The shrine

Gaius had seated himself cross-legged in front of the icon of Drusus, and as the others fell asleep one by one, he found peace in a program of meditation and prayer that he had learned in the abbey on Scintilla. Through most of the night, his rosary moved steadily through his hand as he quietly chanted the familiar cycle of prayers -- one for each of the 144 saints symbolized by the beads.

The beads were all hand-carved from the bones of various small animals: A human leg for Brannicus, a starship for Euphrica, a book for Eugenios the Incandescent. The beads were well worn, but still beautiful. His sister had been good with that knife of hers when she made it for him as a present on the anniversary of the martyring of the ancient saint he had been named after. Some of the bones had come from the rats that tried to sneak into the dormitory of the orphans in the abbey. The rodents never stood a chance, she had been very good with that knife.

She kept him safe when their mother died and protected him from the other orphans when he was little, but eventually she had fallen from the light of the Emperor and betrayed the trust of the brothers and sisters that had sheltered them since they were small. He still remembered the first night she came in late, smelling of strong liquor, the night she came back with a gang tattoo, and the night she didn't come home at all. He tried to stop her when she finally left to join the gang. Tried and failed -- she was bigger than him, and much more used to fighting.

The cycle of prayers is interrupted for a moment as his hand strays to the long scar on his cheek. Yes, she had indeed been very good with that knife.

It had been a long time since he last thought of Petronia. She had been dead to him for so many years. Lost to Emperors light. But seeing the Annie had stirred old memories. Until recently, she had been part of gang much like his sister, but here she was doing the holy work of the Emperor. Perhaps, such redemption was possible for others as well? No, that was foolishness. Redemption requires penance, and his sister had been utterly unrepentant.

As his vigil continues, it becomes more and more difficult to remain awake, and he has to chastise himself several times when his eyes refuse to stay open. The father had ordered him to do this as punishment, but he serves a higher power now. His only duty is to the inquisitor and the mission. Nothing else matters. So why was he sitting here all night when he would surely need his strength and resolve in the morning? The father expected it, of course, and it was necessary to keep up the appearance of a wandering novice if he were to investigate the Ministorum from the inside. Besides, someone had to keep a watch while the others slept, right?

When morning comes with a strange hint of hidden terror, he rises and spends some time rubbing life into his limbs and stretching, but the stiffness refuses to leave his body completely. As the others wake, he greets them with "Blessings to you all. There is a foulness in the air, and fear that we have little time to act"