A tracking device had been embedded in Angar, its signal disappearing in a sector far from the Warden's bastion.

Hidetada, ever watchful, had dispatched his drones, Thryna, and Harc to hunt for his wayward Knight. The vigiles had led them straight to Angar's bloodied form, staggering from the criminal's trap.

As the poison gas had failed to kill him in minutes, Angar likely would've survived without medical intervention. So, he refused to credit his master with saving him.

But without Hidetada's intervention, Angar wouldn't have profited so greatly from the Hoxha family's illicit goods, turning their betrayal into such gain, so gave his master plenty of praise for that.

Angar's guest room in the Wardens' bastion had four walls, a cot, a shower, and silence. All he needed.

Though only his second day at the bastion, he'd been completely left alone. He hadn't learned a single name. He didn't know if he was supposed to be provided with food, or even where he'd go to get food.

His only towel was stiff with dried blood, and he wasn't looking forward to asking for another.

Since returning to his quarters yesterday, he'd only ventured out for Presbyter Prostasia's service that morning. He couldn't miss those. She needed to know he was there, watching, ready to cave her skull in.

With little to do, Angar practiced exercises meant to manifest psychic abilities, so far without success.

He finally penned the letter he'd been meaning to write to Venerable Sister Kenson, thanking her for her steadfast kindness and patience amid the chaos he'd dragged into her life.

Zanaya lay far from the nearest imperial worlds or Cloisteranages to Vefol. Angar suspected Spirit had chosen that world deliberately, specifically because of Kenson.

Most in her position would've cast him out, shuffled him off to another Cloisteranage, or expelled him entirely for the trouble he brought. But Kenson stood firm, weathering the chaos with unyielding resolve.

She'd been his anchor in a storm, her friendship a true boon, and one he was determined to maintain.

And Simo too. He had invited Angar on a family outing the day prior, after Sunday Mass, and again that morning. But Angar declined, unwilling to impose or intrude.

His Sunday Mass attire was barely passable, more a simple robe than formalwear suitable for his estate, and ill-fitting at that, embarrassing to wear in public.

It teetered on the edge of impropriety, but it was the only clean garment that fit him, since Simo had taken his other outfit to wash and mend.

During the service, a scry-capture of the Pontifex Maximus' allocution played for the congregation, proclaiming the Holy Empire's victories to all Terrans.

It detailed the resounding defeat of the Blightscale Pack at Lerig Imperial Megastation, alongside the reconquest of the Fernialium by a joint force of Terrans and Pleiadeans, wresting it back from the United Front. These were monumental imperial triumphs, bolstering morale across the stars.

After, Angar met with Kong to repair his cybernetics, all except the eye, which would have to wait until the Zephuros' repairs were complete, and the ship accessible.

Doc was there too. He assisted with Angar's jaw injury, which was still weeping blood, patching it as best he could without his sickbay. He replaced the bandages, provided spares and an eyepatch, then explained why a healing pad wouldn't work on such a large, open wound without a flesh graft first.

Once the necessities were handled, they turned to discussing the future.

Learning of his new gear point totals, Angar's heart nearly thumped out of his chest.

In every category, they were substantial, earned not just from Old Guard loot, but also his run-in with the criminal outfit, the Hoxha family, just a cog in the Netherweb Syndicate's machine, working for them, but not of them.

Unlicensed or not, illegal or not, and little seemed to be viewed as illegal in the eyes of Hidetada, the mods and cybernetics still held a lot of value.

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Harc had seized them all, everything from within those factories and warehouses.

Angar received only a third of the haul, with half of that going to the Smallest Spark Knightly Chapter per his contract. Still, he made out like a bandit.

While Angar was in the valetudinarium, the Netherweb Syndicate had contacted Hidetada, denying any involvement in the assassination attempt, disavowing all ties to noble politics. They affirmed their commitment to staying out of all such matters and, as a show of good faith, declared Angar's debt to them settled.

As for the Old Guard loot, it had to be sold to Imperial Command, not turned in to his chapter, yielding only partial points from the credit conversion. Keeping the credits was an option, but points meant far more to Angar. Besides, he'd gained plenty of credits from another source that couldn't be converted.

Imperial Command coveted Old Guard vessels and compensated generously for them. Hauling the battleship to Lerig had paid off handsomely. Not just for him, as the spoils were split among all boarders and the shipper's crew.

As a Crusader, Angar received a much larger share than others, hefty at 2,679 credits, half of which went to his chapter.

His points totaled over 100 for armor, more than 200 for items and weapons, and nearly 600 for implants and mods.

