File: voidship.jpg (38 KB, 550x291)

38 KB JPG

Your name is Janus Caskett. For as long as you can remember, you lived at your Schola Progenium on the Shrine World of Equine, honing your talents to become a worthy servant of the Emperor. Yesterday was Selection Day, and you and three of your peers were personally selected to join the Adeptus Arbites, the steadfast enforcers of Imperial Law.

You quickly became acquainted with Inspector Redmore and his three subordinates, Arbitrators Charles, Cobbler, and Grist. After a quick training session aboard the Lord’s Carbine, the voidship taking you to your first assignment, Redmore revealed that he personally selected you and your peers for service in the Adeptus Arbites. His reasons for doing so, if any, are not yet known.

He also briefed you on your first assignment: Keeping the peace on the Hive-World Icarus. Icarus, a cornerstone of materials production on the frontier of the Imperium, has been wracked with a series of food shortages and supply issues that have threatened the civil order and more importantly, the planet’s production. A minor uprising on a nearby Agri World is mostly to blame, but the problem has been exacerbated by riots in the lower levels of the hive, theft of shipments at wharf installations and ganger violence that is growing more overt by the day. Additionally, the Planetary Governor has been embroiled in a scandal that seems to have caught the attention of the Inquisition.

Before you descended into the Hive, you were paired with Arbitrator Quentin Cobbler, who took you on your first patrol through a Habitation Center. You got your first taste of action when you intervened in a group of gangers burning down a local shop, and even got the chance to indulge in forensic work after containing the situation.

Afterword, you continued your patrol into the Residence Quadrant, where Cobbler let you take the initiative to investigate reports of rations-forgery on your own. Your investigation was a little sloppy, to say the least, endangering the locals and prompting some gangers to attack an old man, a person of interest in your investigation. You did manage to arrest the forger, but not before his co-conspirators covered their tracks by burning his Habi-block and all the rations within. You earned some respect from your mentor, but left the Habi-center feeling like you did more harm than good for the residents.
You returned to the Arbites precinct fatigued but found it in you to meet up with your fellow recruits in the cantina to share stories of your first day. After, you went to the archives to access a cogitator and review the case files pertaining to your efforts that day. When you felt confident in your ability to navigate the Arbites database, you retired to your quarters.

Your eyes shoot open. For a moment, you’re back on Equine, and panic grips your heart as you wonder whether you’ve earned a beating from your Drill Abbot for oversleeping. Then, relief as you see the dull gray ceiling of the Arbites Dormitory and feel the two-inches of mattress beneath your body, an excessive accommodation that you wouldn’t dream of having back in Schola.

The events of the previous day pour into your mind as you sit up from your bunk, cracking some joints as you stretch. Your chest and the back of your head feel sore, but you bounce right out of bed, ready to start the day.

The three other bunks in the room are empty, but you can tell from the disturbed sheets that they had been used the previous night. You’re pretty sure you’re sharing this room with Ulbryn, Flayer, and Groves, your three peers from Schola, but you went to bed before any of them did last night and apparently were the last of them to wake up.

That same panic of oversleeping returns, and you’re quick to get into uniform and rush through the door.

You nearly run into a servo-skull that had been idly floating outside of your door. Its red scanner parses your badge before its vox speaker crackles.

> “TROOPER CASKETT. YOUR PRESENCE IS REQUESTED IN THE RECEPTION CENTER BY INSPECTOR REDMORE BY 0.”

The skull turns and floats down the corridor. You double-time it to the elevator.

The Reception Center is as lively as ever, but you spot Inspector Redmore along with two of the Arbitrators on your unit. As you approach them, you feel embarrassment stir in you as Redmore notices you and waves you over. You begin bumbling an apology for your tardiness.

“Inspector, sir, I-“

> “There he is. Caskett, good job yesterday. Cobbler told me all about it before him and Groves took off.”

Utter relief envelopes you. You nod curtly.

>“I expect you’ll perform just as good on today’s assignment, then?”

“Yes, sir!”
Wharf-Duty: Join Grist to protect the cargo coming into Icarus from those who would steal it. Perhaps figure out who’s stealing it in the process.

Riot Control: Join Charles to oversee the food lines, and keep the public in check when supplies run out for the day.

Interrogation: Stay with Redmore at the Hall of Justice to learn and assist with interrogation.

>>5376432
>Riot Control: Join Charles to oversee the food lines, and keep the public in check when supplies run out for the day.
Looks like a fun quest, gonna catch up on previous threads in a second.

Redmore nods at Charles.

> “He’s all yours. Better get going, ration centers open up pretty soon, don’t they?”

Charles nods, tapping you on the shoulder and proceeding down the corridor towards the exterior platform. She brings you to an idling Valkyrie that looks to be a different model from the one that Cobbler took you on. The interior’s similar enough, and you hold onto the ceiling webbing as the ship takes off, descending through the Hive once again.

Inside the Valkyrie, you notice with some discomfort that Charles is looking at you. Yesterday, Cobbler seemed more than alright with staring off into space when he wasn’t briefing you or giving you an order, but Charles contents herself with looking at you, and even worse, smiles when she sees you notice.

> “To hear it from Cobbler, you talk more than an astropath flying through a warp storm. Something on your mind?”

You shift uncomfortably. You would honestly prefer Cobbler’s cold dismissal of your questions than having to answer questions yourself.

“Sorry.”

She makes an exaggerated sigh of disappointment.

> “No matter, we’ve no time to talk anyway. We’re here.”

The Valkyrie touches down and its bay doors open. Instead of a platform, you’ve landed in the middle of a massive, suspended highway, nearly 100 yards wide and untold hundreds of feet above the ground. This particular section of road is blocked off by barricades and rhinos affixed with flashing yellow lights. You recognize the Adeptus Arbites emblem on their sides, and notice that there are several Arbites inside the Rhinos and hanging around them.

You also notice that instead of vehicles on this highway, there’s an impossibly large crowd on the other side of the barricades. The collective feeling you get from them is impatience. They all have varying degrees of annoyed expressions, and some of them put their arms over the barricade or yell at a nearby Arbites, who themselves respond in varying degrees of aggression. Some of them yell back, others crackle their power mauls, and some yet take swings at them.

Charles puts her hand on your shoulder.

> “The local council has repurposed this highway for the ration-center queue. Actual honest-to-Emperor vehicles aren’t permitted up here in the morning.”

You blink, turning around and failing to notice anything that could conceivably distribute rations to the volume of people on the highway.

“Where do they get their rations from?”

> “Over there!”

Charles points to a distant chapel with titanic proportions that the highway seems to run straight through. It is so far away that the haze of the city has nearly faded its shape to not being visible, though with the air pollution as it is on Icarus, that isn’t saying much.

> “We get to walk these civilians allll the way there, doesn’t that sound like fun? Of course, we’ll be riding on top of a Rhino, but we’ll be going pretty slow. Painfully slow, even.”

Charles saunters off to a particular Rhino and calls out to the Arbites on top of it. He laughs and reaches an arm down to help lift her up. You’ve got the feeling you’re meant to follow her, but you see another Valkyrie parked nearby, its engines smoking, and a servitor struggling with arm-mounted tools in an open panel as two Arbitrators berate it from behind.

> Follow Charles, acquaint self with more Arbties. Malfunctioning Valkyries are not your problem. [BEGINS RATIONS MARCH]

> Approach the damaged Valkyrie, offer what meager assistance you can possibly provide. [Stay at landing site for a while.]

>>5376628
>Follow Charles, acquaint self with more Arbties. Malfunctioning Valkyries are not your problem. [BEGINS RATIONS MARCH]

>>5376628
>Follow Charles, acquaint self with more Arbties. Malfunctioning Valkyries are not your problem. [BEGINS RATIONS MARCH]
Welcome back QM!

You’d like to help the malfunctioning Valkyrie, but it’s just not in your wheelhouse. Instead, you jog after Charles, coming to a stop right beside the Rhino. She sees you coming and reaches a hand down to help you up, lifting you to the top of the personnel carrier with surprising ease.

> “And here’s- hhhup!- Janus!”

She turns to the other Arbites, a taller, skinnier man than you and her.

> “This is today’s newbie. Took a trip by himself down to Level 1 yesterday.”

The other Arbites makes an impressed whistle with his mouth.

> “Level 1? Doesn’t look like he’s got Hiverot yet, but those symptoms don’t show for a few days.”

You stare at the Arbites until Charles nudges you. She laughs.

> “That was a joke, Trooper.”

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t really spend a lot of time down there, it was just a quick run, uh- sir.”

> “Arbitrator Downes. Don’t be so humble, Trooper, the only thanks you get in this job is from within the Arbites.”

Downes thumbs his gauntlet at the crowd. A Rhino filling in the gaps between barricades starts down the highway, and the crowd begins walking through the breach. The other Rhinos have begun moving, their treads slowly crawling along the concrete road, just fast enough to keep ahead of the pilgrimage of hungry citizens.

You look at the felled Valkyrie and see a chevron of Arbites with Suppression Shields protecting the craft. The formation splits the crowd in twain like a wedge, and they leave plenty of space between them and the shields, despite the traffic jam it causes.

When they’re past the bottleneck, some citizens break into a light jog, tempted by the empty space between them and the Rhinos. A vox-speaker on a nearby Rhino shrieks to life, and a gruff voice bellows through static and feedback.

> “MAINTAIN MINIMUM DISTANCE FROM OFFICIAL VEHICLES. NECESSARY FORCE WILL BE USED TO ENSURE COMPLIANCE.”

The citizens at the front of the crowd flinch and back up, though they back right into braver citizens who aren’t slowing down.

> “Here’s where things get sticky, Janus. Some of these folk get impatient with the pace of the rations queue. They want their food now, but the rations aren’t quite ready to be handed out yet. If we weren’t here to prevent them from rushing the distribution center, our poor friends at the Adeptus Administratum would be too overwhelmed to effectively render aid.”

A young man clears the front of the crowd, full-on sprinting. You hear a familiar report- a combat shotgun going off, and the man falls, bouncing on the pavement before skidding to a halt.

Your head jerks to the side, and you catch sight of an Arbitrator pumping a spent shell out of a smoking shotgun. You look back for the man, but the crowd has already swallowed him, not many of the people he’s in the way of bothering to step around him.

> “Don’t worry, Janus. They’re just stun-shells.”

Downes reaches through a hatch into the Rhino cabin and pulls a combat shotgun out, tossing it to Charles, who snatches it out of the air by the pump. She holds it out to you.

> “Wanna practice your aim?”

>Sure, sounds like fun.
>I’m alright watching…

>>5376986
>Sure, sounds like fun.

File: legipatterncs.png (50 KB, 413x122)

50 KB PNG

You nod and take the shotgun from Charles. It’s just like the one you shot during the weapons demonstration aboard the Lord’s Carbine, except instead of lethal rounds, you can see dull blue shells inside the receiver.

It doesn’t take long at all for some civilians to break rank, a clump of people breaking away from the front of the crowd closest to your Rhino. A pair of adolescents that look to be about your age with soot-covered faces and tattered clothes are furthest along. A woman clutching a bundle on her chest that could be a baby, but there’s too much fabric to tell precisely what it is. There’s also an adult male with a prosthetic leg who manages to hobble at a pace that exceeds the congregation behind him. You gulp audibly, aiming down the sights.

>Shoot at the pair of adolescents.
>Shoot at the woman.
>Shoot at the man.

>>5377337
Whooooo Boy this is a fun decision
Can we shoot him in the Cyber leg? Otherwise, center mass
>Shoot at the man
Also I'd just like to say I'd prefer us to be as close to Judge Dredd as we can

>>5377337
>Shoot at the pair of adolescents.
Prioritize farthest along first, the woman might actually be carrying a bomb so be wary of that.

>>5377337
>Shoot at the man.

>>5377337
>Shoot at the pair of adolescents.
Aim for one. Wait to see if the other stops to pick them up. If they do, let them go back in the crowd. if they keep running, drop them.


Just binged archives.
Attention Citizen! This is your daily grimdark reminder!
Anyone who eat a stun-shell here and doesn't get back up before the crowd is on them is going to get trampled to death. And nobody will care.
Thank you for your cooperation. Carry on with your day.

You hesitate for a moment, but you can feel Charles and Downes’s eyes on you, so you go with your gut and shoot at the man, despite(or perhaps because of) his prosthetic.

The gun kicks back slightly less than you remember. Either you’ve become more hardy after a day of patrolling, or the shells are loaded with less blackpowder than a lethal round for a more humane velocity. In any case, your aim is as true as with your Ius-pattern autopistol, and the electrified slug hits its mark, denting the metallic leg. As it sticks to the metal limb with its prongs, the tiny generator in the slug uses it as a lightning-rod to disperse the charge into the rest of the man’s meaty body. Like the other man, he is quickly swallowed by the crowd.

> “Nice aim, Janus! You really are as soft as Cobbler said.”

You respond by pumping the spent shell out and handing the shotgun back to Charles. Shocking the man did little to discourage the woman or the two young people near him, who continue to push their luck by staying ahead of the crowd.

As the march continues, the distant installation you are all headed to becomes less hazy, and you spot the symbol of the Adeptus Administratum painted on the concrete wall. The highway, having a straight shot to the building, does not curve, raise, or dip, but you notice two other suspended roads of similar design snake up and down on either side of the one you are on.

You can see further along the road that’s coming from a higher level, and notice a convoy of Rhinos with Arbitrators on it, leading a similarly-sized crowd down the slope. Up ahead on the road, you spot a point where all three highways meld together, the road tripling in width in the final stretch to the Administratum branch.

Charles speaks up.

> “All right, Janus, you’re gonna have to wrap your head around shooting softer targets pretty soon. The convergence up ahead is where the crowd gets unruliest.”

Downes nods, piping up.

> “Ever since we’ve repurposed these highways to use as rations-queues, we’ve noticed a trend where citizens develop a mob-mentality depending on the road they’re using. They’ll become hostile and combative with citizens from other roads. If fighting breaks out, uninvolved parties will generally back up citizens from their own roadway, in spite of class, fault, and not even knowing each other.”

Downes pulls two more shotguns from the Rhino cabin. Charles giggles, taking aim at another rusher from the crowd.

> “They’re stupid beasts, the lot of them, but it’s our job to protect them regardless of- GET DOWN!“

Her voice hitches, and she elbows you in the chest, knocking you back into the open hatch of the Rhino. It happens so quickly, you land flat on your back inside the metallic cabin, properly winded but otherwise unhurt. From the outside of the cabin, you hear a chorus of fearful screaming, gunfire, and vehicular collisions.

Rising to your feet, you look through one of the viewports on the side of the Rhino, and you immediately catch sight of the source of the chaos.

The other highway, the one that snaked up from the lower levels, was now parallel with yours. Like the one coming from above, it had Arbites Rhinos on it, but they were speeding, travelling much too fast to escort any crowd. The reason became clear when you see the occupants of the vehicles were not in fact Arbites, but grimy, pale citizens. Unmistakable gangers.

Some of them rode atop the Rhino, even though they were travelling too fast for that to be safe. They also occupied each heavy-stubber aboard their stolen fleet, and were currently firing upon your formation across the gap in the highway. You see a pair of legs and a waist jump down into the cabin through the gunner’s hatch, and hear the report of your own Rhino’s heavy stubber. Downes’s voice yells urgently.

> “WE’VE GOTTA CUT ‘EM OFF AT THE CONVERGENCE, BUT SOMEBODY NEEDS TO HALT OUR CROWD!”

> Assist in keeping the crowd halted.
> Cut off the convergence and engage the gangers.

>>5377734
Do you know how to win a fight between two Rhinos? I don't think Janus does. But we do have practice staring down a crowd!
>>5377734
>> Assist in keeping the crowd halted.

You notice an additional shotgun in the cabin, along with a bandolier of blue and yellow shells, indicating stun and gas ordinance respectively. Slinging both gun and ammo over your shoulder, you climb out of the hatch, back on top of the Rhino. You see Downes firing the heavy stubber while Charles kneels over the driver’s hatch, instructing him to gun it to the convergence. She sees you as you climb back on top, the Rhino picking up speed.

> “Janus! Get back down in the cabin, there’s nothing you can do right now!”

“I can keep the crowd back!”

You hop off the back of the Rhino, Charles unable to protest as the vehicle picks up speed, carrying her and Downes further up the highway, racing the gangers to the three-pronged fork in the road. Your boots beat the pavement as you run back towards the crowd.

Plenty of Arbites had stayed behind to control the crowd, but without the presence of Rhinos, which had all advanced to engage the gangers, the magnitude of their superior numbers starts to sink in. One thousand citizens to a single Arbites would be a very conservative estimate, especially considering that the length of the blob of people went back for miles. The amount of Arbites behind to stay their advance, on the other hand, wasn’t even enough to form a single row from one side of the road to the other. To their credit, they did manage to stop the crowd from advancing, but as you get closer, you can see that the people aren’t very happy about being halted.

You make it to the Arbites, filling in a gap in their line and holding your shotgun up at the crowd. They shout, jeer, and spit at you all, and as you glance from side to side, you can see a fair few of your fellow Arbites are Troopers, just like you. The small portion of their faces that are visible betray a quaking fear, which you start to empathize with. At any point, this mob could easily overrun you all, and even if they didn’t take their frustrations of being held up out on you, the stampede of their collective feet would surely crush you just as you know it crushed the poor souls that were stunned.

> “F-Frak! We’re not guardsmen! These Emperor-forsaken animals are going to kill us!”

The Trooper to your right whines after blustering, letting go of his shotgun and letting it hang by its sling, drawing his Ius Autopistol from its holster. He waves it around with shaky hands. You notice the crowd is inching closer.

>Grab his pistol, lower it for him. This is no time to panic.
>Follow his lead, switch your shotgun for your pistol. Perhaps a lethal deterrent is what’s needed.
>Do something else entirely? Something that might mitigate civilian casualties and ensure your safety in one fell swoop?

>>5377787
The crowd is being halted, not slowed down?

>>5377789
Presumably, when the gangers rode in on the adjacent highway, the crowd was halted for their own safety. In the absence of the APCs, which have hurried up the road to engage the gangers, the lot are getting braver and testing the line of Arbites.

>>5377787
Okay,so I have an idea. Remember the point in thread 1 where Janus went into a burning apartment and didn't die from smoke inhalation? I think our helmet is airtight, and that gives us an option: the gas.
If we shoot the gas into the crowd, they're going to panic and scatter, but since we can hold them in place for now and don't have to worry about pulling back, we can shoot the gas...on our own position.
We create a barrier the civvies won't be keen to run into, because gas and Arbites, but that doesn't threaten them into a frenzy. It won't work forever with the back lines pushing, but with our equipment, it's not like we could hold back the tide any other way.
The only thing I'm not sure about is whether we could see through the gas. If we can't, we should stay on the border of it, so any civ foolish enough to come get us would have to deal with the gas as they reach us. If our helmet lets us see through, we can stay much further back, though we should still let the civvies see us so they don't get ideas.

So something like this:
>Move along the line telling Arbites to shoot the yellow gas shells at the road under their feet to create a barrier.

>>5377793
Also, maybeclose votes with a post like "Closing votes!" or "Writing!", preferably linking back all the votes you counted? Makes it more readable for everyone and avoids people flipping a vote after you've written something.

>>5377800
+1

>>5377806
I'll try it out! I'll probably delete them when I move on to the next post, just to keep the thread clean. Would keeping track of this on a Twitter be useful, or would that be annoying to flip between each tab?

Voting Closed! Writing!

>>5377901
No need to delete them, I've found they keep threads organized. In fact, I don't think you'll be able to after all that time.

Not sure about a dedicated Twitter. I think some make it work but I'm not sure I'd check it. The advice you got in the qtg was mostly sound, anyone who's been on /qst/ long enough to understand how it operates compared to the rest of 4chan knows to filter by last reply. Just keep to a schedule and keep players informed. I'd still recommend suptg for archiving. If you have updates but no thread up and don't want to/can't make a new one, post in the qtg. It may reach some players, but probably not all of them.

As for how little players you got, I guess you being a returning quest with a set character and an archive backlog, no matter how small may have discouraged some? A year and a half is a long time. You must've ran before I even washed up out here!

“Do you have gas rounds?”

The panicking Trooper beside you shoots you a confused look, shrugging.

> “What-? Yeah, I do. So what?”

You pull the pump back, ejecting an unspent cartridge but leaving the receiver open. Pulling a yellow shell out of your bandolier and manually loading it into the receiver, you push the pump back into place, pointing the barrel at the ground directly in front of you and firing.

> “What in the warp do you think you’re doing?!”

Other nearby Troopers jerk their head at the discharge. You take this as an opportunity for their attention.

“Run down the line and tell everybody to fire a gas-shell just like that! We’ll create a wall of gas!”

Without waiting for agreement, you take off in the other direction, manually loading another gas shell to demonstrate to the Arbites further down the line. You make four stops, hastily barking instructions, shooting into the concrete, and then telling them to pass it on. When you’re finally at the edge of the highway, shooting extra gas rounds near the edge to make up for a lack of bodies present, you turn around and see the fruits of your collective work.

A thick wall of dull yellow smoke shooting out of dozens of cracks in the concrete. The gas is thick and opaque, and you can hardly see the line of Arbites until you walk backwards. Some of it blows on you, and you gasp, the substance making your skin burn acutely just from the little bit that touches your dermis.

Backing up, you can see that it isn’t a continuous wall, and there are gaps that the crowd can be seen through. Your fellow Arbites have already rallied behind these gaps, using them as bottlenecks. Their morale has visibly improved, they all seem to be very relieved at the flanks having closed up, some even grinning. Through the gaps in the smoke you can see the crowd isn’t raring to charge like they were a moment ago, although they sound even more angry than before, their bellowing almost drowning out the hissing of the gas capsules.

You can still hear gunfire up the road. You hear a shotgun go off to your right- an Arbitrator replacing a nigh-empty gas capsule with a fresh one in the pavement. It looks like the situation is tenuous, but secure for the time being. You just pray there isn’t a cross-wind or a freight-ship buzzing the highway anytime soon. What’s next?

>Stay put. The gas wall has stopped the crowd for now, but there’s no telling how much time that’s bought you.

>Go up the road. The shooting has been going on for some time. Charles and Downes might need your help.

>>5377924
I'll try em out. I like highlighting the QM's ID when I read entries. Regarding the players, I'm just happy people are replying at all. A small part of me hoped at least one person from the original run would be here, but like you said, a year and a half is a long time!

>>5377953
>>Stay put. The gas wall has stopped the crowd for now, but there’s no telling how much time that’s bought you.
We have one job. They have theirs. At this point, we're not sure what's taking so long,but it's one of two options.
One, the gangers are out of the Rhinos, maybe even running amok in the distribution center. They don't have a chance in the warp of so much as denting our colleagues, Janus has been shot at and bludgeoned over the head enough for that to have sunk in. So we just wait for them to get finished of and an officer or servo-skull to come signal the all-clear, then maybe wait for the Rhinos to keep the crowd steady.
Two, the gangers are still in the Rhinos. We have a shotgun and a shock maul. The only thing we can do to a Rhino is be a mildly inconvenient road-bump when it runs us over. Let's just wait here and let the people with AT weapons sort it out.

