"My delectable partner is countess and adept of the Administratum Emmaline von Morganstern, and I am the humble Jovian Elite and Rear Admiral Blasius Deckard," I introduced myself with pride and surety, raising my head to look down on the man. "From Jupiter of the Sol System."  

Needless to say we were accommodated quite admirably. I think the proclamation and the badge of rank I revealed was surprising even to Emmaline, though she held it together well. Some might say I was aiming a bit high in my cover, but it made sense once one thought of it. Firstly, I was actually somewhat familiar with the most holy Sol System. Saturn is the headquarters for the Ordo Malleus, and I had visited one of the colonies of Jupiter on an earlier trip with Inquisitor Kronus. The moons were incredibly rich in resources and manufacture, and the orbital colonies were unfathomably wealthy and extravagant. Some even said they rivaled Terra and the colonies of Venus in profligacy, and anyone born upon a planet in the system of humanity's birthplace was given high respect. Jupiter and the Jovian Clans were responsible for the creation of much of the Imperial Fleet along with the forges of mars, Jupiter in particular specializing in the warp drives and gellar fields in all imperial ships. Any son of the clan that was not an administrator of manufacturing was to be an officer in the navy that rose quickly with little merit. I wanted the clout and the reputation to be the talk of the relatively minor planet of Moldar, and Emmaline would be my noble-born liaison and date, and an adept of the administratum. This would have the caveat of people being wary around us, though we would always have that problem being newcomers, but it would also open many doors without my having to show my Inquisitorial seal. The rest I could wring out of someone if I saw the need arise. 

In the midst of the Superior Duke Hostas's hurrying, his manservants aiding him in collecting all manner of apparel and finery, Emmaline drew me aside behind one of the curtains. She seemed perturbed about something and glanced over her shoulder before she gave me a very firm tone of voice. 

"Why in Emperor's balls did you tell them my real name?" She demanded. A reasonable question. We had only known one another for a short time, even if we were swiftly growing closer, which unnerved me more than I cared to admit. But this was the first time she had come to near scolding in my direction, as she was likely still a bit wary of my Inquisitorial rank, as all sensible people should be. Perhaps she felt I had done it because I considered her expendable? It would explain the ire but she read me wrong if she felt that the case. I looked at her squarely in the eyes. 

"There is a slim but very real chance that the men I am chasing know an Inquisitor has followed them, and there is a secondary chance of them knowing it is Hadrian Drakos. If I were to use my true name, we would get nowhere or worse. You, on the other hand, are unknown to them. And in the event of my cover being blown, they will logically assume..." 

"...that Emmaline Von Morganstern is an alias as well..." She reasoned, catching on quickly. The blonde woman nodded after a moment, satisfied with the answer. I did not say it, but it also served so there would be no confusion in the heat of the moment. I had prepared the role of Blasius Deckard for over a year for just such an occasion. Emmaline, though resourceful, was new to this life. Best not to take chances so early on. She regarded me steadily. "You still should have told me, beforehand." 

"I hadn't expected the question, but true, I should have. I simply did not want you to worry on it until necessary. You seemed to have a lot of fun when we were out and about." 

"I did," she conceded, twirling a bit of her golden hair with a finger as she glanced out of the curtains. I watched her as she considered her next question. "So tell me, Blasius Deckard of Jupiter, what exactly are we attending this party for? I thought Inquisitors skulk and raid and burn with flame."  

I smirked for a brief moment. It was a sardonic expression, as I knew the reputation of my peers, and it was certainly warranted. 

"We have three tiers of objectives on this planet. The first tier is finding Bahometus and his cabal, and finding out who, what, and where Balal Ignatius is, as well as finding the tomb of Xenos our artifact unlocks, or if it's even [i]on[/i] Moldar. The second tier of objectives will aid in that, which this gathering is for. Tonight we must either get invited to the Council Meeting of Gralinmakke, which should be easy enough with our stations established. Or, we must get invited to one of the Councilor's estates, Ignatius preferably, but any will help in our investigations. And at this particular gathering, we need to socialize and garner any intelligence we couldn't gain from a datasheet." 

