and to be unprepared for even the most unlikely eventuality was utterly unacceptable. 

"Lord Andamar, Magos." She called out with as much of a bow as her armor would allow, finally approaching the central dais. "I apologize for the delay. I was busy ministering to the ratings - Nyla, the daughter of one of your gunnery ratings, has come down with an illness, and her father requested that I pray for her with him." She continued, stepping onto it with a quiet, relieved sigh as she made the sign of the Aquila across her chest.

[i]Good,[/i] she thought, lowering her hands to her sides. [i]I made it. Just on time.[/i]