The Arbites here trust us a bit, so let's use that to keep morale steady. Anyone that comes close eats a stun round or a shock maul. Maybe we even bag a few, could give the other civs something to think about. So far so good, frankly. Good position, flanks ultra-secure, rear clear, tear gas cover. I know we're not exactly riot police but I'm confident in us holding!

>>5377956
It's been less than three days, who knows? I've waited months on a quest, maybe they did too! Besides that, 40k quests are still as popular as they were, and with only two threads on the backlog including a prologue, it's not that much of an uphill climb to get here. Assuming people don't just jump in. So far, the only thing we've needed knowledge of the previous threads for is the abilities of our outfit and helmet. You might get people like that first anon who get interested, can vote without prior knowledge and then read up between updates. If I were you, I'd be pretty optimistic!

>>5377953
>Stay put. The gas wall has stopped the crowd for now, but there’s no telling how much time that’s bought you.
The line will hold.

>>5377953
>Stay put. The gas wall has stopped the crowd for now, but there’s no telling how much time that’s bought you.

But also try to raise Charles and Downes on the vox.

Writing.

You join the formation of Arbites at one of the gaps. One of the Arbitrators from the line recognizes you and gives you a nod.

> “That was some quick thinking, Trooper. Nice work.”

You grin, nodding back. You notice that out of all of the Arbites present, only a handful are full Arbitrators, and the rest Troopers. You remember during the Rhino escort that a lot of Arbites were walking on the road as opposed to riding on the carriers, and wonder if the APCs were a privileged position that Charles just happened to let you in on.

You’re torn from your thoughts by the sound of a roaring engine flying overhead. A Valkyrie with the Arbites emblem on its bay doors flies past your blockade. You recognize its color pattern as the damaged Valkyrie from before. It zooms towards the fork in the road behind you, probably flying to back up the skirmish. Some of your fellow troopers throw their fists up and cheer. You feel a little relief- air support is an edge that the gangers just don’t have, and confidence stirs in you regarding the outcome of the street battle.

You also notice the noises of the mob on the other side of the gas seems to have died down from an indignant uproar to a jumbled chorus of hundreds of distinct conversations, not unlike the ambience of the Habi-block from yesterday.

The gas eventually dissipates, and the crowd, proving its neutralized temperament, stays put, though some rabble-rousers take to throwing glass and metallic refuse from behind the front of the crowd.

Fifteen minutes later, two Rhinos pull up from behind, carrying two squads of Arbites with Suppression shields. Through the Vox-speaker, one of the Rhino occupants bellows an update to the citizenry.

> “ATTENTION CITIZENS: CIVIL DISTURBANCE HAS BEEN QUELLED. QUEUE WILL RESUME MOVEMENT IN FIFTEEN MINUTES.”

More Rhinos pull up with their orange alarm lights on, and you resume the march, this time going on foot. As you approach the tri-fork in the road that connects the three highways, you see barricades blocking off the lower highway. The situation is obviously under control from the look of the Arbites past the barricade, but you do see some burning Rhinos and dead bodies. Most of them are gangers, but you see the unmistakable Arbites Greatcoat laid over a couple of the corpses. You begin to worry.

> Break rank and go through the barricade. Look for Charles and Downes.

> Stay with the convoy. You still have an assignment, Trooper.

>>5378079
> Stay with the convoy. You still have an assignment, Trooper.
Remember, it's Ruin To Run from the Fight
So Take Open Order, Lay Down, and Sit Tight

Writing.

You suppress your emotions just like you were trained and hold rank with the convoy. There wasn’t more than two felled Arbites that you saw anyway, so it’s very unlikely that Charles or Downes were the bodies beneath the greatcoats.

Eventually, you make it to the gargantuan Adeptus Administratum installation, and the relief is palpable among Arbites and the citizenry alike.

The highway runs straight through a rectangular hole straight through the building, as wide as the road, though instead of concrete barricades there’s walkways, vehicle inlets and personnel doors all along the sides of the road. Halfway through the building, barricades direct foot traffic to the right, where a row of kiosks at least a hundred yards stretch along the right wall of the Administratum passthrough. Dozens of human officials and servitors alike man the lanes, Administratum-Stamped ration boxes stacked behind them.

There are Arbites inside the passthrough awaiting the crowd, who split them into orderly queues along the marathon of kiosks, each citizen receiving one ration box upon reaching the front of the lines. The difference in temperament of the crowd between walking behind the convoy and waiting in line is like night and day. Instead of jeering and indignant rage, the mood seems to be more jovial and communal, you see people turning to each other to talk, laughing intermittently and generally acting more pleasant than an hour and a half ago, where riot gas was deployed to prevent them from killing you and your Arbites cohort.

Speaking of Arbites, the ones that weren’t already stationed at the passthrough are all veering off the road to the left, where large double-doors are propped open, feeding them into a gallery that’s so big the proportions cause you mild discomfort. Not having any further orders, you follow the crowd inside, aimlessly wandering into a cavalier atmosphere that rings familiar to your days at schola after a weeks-long training exercise. Just as the citizens became relaxed and happy, so too are your fellow Troopers and Arbitrators, who can be seen in small groups congratulating each other and joking about the events of the day.

You wander alone for several minutes before a familiar voice calls out to you.

> “Janus! Thank the Throne!”

No sooner do you turn to the source of the voice than Charles collides into you, wrapping her arms around you and pulling you into her carapace-armored bosom. She holds you there for a moment as she babbles away.

> “You little cur! Jumping off the Rhino like that! Nearly gave me a heart attack, just to be heroic! Explaining a dead recruit to Redmore is all I need right now! Really, if I wasn’t so relieved I’d be chewing your ear off!”

When your natural disposition to inhale oxygen forces you to break away, Charles smiles down at you.

> “We were afraid the rations-hopefuls would complicate our engagement, but we were able to contain the situation without further collateral damage! I guess you did good, Trooper!”

“I’m glad you’re okay too, Charles.”

> “Pfft! ‘Charles?’ You can call me Fiona, you little bastard!”

You see Downes approach from behind Charles.

> “I told you he’d be okay, didn’t I?”

“I’m glad you two are all right. It sounded like the fighting went on for a long while.”

Charles scoffs and makes a dismissive hand wave.

> “Those gangers bit off more than they could chew. It’s just a shame about the convoy they raided. One third of the projected rations outreach was snubbed because of those Emperor-forsaken leeches!”

> “On the other hand, Charles, there’s not likely to be a shortage today with the citizens that DID make it. That gang’s incursion might have saved us a riot.”

> “If that’s the case, then there’s nothing keeping us here, Janus. If you’d like, we can return to the Hall of Justice for the day, or even rendezvous with Cobbler or Grist. Or, if you’re looking to impress Cobbler with your meticulous protocol adherence, we could stay here and make sure the distribution service goes smoothly.

> Rendezvous with Cobbler at Almond Tree Habitation Center. You’re familiar with the territory, so why not spend the rest of your day helping?

> Rendezvous with Grist at the wharf. It’s the one assignment you haven’t performed yet. Why not knock two birds out with one stone today?

> Stay put at the Distribution Center and carry out your assignment. It’s important to follow through on your assignment, even if your mentor gives you an out.

> Return to the Hall of Justice. You’ve seen enough action for today, time to unwind and process the unfortunate situations you’ve dealt with today.

>>5378162
> Rendezvous with Cobbler at Almond Tree Habitation Center. You’re familiar with the territory, so why not spend the rest of your day helping?
Might as well

>>5378162
>> Rendezvous with Cobbler at Almond Tree Habitation Center. You’re familiar with the territory, so why not spend the rest of your day helping?
Gives people an excuse to go and read thread 1, maybe. It's quite small, actually. 200-ish replies?

>>5378162
> Rendezvous with Cobbler at Almond Tree Habitation Center. You’re familiar with the territory, so why not spend the rest of your day helping?

Good morning. Writing.

“Actually, could we go see Cobbler?? I’d like to follow up on the work we did there yesterday.”

Charles nods and says goodbye to Downes. Taking your arm, she walks you towards a smaller door in the gallery that takes you into a much more human-sized corridor. You walk for several minutes before she stops at a wall-mounted Vox-Caster, picking up a mic with a coiled wire to speak into. You think she’s going to try and reach Cobbler, but she actually hails the Valkyrie you both rode in on.

Continuing through the corridor, the two of you exit through another door, ending up on the edge of a landing platform on the side of the Administratum complex, hundreds of feet above the ground. You can see the highway to your left, shooting straight into the building, with plenty of citizens still waiting to get into a smaller rations-queue.

After a minute, the same Valkyrie touches down on the platform and you and Charles climb through its bay doors. They shut automatically and you feel the vehicle lift back up into the air.

> “So... Were you and Flayer friends back at your Schola?”

“Uh... not really. We were in different dorms. I didn’t even know his name until we got selected for the Arbites.”

> “That’s a shame! I feel like you two would get along. You’re both so quiet and practical. Did you have any friends at all?”

After a beat, she sputters.

> “I’m sorry, that sounded backhanded! I’m sure you had lots of friends.”

“I had one, my bunkmate. Our Drill Abbot was strict about fraternization. We didn’t have a chance to talk with each other except during training exercises. He’s in the Administratum now.”

> “I see. I had lots of friends at my Schola, but during selection day, they all graduated to the Adeptus Sororitas. Most girls in Schola do.”

A worrying smile crawls across Charles’s face.

> “Were there any girls at YOUR Schola, Janus..?”

“Uhm, no. It wasn’t co-ed at all. Some of the Preachers on Equine were women, but we weren’t allowed to talk to anybody from the outside. We did all of our training exercises on Equine’s second moon, which was completely barren anyway.”

Charles hems. Minor turbulence shakes the Valkyrie as it starts descending.

> “Sounds like they deprived you of knowledge and experience of half the human population. That’s a shame.”

“Ma’am..?”

> “FIONA, and don’t worry. You’ll get plenty of exposure to the fairer sex. You’ve arrested a woman already, haven’t you?”

You feel the Valkyrie touch down on a platform, and do your best to not make it look like you’re scrambling to jump through the bay doors. The grim sight of the Veranda wrapping around the Promenade is almost a relieving sight to see. It's just like it was yesterday, hazy, dirty, and filled to the brim with people, most of them ugly, sallow, destitute. Charles comes up to you from behind, looking around.

> “Throne! Must have been a cheery first day, huh? It’s only midday, where do you reckon we’ll find Cobbler?”

> Look for Cobbler in the Shopping District, the swathe of shops wrapping around the Residence Quarter.

> Look for Cobbler in the Residence Quarter, the center of Almond Tree and where its residents actually live.

> “Look for Cobbler” near the burned-down shop that you arrested those gangers at.

> “Look for Cobbler” near Habitation Block 78, the residence of the old man you saved from gangers yesterday.

>>5378569
> “Look for Cobbler” near Habitation Block 78, the residence of the old man you saved from gangers yesterday.
I don't think he's gonna be near a burning husk.

Yep, the rumors about her liking boys are true.

>>5378569
>> “Look for Cobbler” near Habitation Block 78, the residence of the old man you saved from gangers yesterday.
You know, Charles might be the only one who'd believe everything we did there . I'd suggests a bit of ego-boosting via boasting to the fairer sex, but Janus appears downright terrified of Charles. Just so we're clear, Janus is legal, isn't he?

Writing.

>>5378676
The quotations around "Look for Cobbler" was supposed to denote Janus using it as a pretense to snoop around and follow up on yesterday's cases. Should have made that more clear, whoops!

>>5378694
In the Grim Darkness of the 41st Millennium... age of consent laws are not laid out in the Lex Imperialis, and are left to individual settlements to decide, if they even bother. Janus is 15, hope that helps!

“Let’s check the Habitation Center.”

> “Sounds good! Lead the way.”

You and Charles make your way through the promenade, entering the same door to the Habi-center you went through yesterday. On the long walk to the atrium, this place seems just as devoid of life as it did yesterday, the one citizen you see in the hallway ducking into his block at first sight of you two. No matter, you turn upon entering the Atrium and head directly for Block 78.

> “We passed an Arbites kiosk, Janus. We can use that to hail Cobbler.”

“Let’s do that in a moment.”

You arrive at Block 78. The last time you were here, you were stepping over bits of wooden debris and blood, explaining what happened to Cobbler. Now, the debris was all cleared up, the door missing from its hinges and the entirety of Major’s apartment cleaned out. If it weren’t for the missing door, stub-holes, and dried-up brown bloodstains, it wouldn’t be apparent there was any kind of fight here at all.

> “Oooh, are you looking for that mysterious old guy?”

Charles seems more amused than anything else. You step into the apartment block. All of the litter, every article of evidence that this place was lived-in has been picked clean. There’s nothing left in here except for the holes in the concrete wall left by stubs. Perhaps more gangers had returned in the interim to deprive you of evidence, or perhaps Major’s neighbors had seized upon the opportunity to claim his decayed furniture and whatever else they could get their hands on. You sigh, stepping back out.

> Go to the Arbites kiosk, use a servo-skull to hail Cobbler and Groves.

> Knock on the doors of neighboring blocks. Somebody had to see what happened after you left.

This is one of the many quests i did not ever expect to contuine let alone come back. Gonna refresh and catch up first.

>>5378973
>Knock on the doors of neighboring blocks. Somebody had to see what happened after you left.
And afterwards we can call Cobbler

>>5378948
And we just sent them into an empty hab-block. By the Emperor, where's Chris Orksen when you need him?

>>5378973
>> Go to the Arbites kiosk, use a servo-skull to hail Cobbler and Groves.
Let's say that knocking on people's door brought rather unfortunate results yesterday.

Writing!

“Let’s go hail Cobbler.”

Charles follows you out of the block.

> “Didn’t find what you were looking for, huh?”

You shake your head, continuing down the hallway to the atrium. You knew it was a long shot, but you wanted very badly to run into the old man again, or at least figure out what he did after you left him with the gangers.

Charles punches a code into the doors of the kiosk and the barrier opens up. You wait on the outside, watching a servo-skull exit a hatch and float over the guard-rail of the walkway, humming as it goes up a couple floors.

Actually, while you’re here, it’s probably a good time to take stock of what you’ve got.

Zip-cuffs [x1]
Flares [x2]
Arbites Emblem Key of Unknown Purpose [x1]
Shock-Maul Batteries [x2]
Autopistol Magazines [x2.5]
Unichannel Vox Transceiver
Grox Jerky [x3]

You realize with a start that you totally forgot to go by the armory this morning and get more zip-cuffs and ammo. Poking your head into the kiosk, you ask Charles if there’s either stocked up inside.

> “Uhhh, no pistol ammo, unfortunately. Plenty of zip cuffs though!

She hands you Zip-cuffs [x3]. When she turns back to the cogitator, her eyes light up.

> “Oh! The little guy’s found Cobbler! He’s responding to a disturbance three floors above us! Let’s go!”

Charles shoves you out of the kiosk and then locks it behind her, breaking into a jog towards the elevators. You fall in line behind her, but as you stop and Charles hails the elevator, you glance down a corridor and see a kid walking towards the atrium. The kid seems familiar, and when Charles steps through the opened doors, you stay put, staring at him. The kid makes eye contact with you, and then turns around, running away.

> “Janus, what are you waiting for? Let’s go!”

> Join Charles in the elevator.
>Chase after the kid.

>>5379521
>> Join Charles in the elevator.
If he had stayed put, I would have been game to try and get on his good side. With our little show yesterday, he'd make the perfect informant since it looks like Janus wants to operate here a while. But let's not go chase after him. Maybe he'll come to us. And if he doesn't, no skin off our back.

>>5379521
>Join Charles in the elevator.
he knows the area better and has a head start.

Writing.

You KNOW it’s that same little bastard from yesterday, and yet, you also know chasing him isn’t worth the hassle. You join Charles in the elevator and ascend three floors.

Charles leads the way, walking to the corridor that the servo-skull reported Cobbler’s location in. Turning the corner and walking down it, you both immediately see Cobbler and Groves’s distinct Arbites figures standing outside of a door to a habitation block. Groves spots you as you approach, and gives Cobbler a nudge as you two approach.

> “Charles. Caskett. How was trough-duty?”

> “Gangers hijacked the Lower Fairway convoy! Lots of action for my part! Janus took it upon himself to keep the crowd in line through it all and I’m happy to say he did a stellar job. What’re you two doing?”

The door to the habi-block is open, and you see an elderly woman peering from behind her door. The slightest hint of panic is visible in her eyes when she sees two more Arbites approach, and she keeps the door between her and you, obscuring everything except her eyes peeking out from behind it. Cobbler thumbs at her, speaking.

> “This one got mugged on her way back from the Promenade. We’re taking a statement.”

> “And you’ll get my food back, won’t you?”

> “If we’re able, citizen. Prosecuting petty thieves has a less than 1% success rate, and recovering stolen goods is even less likely.”

You see the woman’s eyes fall. Charles pipes up.

> “But, you’ve got two more Arbites working on the case, ma’am! That doubles the odds, doesn’t it?”

Cobbler gives Charles an annoyed look. Groves looks at you, and then at Charles, and smirks at you. You find that he’s been getting on your nerves more than the others have been in your cohort.

Cobbler turns to the three of you.

> “Well, we better get back to it. If we see anybody suspicious, better question them about rations-pilfering. Charles, Groves, Caskett- if we split into pairs, or even patrol individually, we can cover more ground. So long as we don’t wander into Level One today.”

All eyes are on you. You despair inwardly.

> Patrol with Cobbler. Get Charles off your back and stick her with Groves.

> Patrol with Charles. Cobbler seems to be aggravated about this errand, and you don’t want to be his only outlet for his frustrations.

> Patrol with Groves. He’s annoying, but maybe he’s an effective partner. You’re not very sure.

> Go by yourselves. Four individual agents can cover more ground, can’t they? In theory, that quadruples the 1% chance of catching the perp to 4%.

If there’s anything else you’d like to do, better pipe up.

>>5379737
>Patrol with Charles. Cobbler seems to be aggravated about this errand, and you don’t want to be his only outlet for his frustrations
Each day another partner.

>>5379737
> Go by yourselves. Four individual agents can cover more ground, can’t they? In theory, that quadruples the 1% chance of catching the perp to 4%.
I'm actually game for talking to the woman some more. Could she be the one that helped the kid in thread 1? She already spoke with Arbites so if trouble's incoming, us staying a bit or being ushered inside won't hurt.
We still have that Grox-jerky, and we need info. Was tempted to saved it for the kid, but she obviously wants food. Using that to get info is probably not going to sit too well with Janus, depending on how we frame it.

Writing.

>>5378999
:) Hi, sorry I let it die! I suppose it was my fault, not realizing how boring of a premise navigating a cogitator's operating system was for a quest. If you have any thoughts or suggestions feel free to leave them in this thread!

Before you can agree with Cobbler about patrolling individually, you feel Charles’s gauntlet grab your cauldron and pull you up against her.

> “Me and Janus can cover other corridors on this floor! Did the incident take place here, or on the connecting floor to the Promenade?”

The old woman behind the door shakes her head.

> “It was in the elevator! The little bastard slipped in before the doors closed and put a blade to me neck!”

Cobbler nods.

> “He got off on this floor, though. Unless he turned around and went back in after this woman exited, he might still be here.”

Charles claps her hands together.

> “Perfect! If he’s stuck on this floor, two teams of two Arbites will surely flush him out!”

Cobbler starts walking off, but then stops, and turns towards you.

> “No heroics today, Caskett. You’re responsible for your own skin, don’t make Charles have to write up a report on your death.”

He turns and continues down to the atrium, Groves giving you one last look before following him. You and Charles are still standing by the block, the old woman seeming to have relaxed, you can see her whole face leaning out from behind the door now.

> “All right, let’s go investigate, Janus.”

“Hold on, we should probably ask this citizen about her mugger, right?”

Charles pauses, and then nods.

> “Cobbler’s not very forthcoming, is he? All right, ma’am, who was this rogue that cornered you in the elevator?”

The woman throws open the door, probably so that the wild gestures she makes with her hands as she talks are visible to you both.

> “He was a right little shit, he was! About as tall as you, sir- no offence intended, but he was a young man of thin build and brown hair! Not so thin that he needed to eat very badly, though if he wanted something to eat I would have surely provided had he simply asked! I’m not the kind of cold-hearted witch that would deny a young man supper, but one slab and one carb is already a pittance to folk like me! Young people around here are always getting picked on either by gangers trying to recruit them or Arbites like yourselves trying to interrogate them, no offence! It hurt me that instead of trying to appeal to my good nature, he just stuck a knife up to me!”

The old woman points at you as she bloviates. Your black hair is mostly obscured by your Arbites Helm, but she manages to find a lock sticking out along your cheek that she presses a yellow fingernail into, causing you to flinch back and tuck it under the edge of your helmet.

So far, all that talking to her has accomplished was getting a vague description of the perp: A young person of your height with brown hair. Thinking of all the people in this Habitation-Center, along with how hard it is for on-duty Arbites to communicate with residents, you start to understand why Cobbler wasn’t confident in solving this problem for the woman. She continues blabbering on about details that are superficial to your investigation, and from Charles’s uncomfortable look, you suspect that she’s just as ready to get started as you are.

You cut the woman off by producing 2 strips of Grox Jerky out of your greatcoat. They have a little bit of fuzz from the lining in your pockets, but the woman’s eyes light up when she sees it, and she begins thanking you in her long-winded way of speaking. You depart from her door, Charles quick to follow you.

> “All right, my young prodigy! Where are we looking first?”

Your mind drifts back to the kid in the corridor. He isn’t as tall as you, and his hair is black, not brown, but maybe he might know something.

> Patrol the level with Charles. There’s no more useful information to collect from the woman.

> Go back down three levels and look for the kid. It’s likely he’s familiar with other thieves in Almond Tree.

>>5379869
> Go back down three levels and look for the kid. It’s likely he’s familiar with other thieves in Almond Tree.

>>5379869
>> Patrol the level with Charles. There’s no more useful information to collect from the woman.
The kid obviously won't come to us willingly, and is most likely not ready to sell one of his buddies to the Arbites.

You think for a moment to go back after that kid, but he’s probably long-gone by now, and likely wouldn’t cooperate if you did manage to find him. Knocking on doors is out of the question, as you wouldn’t put these people above retaliation even for ratting on a petty theft.

Shrugging dejectedly, you say,

“Walk around this level, I guess. Are there any ways to get from level to level besides the elevators?”

> “No idea, never been here in my life. If it’s like any other Habit-Center, though, then there’s no stairs or emergency exits.”