He and Kong meticulously planned how to spend the points as excitement built in Angar's chest. The implants he'd get would boost his power dramatically. As very few cybernetics had Tier requirements, he intended to go all out.

They selected his cybernetics with care, Doc chiming in as well, ensuring they stayed below 25% body mass loss. Anything Kong lacked on the ship, he'd acquired on station.

But the implants hinged on Hidetada regrowing Angar's thigh, a full 12% of his body mass. He clung to hope he'd be allowed, as his jaw and bone loss would take well over a month to heal through his regeneration alone, and his teeth were a lost cause without a Vitaelux Apexium submersion.

And if Hidetada played some game, Angar held leverage.

Harc had uncovered comcap communications and credit transfer records between Sir Duke Maximillian and the Hoxha family.

Damning evidence that Hidetada viewed as blackmail material to place the Duke under his thumb.

If it meant regrowing his thigh, Angar would play along without pushing the issue.

He'd love to slaughter Maximillian, laying waste to the household, but he wanted his implants more. He still planned to challenge the man's son, and the blackmail wouldn't change that.

The pristine, very formal ball uniform arrived that morning, filling Angar's chest with dread at the prospect of dancing and formalities, none of which he felt prepared for, especially dancing. He didn't know how, didn't want to learn, and had no desire to ever dance.

But according to Deli, as a gentleman, it would be expected of him, and he'd have to oblige.

On the walk to and from Sunday Mass, Veerta and her daughter, Mari, peppered him with questions about the event, their excitement thinly veiling their desire to attend.

Angar asked Deli if he could bring one of them, but the answer was a firm no.

Asking Veerta to teach him to dance for a ball she couldn't attend felt cruel. So, instead, he approached an older Saint at the bastion, one he'd spotted praying in the open chapel visible from his window.

She proved meaner than the training master, not even glancing up as she snapped out a harsh no.

Now, it was time to get dressed and attend a ball he'd be expected to dance at.

Simo arrived just in time, sparing Angar from fumbling with the uniform. With deft hands, he trimmed Angar's hair down to stubble, and shaved away his beard, ensuring he looked presentable, or as presentable as possible despite the eyepatch and the bulky, bloodstained bandage covering his jaw.

Angar's hair was extremely thick and coarse, prone to growing wild and unkempt, while his beard came in patchy and uneven. Once he was older and his beard filled out properly, he'd let both it and his hair grow long, honoring the traditions of Mecian men.

For now, though, keeping his hair cropped short was the only way to maintain a clean, respectable appearance.

Only sidearms were allowed, but he was bringing his maul anyway. As a Crusader, he hoped to get away with it.

Dressed and ready, Angar met Harc outside Le Cheval Noir at the appointed hour, and nothing was said about the weapon.

The victory ball was hosted in the nobles' district, at the sprawling estate of Tribunus Navis Earl Goethe, near the Terran sector's grand cathedral.

Harc, clad in exquisitely elegant finery rather than a uniform, spoke curtly as they rode in a service vehicle. "Speak sparingly. Study the powerful, the wealthy, the refined. Do not shame Saint Hidetada or dishonor your chapter. As you don't know how to dance, do not. If a lady asks, claim your vows forbid it. You're there to learn only, not to have fun, dance, or mingle."

Angar let out a heavy breath, relieved beyond words that he wouldn't have to dance. The dread and anxiety coiling in his gut, thinking of that requirement, finally released its grip and died.

Once they arrived and passed through security, they entered an atrium lined with statues of Saints and what Angar assumed were naval heroes, all illuminated by the flickering glow of candles, a massive fresco of the blessed Mother smiting Hellspawn dominated the ceiling.

Guests were announced by a herald, and Harc's drew enough attention to send a ripple through the estate, halting the revelry momentarily as all started in surprise and awe.

Harc and Angar greeted the host and the most important attendees, those being Marshal Mal Huoli of the Wardens of the Ashen Veil, Navarchus Viscount Valthor Krennius, Navarchus Patrician Van Ruhm, Archiepiscopus Sedley Veyne, Praetor Sanctus Baron Klyros Varn of the Iron Litany sect, Frater Puritatis Lirian Wat, head inquisitor of the Blood-Soaked Scourge sect, and Commander Lord Honor Enwick, the Terran sector governor.

After the greetings, Harc, by far the most important attendee, joined the other dignitaries in the reception line, instructing Angar to wait in the ballroom.

As he stepped into the event's heart and saw the attendees, a sense of foreboding grew in Angar's gut. He had a strong suspicion this night wasn't going to go as Hidetada desired.

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