So it was that the Ecclesiarchal delegation was hosted by the absent Diokletion De'mange for what seemed an outrageously long time, as far as the Sister-Celestian was concerned. Indeed, they made their way through the ranks of the high-and-mighty of Cekrov and gleaned precious little by way of information concerning a resurrected young girl; oh they all thought it was truly miraculous, if it was even true, but the bulk of Patrician faces scoffed at the very idea – even in front of representatives of the God-Emperor's own Adeptus Ministorum.
It was with little reluctance that Victorine regathered her group to her side, a none-too-difficult task due to how these haughty civilians moved aside in the wake of every single one of them...Alexa being the focal point of much of the whispering and non-corporeal pointing.
As she suspected, among the money and the elite of the planet there was little joy at the tale of one of their farm labourers offspring returning to life, especially since the small-folk gathered round here as if she were some sort of beacon of hope. Hope was something that Victorine had learnt that nobility and aristocracy on Imperial worlds would prefer their subjects generally not to have too much of – she disagreed only a little, too much hope did tend to give masses of people harmful ideas in the long run.
“We shall retire for the night,” she announced to the group, already pondering on the elongated absence of their host as she spoke, “tomorrow we continue our search with fresh eyes; I have already requested we be taken to the site of the resurrection, and the request has been excepted.”
With a curt bow she retired from the hall, and then retired even further back into the Sisters shared chamber, first making sure that her armour and weapons were where she had left them. Satisfied with this – whomever had cleaned them really had done a fine job! - she knelt down at the side of her bed and intoned a prayer or five to the God-Emperor. When at long last this was done, she was finally able to strip herself of the blasted clothing that she had been forced to wear, preferring to clamber into the far-too-soft bed in only her undergarments than wear it for one second longer.
Bidding her Sisters a good night and an untroubled sleep – harder said than done, the death of Caroline even now circulating through her head – she slipped into a restless slumber that was anything but calm.
Rising with the dawn as was usual, Victorine cleansed herself in the accommodations overly decorated shower, thinking on the day and task ahead as the warm liquid cleaned her body.
From there it was back to the arms and armour, a blank-faced servitor being summoned to assist her in dressing herself. It was a luxury she knew, usually she would have simply dressed herself, but as they said 'when on Terra' and all that. The entire process went so smoothly that she genuinely considered putting in a request for her own servitor upon their return to the preceptory and Taniea Primus.
There was little enough time for food, although some was provided for them – a mix of leftovers from the nights revelries it seemed – before the Celestian made her way to meet with the Emissary of the Governor once more.
“A very good morning Sister-Celestian,” he droned at her from within his facial grille, “you are prepared for our journey?”
“I am,” came the reply, no doubt all of them as ready to leave the precincts of Bovange just as much as she, “we wait upon my fellows, then we may depart for the countryside.”Emperor be praised.