You make it back to the atrium, catching sight of Cobbler and Groves disappear into a corridor on the other side of the walkway. There are a few souls idling on the walkway, but most get up and leave when they see you and Charles. Nobody’s near the elevators.

Instead of an Arbites Kiosk, the same space on this floor is occupied by what looks to be a storage shack, perhaps containing a servitor or all the tools one would need. There’s graffiti sketched onto the metallic shack, most of it gangers jeering rivals and claiming territory. There are also parchment pamphlets stuffed into the vent on the door to the shack, some of them having falling out onto the floor. You can read the front of one lying next to your boot.

In big letters, the top says:

STARVING HIVE; THEY THRIVE
Beneath the lettering, there’s a scrawling of a mass of emaciated people holding a hive city, presumably Icarus, up on a platter. A fat man with a sash that says “GOVERNOR” floats above the city, sticking a fork into it while salivating. You briefly consider picking it up, but you have a pretty good idea of what message it is trying to convey.

You and Charles wander up and down the corridors for the better part of the hour. Conversation is light. Charles informs you that Redmore had selected her to join the Arbites just like he had done with you and your peers. When you ask her if he chose Cobbler and Grist, she says she doesn’t know, since next to you kids she’s the most recent member of his unit.

She asks you what the climate was like on Equine, which turned out to be, like most Shrine Worlds, temperate and agreeable. You ask her if she prefers shooting or melee. She prefers shooting. You find that when she isn’t probing you with personal questions, Charles is good company. Just when you begin to ask if you two can reconvene with Cobbler, she grabs your shoulder and halts your movement. Further down the corridor, there’s a civilian hunched over a door to a Hab, fumbling with the knob. He’s got a box of something tucked under one arm. You can’t make out his face, but he has brown hair, and is a little skinny.

> “What do you think? Is that our mugger?”

> Probably. Move to apprehend him.
> Not likely. Keep walking at your current pace.

>>5380674
>Probably. Move to apprehend him.
Even if it isn't him he's still acting weird

“I’ve got him!”

You break into a sprint at the man, the distinctive beating of your boots against the pavement rousing his attention and making him abandon his task. He drops two metal pins as he pulls away from the door, twisting around to try and run to the atrium. You dash any hopes of his escape by shoulder-checking him in the back, knocking him off his feet.

As he falls, he drops the box, which opens up upon impact, flinging two slabs across the corridor with crumbs of carb sprinkling onto the concrete. You recognize the distinctive emblem of the Adeptus Administratum on the lid of the box. It’s a rations-box, no doubt. When he turns his head back and sees who had been chasing him, his eyes go wide with fear.

> “I- I didn’t do anything! I was just trying to-“

Charles comes up behind you, carrying the little pins he dropped.

> “Little worm was trying to pick the lock. Is that a rations container? I knew it!”

> “Please! That lock never works! I have to f-fiddle with it sometimes- I-I got that box this morning!”

The man’s breathing becomes panicked, and his horrified eyes dart between you and Charles.

“Should we hail Cobbler?”

> “For what? We’ve got him. Hey, Janus- you haven’t rendered a verdict yet, have you?”

The man flinches at the word “verdict,” crawling back. Charles puts a boot on his shin, preventing further crawling.

“Huh? But I got two arrests yesterday.”

> “Arrests, yes, but you haven’t properly arbitrated. That’s a major component of our work. Why don’t you go ahead with the judgement on this one?”

You pause. Charles is grinning at you. The perp is thrashing wildly under her boot, sputtering as he begs for mercy. Up until now, your actions against criminals have been as the instrument of your mentor. For the first time since you joined the Arbites, you alone are responsible for what happens to this wretch. Think very hard on it.

> Guilty. [WRITE OUT SENTENCE]
> Innocent.

>>5380812
We can totally nail him for breaking and entering, maybe destruction of private property for the lock. As for the food charge, there's a detail I'm curious about. That box had at least one carb on top of the two slabs. Both the woman's box and the one mentioned in chapter one had one slab and one card. If that's the standard ration per box, then we can assume that second carb isn't his, and he is guilty of either assault or food trafficking during a shortage.
I have this link I'm drawing on for this:

https://www.reddit.com/r/40kLore/comments/bbn087/excerpt_table_dark_heresy_book_of_judgement/

I guess we give him one chance to confess. If he does, it's petty theft and aggression, both of which should be handled by planetary authority. With the evidence we have, if he doesn't confess, he gets Failure to Confess Guilt, so he gets to spend two months getting interrogated in the Precinct.

>Give suspect one chance to confess. If confession, sentence is to be handled by planetary authorities. If no confession, suspect is guilty of Failure to Confess Guilt, which carries a sentence of 2 months Precinct Interrogation and an eventual Discretionary sentence.

I hope that made sense, and I believe it fits Janus, who I believe has taken from the book before to know what to do. Also, failure to confess guilt is sufficiently grimderp for the setting, I think.

Gonna start writing in an hour, will keep a close eye on the thread for the rest of the evening.

Voting cuts off at 6:30 EST!

For a moment, you feel the fear in the man’s eyes and a familiar sense of guilt, the same responsibility you felt when your stun-round hit the man with the prosthetic and when you saw the ganger weep on the shoulder of her injured comrade.

In your mind, though, you understand that such empathy is anathema to your mission as an Arbitrator. You caught this man red-handed trying to break into a block, and what’s more, his rations box suspiciously has an additional slab. It is for the Emperor to show mercy, and it degrades His law when you presume to do so yourself.

You point down at him, and make eye contact, though the obfuscation of your visor likely means it’s lost on him.

“Confess, criminal.”

[If this post ends in 0-4, the man confesses to his crimes. If 5-9, then he forsakes any mercy that Janus can afford him.]

The man looks up at you for a moment, his breath hitching. You can tell he is weighing his options.

Then, his eyes bulge, and his voice rises.

> “I have committed NO CRIME! I swear on the Emperor, whatever I have been accused of, is- is simply false!”

You sigh. You were prepared to hand him off to a constable, but not it looks like he’ll be coming with you to the Hall of Justice.

“Citizen, I find you guilty of one count petty theft, one count of attempted breaking and entering, and one count of Failure to Confess Guilt.”

The man’s eyes start tearing up and he starts thrashing against Charles’s boot. Charles obliges him by taking her boot off of his shin. That same boot kicks against his head, dazing him with a pained grunt.

“Just to be sure, rations boxes do not usually come with more than one slab inside, do they?”

> “Never seen one that did in all my travels, no. Go ahead and dust them off and put them back in the box, I’m sure that lady would like her meat back along with interest.”

She kicks the man again, this time in the stomach.

> “Unless you’d like to tell us where that second slab came from, worm!”

The man wheezes, turning on his side and clutching his belly.

> “I- *huh!* I- *huh!* I didn’t- *huh!*”

Charles reaches down and lifts him up by his collar, affixing zip-cuffs on his wrists.

> “I guess he’s resolved himself to denying his guilt. There will be plenty of people you encounter who try to do the same, Janus. You must always be vigilant of such lies.”

You pick up the discarded slabs and wipe gravel off of them before putting them back in the box. Charles nods at you.

> “You go return those to that woman, I’ll run down to the Arbites kiosk and hail Cobbler. Meet me there.”

You both walk toward the atrium, splitting off once you get there. Charles heads toward the elevators with the criminal in hand, while you carry the box to the old woman’s Hab.

> “Oooh, bless you, noble Arbitrator! I knew the Emperor was smiling on me when you came to my aid!”

The woman is of course elated that in addition to recovering her stolen slab, there’s a whole extra slab on top of it. You neglect to tell her that both of them touched the ground, but you honestly doubt it would make a difference to her. She’s rambling about how awful the neighborhood has become and how vulnerable people her age are before you politely excuse yourself, heading back to the elevators.

When you get back down to the Arbites Kiosk, Charles and the perp are waiting for you. Charles tells you that she’s just hailed Cobbler, and after a few minutes, him and Groves arrive… With a criminal of their own cuffed and in tow.

> “Charles! Caskett! I see you’ve been busy. We caught the rations-thief.”

You and Charles look at each other.

“But… this is the rations-thief.”

Cobbler looks at your perp and then at you.

> “Must be mistaken. I caught this dungeater with three extra slabs skulking around the corridor connectors.

Groves pipes up.

> “I returned one of the slabs to the old woman! We took some time to pass out the other ones to people that looked hungry!”

“But I was just there, I-…”

Charles and you exchange another look. You begin to put some pieces together and your opinion of the old woman sinks slightly.

Almost in perfect unison, both pair’s prisoners whine.

> “I TOLD you I wasn’t-
> “I TOLD you it wasn’t-

And then, in even more perfect unison that would rival the synchronicity of the Adeptus Mechanicus, Cobbler and Charles whack the backs of their respective prisoners with the hard side of their gauntlets.

Cobbler sighs. Charles clarifies.

> “In any case, it looks like we’ve mopped up two rations-thieves and fed an old lady for the next month. I’d say that’s a damn fine patrol, boys.”

Cobbler jerks his prisoner, starting toward the Promenade.

> “Sure. Let’s get this scum back to the Hall and tell Redmore how wonderfully our trainees performed.”

Charles falls in line behind him and Groves. You’re not so sure you’re ready to go.

> Go back and confront the old lady.
> Let it go. Go back to the Hall of Justice.

>>5381008
>Go back and confront the old lady.
Did she really get those rations stole ?

>>5381008
>> Let it go. Go back to the Hall of Justice.

>>5381302
She saw an opportunity and took it. Now we can let it go or arrest an old woman for Attempted Deception of an Arbitrator or actual Deception of an Arbitrator. According to my handy link, both would get her 2 years at the precinct and likely an execution. Which would be higher than what either thief got. Are we really going to go that far? If anything, she stole from the thieves. And how are we supposed to know who the slabs belong to? If we ask anyone, of course they'll say the slabs were theirs, there's a food shortage going on, so it's about as useful as doing the same thing with a wallet full of cash!
I say we just let it go.

>>5381327
Fair enough.
Changing
>>5381302
To
>Let it go. Go back to the Hall of Justice.

You end up just letting it go. You don’t feel good about being lied to at all, and you wonder if the old bag pegged you for a naïve kid. In either case, you fall in rank next to Charles, and the four of you- plus two prisoners, walk out to the Promenade, and then to the Veranda. Cobbler’s Valkyrie is waiting for you all on the platform, and you load into the carrier before lifting off.

> “So, Cobbler… How did Groves fare today?”

> “Well enough. He broke up a petty ganger shootout all on his own. Looks like Grist was wrong about him being bullet shy. We were about to head back before you found us looking for THESE worms.”

Cobbler elbows his captive in the ribs.

> “What about Caskett? He did fine, I’m sure.”

He gives you a nod. You try not to grin, but you can’t help it. You nod back anyways.

> “Exemplary. He was quick to take the initiative today. I do believe that Janus’s soft side is giving way to harder stuff.”

A loud snort comes from Groves’s direction, who brings a gauntlet up to his face as he tries over and over to clear his throat. When he pulls the gauntlet away, there’s still a crooked smile on his face.

> “Pardon me… Hive air.”

You glare at Groves. What an idiot. Did he not understand the purpose of that exchange between your two mentors?

The Valkyrie touches down shortly after at the Hall of Justice. As you climb down through the bay doors and step onto the platform, you notice two servo-skulls floating towards you. Then, you notice Inspector Redmore climb onto the platform and outpace the skulls with his purposeful stride, waving the skulls away.

> “I’ve got them, dismissed.”

The skulls turn around and float off to do something else. Cobbler and Charles fix their postures, standing upright next to their slouching prisoners.

> “Cobbler, Charles. Change of plans.”

> “Sir!”
> “Sir!

> “No Trooper rotation tomorrow or the day after. We’re going off-planet. Drop your captives off in processing and then meet me at Platform 4-3 in 10 minutes.”

> “Yes, sir!”
> “Yes, sir!”

Cobbler and Charles yank their prisoners off the platform and into the Hall, not giving you or Groves a second look. Redmore begins walking just as purposefully, but ultimately slower than Cobbler and Charles were booking it, even with unwilling partners in tow. He gets to the edge of the platform and gives you and Groves a look.

> “You two DEAF? Double time, Troopers!”

Two minutes later, you and Groves are waiting at Platform 4-3. It was on the same level as the one you arrived on, but on the northwest corner. You’re sorry to say that you had to go to reception to figure that out, but it looks like you’re the first ones here.

> “So, she calls you ‘Janus,’ eh?”

“I hope the Warp swallows you.”

> “Might be my only chance to get swallowed, unlike-FRAK!”

Groves recovers from your love-tap just in time for Redmore, Cobbler, Charles, and Flayer to round the corner. As they do so, a Valkyrie touches down on the platform.
The unit climbs onto the platform and walks towards the vehicle as the bay doors open. You and Groves hop up after them. Inside the bay doors are Grist and Ulbryn.

> “Inspector, sir! Me and Trooper Ulbryn were following a lead when you dispatched your message! No excuse for my delay!”

> “Save it, Grist. Load up, all of you.”

Your squad of 8 steps into the Valkyrie. Redmore knocks on the cockpit access, and you feel the vehicle lift up. Redmore leans his back against the door, all of you, Trooper and Arbitrator, looking at him in suspense. He clears his throat and sighs, and after waiting for a moment, stands up straight and faces all of you.

> “We’ll be taking a brief recess from cultivating our junior Arbites. There’s a matter that demands our immediate attention, and if we don’t respond in a timely manner, the Inquisition will surely beat us to it.”

> “Sir?”

> “We’re going to Harvestfall. The Planetary Governor over there was murdered this morning.”

CHILDREN OF HUBRIS: CHAPTER 2 – END

Wow, we made it to the end of the thread! When I dusted Janus off and picked up where I left off in February 2021, I half-expected the thread to die, but it didn’t! To those of you who read the prologue and chapter one from the archives, and the one anon that seemed to remember this from back in the day, from the bottom of my heart, THANK YOU FOR PLAYING.

New thread tomorrow. In the meantime, I would love to hear feedback. Is the quest too railroady? Are the setups too obvious? Are weekday evenings not when a lot of people are active? I wanna hear it! This thread's about to autosage, so if it does before you read this, leave comments at >>5381702 if you feel so inclined.

>It's an agri-world episode.

>>5381703
QM, this is /qst/! If you look at the oldest threads on the board, they've been there for 35+ days. Autosage means nothing here, don't bother starting a new thread, unless you really want to separate the chapters. As I've said, almost everyone here sorts by last reply. Also, Sage just means it stops bumping, it's not a near immediate archival like other boards.

I'm enjoying the quest so far, obviously. Maybe a bit too early to tell for railroading, this was very much still a tutorial. I didn't expect the woman or Philosophy Major to screw us over, but I suppose I'm not in the grimdark mindset much these days.

For activity, remember that a large portion of this board is American. This is evening for you and me, but not on the East or West Coast. There's a lot less people during European daytime.

>>5381703
It's pretty good.
The ">" is something new.
The only thing I don't like that you were away for so long. The quest is pretty damn good.

>>5381735
Oh, word? Somebody in the general told me it was five.

Your name is Janus Caskett, Trooper of the Adeptus Arbites. A few hours ago, you were on the Hive World Icarus, learning the procedures necessary to control a riotous crowd during a rations distribution. Right now, you’re barreling through the bitter Warp, on the bridge of the Pietas ex Machina, a Light Cruiser of the Adeptus Mechanicus, on your way to Harvestfall, a local Agri-World beset by civil strife.

A few feet from you, your superior, Inspector Callus Redmore, is currently having a heated argument with a Transmechanic. You’ve done your best not to eavesdrop, but you have an idea that the argument is about notifying the proper authorities on both Icarus and Harvestfall about Redmore’s apparently unauthorized trip to Harvestfall. The rest of your team, Arbitrators Cobbler, Grist and Charles, politely avert their gaze from the argument, while your Trooper cohort Ulbryn, Groves and Flayer, are less obvious about their nosiness.
Quite frankly, you’re surprised that he managed to talk his way onto the Machina in the first place, utilizing your Valkyrie’s on-board vox-caster to negotiate a docking procedure before the ship’s scheduled trip to Harvestfall. On the way to the voidship, you saw the vessel you came to Icarus on, The Lord’s Carbine, an Imperial Navy ship that seems to have laid dormant in orbit ever since your arrival. It seems that Inspector Redmore is not in charge of that ship after all, otherwise he would have simply taken the Carbine to Harvestfall instead of making a hastily-negotiated charter on a Mechanicus ship.

Those thoughts are secondary concerns, however. Right now, you’re ruminating over the reason for your unscheduled trip in the first place: The murder of Harvestfall’s Planetary Governor. Is Redmore expecting you and your untrained cohort’s help in investigating it? Why is Redmore taking it upon himself to investigate it in the first place? He mentioned wanting to beat the Inquisition there, why all the urgency? How did he, a comparatively low-ranked member of the Adeptus Arbites, become aware of the murder before the Emperor-blessed Inquisition?

As you toil in questions that (mostly) could not possibly be answered right now, you are torn from your inquiring headspace by a rather large techpriest, who breaks away from his console and skitters over to Redmore. You think he might be the captain of the ship, even though his features are hardly distinct from the other Techpriests, and you’re not even sure if the Mechanicus Fleet abides by the same ranking system as the Navy.

Redmore stares up at the cybernetically-enhanced humanoid, whose modifications put him at three-heads above your tall Inspector.

> “REDMORE, CALLUS. INSPECTOR, ADEPTUS ARBITES. YOUR PRESENCE ON THIS SHIP IS UNAUTHORIZED. THE TERMS OF YOUR BOARDING HAVE BEEN DETERMINED TO BE FALLACIOUS. EXPLAIN.”

Your Inspector, who was seething just moments prior, speaks in a radically calmer tone, putting his hands behind his back as he articulates his words thoughtfully.

> “A thousand apologies for my improper procedure, but there was no alternative. There is an emergency on Harvestfall that required my immediate attention, and your ship was the soonest scheduled to make the trip.”

> “EXPLANATION UNSATISFACTORY. NO EMERGENCIES CATEGORIZED UNDER ADEPTUS ARBITES JURISDICTION REPORTED IN HARVESTFALL DATABASE.”

> “Yes, well, I was the first to hear about it, and we Arbites pride ourselves on speedy justice.”

> “ELABORATE ON EMERGENCY.”

> “It’s an internal matter to the Sector. I understand that your ship is simply stopping there to collect grain for caloric-“

> “ELABORATE ON EMERGENCY. FINAL WARNING.”

Redmore sighs.

> “The Planetary Governor of Harvestfall has been murdered. I am taking my Arbitration Unit there to investigate.”

> “NO SUCH INCIDENTS REPORTED IN HARVESTFALL DATABASE. GOVERNOR ARCHIBALD KOR STATUS: ALIVE.”

> “When was the last time your database was updated?”

> “0306.55.02, 990, MILLENIUM 41ST.”

> “That would be early this morning. I got the report just before 1200 via astropath.”

> “CONFIRM PROPER NOTIFICATION OF APPROPRIATE ICARIAN AND ARBITES OFFICIALS.”

Redmore pauses.

> “In person, I have, yes.”

> “CONTINUED PRESENCE ON THIS SHIP CONTINGENT. REPORT OF BOARDING UNDER FALSE PRETENSE WILL BE FILED WITH PROPER ARBITES AUTHORITIES.”

The techpriest turns away from Redmore and returns to a command console. Redmore walks back to all of you. Grist leans in and whispers to him.

> “Are they throwing us out of an airlock, or what?”

> “We’re fine. As soon as they make contact with the planet, we’re off the hook.”

Cobbler frowns.

> “What about that report he said he’d file?”

> “Well, all of you are off the hook, anyway.”

You spend another fifteen minutes in tense silence in the bridge, the whirring of the console’s tech-spirits and the binary language of the officers the only noise filling the silence. Eventually, the Warp opens up, and you are flung back into realspace.

File: Harvestfall.png (1023 KB, 1046x1000)

1023 KB PNG

Through the viewport in the bridge, you can see Harvestfall. You’ve never seen an Agri-World before, pictured in your studies or otherwise, so the beauty of the world stuns you for a moment. Even from space, the lush flora on the world is visible to the naked eye. The continents are nestled between vast oceans, a geographic distinction that Icarus’s rocky surface is completely devoid of. Even Equine, a world designated by the Imperium to be a shrine to Humanity and its Master, seems pallid and dull compared to the amber majesty of Harvestfall.

How could anyone be unsatisfied with a life there, even if it was in servitude?

One of the techpriests leaves their console and talks to the big one that had chewed out Redmore. He turns and then scrambles down to your group.

> “REDMORE, CALLUS. CONTACT WITH HARVESTFALL ESTABLISHED. PRIVATE AUDIENCE REQUIRED.”

A private audience? Between Redmore and the techpriest? You don’t quite understand, but from Charles, Cobbler, and Grist’s expressions, they seem concerned. Redmore raises his hand.

> “All right, all of you get down planetside. I’ll be right behind you.”

> “Sir…”

> “That’s an order, Cobbler.”

Charles forces a smile to her face and wraps her arms around the four of you Troopers, ushering you to the elevator you entered the bridge through.

> “All right, Troopers, time for another Valkyrie sortie! Last one in the hanger’s a servitor!”

The elevator descends with you all inside. Once you’re away from the bridge, you feel free to speak.

“What are they keeping Redmore behind for?”

Charles, of all people, flicks the back of your helmet. Maybe she even hit it with the back of her hand.

> “Shut your mouth and keep it shut, Janus.”

When the elevator returns you to the ship’s Central Primary Corridor, you all start walking towards the hangar, where your Valkyrie made an impromptu boarding maneuver. As you continue through the corridor, you notice that your superior’s strides become more and more hastened, which causes your peers to hasten their stride as well. Before long, the seven of you are sprinting to the hangar.

Inside the hangar, techpriests and even servitors turn their heads as you bound by, jumping through the Valkyrie bay doors, Grist and Charles pounding their gauntlets on the cockpit port.

> “TIME TO GO! TURN IT ON! TURN IT ON!”

The pilot, roused by your group’s urgency, starts the engines. There’s obviously some startup time involved with a flier like this, and that’s about when you notice every Techpriest in the hangar stop whatever menial task they were performing, slowly turn their heads towards you, and begin approaching your craft.

> Warn Charles, Grist, and Cobbler
> Shoot

>>5382950
> Shoot
The metal bits

>>5382950
>>Don't do anything.

Please. Do not. Shoot the techpriests.
We have no fucking reason to do that! Right now we're just trainee who got dragged along and don't know what's happening. If we start shooting, we're accomplices to Redmore. I don't know why he did what he did, which is apparently fabricate the PG dying story, but we have no reason in the bleeding warp to engage friendlies over his bullshit. If anything, I say don't say anything and just duck out of the way, hands away from weapons.