"And the third tier of objectives?" 

"Skulk and raid and burn with flames." I said grimly. Before she could respond with her trademark witticisms, the curtains opened. We both turned to the good Duke Hostas, who clapped his hands together and looked apprehensive. 

"My apologies, but some of our threads and more extravagant accessories are in our sister store a few kilometers away. What time will the party be?" He asked, worried for his reputation. I smiled easily in response. 

"Two hours, no rush." 

"And where is it held?" 

"Nothing very special. It's in the Grand Banquet Lounge for the annual Kaldorae Ascension celebration." 

The Superior Duke's jaw dropped so far, I thought he would stub his toe. Swiftly, he ushered us both into the room and made tactical decisions a general of the battlefleet would be jealous of. Clothes flew and men scattered, and before both Emmaline and I knew it, we were momentarily separated. On the Superior Duke's dime, Emmaline was granted a private groundcar and veritably shoved to the other location, as the clothing that was needed was for her outfit. I was accommodated at the current location, measured, weighed, and outfitted expertly. In less than an hour, I was dressed and sent to the Grand Banquet Lounge just south of the Capital's central government building. It looked like a miniature palace, with elaborate fountains of figures that, if I were to hazard a guess, were semi-mythical renditions of the primarchs spitting water out in a stone effigy of a battle between one another. Every few moments a different area of the fountain behind the scultures flowed with water that flew in a cascade of shapes. The sun had risen low, but the lights of the city put starlight to shame. Great Stone figures of a native Moldarian beast called a Sarcinex framed the twenty steps from the grand walkway to the Banquet Hall itself. Ground cars and aircars pulled up by the dozens, and hundreds if not thousands of onlookers stood behind the line of the fountains and took pictures or gazed the party's way as they meandered down the road. 

Stepping out of my groundcar, I fixed my suit and stood tall. The outfit was superficially martial in nature, accentuating my strong shoulders and showing off my admittedly fake medals on my left pectoral. A banner of red and black clasped my form from my left shoulder to the right waist. My belt was brass and well tanned leather with imperial designs inlaid with gold thread. My boots were black and polished, and my outfit was a dark navy, befitting the naval colors, and draped across my upper torso, reaching my upper arms and trailing behind me was a cape of crimson. In my back, holstered behind my cape was my auto-gun. At my hip was my power sword, and in my hands was my force staff. The auto-gun hidden, the power sword looking very much like an antique sword of rank, and my force staff merely a fashionable walking stick for this occasion. No one here would recognize any of them, save traitors, and when they did I would see it. 

I have been called dashing on several occasions, when I attempted to be. An old associate of mine had even called me such when I was my usual stern self. It served me well when I needed it to, and tonight I would utilize it for all it was worth. 

As I made my way up the stairs, admiring the artistry in the stonework of the vaguely reptilian-canid Sarcinex's, I got a glimpse of the party through the vast open doors. Men and women of high birth mingled under warm, brilliant light as servants moved with practiced certainty and grace to bring them what manner of drink and food they desired. I took a deep breath, but before I continued, I heard a familiar voice. 

"Not going in without me, are you?" 

I turned and beheld Emmaline, striding up the stairs in a way that accentuated the movement of her hips. I am not ashamed to admit my jaw dropped further than Hostas's ever could. Her thick hair bound into a silky ponytail, held in place with a tiara of bronze with a ruby at its center, she wore a sparkling black dress so dark it put deep space to shame. It hugged her body with gusto, moderately cut to show enough of her bosom to distract but not so far as to be considered a floozy by any of the more prudish in the crowd. Her wrists and earrings were golden hoops, and hanging from her neck was a necklace of gold thread with a sapphire sign of terra at its precipice, hanging just beyond the cusp of her considerable chest. 

"Wouldn't think of it," I said, reining myself in. Now wasn't the time for staring. I offered her my arm to take. "We'll go in together. But if we ever get separated and can't find one another, meet me at the northern balcony."

"Nervous?" She asked jokingly. 

"Do I look, ok?" I responded, as if the question could only mean my attire.