Angar stepped out from the silent and shadowed halls of the Voluvicas House a little after zero six hundred, his single eye squinting against the artificial dawn bathing the station.

The usually raucous area was hushed at this early hour, all the flashing lights turned off. A rare stillness settled over the district, making it strangely peaceful.

Hidetada's voice hissed through the comms in Angar's helm, laced with frustration. "Another waste. First your childishness at the ball, and now this? I should demand you repay the credits spent securing your night with a goddess of pleasure."

Angar exhaled. "It wasn't wasted. I've conquered lust."

"Oh?" Hidetada's tone was flat, almost a challenge. "You've conquered nothing, young Knight. As a virgin still, you're far from mastering lust's lure. Your ego and emotions are a scourge, your greatest weakness. Control of yourself, gaining patience, remains far out of your grasp."

"Maybe," Angar admitted, "but I don't seek that, Saint. I seek control, and, when it matters, the clarity of emptiness."

Hidetada grunted, the sound crackling through the comms. "Then you're a fool. Patience is the foundation of victory, just as lack of control is the foundation of defeat. Explain your reasoning."

Angar paused, gathering his thoughts as he trudged toward the tram platform. "I refuse to become a soulless machine."

As Hidetada failed to take the bait, Angar continued. "When I battle, I want my blood burning with hate and Holy wrath, my chest overflowing with righteous zeal. When I kneel in worship, I want my soul to sing in awe, a glorious hymn, filling me with sacred fervor. I want to revel in all life's fires and glories, all these blessings God bestowed upon His children."

Hidetada rasped out a mechanical laugh. "You'll merely feel the sting of dying far too young."

"Was that ever in question?" Angar countered. "I'm Mecian to my core. My candle shall burn brightly, gloriously, becoming ashes rather than dust."

Silence followed, Hidetada offering no reply. Angar waited for and then boarded the tram, its near-empty carriage rattling as it began its journey.

Only then did the Saint's voice return. "I've had slates delivered to your quarters, the crux of the ancient texts my mother insisted I study in my youth. Read, comprehend, and digest them. This new task takes precedence, even over psychic training."

"Understood, Saint," Angar replied, curious.

"I'd prefer a Psychic fill the chaplain role," continued Hidetada, "but none have met my standards yet. Rusak taught you the rudiments of manifesting a power, and Stek can handle confessions and shipbound masses. The position remains vacant for now."

Angar nodded to himself. Stek, once a clergyman of the Ordo Sacra Custodia, retained the authority to hear confessions, grant absolution, and perform other sacraments, even after Laicization.

By sacred law, even excommunicated clergy were bound to attend deathbed confessions, though barred from administering other sacraments.

The comms buzzed again. "Tomorrow, at seventeen hundred, you'll meet potential crew recruits in the lobby of Le Cheval Noir. A married couple, arriving on-station later today. The husband for ship technicus, the wife for gubernator. Evaluate them. Tell me if they're fit for my crew."

Angar shook his head, sensing another of Hidetada's tests. He loathed these games. "You really want a mixed gendered crew?"

"I already have that with Veerta," Hidetada stated.

"She's staying on Sulfuron 9 with Jon and Mari."

"Those with a shred of intelligence don't dismiss truthful statements so quickly," Hidetada snapped. "I say again – I already have that with Veerta."

Angar bit back a retort. Veerta was an exception. That was different. As was Saint Thryna. "Point taken, Saint. When do we depart for my world?"

"Your world, is it?" Hidetada responded wryly. "Four days, but the Zephuros will be accessible the day after tomorrow, after she's moved to short-term docking."

"Are we stopping at Sol to retrieve my third-Tier gear on the way?"

"No. It'll be delivered to us. There's no urgency. You're not ready to ascend yet."

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Angar's jaw clenched. "Understood, but…" He paused, rephrasing what he'd say. "This armor lacks the Psy Crystal dock. Can I have it modified here? With my armor points?"

"Unnecessary," Hidetada said dismissively. "You don't need it to manifest, or train your power once manifested. It'd be a wasteful expense."

Angar grunted and shook his head. When it came to actually spending credits, Hidetada could be very stingy.

The repaired armor testified to that, its corroded plates patched with standard galvornium rather than his upgraded metal alloyed with kryonadic vanadiumite and tempered with axion condensate crystals. As it should've been, as the rest of it was.

All his gear, implants, and mods received through the chapter came from companies Hidetada owned or held a majority share in. As a Crusader in a non-tax-reimbursed chapter, the Saint wrote the equipment off as charitable donations.

The Peregrines' gear came from the same sources, all written off as expenses.

Though his armor points should pay for it, the decision was made, and Hidetada's decisions were final. Angar would pay for the Psy Crystal dock modification himself, with his own credits.

"Understood, Saint," he said. "Can Kong install my implants after the Zephuros is moved?"