DO NOT SHOOT, WARN

You freeze up, all of this is so sudden. Back in the Valkyrie, Redmore had used the Vox to communicate with the Mechanicus ship, lying about an at-large stowaway who hid inside their grain containers to get aboard. He didn’t miss a beat describing the fugitive, his voice the perfect combination of casual and urgent, as if such things even mattered to tech-priests. Could he have been lying about the murdered governor, too?

Moreover, the Arbitrators in your squad seemed to know to run right away, without any knowledge of whether Harvestfall corroborated Redmore’s story or not. Would they have been aware that there was no murderer? Why would Redmore lie to them on Icarus, in that case?

The techpriests only get closer as you’re paralyzed analyzing this confusing situation. Your hand instinctively lingers for your Autopistol, but common sense and your light knowledge of Mechanicus capability overrules your drawing hand.

Your mouth opens to alert your superiors, but that too is halted by a more complicated dilemma. If Redmore lied about the murder along with the stowaway, then he might have less-than-honorable intentions coming to Harvestfall. Perhaps something happened on Icarus that he’s trying to flee, maybe there’s something he hasn’t said about Harvestfall that’s enticing him to break protocol and sprint towards.

A brief but vivid memory flashes before your eyes. Drill Abbot Hastings screaming at your ten-year-old self at the top of his lungs, in the wake of a failed competitive exercise in which your good-for-nothing rival Kaia Wysp stole victory from the jaws of defeat.

> “YOU FAILED TO DO YOUR DUTY BECAUSE YOU DIDN’T “UNDERSTAND” YOUR ORDERS?! IS YOUR PURPOSE TO “UNDERSTAND,” CASKETT, OR IS IT TO OBEY?!?! WHICH OF THE TWO DO YOU THINK FURTHERS THE EMPEROR’S WILL?! WHEN EVERY LAST OF HIS DOGGED ENEMIES LAY AT YOUR FEET, WHEN THE BORDERS OF THIS IMPERIUM ENVELOPE THE GALAXY, WHEN TRUE VICTORY IS SECURED, THEN YOU HAVE MY PERMISSION TO ATTEMPT TO “UNDERSTAND” THE NUANCES OF YOUR OBLIGATIONS TO YOUR SUPERIORS!”

Back in the hanger, you gasp for air.

> “Cobbler-! They’re closing in-!”

Cobbler wretches his head away from the cockpit port and looks out the bay doors. It seems that your intense introspection only lasted a moment, the techpriests not very much closer than where they started.

> “Eight techpriests closing in. Get this bird going.”

> “Oh, Cobbler-! Their damned mechadendrites!”

Charles points at one of the larger-looking techpriests, who is currently slithering an iron serpent of a limb towards your ship. You feel the ship lift off the hanger floor, and the pilot closes the bay doors to seal the atmosphere. Before the doors close, Cobbler leaps out of them, right into the clutches of the techpriest’s bionic tentacle. The last thing you see before the doors close is the extremity’s talons close around Cobbler’s greatcoat.

Despite holding onto the ceiling webbing, you and the others lurch as the pilot tears out of the hanger, switching from VTOL to forward-thrusters mid-maneuver. You’re horrified at the prospect of the ship getting shot at and dying in vacuum, if not exploding outright. Minutes pass, and your ship does not take fire. Another few minutes pass. You relax your posture, heaving a relieved sigh. Then, just the silence in the transport bay, accented by the hum of the Valkyrie’s engines.

Everybody is quiet.

> “WHAT ON TERRA WAS THAT ALL ABOUT?!?!”
> “Uhm- Is Redmore going to be alright? Cobbler?”
> Stay silent.

>>5384041
> “WHAT ON TERRA WAS THAT ALL ABOUT?!?!”

Writing!

Another moment passes. You look at Ulbryn, Flayer, and Groves, who seem quiet and uncomfortable. You look at Grist, who’s leaning against the cabin wall with his arms crossed, and Charles, who seems all-too fixated on her autopistol’s receiver, looking at it from different angles in the dim red cabin light. You take another deep breath.

“WHAT ON TERRA WAS THAT ALL ABOUT?!?!”

Your outburst startles your peers, who either found your loud interrogation surprising or are fearing reprisal. Charles doesn’t look away from her gun. Grist looks at you.

> “Control yourself, Trooper.”

It occurs to you that Grist is the only one of Redmore’s subordinates that you haven’t spoken with or gotten to know at all. Well, if demanding an explanation poisons his impression of you, so be it.

“I mean it! Why did we flee that Mechanicus ship like a pack of traitors?”

Grist looks at you. He sighs, lumbering away from the wall and walking towards you.

> “Are you accusing Inspector Redmore of being a traitor, Caskett?”

A confrontational question. Designed to make you back down. You can feel the tension surge in the cabin, Charles looking up from her gun at you, your peers(well, just Groves), glaring daggers into you.

>What do you say to Grist?

>>5384132
I did not say that we were traitors, it's that we had to run from the mechanicus: an imperium alligned organisation like we were traitors.

>>5384132
What we are doing is asking why we had to run from an Imperial ship.

>>5384132
>"Well if you believe him Grist, then it means the Inquisition is about to arrive in system. What do you think this going to look like to them? Of course we aren't traitors, Inquisitor, we just boarded a Mechanicus ship under the false pretense of a murder I'm starting to suspect doesn't exist, and when discovered made a break for the planet, and almost shot our way out. Why would the Inquisition be inclined to suspect us of anything, I really can't say! Why did we do such a thing, upstanding Imperial citizens that we are? Why, I don't know!"

Said in as calm a tone as we can manage, with a nit of sarcasm thrown in. I think that's one thing our instructors used in spades, so Janus should have a good grasp on it.
And screw backing down. This entire thing is severely out of line for Arbites, and when in doubt Janus follows the Book of Judgement, not a superior he hasn't extensively worked with, and who starts doing things like that. It's going to take some serious explaining for him to be okay with any of this. Or they really are traitors and we're about to get shot.

Writing.

You stand your ground, shaking your head.

“It doesn’t matter whether I think he’s a traitor or not, what matters is whether the inquisition that’s on their way thinks it! Unless they aren’t on their way, and he lied about that, too!”

> “Watch your mouth, Caskett!”

“Is the Planetary Governor even murdered down there?!”

> “Of course he is. Why else would we be all the way out here?”

“Why did we have to flee the Mechanicus?”

> “Obviously, they don’t take to being used as a ferry service very well.”

“Why couldn’t we have just taken an Arbites ship??!”

> “Because in order to request passage to Harvestfall, we would have to provide the reason we’re wanting to go.”

“… and?!”

Grist grumbles, shaking his head. Flayer pipes up.

> “Janus, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but the sort of work we’ve been doing these past two days is a little beneath the calibre of a murdered Planetary Governor.”

It takes a moment to appreciate Flayer’s words. You look at Grist and Charles. Grist is scowling real hard, and Charles is gently nodding.

“So… Redmore didn’t report the murder to the Arbites?”

> “Not quite!”

Charles interjects as puts her pistol away, her smile seems to have returned.

> “Before we left, Redmore wrote a report of his exchange with our resident astropath and instructed a servo-skull to bring it to dispatch on a delayed timeframe. If I had to guess, it’s already been delivered, or will be soon. He just wanted us to be on the way to investigate before orders could come down and stop us from doing that.”
You huff. Your indignant rage seems to have eroded into an overwhelmed exhaustion.

“All that lying and risk and headache just so that another Arbites unit can’t investigate…?”

Flayer scoffs.

> “Janus, you idiot! We’re not competing with the ARBITES here.”

You take another moment to think and then shrink back to the wall.

“Oh… The Inquisition…”

Grist and Flayer make a mocking “Oh” in response. Groves shakes his head. Charles is more magnanimous, offering further explanation.

> “I’m not sure what they taught you boys about the Inquisition, if anything, but when it comes to our work they have a tendency to… interfere with investigations. Not out of malice, of course, but… I guess when all you have is a bolter, everything looks like a heretic!”

Grist concurs.

> “In the past, our forensic efforts have been thwarted by heavy-handed Inquisitors. Our Inspector would never creatively interpret the procedures of chain-of-command in such ways unless the situation absolutely called for it. Callus Redmore is many things, but a traitor he is not.”

File: hellenicfarm.jpg (140 KB, 900x675)

140 KB JPG

“Please forgive my impudence.”

Grist scoffs.

The rest of the ride is in silence. You can feel the planet’s gravity overtake the Valkyrie’s, and soon enough the craft lands. When the bay doors open, you are blinded by the natural light, your eyes having adjusted to the minimal red light in the interior of the transport.

When they finally do adjust, your heart soars. You are greeted by a landscape of amber and brown, stretching out in all directions for miles. In the distance, dark blue hills rise up above the horizon, nearly melding into the blue atmosphere. The sun washes you with warmth and golden light, light that dances off the ocean of grain.

Scattered along the landscape are a variety of structures, their walls are chalk-white, with maroon roofing. Humble dwellings for the laborers, you figure, but one building distinguishes itself with its size. A large estate, built from the same materials as the smaller houses, but standing at least three stories high, with a stucco wall that wraps a large perimeter around it. It sits on a nearby hill, with a road you landed right beside leading right up to it.

The pilot pokes his head out of the cockpit.

> “Oi, I’m being hailed on the vox by the Mechanicus vessel!”

Grist stays inside the Valkyrie, moving into the cockpit with the pilot, as Charles leads the rest of you to the road.

> “Here we are, boys! Harvestfall! What do you think, pretty primitive, eh?”

> “It’s idyllic! This could be a paradise world! I’ll bet even Terra isn’t half as nice as this!”

Groves scoffs.

> “Don’t be stupid, Flayer. I’ll bet Holy Terra is ten times as nice. Still, this place sure beats Equine.”

Ulbryn is silent. Charles laughs at Flayer and Groves, clapping her hands together. Grist returns to you all.

> “Just got off the vox with the Machina. They’ve been in contact with the Arbites Hall of Justice back on Harvestfall, and have ordered us all to return to the Machina and stand by.”

Your heart sinks. You don’t want to leave, not after you’ve only just gotten here.

> “Unfortunately, I didn’t get the order before dropping you all off and flying back out.”

Charles smirks.

> “Sorry, Wyatt. I knew I should’ve picked up instead of you.”

> “I only bought you a couple hours, so get moving. Keep the tots in line.”

Charles kisses Grist on the cheek and he gets back in the Valkyrie. You have no feelings whatsoever about this gesture. The bay doors close and the flyer lifts off, blowing the grass and grain with its engines as it begins climbing into the atmosphere.

Charles turns to you all and smiles.

> “All right, let’s get moving!”

Unsurprisingly, you all begin walking up the hill towards the large estate. When you get to the gates, you’re stopped by a man adorned in Cadian armor, a lasgun hanging from his shoulder by a sling.

> “Halt. What business do you have here?”

Charles flashes her badge.

> “Arbitrator Fiona Charles. Please let us through.”

The man’s authoritative demeanor crumbles as soon as he sees the badge. He immediately begins pushing the wide gate open.

> “Of course, Madame Arbitrator, please forgive my rudeness. We did not expect such a quick response from Icarus.”

> “The Emperor’s Justice is swift and unfaltering.”

You enter the courtyard. The estate looks even more opulent from up close, there’s no shortage of windows, balconies adorned with plants that seem to be heavy with bright fruit, and the ground paved with hexagonal bricks. For the few regularly-dressed people you see, who are likely servants, there’s dozens of soldiers loitering around. They’re probably from Harvestfall’s Planetary Defense Force. A Lieutenant, distinguished by the chevrons on his sleeves, approaches.

> “And who in the warp are you four?”

Charles repeats her badge-flash to him, who seems to be less affected by it.

> “Arbitrator Charles, Lieutenant. And company.”

The man looks at the mentioned company for a moment and then back at Charles.

> “Lieutenant Dogs, 1st Icarian Expedition Force. Didn’t figure they’d send an Arbitrator for somethin’ like this.”

> “Haha! Well, anyway, we’d like to get to the bottom of this just as much as you. Why don’t you take us to where the Governor is and give us the rundown?”

> “That’d be his office. This way.”

The soldier walks you all through the double Elysian doors, the interior of the estate twice as elegant as the outside, with potted plants, large portraits, and chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. As he leads you through the interior, he gives his best approximation of a report.

> “Got the call early this afternoon. We were stationed on the southern tip of this continent, plenty of native PDF platoons in between. ‘Oh, no- we want the professionals here, double time!’ Load of grox-shit, if you ask me, securing a crime scene like we- well, like we was you- no offense. First thing we did was clear out the house- oh, they didn’t like that at all. ‘I work in this building! I’m the anointed lord of wheat and I absolutely must account for every grain of rice collected today!’ I says, ‘well, you lot wanted professionals, this here’s the professional thing to do.’ Comes down to having troopers drag them kicking and screaming outta the house. A perimeters a perimeter, I says. They’re all in the guest house, no doubt screaming that poor astropath’s ear off with obscenities and threats to Icarus. Let ‘em, I say. Anyway, here’s where the governor is.”

He opens a door into a somewhat large study. There’s couches for lounging, a large dark-wooded desk right in front of a larger window, a fireplace to the right and bookshelves to the left. All tied together by an ornately-stitched carpet with Imperial symbolism, obscured by blood and the corpse of a large man.

> “That’s whereabouts we found him. Nobody’s been in here since the Administratum lady found him in here, I’m told, but somebody could’ve been in the few hours before I got here. Don’t trust those cakesniffers in the guest house, they look like a rotten group of bastards by my measure.”

> “Thank you, Lieutenant. We’ll take it from here.”

Charles gently closes the door in the man’s face before taking in the scene of the crime.

> “All right… We’ve only got a few hours here, so let’s make the most of it. Get to work!”

Charles, Flayer, Groves, and Ulbryn all scatter. Flayer goes right for the body, Groves starts to look at the bookshelf, Charles begins rifling through his desk, and Ulbryn seems to be looking for firewood for the fireplace.

> Investigate body.
> Investigate room.
> Investigate desk.

>>5384853
First of all, find cause of death
Investigate body.

Writing!

You join Flayer at the body. Laid out on the carpet in the center of the room, the victim is a middle-aged man no taller than you or Flayer, but quite heavier, lots of fat distributed around his face and neck with a thick torso. He’s clothed in a fine-woven tan material that seems to be one piece, although a thick belt obscures his waist.

The cause of death is quite obvious. A single ballistic wound on his forehead. The hole is almost a needle-pin, with lots of blood dried around it, trailing down his brow and the side of his head before pooling into the carpet, which by now is a crusty brown residue.

The location on the wound on his head, along with the fact that he’s laid out on his back, arms to his side, suggests that he was facing his assailant when the shot was fired.

Flayer analyses, crouching beside his head.

> “We can rule out a lasgun. No burns around the edge of the wound.”

“Stub, then. Any other ballistic ordinance I can think of wouldn’t have left this much of his head.”

Flayer nods. You crouch beside his body and notice that his pockets are turned out.

“Looks like the attacker rifled through his pockets.”

> “Doubt he was looking for thrones.”

“Yeah, doubt it.”

[As Janus investigates crimes- or larger enigmas- he will make notes of his observations which will be kept track of by the QM and can be called upon to make larger deductions.]

You make note of the cause of death.

[CAUSE OF DEATH: STUB-ROUND TO HEAD]

> Investigate Desk
> Investigate Room
> Go to Guest House and Interrogate Witnesses

>>5384962
> Investigate Room
This then the Desk

>>5384962
>Investigate Room

Writing!

Very embarrassing gaffe on my part: Harvestfall, the agri-world that we are on at the moment, is referred to in Chapter 1 as 'Valleyfall,' which rolls off the tongue better and doesn't sound as much like somebody's Animal Crossing town. THIS is the aforementioned agri-world that provides Icarus with most of its food, and is burdened by a peasant revolt. For some reason while reading the prologue and Chapter 1 again to refresh myself, this detail was lost on me. It's even called 'Valleyfall' in my world bible. What a fucking moron. I apologize for any confusion this may have caused.

Stepping away from the body, you start to take in the room itself. It’s a tastefully decorated office space, the floor and the fireplace are marble. There are bookshelves completely covering the wall opposite the fireplace. The couches around the rug are seated next to two wood cabinets with glass doors, wine bottles and glasses inside them. A coffee table is shuffled to the side, but it’s easy to imagine pulling it between the two couches to sprawl documents upon, sipping wine from a glass in one hand and holding a wetted quill in the other as you expertly advocated for your planet all while basking in the warmth of a crackling fire. Or whatever it is Planetary Governors do.

The couch behind the body has little red droplets of blood on it. The rug has a large body on it, blood pooled beneath the head. There’s also blood three feet or so in front of the body, a bunch of splotches and vertical streaks.

The bookshelves on one of the walls are all printed in High Gothic. Many of them are about Imperial history, but some seem to be unrelated tomes on various topics such as poetry anthologies, an atlas of Harvestfall, and industrial agricultural techniques. Groves is staring at the titles intently. What an idiot.

He reaches up for a book titled Soror Bellandi Libidinosa. You’re about to roll your eyes when you hear a click. A previously indiscernible wooden panel on the bottom of the bookshelf opens up. Groves backs away from the shelf with a satisfied smile.

> “Look at that!”

Charles looks up from the desk and gives a small smile before returning to rummaging through the desk.

Groves opens the panel further to reveal a small safe. This piques Flayer’s interest, who moves beside you to look at Groves’s find.

The safe is made of metal, one foot tall by one foot wide, and has a standard combination knob on the door next to a handle. On the edges of the door near the handle there are scratch marks and dents.

“Look at the marks on the door.”

Groves snorts and tries the latch, which does not move.

> “Somebody definitely tried breaking into this. He didn’t have the tools obviously.”

> “See anything that looks like a combination in that desk, Charles?”

Charles shakes her head.

> “Nothing here but production reports and correspondence. If we had a promethium shell we could melt through the lock. I’ve seen Cobbler do it more than once.”

Flayer hems, scratching his chin.

> “Alternatively, somebody close to the Governor might know the combination.”

You make a note of the safe.

[EVIDENCE OF ATTEMPTED FORCED ENTRY IN HIDDEN SAFE]

You walk away from the bookshelf and join Charles at the desk. She has a few cabinets open, each filled with parchments, and has stacks of parchment on top of the desk. She seems to be sorting them. One pile is official records and reports pertaining to Harvestfall, another is personal correspondence. Another, smaller pile in the middle is a mixture of both.

“Find anything relevant?”

> “Nothing of the sort. I’ll say this for mister Kor, though- he was very organized. His file cabinet down here has dividers with dates clearly marked both in local cycles and standard Solar years. All of this-“
She points to the files on the cabinet,
> “Is stuff from the last six months. The revolt began two months ago, for reference. This pile in the middle is anything that mentions the revolt.”

“What caused the revolt in the first place?”

> “Haha, well, if it’s anything like every other agri-world revolt, this Governor probably worked these people too hard and compensated them too lightly.”

Groves scoffs.

> “Greedy urchins! Couldn’t they see that their less fortunate lot in life had a higher purpose? Thanks to their tantrum, a whole hive world is in the throes of a famine!”

> “Well, Groves, there are plenty of agri-worlds with more equitable living conditions that produce more than enough food for the Tithe. The peasants here are partly to blame for hindering production, but the Governor here has also failed in his duty to balance the needs of the Imperium with his own planet.”

Groves scoffs again.

> “Yeah, and it looks like he paid the price for it.”

You blink, feeling like the slowest guy in the room. It didn’t yet occur to you that the most obvious suspect for the assassination was a rebel. You pick up documents from the revolt-pile and go through a few of them.

CAPE VIRTUE MALCOMPLIANCE INCIDENT REPORT
Governor Kor,

Last month I wrote to you concerning the degraded state of laborer morale to explain the two-percent discrepancy of grain production. Though it brings me no joy to be proven correct in my explanation, I believe today’s events have corroborated that fact. At 0600 this morning, nearly all field proctors in Cultivation Sectors 23, 37, 10, and a few on the edges of Sector 12 reported truancy rates of at least 80%. The two worst Sectors, 23 and 37, had nearly 94% truancy.

Wardens that were dispatched to the relevant Domicile Communes for corrective action reported mass demonstrations across all Communes in relevant Sectors. All were ordered to stand by, but one Warden in Sector 23 had disregarded orders and approached the demonstrators to attempt to disband the crowd. He in turn was approached by a demonstrator who styled himself as a figurehead, handing him a document that first contained a personal message to you, and then an itemized list of demands. That document is included in this parcel.

Upon breaking up demonstrators in other Communes, documents with identical demands were found on the bodies of felled organizers, the only variation being the preluding personal messages, each with emotional appeals that vary in degrees of melodrama. The identical demands list in different sectors indicates an organization among laborers that is serious cause for concern. I recommend mobilizing the Harvestfall Planetary Defense Force at once, if not petitioning for intervention from Icarus.

-Yours, Julia Hardwick, 52nd Grain Baron.

Beneath the parchment is a note with scratchy handwriting.

To Archibald Kor,

Helo. My name is Erik Stern. My familee has been workin on Harvestfall for over too hundred yeers. My fathers father left Harvestfall to join the Gard and never came back. My father workd very hard to farm so that he woodnt be chosen to go to the Gard and leeve my mum and me.

Wen Icarus agreed to send soljers to the Gard for Harvestfall, it was the happyest day of my life. I wasnt afrayd of leevin my wife and child, and new that I wood spend the rest of my days on Harvestfall, my home. Our comyune threw a festival and sang your prayses all into the nite.

Last week, my son, Jared Stern, dyed. He was carryin tools for the layborers and fell, and one of the tools cut his arm. He was 9 yeers old, and was a good boy. The docter says it was an infecshun that killed him. He says he did not have the rite tools to help him. He says the only playse on Harvestfall with the tools to help him was at your home.

I asked the Procter to take us to your home, and he says that you dont like seein us and dont want us at your home. The docter says the infecshun spred from his arm and he wood suffer a paynful deth, and that the most humayn thin to do was to put him to rest. We did that last week. He was a good boy.

Lots of peeple are angry cus they want stuff that you have but dont want to share. I dont think you shood give us everythin, but I think you shood give every docter the rite tools to keep us helthy. Pleese think about it.

- Erik Stern, Father of Jared Stern

You blink behind your Arbites Visor, which you’re at the moment you’re grateful for obscuring your eyes.

Beneath that note, another parchment. The writing on this one is printed, and far more legible.

WE, THE FARMERS OF HARVESTFALL,
Make the following petition on the basis that our dignity as Imperial Subjects is not being respected. As a result, we have determined the best method to assert our voices to you, the Governor of Harvestfall, is to refrain from our work schedules until such a time that the following conditions are satisfied.

