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A Rogue Trader Adventure


The sickening and thickened smog of Praetoria, mingled with the cheers of celebration and the more refined scent of blessed incense, all were suddenly obstructed by the slamming down of iron shutters. All noise without was silenced and, as a series of specially commissioned ventilation machines hummed into life, the equally hazy room began to clear of the choking fumes.

Internally the chamber looked much like any other on the planet, stale and constructed from burnished metal, one door leading in and out, the windows facing onto just another street full of bustling citizens below. Here and there could be seem specks of sophistication, a splash of colour on an otherwise metallic backdrop, borders painted in white, black and gold or the very systems that now filtered the air and made the room habitable. Not that this much mattered, for only two chairs and a small table provided what could be called 'trappings' in the form of furniture and these were currently empty... but not for long.

With a pneumatic hiss from the corridor-side of the chamber, a door sliding open with more smoothness and ease than its weathered appearance might have suggested possible, two figures entered, each taking a seat on either side of the table.

Fist to sit was the clearly older of the pair, although multiple rejuvenant treatments had kept Cornelius Andamar, naval hero and founder of the Andamar Dynasty, far younger than his appearance may first suggest. Dressed in a simple cream doublet and trousers, his boots shining due to military-trained polishing, he took the left seat and placed his peaked cap on the surface of the table, one hand recently relieved of a glove moving up to smooth out his jet-black hair.

Edmund Andamar sat second, holding the hilt of his naval sabre as to avoid smacking it into the seat as he did so, the youngest son of the dynasty keeping himself informal in a crisp white shirt and blue trousers with a red stripe down the crease, his boots easily the equal of his fathers. Being only thirty-two Terran years of age meant he had no need for treatments, but his face nevertheless echoed that of his sire in so many ways as to be unmistakable – the high cheekbones and arching brow, the thin lips and pointed chin, even the glacial blue eyes that seemed to bore through a man – yes, he was the spitting image of the older man, and he knew without a doubt that Cornelius hated him for it.

“Let us get this out of the way then,” grunted Cornelius, placing an auto-writer atop a piece of parchment so ancient that it was claimed the God-Emperor had touched it himself, “you will have a ship that I commissioned a century ago from the Kormisoshi Dockyards, as well as all the financial aid you may need... up to a point,” ice met ice as the older man glanced up from the table, the quill of the auto-writer scratching out a tattoo even as he spoke.

“Thank you, father,” replied Edmund, dropping his had into the most tenuous of nods, “you do me a great honour with this Warrant.”

“Those fools out there can believe I do this because I favour you, indeed I encourage it, but I hold no love for you. Had any of your siblings desired to extend the limits of our Imperium, rather than continue in His service through His military, I would have chosen them. Your mother may champion you, but your brothers are your equals or more.”

Allowing the words to wash over him, Edmund simply held his expression as it was, flinching inwardly as if he had been struck.

“Yes,” he exhaled slowly, “I know.”

One gloved hand reached out for the parchment, the auto-writer withdrawing its quill and sitting motionless once more. In an almost tender movement Edmund plucked the wax-sealed document from the table, rolling it up and holding it leisurely in one hand, looking once more to his father.

“Goodbye, sir. May the God-Emperor smile on you and my family, blessed for a thousand years more.”

Cornelius could only give a low growl of vitriol, slipping his hands back into his own gloves, meeting the eyes of his fifth son and gesturing pointedly at the door.

“Get your arse out of my sight.”







@ClocktowerEchos@BangoSkank@Jeddaven@POOHEAD189@Erezrim

So here it is, glory to the God-Emperor and to the Andamar Dynasty!