We had picked Lysa and her Guardsman escort up at Port Fortune and hired a skiff out to the crater.
Rickard Kiasan seemed a peculiar man, completely out of his depth with Inquisition officials, he remained silent with his lasgun laid over his lap, meticulously checking it over every few minutes.
It didn’t help that he was sat opposite Mach Tannhauser, I mused.
I picked up the dataslate containing Lysa’s notes, rereading the contents and reeling scenarios off to myself.
“Summoning ritual, possibly? Psychic apotheosis gone wrong? Perhaps the house’s inhabitant was coming into her gift…”
“Unlikely, sir.” Kiasan said, I snapped my gaze up to meet his and he blinked a couple of times. His surface thoughts betrayed unease, likely owing to my blank eyes.
He flinched, speaking hesitantly, “There’s no previous, apotheosis is usually preceded by minor warp disturbances, buildup, that sort of thing.”
“And out here?” I said, “Who would be around to see it?”
He bit his lip, glancing out through one of the skiff’s windows. I approved, of course, the man had done his reading, and he knew procedure and how to handle psykers, which was more than could be said for a lot of Guardsmen.
To let it show might have broken the illusion he had of me. Allow those beneath you to fear you, and they will do their best to meet your needs for fear of your lash.
“Last I heard, Lieutenant, the Jurdani tenth, ninth and twelfth had all been deployed to the Ersival Belt to quell the Greenskins there.”
“That would be correct, sir.” He replied.
“So what are you doing here on a backwater like Crestworld?”
“We’re on leave, sir,” he said, “We were en-route to Richton when we picked up transmission. We arrived eleven hours before the Lady Interrogator.”