1. A REDUCTION TO 50 HOURS PER WEEK OF SCHEDULED WORK
2. AN END TO CRUEL REPRIMANDS SUCH AS BUT NOT LIMITED TO LASHING, IMPRISONMENT, AND HARD LABOR FOR PETTY OFFENSES SUCH AS BUT NOT LIMITED TO TRUANCY, GRAIN HOARDING, AND DISRESPECTING FIELD WARDENS
3. REDUCED QUOTAS AND MORE LEISURE TIME ALLOCATED TO INJURED PERSONS, ELDERLY PERSONS, CHILDREN, AND PREGNANT AND NURSING WOMEN.
4. UPGRADED FARMING EQUIPMENT THAT REDUCES MENIAL LABOR AND INCREASES GRAIN YIELD.
5. MEDICAL CENTRES ERECTED IN EVERY SECTOR, OR EASILY ACCESSIBLE TO EVERY SECTOR, THAT INJURED LABORERS MAY RETURN TO WORK SOONER AND HEALTHIER.
6. A LARGER PORTION OF GRAIN YIELD RESERVED FOR LABORERS, THAT ALL MAY EAT THEIR FILL.
7. A NEW STATION IN YOUR ADMINISTRATION DEDICATED TO CONCERNS OF LABORERS, NOMINATED AND ELECTED BY LABORERS, WITH OPTIONAL VETO POWERS HELD BY PLANETARY GOVERNOR.

You set the document down. The rest of the documents in the pile are updates from the Planetary Defense Force. They begin optimistically, reporting several uprisings crushed, but trend toward less and less gains as the revolting Harvestites leave the developed areas of the planet and begin engaging in guerilla warfare. Somewhere toward the bottom of the pile, there’s a high-priority update that’s just one line.

HIGH PRIORITY UPDATE
REBELS HAVE LASGUNS AND HEAVY STUBBERS. HOW????

After rifling through the pile, your eyes feel strained, and you really don’t want to read any more documents.

“Anything interesting in the other piles, F- Charles?”

> “Nope. There’s a shorthand recount of him communicating with an Administratum official via astropath. I think it’s the same one the soldier mentioned finding him dead. He’s just begging her not to reinstate the Manpower Tithe in light of the dwindling grain yield, but that’s about it.”

Charles opens another file cabinet and shows you the papers tucked neatly between the dividers.

> “Actually, what’s more interesting is what’s NOT here. Each of these dividers is packed with documents that are dated, and there seems to be several documents per day going back six months. The only exceptions are today, two days ago, four days ago, and this day last week. No battle reports, no Administratum correspondence, no letters to the mistress. Any idea why that might be?”

You blink. Is she using this investigation as a training opportunity? Aren’t you all on the clock here?

“Well, I think I know why today’s divider is empty, but the other three must have been looted by the assassin.”

Charles grins and gives an affirmative nod. Flayer joins you on the other side of the desk.

> “That theory’s consistent with the victim’s emptied pockets and the scratch-marks on the safe. Our perp was looking for something, or several somethings, and likely didn’t find them all.”

> “What do you think he was looking for, Flayer?”

Flayer hems and taps his fingers on the desk.

> “I haven’t gotten that far in my deduction yet.”

> “Janus? You wanna give it a try?”

Oh, great. You think about it. Pockets emptied. Parcels from specific days missing. Scratches on safe. All of these hinting at the assassin looking for…

> Money
> Specific Documents
> The Safe Combination

>>5386167
> Specific Documents
>No one robs a Planetary Governor for money out of all things! It would make sense the killer searched this place for the combination, but he wanted what was inside the safe most of all. Since some documents are gone, it's obvious those were the goal, probably along with some specific documents in that safe. Also, if that guy died to a stub round, where did those streaks and blotches on the floor over there come from? It's unusual to have that three feet away from a stub wound. Did the murderer try to beat the combination out of the Governor? Does anyone have a copy of the stolen reports? There's a link there, I'm sure. O'm sorry to say this looks less and less like a rebel attack. That priority update may be a hint. Could the stolen documents have contained clues as to the Governor's efforts to determine if some outside force was aiding the rebels?"

>>5386319
+1

“It’s got to be certain documents that the killer didn’t want anyone to see.”

Flayer’s mouth opens, and he pauses before quietly groaning.

> “Of course! If he was rooting around the desk for the safe combination, there’d be papers all over the floor. He didn’t want anyone to think twice about the desk. If we can figure out what documents are missing-“

Charles puts her hands on you and Flayer’s shoulders, leaning in between you.

> “We’ll figure out the motive for the killing! You guys are doing great!”

Groves snickers from his hunched-over spot in front of the safe. Ulbryn isn’t even paying attention. He seems to have resorted to trying to light the fireplace with a thinner branch, like you were all taught during your survival exercises.

“If the killer knew that something pertinent was in the safe, then that’s probably our best bet. I can’t imagine he’d keep the documents on him when there’s so many ways to get rid of parchment.”

> “Our next stop ought to be the guest house, then. We can take some statements and see if anybody has any idea about the safe.”

“One second, Flayer. Before we go, did you notice those weird streaks on the carpet?”

> “Beneath the feet? Yeah, I did. Unusual for stub ejecta, but I didn’t find any other injuries on the body. Maybe the perp moved the Governor’s body while he was looting him?”

“I could see him rolling the body onto his back to do that, but dragging him a foot or so backwards?”

> “I’ll admit, it’s a faulty theory. I think our strongest lead, like you said, is the safe. When we figure out the motive, the identity of the perpetrator will become more clear, and more pieces will fall into place.”

You nod at Flayer. Groves stands up and walks over to the desk.

> “Couldn’t manage to find a way to slide the safe out. Looks like it’s built-in to the bookcase. I’ll take a look at these papers, if you please. Not that I don’t have faith in your reading comprehension, Janus.”

Groves smirks and sits down in the governor’s big chair. Charles claps her hands together.

> “You lot are making me swell with pride, you know that? I think it’s safe to say, given the current information, that our suspect is sympathetic to the revolt, if not a clandestine operative on their behalf.”

“Uh, actually, I’m not sure if-“

> “I’m going to go talk with the Lieutenant about the conflict and get a statement from him regarding this estate. He might have some insight that is lost in these written situation reports. Keep this investigation up, but remember, we’re working against the clock here!”

Charles walks through the door, closing it behind her. Groves straightens out a folded paper, hemming.

> “She’s a lot of help, isn’t she?”

You ignore Groves, who’s already scanning the words on the parchment anyway. Ulbryn throws a fist up, cheering. He seems to have successfully nurtured a small fire, that should be quick to overtake the pile of tinder he’s placed on the structure of fresh firewood.

Flayer straightens his posture out, looking at you.

> “Guest house then, Janus?”

> Sure, let’s go!
> Actually… I think we missed something.

Second option is an opportunity for a write-in, should have made that more clear.

Let's just go

>>5386926
Any cameras or dusting for finger prints on the desk, drawers or safe, or doorhandles to this place? Get any dna samples?

Is there a spent shell casing and burnt powder residue on the body or near it?

Can we identify what books the pages were taken from so we can decren the subject of the stolen papers? Were are the papers desposed of take a look in there for clues.

Then we can go.

Also curious to see if any of the servants loved ones or family died recently.

>>5386926
>> Actually… I think we missed something.
>Ulbryn, any half-burnt pieces of paper in that fireplace? The murderer may have tried to destroy the evidence.
Iit also makes me wonder why he's starting a fire in the first place, but hey, let the kid have his fun.

“One moment…”

You walk over to the body and examine it again. The wound in the forehead, a single tiny hole with bruising and blood coming out of it, seems to be devoid of any other residue.
In point-blank engagements with stubs, there’s usually burn wounds in addition to the ballistic injury, from the black powder propellant’s combustion burning the skin. There’s also usually residue of spent black powder that hadn’t fully vaporized. Both seem to be absent on the body, suggesting a little range on the shot. With the Governor’s body in the middle of the room, facing the door if stood up, it’s likely the shot was taken right after stepping into the room, standing where the door is.

You stand up and walk to the door, prompting Flayer to open the door and try to leave, but you grab him, keeping him put while you get down on your hands and knees and look under furniture. Nothing! You grunt frustratedly as you stand up, looking around the room for other potential shooting positions. Flayer watches you impatiently.

> “What the hell are you looking for?”

“Murder-weapon was a stub gun, wasn’t it?”

> “Yeah, I’m pretty sure.”

Instead of explaining what you mean, you unholster your Ius-Pattern Autopistol and pull the slide back, ejecting an unspent stub-round from the weapon, which hits the floor and starts rolling. Flayer gawks and immediately hits the floor, looking under the wine cabinets.

You’re both crawling around on all fours, doing a full perimeter check of the room starting from opposite ends and going around until you run into each other at the fireplace. You both sit up next to Ulbryn, who’s just sitting in front of the fire.

> “It’s no use. Any half-competent assassin would pick the spent shell up.”

“I knew that was probably the case, but part of me was hoping we’d still find it. If we could figure out its caliber, we’d narrow down the list of potential suspects substantially.”

> “I mean, it’s a stub-gun on an agri-world. Only people with one of those are us and the peasants. Peasants who, lately, seem to be itching for something like this. You think it’s not a rebel killed Archibald Kor?”

“I’m keeping an open mind. I certainly haven’t ruled it out, but the Governor was in a weak spot politically, and it’s not just enemies that tend to exploit that.”

> “You’re thinking one of his cabinet did it.”

“I’m keeping an open mind. I just don’t understand what a rebel would want with documents, unless it was like battle plans or something, but there was hardly anything that sensitive in that desk. My theory is that the PDF were starting to do better against the rebels, and that information was inconvenient to the murderer, so he discarded any document to that effect.”

> “Well, from the looks of those missing files in the cabinet, he must’ve had quite a bit to haul. Maybe we should ask people at the guest house if they saw anybody carrying a heavy rucksack or a bag.”

The fire crackles and pops with a satisfying warm glow. Flayer blinks. You blink.

“ULBRYN YOU FUCKING IDIOT!”
> “ULBRYN YOU FUCKING IDIOT!”

Scrambling over either side of Ulbryn, you both start stamping out the small blaze with your boots, kicking a log over into a large pile of ash. Fuck! Not what you meant to do. Flayer picks up a big gold pair of tongs and lifts each flaming log out of the fireplace, setting them on the stone mantle for lack of a better place to put them. Ulbryn stares up at you two after you’re finished, a blank stare up the two of you.

> “What’d you do that for?”

Flayer opens his mouth to say something, but decides its not worth the effort, crouching down to root around through the ash. You join him, taking a poker and sifting through the large pile of ash.

> “Agh, it’s no use! Just dirtying my gauntlets.”

Flayer pulls his hands out and claps them together, trying to get excess ash off of them. You root around for a few more moments before deciding to give up yourself, pulling the poker out of the pile of ash. As you pull, you hear a metallic sliding sound, and when the rear-facing hook of the poker emerges from the ash pile, it’s dragging a small metal cylinder along, which rolls out of the fireplace and onto the floor.

> “Throne! Is that-“

You reach down to pick up the cylinder. A grin forms on your face. It’s unmistakably a spent shell. There’s soot on it, of course, but there it is. It’s also quite hot from Ulbryn’s fire, and your gauntlet’s fingertips are quick to induct the heat, causing you to drop it.

“Oh, damn-!”

After the shell cools off, you, Flayer and Ulbyrn squint your eyes as Flayer rotates the shell.

> “Definitely not a caliber the Arbites use. We can ask around and see if it’s a match for local stub-guns.”

Groves yells at you from the desk, his legs resting on it as he reads through another letter.

> “You’ve been blabbing about the guest house and interrogations for twenty minutes, but you’re all still in here. Go! Clock’s ticking!”

You open your mouth to retort, but Flayer just stands up and starts walking to the door. You follow him, prompting Ulbryn to follow you two.

The Harvestite Planetary Governor Estate is a large vineyard-style house with stucco walls and maroon tiles. Surrounded by a perimeter of walls, which bulges out from the back and snakes down the hill to include smaller accommodations for the help, the estate proper sits on the apex of a mild hill. Its floorplan is a bracket shape, the interior of the bracket facing the courtyard, with east and west wings flanking it on either side. The east wing, asymmetrically, has a tiny alley that cuts the rest of the eastern wing off from the building. There’s a little porch connecting the two buildings, as well as a garden nestled into the rest of the space in between the buildings, but this separated wing functions also as a guest house.

The guest house is decorated identically to the rest of the estate, and it’s grand enough that even as a guest house, it’s more room than you’ll probably ever get. Even still, standing in it right now, with all these bickering servants and aristocrats, clamoring over each other to try and talk to you and Flayer and Ulbryn, it feels rather cramped.

There’s a squad of Planetary Defense troopers inside as well, probably there to make sure none of these people flee. As they all yell out to you, forgoing social status and decorum to try to save their own skin by accusing the other, a PDF Sergeant fires his lasgun into the ceiling.

The crowd falls still and silent. There’s an incandescent hole in the ceiling that’s smoldering now, and you all take care to avoid its falling debris.

> “THERE! Now that you’ve all SHUT UP, these men are gonna be questioning you.”

The crowd erupts again into accusatory, urgent screaming, until the Sergeant points his lasgun at them. They reel back, like an ebbing tide.

> “Wait your turn, if you’re not being talked to, SHUT UP. Anyone makes this process any more difficult than it has to be, INCLUDING by being LOUDER THAN NECESSARY, well, makes my job a whole lot easier.”

The Sergeant lowers his gun and turns to you.

> “There’s plenty’a rooms in here to question people in. I’d recommend a room upstairs if you don’t want prying ears pressed up to the walls.”

“Thanks, soldier.”

> “We should probably split this up between us, each take our own room. Janus, who looks like they know something?”

You peer into the small crowd. You see a few characters that might know a few things.

> A servant with a little gold trim to his otherwise humble attire. Probably the House Manager, the head-servant.
> A woman sitting to the side who had forgone the hectic shouting just moments ago. You see a PDF trooper bring her a hot cup of tea. Undoubtedly the Administratum Official who discovered the body.
> A sneering aristocrat whose voice seemed to rise the loudest. The opulence on his uniform and severity of his indignant expression suggests seniority over the other elite. Likely a member of the Governor’s Cabinet.

>>5388562
> A servant with a little gold trim to his otherwise humble attire. Probably the House Manager, the head-servant.
GOSSIP

“ULBRYN YOU FUCKING IDIOT!”
> “ULBRYN YOU FUCKING IDIOT!”
Did the idiot also get smacked on the head?

Writing!

Okay seperate the people we interrogate in another room afterwards with guardsvat every interrogation room door. We probably should all be present to interrogate individuals. Ensure th mob of people are made to sit in nice orderly fashion or in chairs with guards watching.
This should help calm things down rather than let mob mentality take over and cool tensions.

Start with the golden trim lady.

You point at the gold-trimmed servant.

“He’s definitely the head of the help, I’ll talk to him.”

Flayer nods. You leave him and Ulbryn to pick out their questionees, approaching the thin old man with the decadent servant robes.

“Name and job?”

> “Stefan Mooney, Household Manager. All butlers and chambermaids answer to me.”

You’re briefly proud of your correct deduction and motion him to follow you up the steps to the second floor. There’s a longue with a fireplace and table, but you take him into another room that looks like a study, another fireplace inside with plenty of bookshelves and a coffee table in between two chairs. You sit down in one and he stands by your side.

“You can sit.”

> “Apologies, Sir Arbitrator, I’m a creature of habit.”

He leaves the side of your chair and sits down rather awkwardly in the chair opposite you. He offers a small smile.

> “Now… How can I help you, Sir Arbitrator?”

“I’m just a Trooper. Trooper Janus Caskett. As you’ve probably guessed, I’m investigating the murder of your master, Planetary Governor Archibald Kor. Uhm- You’re not a suspect or anything, this is all just standard procedure.”

> “Of course, of course- I just want it on the record that Master Kor was very amenable to the needs of his help, and that there were never any issues regarding discipline or expectations from either party.”

“Right… Could you tell me about the last time you saw Archibald alive?”

> “Certainly. It was early this morning. I roused him awake and served him hot tea and breakfast, as has been my duty every day for nearly ten standard years. He seemed rather nervous, but that was to be expected- he had a meeting with a representative of the Administratum. This horrible uprising had somewhat damaged his negotiating leverage with the Administratum, and he was preparing to ask for more time with delivering on the Imperial Tithe. As an official of the Imperium, I’m sure you can appreciate how tenuous of a request that is. He instructed me to cater to the official in every possible way, and to make her stay at our humble manor as comfortable as possible. Well, I did exactly that- except she was more keen on getting the meeting over with than indulging in the Master’s hospitality. Understandable enough, I suppose, but when she proceeded to the Master’s office, she encountered the grisly scene that you undoubtedly have already investigated.”

You nod intermittently at his words, committing them to memory but feeling as though you should perhaps have brought a pad and quill to jot down notes in.

“I understand that other members of the Governor’s Cabinet work on this estate. Was there anything out of the ordinary regarding the Governor and his cabinet?”

> “Well, of course. We’re in the throes of a civil uprising, there was plenty of controversy and strife that occurred in the meeting chambers every day. Did you have queries pertaining to a particular member of cabinet..?”

“Well, just from what you know, was there anybody on his cabinet that was unsatisfied with the Governor?”

> “Hmm. I would say no, there was not. There were a few members of his cabinet that were overly-demanding in some instances, but they were appointees, so they recognized their place.”

“Was there ANYONE in the estate that had a problem with the Governor? Perhaps one of the help?”

> “Certainly not! As I’ve said, the Governor was quite warm with his staff, there were no incidents of gross insubordination or draconian punishments. Even with the stress of this revolt, we, the help and the Governor got on quite well.”

“So nobody in the house was acting strange today, before or after the murder?”

> “Heavens, I would have noticed if they were! I am quite familiar with all of my staff and- oh, well… actually, one of our younger maids, Yuliya, seems to have disappeared.”

You lean in.

“When did you notice Yuliya was gone?”

> “It was in the morning. Before I wake the Master, I wake the servants and maids up in their respective quarters in the servant houses out back. Oh, but Yuliya had been missing since last evening, I’m told. It couldn’t have been her. She’s a very sweet girl, quite incapable of the violence you’re here to investigate.”

“Do servants run away a lot?”

> “Well, no. There have been some incidents, in the past, where servants will flee the grounds during their shifts if there’s a nearby festival, or if a loved one has travelled to see them. These incidents are quite rare, though- our staff here is quite free to leave when they aren’t scheduled, and even quit if they’d prefer to return to farming.”

You sigh.

> “I apologize, Master Janus, I feel as though my testimony is not very helpful.”

“That’s all right. Usually being helpful would not be good news for you. Oh-! The safe in the study, do you know the combination?”

The old man frowns.

> “Safe in the study..? I’m sure I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

Damn it.

“That’s alright. Thank you for your cooperation, mister Mooney.”

> “Of course, sir. If I may, I know that your purpose here is quite urgent, but if you could see about looking for Yuliya if you find the time… Do you have any Cyber Mastiffs at your disposal, by any chance?”

“I don’t, I’m sorry.”

> “That’s quite all right. Carry on the good work, Master Caskett.”

You both stand up and return downstairs. Order seems to be hanging by a thread, and all eyes are on you and the old man. Ulbryn and Flayer are nowhere to be found, you expect they’re interrogating their own subjects.

> Question the Administratum Official.
> Question the Cabinet Member.
> Join Flayer or Ulbryn’s Interrogation

>>5389098
> Question the Cabinet Member.
Maybe he is one of the more demanding members.

>>5389302
yah

You pull the Sergeant aside and ask him to keep Stefan and other people that are questioned in another room. He complies, having a trooper take Stefan into another parlor in the back of the guest house and kicking out other servants and staff that were sitting inside.

You scan the room for the other people who you wanted to question, and almost immediately your eyes fall on the ostentatiously dressed old man who had been shouting when you arrived. Unlike the House Manager, this man is quite fat, and even though he’s wearing robes you can see the folds of his body distinguish themselves from the folds in his fabric.

His eyes lock with yours, and he shoves a servant out of his way as he waddles over to you.

> “I’d like to report a breach of conduct perpetrated by one of your subordinates.”

You open your mouth to correct him, but something inside you decides that it is more pragmatic to let him believe you are of greater rank. You point up the stairs.

“Let’s continue this upstairs.”

> “Very well.”

In the study, the man barely manages to squeeze his thighs into the leather armchair, his proportions make the furniture seem like it was designed for children. Nevertheless, he makes a satisfied noise as he lays his head back, staring up at the ceiling with his fingers interlaced on his belly.

> “When the three of you arrived, I did my best to convey the import of my information, but you had already cordoned off Stefan up here. When I asked one of your fellows to fetch you back down and listen to me, he scoffed in my face!”

“That’s… unfortunate, yes. I will deal with it.”

> “See that you do!”

“In the meantime, I’d like to ask you a few things about today. First, name and occupation?”

> “Porter Faust. Grain Logistics Minister of the Harvestfall Agri-World.”

“That would make you a member of the Governor’s cabinet, yes?”

> “Indeed. Emperor rest his soul.”

“Could you tell me about the last time you saw the Governor alive?”

> “That would be this morning at the 11th hour. I imposed upon the Governor my presence in his study, though I seemed to interrupt his telepathic correspondence with that rotten Adept sitting downstairs. He shooed me out, and promised he would hear my words at a later time, but as you’ve gathered, that time never came.”

“You just barged into his office?”

> “Understand: Ever since this damnable insurrection began, the Governor has of course had less time to spend directing his Cabinet in matters of domestic affairs. More and more of his focus is on this civil unrest, the propagation of which has rendered some stations in his cabinet redundant. Now, a role such as mine is indispensable, but some of my less fortunate colleagues found themselves on the chopping block. They feared approaching the Governor alone with these concerns, and asked me, a close friend of the Governor, to relay them in their place.”

This piques your interest just a bit.

“Which of your colleagues were afraid of losing their jobs?”

> “Naturally, the ones whose areas of purview were most affected by this uprising. The Occidental Viscount, having the lion’s share of uprising sectors, was particularly concerned. Then there’s the General of the Harvestite Planetary Defense Force, who’s all but been replaced by the commanding officer of the relief force sent from Icarus. The Superintendent of Communes hadn’t approached me in particular, but his is the most tenuous position of all: the Governor considers this uprising a failure of his Wardens.”

You nod, making a note of all the persons mentioned.

“Would any of these people benefit from the Governor dying?”

> “Doubtful. With how much Imperial attention this usurpation has wrought on Harvestfall, the heir to the seat of Planetary Governor will likely be selected from above.”

“I see. Uh, do you happen to know the combination to the safe in the Governor’s office?”

Faust picks something out of his teeth, rocking back and forth on his back fat as he answers.

> “A safe, you say? I’m unaware of any safe that isn’t the House Vault in the basement. You might try asking Stefan, he was practically the Governor’s shadow.”

“Very well. That should be all, thank you.”

You wait for Faust to stand up, a herculean task for a man like himself, but eventually he rises to his feet and begins hobbling down the stairs, and with gravity on his side, he makes the trip twice as fast. A trooper directs him into the parlor.

Back down in the crowded living room of the guest house, the quiet murmuring seems to occupy the bored detainees more so than staring at you, which is quite a relief. You see Flayer standing in the room, and when he sees you he approaches you hurriedly.