"Later in the evening," Hidetada replied. "The Peregrines have an award ceremony at thirteen hundred that day, followed by a celebration. Your attendance is mandatory for both."

"An award ceremony?" Angar asked, caught off guard.

"They uncovered a slavery ring on-station," Hidetada explained. "The Grays outsourced the circumstellar debris belt's harvesting, processing, and refining to Heliosyndicate. The corporation found buying slummers slaves more cost effective than paying the regulatory-required professionals equipped with proper protective gear. The Peregrines exposed this."

Angar grunted again. "I assume one of your companies now hold this contract, and your presence on station during the slavery's discovery merely Divine Providence?"

"Yes," said Hidetada. "Divine Providence."

Angar grunted. "Would it be Divine Providence for me to get my third-Tier sacred rites while we're here?"

"Seventeen hundred tomorrow, the lobby of Le Cheval Noir," was the Saint's reply. A minute later, he added, "I assume you surmised our new deal. There will be no vendetta against Maximillian if I allow the regrowth of your thigh.

"Be certain of your new implant choices, young Knight. Swapping out limbs as if the rare treasures required by the Vitaelux Apexium grow on trees is a gross waste."

Angar believed Hidetada must be regretting their contract, as the Saint thought Angar would be dead by now, not alive and accruing vast amounts of gear points in all categories, about to spend a fortune in cybernetic enhancements.

"Understood and thank you, Saint," Angar replied.

He headed to the Wardens' guest quarters, the Saint's words playing on his mind, trying to glean more from the conversation, read between the lines, unravel the mind of his master.

His eye scanned the room as he entered, spotting Hidetada's assignments on a counter. He propped his maul on the floor with a dull thud before heading toward the slates.

Each was etched with the Trey and a label. He had little knowledge of ancient works of Terra outside the gospels and scriptures of Trinitarianism. He was taught no pre-Holy Empire history in Cloisteranage, though he had picked up some bits here and there.

He activated the first slate, labeled 'War and Strategy." The screen flared to life, and he thumbed through the titles –

Anabasis and Education of Cyrus by Xenophon

The Art of War by Sun Tzu

The Book of Five Rings by Miyamoto Musashi

Commentaries on the Gallic War by Julius Caesar

History of the Peloponnesian War by Thucydides

On War by Carl von Clausewitz

Tokugawa Ieyasu's Life, Mind, Articles, and Testament by Naomi and Phillip Butler

He tapped 'The Art of War,' and cryptic lines about deception and terrain splayed across the screen.

He set the slate aside, and thumbed on the second slate, labeled 'Governance and Power.' Inside, six titles were listed –

Leviathan by Thomas Hobbes

The Machiavellians: Defenders of Freedom by James Burnham

Politics by Aristotle

The Prince by Niccolo Machiavelli

The Republic by Plato

Warrior Politics by Robert D. Kaplan

Angar scrolled through 'The Prince,' seemingly about ruthless cunning. He grunted, placing the slate atop the first, then picked up the third, labeled 'Spirit and Duty.' Five titles showed –

The Bhagavad Gita

The Deeds of the Divine Augustus by Augustus

The Handbook by Epictetus

Meditations by Marcus Aurelius

Nicomachean Ethics by Aristotle

He opened 'Meditations,' filled with musings on the Stoic philosophy, stirring something in his chest. He set it aside and picked up the next, labeled 'Radical Politics and Economy,' the titles being –

Anatomy of the State by Murray Rothbard

Das Kapital by Karl Marx

Democracy: The God That Failed by Hans-Hermann Hoppe

God and the State by Mikhail Bakunin

Manufacturing Consent by Noam Chomsky and Edward S. Herman

My Disillusionment in Russia by Emma Goldman

Statism and Anarchy by Mikhail Bakunin

Angar went to 'God and the State,' the title calling out to him. He read a line about rejecting Divine authority and shut the slate off, his hand inching toward his hammer. He wondered why Hidetada's mother would have him read such blasphemous filth.

He pushed the thought aside, set the unholy slate down, opening the last, labeled 'Fictional Rewards' perusing the titles –

Gates of Fire by Steven Pressfield

The Iliad by Homer

Shogun by James Clavell

He skimmed 'Gates of Fire,' his eyes sticking to a part about warriors standing against an endless tide of foes, making it hard to put down.

Angar stacked the slates neatly, wondering which to read first. He wanted to dive into 'Gates of Fire,' desiring to know its tale. But the slate's label marked it a reward, a carrot dangled after the bitter work of the others.

He sighed, grabbing the 'Radical Politics and Economy' slate. He'd always tackled the worst tasks first, ripping off the bandage. If this 'God and the State' was the vilest of the lot, as he suspected, he'd get it out of the way and be done with it.

He activated the slate. The screen flared to life, and he got to work.

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