Inquisitor Nelthas sat – or at least took a posture that resembled sitting – across from Dolgath in his private observation dome situated above the bridge of The Subjugator. From this vantage, they seemed to be soaring high above the vast battle cruiser its many gothic spires stabbing upward towards them. Nelthas had distained her normal entourage and it was just the two of them chatting and sipping the finest five hundred year old absinth. Or at least Dolgath sipped it. He watched Nelthas covertly out of his peripheral vision as he pretended to gaze out the viewports. She raised the glass with a delicate lace-gloved hand and carefully brought it up to the porcelain facade of her psychomorphic mask – the lips parted and a small amount of the emerald liquid drained from the glass. They spoke of many things, none of them having to do with Inquisitorial business or the battle raging bellow. It was quite the most pleasant time Dolgath could remember having in many decades…
“My Lord,” a pair of nearly identical voices said in unison.
Dolgath turned in annoyance as Nelthas took another sip from her glass. His twin sages stood silhouetted at the threshold of the chamber the cables interconnecting them starkly apparent.
“I left word that I was not to be disturbed,” he growled.
“We found something in Math’s diaries,” said one.
“Something about this planet,” said the other.
“Something ancient,” said the first.
“Something for…” the second started to say.
“What?” Dolgath snapped with mounting impatience.
“Ozymandias,” they whispered together.
Nelthas cocked her head slightly toward them.
“Here? Are you certain?” Dolgath asked in disbelief.
The nodded simultaneously.
“Sylax!” Dolgath stood up suddenly. “Activate the armored reserves and prepare to deploy to the planet!”