> “There you are, Janus!”

“Flayer, how are you doing so far?”

> “No new leads. Just tertiary information. Ulbryn’s still working on his.”

“You know, it occurred to me only after we started that it might be better for all of us to conduct interviews together.”

> “The thought had crossed my mind. Between you and me, I doubt Ulbryn will be much help anyway, so why don’t we just do the next one together? I’ve found out the resident astropath is in here, a man named Gale.”

“There’s also the Administratum official.”

> “Your show. My instinct so far has led me pick out the gardener and the Emperor-blessed cook.”

> Interview the Administratum Adeptus with Flayer
> Interview the Governor’s Astropath

>>5389961
> Interview the Administratum Adeptus with Flayer
We can work quite well with flayer.

>>5390179
+1

You approach the woman sitting off to the side. She seems to have worked her tea down to nearly the bottom of her cup since you’ve gone upstairs, and she looks up at you and Flayer with a rather impatient glint in her eyes. She’s a little older than Cobbler, but not quite as old as Redmore, and her robes are similar to the ones you saw the Administratum officials wear during the Food Queues.

> “Is it my turn yet?”

She starts off with a little sarcasm. You try to remember what you’re doing here, though the way this woman looks at you makes you feel like you’re being a major imposition.

“Uhm. Name and job?”

> “Cassandra Portman. Prefect of the Adeptus Administratum, Segmentum Pacificus, Hellenic Sub-Sector.”

“I see. Right this way, please.”

You lead the woman back up the stairs, into the study you conducted the previous interview inside. She doesn’t wait to be told to sit down, gracefully laying back in the large leather chair, and kicking the hem of her robe back down around her ankles. You sit opposite of her, after Flayer insists on standing beside you.

“Okay, so- I’m Arbitrat- Trooper Caskett.”

> “Trooper Quentis Flayer.”

> “Two troopers? Is your Arbitrator the funny-looking one?”

“No, uhm- she’s- doing something. We are both empowered to conduct this investigation, however.”

It occurs to you it’s been an hour since you heard from Charles. The sun has nearly set behind the hills.

> “I see.”

“So, I’m told that you were the one to discover the Governor’s body this afternoon.”

> “Yes. It was a little bit before morning, actually. I had come for a regularly scheduled meeting regarding matters of Tithe.”

You stare. She stares back.

“Alright. What, uh- what was the purpose of your visit?”

She exhales through her nose, closing her eyes. You’re not entirely sure about the particulars of the power dynamics between an Adeptus Prefect and the Arbites, but she is doing a very good job of making you feel like you two are wasting her time.

> “On Agri-Worlds, there is a biannual meeting between people of my office and Planetary Governors regarding the expected Imperial Tithe of the following year. This was not one of those meetings.”

She takes a moment to think and then continues.

> “My visit to this planet today was instead to put a face to the Administratum’s continued denial of the Governor’s requests for exception.”

“He was trying to reduce the expected grain tithe, wasn’t he?”

> “He was trying to outright avoid it. He nearly ruined several Astropaths’ vocal cords with his nigh-daily appeals to ‘stay the grain tithe, just for this year.’ Something to understand about this planet: Their grain output in the past decades has been so high that the Administratum has forgone the Manpower Tithe altogether. Two years ago, they’ve fallen beneath that surplus threshold, and in the two years since they have not climbed back up. Normally, this would automatically invoke their obligation to provide men to the Astra Militarum, but nearby Icarus has graciously volunteered yet more of their men to spare Harvestfall.”

> “And when you found the Governor?”

> “Yes, I’m sorry. Like I was saying, this was an impromptu visit to tell the lummox ‘no’ to his face. I was also tasked with assessing the effectiveness of the joint Harvestite-Icarian PDF, but, well, I’ll get to that later. I arrived in Harvestfall’s orbit at the ninth hour this morning, and parlayed with him over vox-caster. He was just bloviating the usual formalities, flattering me with offers of a ‘grand feast’ and a ‘seaside villa to make myself home at during my stay.’ As if I intended to stay here for a second longer than it took to tell the oaf ‘no.’ He seemed to be stalling, though, which I suppose is understandable. His warm words could barely contain his nerves.”

“He seemed nervous?”

> “Palpably. With all of the luck he got corresponding with our astropaths, he probably had some idea of what my purpose was. Before I left for the planet’s surface, he assured me that ‘new developments’ in the war would bring a speedy resolution, but when I asked him to elaborate, he said that the vox-channel wasn’t secure.”

> “Fair enough, the rebels seem to have gotten their hands on Astra Militarum equipment. I’m sure they’ve got a few vox-casters.”

> “Nevertheless, I was left waiting in suspense. He insisted on a courtyard landing to my pilot, who was more partial to a wide-open space, but he insisted. At midday planetside, my craft touched down on those bricks, and not five minutes after hearing his voice, I found him in his study, shot in the head.”

Flayer leans forward.

> “It was THAT SOON after you talked with him? Are you absolutely sure?”

The woman gives Flayer a done-up look.

> “I’m in the Administratum, my dear. My heart beats to the tempo of canonical seconds.”

Flayer looks at you urgently. You nod.

> “What did the room look like?”

> “Well, it looked put together enough, if that’s what you mean! Archibald was dead, there was blood under his body, I didn’t want to dawdle in there! Examining corpses isn’t MY Branch of the Adeptus Terra, sorry!”

“Uhm- that’s all right, that’s a normal reaction. But- what did you notice, in your short time there?”

> “Nothing except the corpse, boy.”

“Was the fireplace lit?”

She crosses her arms and averts her gaze, her annoyed eyes squinting.

> “… Yes, it was. I didn’t feel it, though, there was a draft. Are we done here?”

> “Just one more thing… you mentioned you were also meant to inspect the PDF, but you didn’t intend on staying very long.”

> “It wasn’t precisely to ‘inspect’ anything, I’m no Commissar. I was merely to look at the resources expended on this conflict versus the gains won. I had my assessment before I left the Administratum Centre on Icarus: Two months of fighting and grain production steadily dwindling. My report is a recommended intervention from a proper Imperial Guard regiment, and the only reason I didn’t submit it before departing Icarus was to keep appearances. That’s about all the time I have for you two young gentlemen.”

Cassandra hops up to her feet, turning to descend the stairs. Flayer calls after her.

> “Would you have still submitted that report if the Governor’s secret weapon was promising?”

She scoffs, her head sinking beneath the landing.

> “Anything’s possible, I suppose.”

Flayer waits until she’s all the way down the stairs before turning to you.

> “Janus, we have a problem with our timeline.”

“We had a timeline?”

> “If the murder happened roughly five minutes before Adept Portman found his body, then it has to be a person who lived in this house that did it.”

“Why?”

> “According to the head chef, at the time of her arrival, the whole house was buzzing with servants instructed to cater to the Adept’s every whim. There wasn’t a single wing of the house, bar this guest house perhaps, that wouldn’t have witnesses by the dozens.”

“So the only way somebody could get in and out of the study would be…”

> Agree with Flayer’s Theory, the perpetrator could only be a member of staff. [Who?]
> Disagree with Flayer’s Theory, the perpetrator could have found some other way in and out. [How?]

>>5390550
Funnily enough, when we found the casing out of all things in the fireplace, one of my first thoughts was that this was a stupid place to dispose of the evidence. Had the killer thrown it from an open window or when walking around outside, it would have been near impossible to find it for perhaps months.
Turns out, I should have followed that line of thought. It's a shame the Administratum lady is gone, we could have had a Columbo moment.

>"Oh, and just one more thing! You said you felt a draft in the room. Was it coming from your front or back?"
If it comes from the front, the room itself, then we have something.

When we entered the mansion with the PDF lieutenant, there was no mention of stairs. The PG's office has a large window, and could be on the ground floor. If so, that's a glaring entry and/or exit point.
But there's one thing that catches my attention. While Ulbyrn tried to light a fire, there is no mention of the cold from Janus. While it can be explained by the armor the Arbites are wearing, there was absolutely no mention of documents being disturbed by a draft when we looked through them. No papers flying about or reports fluttering in the wind. And no one caught an opened window? I don't believe it, at least Charles would have picked up on it. If that window is closed right now we are faced with a new scenario, in part due to the 5-minute interval problem Flayer raised.
The window was open when the Prefect walked in. And closed when we arrived. No one would have crossed across the room to close it in the middle of a high-profile crime scene.
If I'm right in my assumptions, then the murderer was still in the room or hidden near the window when the Prefect discovered the body, and must have been within only a few meters of her...
Most likely, they were disturbed by her arrival. Maybe they risked going back in to finish, since 5 minutes is a bit short for searching an entire office? Maybe they directly closed the window and left? We need to get a look on that window, or all nearby windows if the daft came from the Prefect's back. We also need to go back and ask whoever went into the room next about the draft. I don't think the killer stuck around, so there shouldn't be any, but we can't just ignore that. We'll probably have to figure out if someone came from where that window leads. I'm not neglecting the option that the murderer is a member of staff, only that they may have taken a different exit. We have a lead, but are still missing a lot of evidence. As the Household manager said, it's a shame we don't have Cyber-Mastiffs or tracking dogs. They would help a lot if we point them at that window. There wouldn't be many smells lingering on the exterior side or directly underneath if it isn't at ground level.

So a mix of both answers, it's too early to tell and the missing servant girl does make a convincing culprit...

“Hmm. It’s too early to tell for sure. The updated timeframe is helpful, certainly, but we’re still missing a lot.”

> “What do you mean?! How could anyone go into that study five minutes before an Administratum visit without being spotted?”

“Adept Portman said she felt a draft, didn’t she?”

Flayer’s jaw drops, but he shakes his head and frowns.

> “The office is on the second floor, Janus! How does he climb up? Does he just jump out when he’s done?”

You bring Flayer to a window to look at one of the walls on the side of the estate. Above and beneath a balcony on the second floor, you point out wooden lattices that green vines have coiled around, flowers and brightly colored fruits hanging from the cross-hatched strips of wood.

> “Fuck me, could be.”

Flayer and you descend the stairs, hardly stopping to let the PDF Sergeant know you’re stepping out for a moment and to keep the guest house occupants secured. As you hurry through the courtyard you briefly summarize the information gathered between the two of you.

“Did you learn anything useful from the other interviews?”

> “Nothing except the work schedules of 12 kitchen and 47 house staff. Those long hours in the memory training modules certainly are paying off. What about you, you took Jeeves and the fat man, right?”

> “Neither very helpful. All I got from the fat guy was that certain members of cabinet were worried they’d lose their jobs. The uncertain line of succession makes that faulty as a motive. The head servant didn’t have much to report, except a missing maid.”

Flayer’s boots skid to a halt.

> “A missing maid???”

“Flayer, she’s been missing since last night.”

> “Yeah? Long enough to run to her rebel boyfriend and get his stubber?”

You keep walking, groaning as you enter the door and walk towards the flight of stairs in the entrance hall.

“Let’s just see if the window theory holds up. Groves should still be in there. Where the hell is Charles?”

> “Who cares? I’m glad to have some autonomy.”

“Sure, but I’m worried about Redmore, Cobbler, and Grist. I feel like if we don’t come up with something here they’re gonna be deep in it.”

> “Then I guess it’s a good thing we don’t have Fiona fawning over us, huh?”

“Come on, Flayer, I hear enough of that from Groves.”

> “Then he’s changed his tune. Remember last night when he said I was full of shit?”

“I think Groves calculates what to say to maximize anger in his conversation partners.”

> “Think he’s jealous. He does look kind of dumpy. Then again, Ulbryn’s spared from her too, and he’s built like a Grox. It’s our sleek bodies and youthful faces.”

“Doesn’t that sort of attention make you uncomfortable?”

> “What? Like from older women?”

“Women in general.”

> “Heh, don’t let Groves hear you say that. But no, not really. It’s flattering, actually, even if it’s not reciprocated.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin reciprocating.”

You reach the door to the study and open it. Groves is still at the desk, the oil lantern burning over the papers as the dusk outside drifts into evening.

> “There they are. How’d the interviews go?”

> “New lead. Any sign of Charles?”

> “Nope. Where’d Ulbryn go?”

> “No clue. Pardon us.”

Flayer and you step behind the desk, looking at the large window, a large rectangle of continuous glass, topped by an arched pane and flanked on either side by two columns of panes framed in small rectangles. The center pane has a latch that is not secured, although the window is clearly in a shut position. Flayer pokes the pane tentatively, and the pane opens up in an awning.

You and Flayer poke your heads out and look down.
“Throne!”
> “Fuck me!”

Just as you imagined, right beneath the windowsill is a sprawling lattice, vines with enticing fruit and beautiful flowers covering the back wall of the estate. The lattice is made of even thicker wood than the ones surrounding the front balconies. You could easily imagine an ogryn’s weight supported by them, let alone a regular man.

> “What are you two looking for out there?”

> “OH-! Janus!”

Flayer jerks his hand down, brushing a green tendril aside and grabbing something. Your heart skips a beat.

He pulls a torn piece of cloth that was pinched in between the lattices. Quickly, he brings it to the desk to examine it under the lamplight.

> “Where’d you get that from? Was that outside?”

> “Shut it for a second.”

You had some idea of what it was, but under the orange glow of the lamp, it’s unmistakable. The torn piece of cloth is the exact same as the off-white robes of the servants at the estate.

> “What was that girl’s name, Janus?”

“Yuliya.”

> “Who’s Yuliya?”

The door opens. Charles steps through. You all look up at the same time to see her enter.

> “Charles!
> “Charles!”
“Charles!

And then, at the same time, all of your faces fall. Your stomach turns, and adrenaline pours into your veins as your initial excitement to report your progress turns into utter terror.

Behind Charles, a woman steps in. She is young, and her thin-layered coat gives her a much more curvaceous profile next to Charles, over whom she is at least two heads taller. Her face is pale and delicate, red painted lips curled into a idle smile as she floats into the room behind her shorter, stockier escort. All three of you hardly notice that, though, as your attention is steadily fixed on her belt buckle- a gold column with a skull in the center. The unmistakable rosette of the Inquisition.

> “Well, salutations, Arbites Troopers! Who’s this Yuliya character, exactly?”

> EXPLAIN
> DEFLECT
> SILENCE

>>5390898
> EXPLAIN
But with respect of course. Not antagonistic. So it seems the inquisition got to the governor after all.

>>5391050
And I would like to add:
Or someone else got the governor while the inquisition was keeping an eye on him.

You straighten your posture out. The desk top is high enough that your hands are beneath the edge, and you see Flayer gripping the cloth. Charles’s smile is gone, but she nods at you when you look at her. You clear your throat.

“Yuh- Yuliya is our prime suspect at the moment, ma’am. She’s a member of the help that went missing last night. We’ve interviewed several members of the house and developed a timeline that makes it nigh impossible for an outsider to enter and exit the premises unnoticed.”

> “I see. How long have you all been here, an hour? Two hours?”

She looks back at Charles, who curtly nods.

> “Well, I’m glad that your investigative prowess matches the enthusiasm you all had to take on this case.”

The Inquisitor paces through the office, glancing down at Governor Kor’s body and then walking over to the bookshelf to scan the titles.

> “I was very impressed to learn that by the time I was informed of this matter, a dogged squad of Arbitrators had already made their way to the orbit of Harvestfall by hitching a ride on a Mechanicus freighter. Such tenacity stoked my curiosity, so naturally I sent a request to the ship to retain these specimens, that I may admire them before I begin my work.”

She pulls a book off the shelf. Some old tome about the history of Ultramar. She carries it over to the desk in one hand, switching eye-contact between the three of you.

> “But I suppose I was too late. My curiosity was outpaced by your thirst for the truth. A rare occurrence indeed, for an Inquisitor to not be the first response to a crime such as this.”

She gives a small laugh and sets the book down. You wonder whether blinking would be considered a sign of submission.

> “Oh dear, I’m rambling, aren’t I? Don’t let me bore you dears to death, why don’t you introduce yourselves?”

You clear your throat again.

“Trooper Janus Casket, Adeptus Arbites, ma’am.”

> “Trooper Pious Groves, ma’am.”

> “Trooper Quentis Flayer, ma’am.”

> “Ma’am,’ ‘ma’am,’ ‘ma’am!’ Call me Veronika, or, if that’s too familiar, Inquisitor Weiss.”

She smiles warmly at all of you before nodding back at Charles.

> “I’ve already become acquainted with Arbitrator Charles here, who gave me a rather thorough report on the happenings of the revolt. Battle-by-battle, as a matter of fact! She told me that while she was learning about the history of this poor planet, four of her neophyte Arbites were flexing their investigatory muscles and carrying out the actual forensics.”

She sits down in the chair opposite you and Groves and Flayer, leaning back.

> “Now, I’m not GRADING you here, but I’m actually very excited to hear what you boys have come up with!”

The three of you are silent. Charles is still standing by the door, her hands held behind her back. You can see that she isn’t smiling, but you wish that her visor wasn’t in the way so you could read her eyes. What do you say? What’s too much? What’s not enough?

You did not learn very much about the Inquisition during your stay at schola, but what little information you did gleam tells you that you should tread very, very carefuly.

> Nudge Groves.
> Nudge Flayer.
> Speak Up. [Cite one of Janus’s Notes, or Write-in!]

JANUS’S NOTES: Murder of Archibald Kor
- [CAUSE OF DEATH: STUB-ROUND TO HEAD]
- [EVIDENCE OF ATTEMPTED FORCED ENTRY IN HIDDEN SAFE]
- [YULIYA THE MAID MISSING SINCE LAST NIGHT]
- [CABINET STAFF WITH THREATENED JOBS: VISCOUNT, GENERAL, SUPERINTENDENT]
- [HOUSE COMPLETELY STAFFED AT TIME OF DEATH, NO EMPTY WINGS OR CORRIDORS]
- [ARCHIBALD KOR TIME OF DEATH: MIDDAY]
- [‘SECRET WEAPON’ TO END REVOLT. POSSIBLE BLUFF]
- [TORN FABRIC RECOVERED AT WINDOW OF CRIME SCENE]

Well a maid went missing and there is a potential infiltrator wearing a torn maid uniform, so a female suspect perhaps. This could also mean that even if they are short a staff member, there is still a "full crew" assuming the male and female uniforms arent identical. So we should do a head count to see if they have a full staff on, and check if there is an unfamilar face with a torn or slightly damaged uniform with gunpowder residue on them. Also does this place have any recording security cameras?

Im saying this to the qm and players not to the inquisitor just yet.

>>5390608
>>5391174
Analyses like these are exactly what I was hoping for with this chapter, love to see it! As much as I'd like to participate in the theorizing and deduction, I can't because I already know the solutions. I WILL say that there aren't any cameras, it's an agri-world, dude! My descriptions of environments vary in detail as I try to balance painting a picture and moving the thread along, but important stuff like cameras at a crime scene would be mentioned. I flubbed on the office being on level 2 though, whoops!

Gonna be out of town until Monday. Updates will resume then!

Trying to hide stuff here is about the worst thing we could do. This woman has the authority to kill all of us and turn this world into rubble. We should share what we can and hope that she'll think we're competent enough to keep going

Also, i should say QM, that the amount of votes is not representing of the actual amount of people reading. I don't even vote every time.

>>5391156
>"Okay, then, let's take this from the top.
First, context. The Governor was under pressure from the Administratum for failing to send his tithe in grain. This problem goes back at least three years, and had already caused the reinstatement of Harvestfall's manpower tithe, which was picked up by Hive-World Icarus, now destabilized by the current crisis. The Administratum sent a prefect to put a stop to the Governor's repeated requests for skipping an entire year's tithe. It should be noted the Governor mentionned havig a "secret weapon" to end the revolt. The Prefect, Cassandra Portman, is the last person to have talked to the Governor, and the one who found the body. Interrogation revealed that while several cabinet ministers were directly under threat by the uprising, the staff of the house itself was not hostile to the Governor.
Then, the murder. The palace was fully staffed in order to butter up the Prefect, and the Governor talked with her over the vox a little before midday. This was confirmed by both the Prefect and Porter Faust, Grain Logistics Minister, who had tried to talk to the Governor at the time. When Prefect Porter opened the door to this room around five minutes later, the Governor was dead, and the room looked like it does now. The murder was committed with a stub weapon shot to the Governor's head, fired from the room's entryway. A single stub gun casing was recovered in the hearth, over there. After killing the Planetary, the murderer searched his body, the desk, cabinets, and a safe hidden in the bookcase here, though they did not manage to open it. The reason we were all clustered around the window is that prefect Portman reported feeling a draft coming from the room, indicating the window was opened. It was closed when we arrived. The murderer most likely used it as an entry and exit to avoid the crowded mansion. We have no way of telling how much extra time the murderer spent in the room while Prefect Portman sounded the alarm.

>>5391156
>>5392317
Yuliya is one of our main leads. As noted before, the staff was on good terms with the Governor, and did not make a habit of disappearing. Yet maid Yuliya did exactly that on the evening before the murder. She wasn't seen in the mansion today by the Household manager, who informed us of her disappearance. The most damning piece we've just found on the vines growing near the window. A piece of cloth belonging to the servant's uniform of the palace.
While it paints a clear picture of a rebel sympathizer killing the Governor by infiltrating the Palace, there are a lot of dark spots in this story. There are strange streaks and marks on the floor there that don't fit our current idea of the murder. Several recent reports on the conflict are missing. A random rebel maid tried to crack a hidden safe. She knew where to look, while neither the Household manager or the Minister even knew it existed. The casing we recovered was just tossed into the hearth instead of discarded into the palace grounds, which would have kept it hidden far longer.
If you don't mind me saying ma'am, there's a lot that need to be done. We need to find any copies of the stolen documents. Interrogate the Governor's Astropath. We need that safe open. We need to get a tracker dog or Cyber-Mastiff to get any type of scent left on that cloth piece. We need to figure out if any other servant outfits are missing, who could have procured them to an outside source. If anyone saw Yuliya among the staff, or saw a new face today. Who was around the part of the mansion where that window leads. What documents weren't stolen show clear outside influence in the uprising, namely giving PDF-level gear to the rebels. This is a delicate case, and from my point of view, it looks fishy. Did the Governor learn something he shouldn't have? Was he playing on two sides of this conflict and became too fearful for someone's taste?
...I think that's all I've got for now, ma'am."

Phew. That's about as good as I can get this. I'm sure I've forgotten a detail or three but this is pretty extensive still, and also has a list of what we need to do. Now let's hope that not everyone was in on Redmore's little powersword-measuring contest and the Inquisitor won't get competitive. This is the last thing we or this planet needs right now. Also, I'd like a reminder of when Redmore informed us about the murder, because something about that is weird. How early did he know?

>>5392320
Well, I actually thought some more about this and had another epiphany, so have another post I guess?

>"Wait...I said the window was an entry and exit point...but it just doesn't add up! The Governor was shot from the front, and apparently from the door. Did the murderer move the body to draw suspicion away from the window? Then what did they hope to hide? And where do those marks on the ground come from? If they did enter through the door, then someone must have seen something! We've got to go back and interrogate the Household manager, have him give us a list of whoever was nearby, then ask them if they saw Yuliya, or someone who said they were filling in for her! But we might need someone more subtle, someone they wouldn't be afraid to incriminate their colleague too...For that matter, we need a more complete picture of whoever knew about that safe. If even the ministers and the Manager didn't know, surely that narrows down our list of suspects!"

Sorry about the long posts and screwing up my greentexts, but now I can't help but imagine Janus pacing around in the office, almost forgetting the Inquisitor as his brain works overtime to figure out this mess of a case.

Silence grips you and your cohort for a few more moments. The only thing audible to you is the hissing of the oil lamp, which now sounds more like a sustained roar, along with the thundering of your own heartbeat pounding against your chest.

Weiss’s easygoing demeanor somewhat eases your instincts. Her relaxed posture in the chair, the small, mischievous grin, and the soothing timbre to her voice threaten to lull you into a false sense of safety in divulging information. Your intuition peers right through this façade, a sinister construct meticulously crafted to hoodwink the unvigilant into becoming their own accusers. Next to a more violent Inquisitor, hers might be mistaken for a more humane methodology, but the victim of a torturous interrogation at least knows, with every crack of his bone and cut of his flesh, the ultimate intentions of his tormenter.

You want to hate this woman but even a malicious thought might be betrayed by the twitch of a facial muscle. Instead, you focus on her question. Beneath her earlier kind words, you detected an aggravation at Charles. Perhaps she was stalled by her with her battlefield reports? Was Charles trying to buy you more time? Time to solve the murder, and justify the break in chain of command, or time to figure out who was critical to the investigation, who to protect from this sanctimonious fiend? You’re not sure you’re able to make that call, and yet…

You glance sideways at Groves and Flayer, who are just as petrified. For a moment, you consider repeating the question to either of them, to free yourself of the burden. Such rejection of accountability is not what was instilled in you, however, and you force yourself to look back at Inquisitor Weiss and take a deep breath.

“… Inquisitor Weiss-“

You proceed to relay every bit of information you have gathered regarding the murder, suspects, and missing links up to that point. You aren’t proud of this, and you’re unsure that it was the correct course, but it is the one you have chosen, and it would be foolish to stray from that path now. Charles at least makes no indication that you are blundering, and your cohort, who are normally very happy to offer feedback on your judgement, remain silent as you dictate the findings of your investigation.

Weiss listens with every bit of engagement that a child might listen with as their father tells them a story before bed. She nods excitedly when you bring up the missing documents and the mounting pressure on the Governor, she narrows her brow when you mention the Cabinet members with threatened jobs along with the missing maid, and she even demands that Groves demonstrate how he found the hidden safe, clapping and lifting herself on her tiptoes when he does so.

With all of this information out in the open, you figure you might as well go over your working theories, too. You all had been working under a time limit since you’ve arrived on Harvestfall, but with the reason for that cutoff standing before you, enthusiastically listening to you speak, you imagine it’s perfectly acceptable to bookend your report with speculation.
First, you point out that a window entry-exit point is inconsistent with the body’s position, with the assassin purportedly firing his shot from the office door. The streaks of blood also seem to be discrepancies with stub-round wounds, though no other injuries are present on the Governor.

Second, you posit that while Yuliya missing makes her a person of interest, it’s entirely possible that the assassin is responsible for her absence, and that they used her uniform to infiltrate the grounds. This would make the culprit either a female or a particularly small male. You suggest interviewing each of the staff about whether they noticed a new face, or if Yuliya had somehow returned without the Head Servant’s awareness.

And then, on a roll, you mention that despite the Governor’s Head Servant and Grain Minister ostensibly not knowing anything about a safe, the assassin not only knew of its existence, but knew where to find it. The only thing they didn’t seem to know was the combination, which thankfully means that in all likelihood there will be an important clue in the safe.

You huff, catching your breath. You might have just spent another hour going over all of this, but Weiss looks no less engaged than when you began. Now standing, she turns back to Charles to give a disbelieving chortle, pointing her thumb at you.

> “These Troopers… quite the determined little things!”

Charles politely smiles and nods at her as she turns back to face you. She picks up the spent shell, which is now on the desk along with the torn cloth.

> “Hmmm. I can have a tech-priest analyze this. I’ll fetch one momentarily.”

She drops it onto the table and picks up the cloth.

> “Now this, on the other hand, will be quite a trick… I suppose we could have a Cyber-Mastiff shipped from Icarus, but then that’s another few hours of waiting while the owner of this garb slinks further and further into the night. Oh, my mentor had the largest Psyber-Eagle you’d ever seen, if only he was here now… I will make the call to the Arbites Hall of Justice on Icarus, and in the meantime, we shall try and come up with our own solution.”

She puts the rag down and walks over to the safe, kicking the door with her boot.

> “This one would be child’s play, if I had bothered to take my servo-skull to the surface. No matter, I shall have my acolyte fetch it down here for us.”

She spins on a heel and marches to the center of the room, addressing Charles and the three of you.

> “I have decided, in the interest of expediency, that you all will continue your investigation alongside my own. We will reconvene at a later time to share our findings and ideas, synergizing an effective response to this grave crime against the Imperium! I shall make my requests to my vessel over the Vox Caster and then begin my own series of interrogations.”

Weiss walks to the door, Charles stepping aside to let her through. Before she closes it, she pokes her head in.

> “Oh, and this obviously goes without saying, but I expect all of you to be just as forthcoming as young Janus has been! After all, we’re all here with the same goal in mind, are we not?”

The door closes. The footsteps of boots tapping down the hallway and eventually fading relieves the pressure in the room like taking the top off of a kettle. Charles exhales.

> “SORRY about that one, guys! I meant to find you and warn you we had company, but she just snuck up at the gate while I was talking with the lieutenant! I didn’t even see her ship land!”

> “Well, she’s here now. At least we can still work. The way I see it, we have three leads: the safe, the cloth, and the staff we haven’t interviewed yet.”

> “Interrogations is what the lady said she was doing next. Count me OUT.”

“If she’s taking interviews upon herself, that frees us to do other work.”

> “Maybe, Trooper, but you boys have gotta understand something: If we find something important, we are compelled to report it to her. If she finds something important, she may report it to us at her own discretion.”

> “So she might hide clues from us?! That’s so unfair, Janus told her everything!”

> “Nobody’s hiding anything, I’m just letting you know that we’re outranked by a smidge here. If something’s ‘need-to-know,’ we might not need to know it. With that in mind, what do you think you should go after first?”

> Safe [Interrogate the Astropath for the safe combination before the Inquisitor’s Servo-Skull gets delivered.]
> Cloth [Ask the Superintendent of Wardens if there are any Hounds that assist with Laborer Recovery that might be able to track the scent on the cloth.]

>>5394867
>> Cloth [Ask the Superintendent of Wardens if there are any Hounds that assist with Laborer Recovery that might be able to track the scent on the cloth.]
Interrogating an Astropath may be a really bad idea.

>>5394988
+1
No need to interrogate

I don't see much of a problem working with her. At least according to the stuff i read, Inquisitors are supposed to work pretty well with Arbites, until they start using their "flexibility" which makes the arbite lawtism go off.

>>5394867
>> Cloth [Ask the Superintendent of Wardens if there are any Hounds that assist with Laborer Recovery that might be able to track the scent on the cloth.]
The safe should be open soon, and I don't want to risk running afoul of any safety measures. We'd look dumb if we entered the wrong code and got the contents incinerated or something.
There's a lot less risk with just getting a regular dog to sniff that cloth and also the area under the window, leave the cloth for the inquisitor and go track anything that turns up.

>>5395042
I don't either, which is why I spilled the beans, but Janus is still thinking about Redmore's talk of a rivalry, and is like most people scared shitless of the Inquisition.

“Let’s try and find Yuliya.”

Everyone looks at you.

“Inquisitor Weiss is probably betting that the Cyber-Mastiff she’s about to call for is our only shot at tracking Yuliya down, but if we find her first, we don’t have to report recovering her until we get a chance to talk to her ourselves.”

Charles nods.

> “Sounds good!”

Flayer is more skeptical.

> “Yeah, it SOUNDS good, but she’s got a huge head start on us, even IF she’s the assassin and was only gone for eight hours instead of twenty-four. Even if we had a vehicle, the perimeter is just too huge to effectively search blindly, and on top of all of that it’s dark out, now.”

Groves leans in.

> “Actually, we might not have to search BLINDLY. While I was reading all of that stuff you guys thought was too boring, I found plenty of documents referencing tracking hounds.”

Everyone looks at Groves.

> “Yep. Most of the constables here, called “wardens,” keep ‘em in their stations to hunt down laborers that try to run from their duties. From what I’ve gathered, they’re just regular dogs, but even if they’re not Cyber-Mastiffs, they’re a lot better than nothing.”

Flayer gawks.

> “WHY DIDN’T YOU SAY SO SOONER?!”

Groves shrugs.

> “You only just got the cloth from the window before that lady came in and Janus started talking.”

> “Well, let’s go! Who’s here that’s a warden?”

“The Superintendent of Communes is in charge of them if I recall correctly. Pretty sure he’s been living here since the uprising occurred.”

Charles nods.

> “No time to waste, boys. He’d be in the Guest House along with the rest of them. Just take care not to step on our supervising Inquisitor’s toes. While you all talk to him, I’ll talk to the Lieutenant and see about getting some transports for us to follow the dog in.”

Groves and Flayer go out the door. You hang back with Charles for a moment. She takes her Arbites helm off to run her fingers through her hair. It’s the first time you’ve seen her without her helmet. She has a round head, with green eyes and very light blonde hair, cut short on top with the sides shaved off. She notices you’ve stayed behind and smiles at you.

> “What’s up, Janus?”

“Did- Did I do the right thing, telling Weiss everything? I tried to read the room to see what I should do, but- I didn’t know for sure.”

Charles shrugs, scratching the top of her head before putting her helm back on.

> “Plenty of judgement calls in this job, but hardly ever the closure of knowing you made the right one. We’re still here, after throwing protocol to the wind, and what’s more, we’re able to continue investigating, so that’s something, huh?”

“I guess so. Thanks, Charles.”

> “Anytime, CASKETT. Now go catch up with Groves and Flayer. Oh-! And try to find Ulbryn before Weiss does, his first impression on her wouldn’t be very good without a mediator.”

You nod and exit the room, running down the hall after Groves and Flayer.

Back in the guest house, the crowd seems to have been cut in half. Many of the servants previously waiting inside have disappeared, and the mood of the room seems more quiet and paranoid. Everybody’s standing or sitting by themselves, keeping their eyes pointed forward and away from anyone else. There isn’t even the hint of a whisper. The PDF troopers look similarly morose, their postures upright and backs to the wall, clutching their lasguns as though they were about to be inspected.

> “So who’s this Superintendent?”

“We’re looking for the Superintendent of Communes.”

Everybody looks at you, and nobody says a word or stands up. They all look at a man in the corner with a fancy green shirt and red belt, who meekly stands to his feet when he sees all eyes are on him.

> “Er- Benjamin Downes. At your service.”

You all walk him out onto the porch that connects the guest house to the estate. After explaining that you require a tracking dog, he becomes much less anxious and happily agrees to procure a dog for you. He explains that the closest warden facility is in the town down the hill, and he’ll be able to reach it via vox caster.

> “If you could oblige one of the Planetary Defense troopers to give me their vox caster, I can get onto the warden frequency quick as can be!”

> “Yeah, yeah, I’ll go talk to one of them.”

Groves goes inside the guest house. Flayer looks inside.

> “You know, I wonder if Ulbryn’s still in there. I’m gonna go in and look for him.”

You’re left alone with Superintendent Benjamin. He smiles at you.

> Help Flayer look for Ulbryn.
> Stay with Superintendent Benjamin.

>>5395728
>Stay with Superintendent Benjamin.
Always vigilant

Stay with the superintendent

You decide to stay with the Superintendent. He sheepishly looks at you for a few moments before breaking his gaze away, pretending to be interested in the promethium porchlight, and his own fingernails. Fortunately, your visor blocks your eyes, so you feel comfortable just looking at him as he meanders in place.

A few minutes later, Ulbryn is shoved through the door by Flayer in a way that suggests that Flayer is angry. Groves follows them out with a large vox-caster in hand, snickering, closing the door behind him.

“Where was he?”

> “Let’s just get the fucking dogs already.”

> “I swear, I was just using advanced interrogation-“

> “Groves. The vox.”

Groves, snorting, sets the vox-caster down on the porch rail and turning it on. Benjamin fiddles with the interface, setting the frequency and picking up the receiver.

> “Briskwood Station, this is Super. Come in, Briskwood Station.”

A few moments pass before the speaker crackles to life.

> “Acknowledged, Superintendent. This is Briskwood Station. Go ahead.”

> “Griffin’s Perch requires your best tracker. This is a priority request.”

> “Acknowledged, Superintendent. Dispatching a carrier with inbound hound. ETA 10 minutes.”

Benjamin puts the receiver back on the vox’s latch, proudly turning to face the four of you.

> “They’ll be driving it up the hill in a Bronto Transporter. It’s just at the village down the road, so it’ll be here shortly.”

“Thanks, Benjamin.”

> “Anytime, noble Arbites. Now, since I have assisted you with this, would I be able to return to the main estate, seeing as I-“

Flayer takes his arm and walks him back into the guest house. Ulbryn yawns, stretching his back.

> “Did he order a dog? What do we need a dog for?”

Flayer comes back out.

> “Right, well, I guess we should wait at the front gate.”

The four of you step off the porch and onto the paved courtyard, heading towards the gate. In a few minutes, you spot two yellow lights racing along the road, and not quite 10 minutes later, a shoddy-looking civilian transport skids to a halt outside the gate. A man exits the driver’s seat, hopping onto the pavement. He has a leather vest on over what appears to be fatigues made of linen.

> “Well met! I’m here on behalf of Superintendent Benjamin, I have a delivery for him.”

“The dog’s for us.”

> “I see. Well, here it is. Best tracker on the continent, you have my word!”

The man turns and whistles at the open door of the Bronto. A brown shape rouses from the passenger seat, hopping out of the car and sitting in front of the warden. It has a long snout, and a droopy, wrinkled face. Its ears hang from the sides of its head, but when the warden acknowledges it, they point up into semi-circular triangles, its long tail wagging on the ground. Sitting, its head reaches about the same height as your hip, and its tail does not stop wagging when it looks at you, Groves, Ulbryn, and Flayer.

> “His name’s Marker, on account of when he was a pup, we- well, anyway, like I said, he’s the best hound we’ve got! Little on the faster side, though if you lose him, just give him a whistle, and he’ll come find you before continuing the hunt!”

> “Is he good for long-distance tracking? We’re looking for somebody who went missing last night.”

> “Haha! He’s been on hunts where we’ve had to make camp and sleep before continuing in the morning! Successful hunts, I might add! A day’s travel on foot ain’t gonna amount to a day’s tracking, mind. He’ll do just fine.”

You reach your gauntlet out to Marker’s head. He pokes his snout into your knuckle armor, and you see his nose twitch as he sniffs, before giving you a resounding endorsement by licking between your fingers. Something compels you to stroke his head, which hastens the wagging of his tail.

> “Well, I’ll be on my way! Just have the superintendent hail me when you’re all done. Oh! Almost forgot!”

The warden reaches into his pocket, producing a small burlap bag and handing it to Flayer.

> “These are his food. They’re very dense, so don’t give him more than one, else he’ll spend more time shitting than hunting!”

The warden climbs back into his dodgy truck and pulls away, gunning it down the road. Marker barks after the truck, but stays put sitting in front of you all. Flayer hitches the bag of dogfood to his holster-belt.

> “All right, that was less of a headache than anything else today! Want to let him sniff that cloth, Janus?”

Groves whines.

> “Wait, I don’t want to have to run after it all night! Let’s go see if Charles got us transports!”

> Start the hunt.
> Go find Charles.

>>5396908
>Go find Charles.
ROAD TRIP

>>5396908
>"Alright. Groves, you can go and find Charles, I'll be taking the dog under the window with Flayer and have him sniff the cloth there. If we get a lead before you get to us, one of us will stay behind to point you in the right direction so you can catch up. We've lost enough time as it is. Also, please find a transport with a vox so the Inquisitor doesn't think we've absconded with a critical piece of evidence."

Find Charles, let's not split up

“Yeah, it’s dark, too. All I’ve got for light are some flares, something more galvanic would be handy.”

Flayer looks around, groaning softly.

> “All right, fine. I didn’t see any PDF transports, though. We might have been better off requisitioning that guy’s truck.”

“I’ll go see if she’s still inside.”

> “I’ll check the guest house for her…”

Ulbryn starts to walk away before he’s grabbed by Flayer.

> “Groves, you go check the guest house. We’ll keep the dog company.”

> “Who put you in charge?! You don’t need help watching the dog!”

> “I was referring to you.”

Groves saunters off to the guest house while you head towards the main house, leaving Flayer and a miffed Ulbryn. The reception hall is mostly empty, except for some PDF troopers leaning on the banister. You approach them.

“Hey, do you know where Arbitrator Charles is?”

> “That the bird? She’s in the downstairs parlor with Lieutenant Krevic.”

He points you in the direction of the parlor, which is just one room away. The room is like the parlor from the guest house, except much bigger, and mostly tiled with black and white rhomboids on the walls and floors. Charles is splayed out on the couch, her head laid back on the backrest, helmet sat on the coffee table in front of her. The Lieutenant is standing behind her, near a lit fireplace with a lho-stick held between his lips. Charles sits up when she sees you, leaning forward.

> “Janus, good news! Lieutenant Krevic here has procured some transports for us!”

Krevic nods at you.

> “Some of the rebels are known to use dirtcycles for reconnaissance and convoy harassment. We’ve captured a few of them in the south of this continent, they’re en route via a Valkyrie.”

“That’s good. We’ve, uh- we’ve got the dog, now. How soon will we have them?”

> “ETA an hour or so.”

Your eyes widen.

“Wait, we’re not gonna wait that long, are we?”

> “It’s a shorter wait than that cyber-mastiff will be!”

“But, aren’t we trying to-“

You glance at Krevic, and then lean in to whisper to Charles.

”Aren’t we trying to outpace the Inquisitor here?

Krevic grins, puffing smoke and speaking.

> “The Inquisitor lady’s busy down the hill at the servant housing. She’s got a good portion of the help down with her, too.”

You frown at him. Charles stands up.

> “There’s nothing that can be done about it, unfortunately. I’d say you could go ahead and take off with the dog on foot and we can catch up with you on vehicles later, but that’d only work if the girl took off on a straight line from this place!”

You nod weakly.

“If you say so. I’ll go let the others know.”

As you leave, you hear Krevic open a cabinet.

> “Dammassine, while we wait?”

Exiting the estate, you find Flayer, Groves, and Ulbryn standing in the center of the courtyard.

> “Charles was in the main building, right?”

“Yeah. She’s having the PDF Lieutenant send us some vehicles called “dirtcycles.”

> “What’s that?”

“I don’t know.”

Ulbryn’s mouth curls into a grin.

> “Dirtcycles?! That’s amazing! They’re like bikes, except for civilians! No guns or anything, but they’re still duo-wheeled transports that go really fast!”

You’ve briefly read about bikes during your years at Schola, mainly about Astartes Bike Squads and the Cadian Rough Riders. You don’t understand why Ulbryn is so excited, though Groves and Flayer look slightly satisfied with the news.

> “How long are we waiting, then?”

“An hour.”

Flayer and Groves’s face fall, but Ulbryn still has a dumb grin. Marker whines and lays down on the pavement.

> “Well… I guess we’ll have to wait until then.”

The four of you find yourselves just standing in the dimly-lit courtyard.

> Wait in the Courtyard for the full hour
> Go back into the Estate Parlor
> Go to the Guest House
> Go to the Study

>>5398082
>Go back into the Estate Parlor
Place looked cozy.

I feel like we should keep looking around for anything we might have missed.

You stand around for a few more minutes before shrugging, walking back to the house.

> “Where you going, Janus?”

“It’s cold out here, if we gotta wait, I’m gonna go wait by a fire.”

Marker stands up and trots after you. You stop and look at him, briefly wondering whether you should have Flayer or Groves keep an eye on him, but decide it’s not a big deal if he follows you around.

You step back into the entrance hall and make your way to the parlor. As you round the corner, you see Charles sitting back down on the couch, a glass in her hand. Krevic is sat beside her, pouring a glass for himself as he leans up against her. You feel like you’re interrupting something and turn to leave when,

> “Janus! Is that the dog?”

You turn to see Charles stand up with her glass, Krevic shooting you a glare as she leaves the couch and comes over to kneel in front of Marker. Marker’s tail wags and Charles starts gently patting him on the head.

> “Awww, sweet thing! He’s an absolute cherub! What’s his name?”

“Marker.”

Marker wags his tail more, licking up at Charles’s hand. Krevic takes a sip of his drink and sits up.

> “Awfully docile, isn’t he? Dunno how much help a dog like that would be tracking a criminal down.”

> “Nonsense! Look at these fangs!”

Charles pulls Marker’s lips up, which the hound does not seem to mind, sticking its tongue through its scary-looking set of teeth to continue licking Charles’s hands.

> “He’s a born killer, I’m sure!”

Charles straightens her posture on her haunches to take a sip of her glass. It smells sweet, though there’s a hint of ethanol that reminds you of the Old-Foiz you had last night. She notices you glancing at her glass.

> “Oh, I’m sorry, Janus. Do you want some dammassine?”

> Not right now.
> Well, only a glass.

>>5398967
>> Not right now.
Sissy french name havin' ass liquor

You shake your head. To be honest, you’re not sure why Charles is just sitting in the parlor drinking, especially with everything at stake right now.

> “Oh, well! More for us, eh Krevic?”

Krevic hems.

> “Dunno why you’re offering him any. How old is he, 10?”

Charles snorts.

> “He’s a Schola graduate, what do you think?”

> “Dunno nothin’ about Schola.”

“Well, obviously you wouldn’t.”

Charles spits her drink out onto the tiled floor, covering her mouth and trying to stifle laughter. The sudden motion startles you and makes Marker bark. When you look at Krevic, he’s glaring at you, red in the face.

Did you say something rude?

Charles stands up, coughing a little and then walking back to set her glass down on the table in front of the couch.

> “Well, thank you for your help, Lieutenant Krevic.”

> “Mhm.”

She turns and starts walking out of the parlor. You follow her, and Marker follows you.

> “Janus, do you know of any vox-casters we might be able to use?”

“As a matter of fact…”

Minutes later, you, Flayer, Ulbryn, Groves, and Marker are all on the guest house porch, watching Charles calibrate the same vox-caster that the Superintendent used to order Marker. She changes the frequency and frowns, looking up at the dark, cloudy sky, and then adjusting the waveform knob. Finally, she speaks into the vox-phone.

> “Charles to Valkyrie, come in.”

A few moments pass before a voice comes through the receiver, shrouded in distorted cracking. You recognize the voice of the Valkyrie pilot.

> “Arbites Valkyrie to *zzzzz*les, you’re a little fuzzy.”

Charles adjusts the waveform again, and the static immediately cuts off, or at least, becomes much less loud.

> “How about this, Valkyrie?”

> “MUCH better, Arbitrator. Be needin’ to speak to someone?”

> “Put Redmore on, if he’s able.”

A few moments pass before a new voice comes on the receiver.

> “Redmore to Charles. Come in, Charles.”

> “Good to hear your voice, Inspector. What kind of servitor are they gonna make you?”

> “Hah-hah. How’s the investigation?”

> “We’ve got a few leads down here, waiting on some dirtcycles to chase a suspect down on.”

> “So you’re still on?”

> “Yeah, Inspector. We’re still on.”

> “That’s great. I’d tell you to keep me updated, but it sounds like you’re about to be moving. I’ll expect a full report on the case when we’re united, and of course a report on how the fledglings performed.”

> “They’ve been causing some trouble, but I’ll keep them in line.”

Charles turns her head towards the four of you and grins.

> “Don’t be too easy on them, Charles! Redmore out.”

Charles turns off the Vox-Caster.

> “I was just kidding, boys, my report will reflect the good work you’ve all done.”

Flayer looks at Ulbryn.

> “Right! Well, we’ve still got some time, so why don’t we go back to the office and have another look to make sure we didn’t miss-“

Charles is cut off by the roar of a Valkyrie. Searchlights illuminate the courtyard with white electric light, drowning out the dull warm glow of the gas lights. Some PDF troopers run onto the courtyard as the VTOL engines billow air down towards the ground. The noise gets louder, and Charles shouts as she steps off the porch.

> “Spoke too soon! Looks like our rides are here!”

Instead of bay doors, this particular pattern has a landing ramp on the stern side of its chassis. The ramp lowers onto the ground and you see them all lined up there: Five two-wheeled dirtcycles, no armor or weapons, just like Ulbryn said. The only utility they seem to have are large searchlights affixed to the front, just above the fork and wheel.

The Valkyrie crew unloads them onto the courtyard. Lieutenant Krevic speaks to one of them, having stepped outside during the landing, and shortly after the crew reembarks onto the Valkyrie and it takes off.

Krevic approaches Charles, and when the noise of the Valkyrie engines fades off into a distant bellow, he speaks.

> “They’re all topped off with Promethium. The terrain in the valley shouldn’t be too much for them, but if you end up going into the hills, keep it single-file. There’s no rebel activity anywhere near here, but just in case, here’s a flare gun. If you run into any trouble that involves hostile actors, point this up and somebody friendly will come running.”

He hands Charles a flare gun.

> “Thanks again, Lieutenant! You’ve been a great help!”

> “Mhm.”

Krevic turns back to go inside. Ulbryn hops onto one of the dirtcycles and presses a button on the frame just in front of the seat. The engine revs up, and the whole dirtcycle starts vibrating. Ulbryn is grinning like a child.

> “Easy there, Ulbryn. Wait for all of us to get mounted. You boys ever ride bikes in Schola?”

> “No.”
“No.”
> “Nope.”
> “Hahahaha! Yes!”

Charles mounts the dirtcycle furthest to the right. The rest of you pick one out and hop on it.

> “Well… this’ll be a learning experience, then! The throttle’s the handlebar on the right. You activate it by twisting. Brakes are the clutch on the left handlebar. Take care to ease into squeezing it, else you’ll throw yourself off your seat. Any questions?”

Charles pushes the ignition button on her dirtcycle and her engine thunders to life, spitting promethium exhaust out of a pipe on the back of the bike. Groves and Flayer do the same, and finally, you turn yours on. Your teeth begin rattling against each other, and you can feel every vibration of the engine in your arms and ass. You really doubt how you’ll even pay attention to where you’re going with how hard you’re shaking, much less stay on it while you’re moving.

> “Flayer! The cloth!”

You see Flayer root around in his pocket. He pulls the cloth out and holds it down beside his dirtcycle, waving it at Marker, who has been barking since Ulbryn turned on his bike. He seems tentative about going near the bikes, but after Flayer waves it some more, he inches closer and closer to the fabric, barking in protest, until finally, his snout touches against the cloth, and you see his nose twitch.

His ears shoot up.

Marker takes off through the courtyard, running in between the house and the perimeter wall.

> “Don’t lose him! Let’s go!”

Charles guns her throttle, shooting through the courtyard and following Marker’s path around the house. Ulbryn is fast behind her. Flayer wobbles as he hesitantly guns his throttle, but he gets enough sense to give himself enough velocity to stabilize his balance, and follows the two slower than Ulbryn. Groves is no less awkward, but he’s braver than Flayer, and soon passes him before the two of them disappear behind the corner of the house.

You take a deep breath and twist the handle. The bike moves so fast that you’re afraid it’ll fly away without you, and you panic, squeezing the brake and lurching yourself forward fast, hitting your gut against the handlebars. You’re winded, trying to catch your breath, and you hear some laughing to your side.

Some PDF troopers saw your pitiful first attempt and are pointing at you, greatly amused by your floundering. Shame and anger boil up in you as you try to ignore them, but then one of them shouts,

> “Oi, kid! Lift your fucking feet off the ground!”

You blink. Your two boots are still touching the ground, even as you straddle the bike. Your anger dissolves into embarrassment and you nod weakly at them, trying it again.

You twist the engine gently and lift your feet up, setting them on the foot bars. Not wanting to repeat Flayer’s mistake, you give the throttle an extra twist, and you find that all you have to do to stay balanced is to sit still and let the bike move. Turning the handlebar slightly, you find it’s more than enough to steer you towards the corner of the house, and your tires leave the paved courtyard and begin moving on the grass. From behind, you hear clapping and cheering.

> “There you go, kid!”

Invigorated, you gun your throttle some more, turning around the back of the house just in time to see three bikes going down the hill, following a barking dog. One of the bikes is on its side next to the back of the house. It’s Groves, one of his legs pinned under the dirtcycle body. You pull up to him.

“Having trouble, Groves?”

> “Just be quiet and help lift this off me! I stayed still for ONE moment!”

You snort and lean on one leg, reaching down to grab his handlebar, taking care not to touch the throttle. Hoisting it back upright, Groves dusts himself off and nods curtly.

> “The dog came back here and barked for a moment. He probably caught the scent from the window.”

You look at the house, realizing you’re right next to the wooden plant lattice beneath the office. You notice that the lattice seems to cover the entire back of the house, with no windows on the back wall of the first floor, but plenty on the second floor. Interesting.

“Well, come on, let’s not lose them!”

You turn your bike to point down the hill and start speeding down, riding your brake as gravity starts to do your engine’s job for you. You hear Groves’s engine rev behind you as you both speed down the hill.

The perimeter wall of the estate seems to go down the hill to wrap around a group of buildings at the hill’s foot. They do not look as ornately decorated as the estate, and you see a large crowd of people gathered outside of them. From the looks of the people, you guess that these shacks are the servant housing. They all seem to be gathered around a single figure standing on the porch of one of the shacks that you recognize as Inquisitor Weiss. Charles, Flayer, and Ulbryn beat you down the hill, and the crowd turns their heads at the racket of their cycles.

Upon arriving at the bottom of the hill, you see Charles and the rest have stopped, so you brake. Groves skids to a halt behind you, kicking up dirt but successfully stopping without tilting over.

> “Where’d the dog go?”

You look around before spotting him. Marker seems to have charged through the crowd and is currently standing still, barking.

> “Feth! He’s caught her! She’s standing in that crowd!”

Charles dismounts her cycle, which seems to stay standing. Ulbryn does the same, but when Flayer dismounts, his cycle turns over. He looks at the bike a moment, confused, but lets it go to stay in rank with Charles and Ulbryn. You notice Charles and Ulbryn’s bikes have an angled metal bar keeping them upright, and upon looking down, you find one folded against your bike’s frame. Upon an investigatory press with your foot, you find that it yields downward with a little pressure. You dismount your bike.

> “Wait- How’d you do that?!”

You leave Groves to figure it out, jogging to catch up to Charles and company. They’re just at the edge of the crowd when Weiss jumps off of her platform, intercepting Charles.

> “Arbitrator! What is the meaning of this?!”

> “Inquisitor, we were just-“

> “Just…?’ ‘Just…?’ Just driving a convoy of the loudest promethium engines on this planet down the hill? Just siccing a dog in the middle of these people while I am attempting to address them?! Is this what you consider an investigation?!”

> “Inquisitor, if I may-“

> “You may NOT! I have shown you lenience and patience after your unit fled Icarus in the face of the chain of command! Obviously, my mistake was thinking that my generosity would temper your insubordination, but it clearly has emboldened it!”

Marker continues barking from somewhere in the crowd. Weiss jabs a finger in Charles’s face as she shouts, and you see blood dripping from her leather gloves. Glancing at the porch she had come from, you see an old man leaning against the wall of the shack, his face swollen and bloodied.

> “We were merely attempting to-“

> “SILENCE! I am not interested in excuses! Effective immediately, you are DONE with this investigation. I am putting you and the rest of your unruly squad on a ship to Icarus IMMEDIATELY!”

Marker keeps barking. Weiss jerks her head behind her, her eyes glaring and bloodshot.

> “WILL SOMEBODY SHUT THAT DOG UP BEFORE I PUT IT DOWN MYSELF?!?!”

The crowd of servants look tired and afraid, so when Weiss looks behind her for Marker, those in her line of sight are quick to get out of it, causing the crowd to part. When enough people get out of the way that Marker can be clearly seen, one of the servants has taken the initiative to try and lift Marker away from his target.
He isn’t very successful and Marker breaks free from his grasp, running forward five steps and staying put, barking ferociously. Instead of an individual, Marker seems to be barking at a small stone structure in the middle of the crowd. Weiss marches towards him, causing the crowd to move even further apart. She stops when she sees what he’s barking at, and you realize it a second later, your stomach churning as an awful breakthrough chills your blood and makes the hairs on your neck stand up.

In the middle of the plot that all the servant domiciles are built on, down the hill from the opulent estate of the Planetary Governor of Harvestfall, Marker the tracking hound is barking determinedly at an unassuming stone well.

It only took 20 minutes after that for Inquisitor Weiss’s courier ship to deliver the servo-skull she had ordered. Before using it on the safe, she sent it down the well, where it promptly located Yuliya.

After that, it was another half-hour for the servants to locate rope, and for a team of PDF troopers to tie it into a snag for the skull to secure around the body. From there, a team of troopers, the five of you Arbites, and to her credit, the Inquisitor, all heaved the rope and fished her out of there.

The cool temperature of the well had delayed decomposition to a degree, but her body was still pale and bloated from a full standard day of being submerged. Her eyes were bloodshot, her tongue swollen enough to part her blue lips, and dark bruises had set in around her neck. Her body is fully nude, and there are signs of an outmatched struggle in the form of large bruising on her chest and stomach.

Despite the principles of death distorting the form of her youthful appearance, the bruised and bloodied man, who you had come to find out was Stefan Mooney, had recognized her immediately. He had fallen to his knees and was quietly weeping, at a respectable distance from the Inquisitor and Arbites performing the autopsy.

After the autopsy is completed, Weiss goes over to Mooney and crouches beside him, putting a hand on her shoulder. She whispers something to him, and he nods fervently. She stands up and returns to the five of you.

> “My anger towards you all was misplaced. I accused you of interfering with my investigation, but while I fruitlessly probed these people for the girl’s location, you all set to work actually finding her.”

Charles sighs.

> “That’s quite all right, Inquisitor. Poor thing. I only wish we found her miles from here, hiding.”

Weiss clicks her tongue.

> “A terrible fate indeed, but it is always better to die unjustly as a loyal servant to the Emperor, than to live unjustly as a traitor.”

You all stand in silence. Weiss begins walking up the hill, her Servo-skull humming as it follows her.

> “Well, the hunt continues! Let’s go open that safe, shall we?”

> Follow Weiss back to the office.
> “Hang on, Inquisitor! We might be missing something!” [Is one stone left unturned?]

>>5399752
Boy, Weiss has a bit of a short temper, eh!
Anyway, I might have something.
> “Hang on, Inquisitor! We might be missing something!” [Is one stone left unturned?]
>So we've found her. Good. She was a loyal servant of the Emperor. Good. She's dead. Not good for her or us. She's been down there since last night apparently. Since the dog led us there, the killer did steal her uniform since Marker brought us straight here. So what I'm trying to say is that the killer's scent should still be on the cloth or around the well. Marker's a trained tracker, can't we convince him to track the other scent before dropping that angle? We might at least find the rest of the outfit!"

Basically I think we're just giving up a bit quick on this. It's not like we found the person who climbed up those lattices. I'd also be interested in having a second look outside all the windows on the second floor. What if our killer did their thing, then used the lattice vines to escape to a less crowded part of the mansion and made their way out that way?

>>5399915
+1

“Hold on, Inquisitor!”

You call after Weiss, who stops walking and turns her head back at you.

> “Yes, Trooper?”

“Now that we’ve found Yuliya, we can safely say our theory about the killer using her uniform as a disguise was correct.”

She turns to face you, crossing her arms.

> “Meaning...?”

“Meaning, shouldn’t the killer’s scent also be on the cloth?”

Flayer jumps in.

> “Probably, but those clothes belonged to Yuliya, so more of her scent would naturally be on there.”

Weiss nods.

> “Ultimately, the dog tracked the girl. If we had something else that the killer touched, perhaps we could see if the dog could use that.”

“What about the spent bullet casing?”

> “You found that in a fireplace, right? The flames would have licked away any trace of the shooter.”

You frown, thinking.

> There must be something else that the killer touched that Marker could get a scent from.

>>5401255
The safe or bookcase, the girl or governors body, the desk or papers/files, the window?

Why can we just ask the head servant what part of the uniform the cloth came from and start looking over the servants. Out of sight of course.

>>5401255
Have the dog start from down underneath the Window, this should have it pick up the scent and follow the freshest trail.

You have a jolt of realization.

“I’ve got it!”

You start to walk up the hill but then catch yourself, turning to Charles.

“You should probably get the bikes ready in the courtyard.”

She shrugs, and turns back to the other Troopers.

> “You heard him, let’s see what he’s up to.”

Back at the estate proper, you lead Marker up the stairs and through the halls, Inquisitor Weiss and her servo-skull in tow behind you. Reaching the office, Marker immediately goes to sniff at Kor’s body. You let him do it for a moment before yanking him off. He whines.

> “I doubt there’d be enough trace of him left on the Governor, even knowing he looted his pockets.”

“Of course, but he spent a lot more time working on this, I’d wager.”

You gesture at the safe. Marker begins sniffing at it, running his nose up and down the metal door. The Inquisitor’s eyes light up, but her expression remains neutral.

> “Well, let’s see if he gets anything. Hopefully not one of you Arbitrator’s scents.”

“We touched the safe all right, but I doubt our perp had these on when he did.”

You hold up your gauntlets.

The dog’s snout lingers over the scuffed edges of the door, and then his ears shoot up. He starts barking, circling the room before jumping up on the windowsill, barking some more. Whining, it seems like he wants to get outside the window, and for a moment you consider lifting him up and letting him sniff at the vines, but then he pushes himself off the wall and darts past you and Weiss, exiting the room.

You scramble after him, nearly hitting the wall as you turn down the corridor, bounding down the steps in a hurry. The front door is wide open, and you just see Marker’s brown tail fly through it into the night. You aren’t even outside for a picosecond before you hear the dirtcycles roar to life, Charles, Flayer, Ulbryn and Groves taking their bikes around the house again, presumably after Marker.

There’s a lone dirtcycle waiting for you where the others were a second ago. You hop on and punch the ignition, noticing there’s wet grass all over the side of the bike. Groves! With no time to waste, you twist the throttle and shoot off after your squad, following the same path you took last time.

This time, you catch up with them at the back. Marker’s barking at the side of the house, his snout pointed up at the window to the right of the Office window. He turns to run down the hill and it looks like he’s gonna go back down to the well at the servant housing before he veers to the right. Charles is at the head and skids her back wheel, kicking up dirt and correcting her trajectory.

The rest of you aren’t too confident turning downhill, so you get to the bottom and then turn, catching up with Charles she follows Marker through the grassy flats surrounding the estate.

You can just barely see Marker, illuminated by the headlight on Charles’s dirtcycle. He’s headed for some trees in the distance towards the foot of the valley. The ground is a little bumpier, the further you get from the hill, though your bike has no problem negotiating the uneven terrain.

After several minutes of riding, you arrive at the edge of the forest. Marker stops just at the edge of the foliage, sticking his snout in the ground, pacing back and forth. You all dismount your dirtcycles, expecting him to take off through the dense undergrowth, but he just keeps circling around, not even leaving the light of your dirtcycle’s headlights. His ears flop back down around his head, and he sits down, whining.

> “Did he lose the scent?”

> “Don’t ask me, I don’t the first thing about dogs.”

You walk over to where Marker is. He looks up at you and barks.

“Flayer, try giving him the cloth again.”

Flayer obliges, and pulls the cloth out of his pocket, holding it in front of the dog. Marker sniffs it and his ears point up again, nose stuck back in the same spots he was sniffing before, but again, he whines, sitting down.

> “Looks like it’s a dead end. Any sign of the clothes nearby?”

You and Flayer begin investigating the ground near Marker, checking under bushes and underneath the roots of the trees. About twenty feet behind you, Charles calls out.

> “Found it!”

You and Flayer jerk your heads back and see Charles hunched down in front of her dirtcycle. Running over, you see your Arbitrator pointing at dirt on the ground.

“What? What is that?”

Charles stands up and grabs the handlebars of her bike, walking it backwards so that the headlight can better illuminate the spot she was pointing at. Flayer, naturally, sees it first.

> “Oh, then the trail really does end here.”

“What do you mean?! What are we looking at?”

Flayer points down at the dirt, which now under better light, appears to be a horizontal line of depressed dirt stretching about 16 or so feet. Although you agree it is irregular, you’re still confused about its significance until Flayer points at another parallel line of dirt 12 feet away from it.

“Landing skids!”

Groves groans.

> “Aw, great, then he really did get away!”

Charles coos, walking past you and Flayer and in between the depressions in the ground.

> “Don’t give up so easily, Trooper! We might not have the craft right in front of us, but with these dimensions we can easily say it’s a small, light craft. Probably boxed shape given the length of the skids is almost equivalent to the distance between them.”

> “So he didn’t fly away in a spectacular vessel. I’m sorry, Arbitrator, but how does that help us?”

> “Well, unless the rebels have acquired aircraft, we can rule them out as suspects, yes?”

Charles words get your brain racing. The fact the perpetrator had a craft at all seems less trivial. Inferences can be made and tested against the facts, narrowing down the list of perpetrators.

> Knowing the perpetrator used an aircraft, what theories can be made and corroborated that can get you closer to catching him?

>>5402264
Who's in charge of air traffic around here, anyway? There's -always- someone watching the skies. Any unreported flights would likely get picked up as well. Even if they wrote them off as someone going for a joyflight they'd still have seen them on any sensors they'd be using. And if it was someone using an official craft instead of a personal one there would absolutely be a paper trail of someone taking it. Be it stolen or not.

If nothing else we can always find everyone with a pilot's license. See which of them have access to aircraft. Which would mean no known rebel ties or sympathies. Should narrow it down quite a bit.

More importantly, do the indentations look like the craft was left sitting for a while and sunk in deeper or was it a quick pick up and take off? It gets really complicated if our little assassin was picked up rather than took off on their own. Accomplices means a serious headache.

>>5402447
Not just piolet licencse but anyone who can fly a certain type of craft and anyone who owns or are in possesion of one.

>>5402264
Dunno qm you may need to throw us a bone.

>>5404513
>anyone who can fly a certain type of craft
And the only way of knowing they can fly that without asking all of their neighbors is to see if they have a license. You get what I mean? Or just whoever has been arrested for flying recently. But still.

>>5404514
Really as long as there is in fact someone watching air traffic, they'd be able to tell us exactly where the craft that landed here went. The benefits of radar. Or whatever they're using here. Unless it's a genuine stealth craft. In which case we will have a huge problem on our hands since that all but confirms outside help. Probably off world help even.

>>5404539
Im not as optimistc as you even tho i assume this planet is wel run relative to most or average in the imperium.

“Surely there’s somebody keeping track of all airborne vessels. If we can find Harvestfall’s Aeronautical Authority, we could simply track flightlogs that fit in our timeline! We could even use the dimensions of the skids to narrow down what exact craft it was!”

Charles gently smiles.

> “I like your thinking, Janus, but you forget, Harvestfall is an agri-world. That would certainly work on Icarus, but down here, electric lights are a luxury, let alone a fully-realized air-traffic system. The rebels don’t have air power, so there’s nobody keeping an eye on the skies, even during wartime.”

Groves clears his throat, a smug grin crawling across his face.

> “Pardon me, Arbitrator, but that isn’t entirely accurate.”

You all look at Groves. He seems to be enjoying holding court, and holds you in suspense for a few moments as he straightens his posture and puts his hands behind his back. What a tool.

> “Back in the Governor’s office, I read plenty of correspondence between the Harvestite PDF General and the Icarian Expeditionary Force’s commanding officers. It wasn’t a large force compared to the totality of the Icarian Planetary Defense Force, but it was large enough to necessitate a Light Cruiser of the Imperial Navy to carry them over here.”

Flayer groans.

> “Get to the point, already.”

> “I was just about to. Said Light Cruiser hangs in orbit above Harvestfall as we speak. I believe they expected a quicker resolution once the Icarian forces got involved, and so they figured that they might as well wait around and bring them back once they’ve finished.”

> “Groves…”

> “Hush. In the meantime, they’ve been cataloguing every voidship that’s entered the orbit of Harvestfall along with every embarking and disembarking smaller vessel, probably due to the suspicion of outside forces arming the rebels. We need only to speak to the Captain of the vessel and ask very nicely for a list of voidships that were in Harvestite orbit at the time of the murder.”

Charles beams.

> “That’s excellent, Groves! We can parlay with the Navy when we leave this planet and be on our way back to Icarus with a fresh lead!”

“Just a moment. What if the killer didn’t exit Harvestfall’s atmosphere? At best we’d be back to square one and at worst we’d be on a wild goose chase for a similar ship.

Flayer shakes his head.

> “Not quite. We have a timeline, so if there isn’t a ship that matches our profile docking at a realistic time, then we can at least isolate the assassin to still being present on Harvestfall, slim as those chances are. If not, well… let’s assume that the killer went straight to his craft after the murder, then we can calculate the time to run down here on foot and exit orbit. In fact…”