Me Miserum

     Plan B, like the Inquisitor’s original Plan A, depended as much upon adequate personnel as it did proper timing. With Gasoleo and Butano out of the equation, the untenable Plan A had been ditched. The Inquisitor and Jougs split up to search the outside of the warehouse, while Vorant took the inside. So far neither of his men had let out the tale-tell whistles meaning they’d located the woman. Glancing at his wrist watch, the Inquisitor cursed the last hour. The pickup crew would arrive on the docks any minute. They expected six shipping crates filled with six dosed and unconscious women. Time for Plan C. The Inquisitor returned to the warehouse front entrance and let out one long shrill whistle. A couple minutes later Jougs and Vorant ran up to meet him.

     “Any luck?” Vorant asked.

     “You hear two long whistles?” the Inquisitor roared.

Proelio Lacessere

     The perfectly manicured lawn, well-tended vegetable garden, and mature orange trees sat in stark contrast to the overgrown hedges in front of Patrick Field’s house. After 15 minutes of pacing the backyard, Santos’ stomach made the decision for him. He chose the plumpest, juiciest looking orange he could reach, and ripped it out of the tree. As he began the annoying task of peeling it, Brimley popped her head around the side of the house.

     “What are you doing, soldier?” she yelled in the deepest voice she could manage while stifling laughter.

     Startled, Santos nearly dropped the partially peeled orange. He spun around, holding the orange down by his thigh. “I should ask you the same thing,” he growled. “You’re supposed to be guarding the front.”

     She glared at him. Aside from a couple bullies in grade school, she’d never wanted to beat the crap out of someone like she wanted to beat Santos. “Orders change. We’re moving out. Your Colonel wants to see you. Now. Looks like you’ll have to save the snack for later, sweetheart.” Brimley relished throwing the word, tone, and inflection back in his face.

Suis Moribus

     At the door to Patrick Field’s house, 1^st Lieutenant Santos addressed the two women he’d escorted from the Templus Ministrae, “one moment while I inform Colonel Dagon that you’re here.” Turning the knob and pushing the door, resulted in nothing. He shoved again, then looked over his shoulder and half-heartedly smiled as he knocked.

     When the door opened a crack, Santos declared, “tell Colonel Dagon I’ve returned with the Celatrix and one of her officers.”

Ne Desperemus

    Celatrix Julianne Verna would have passed for a school teacher, if not for adornments of her office. She wore blindingly white robes, a silver and gold gryphon necklace, and a silver circlet holding down her slightly grey and exceedingly curly brown hair. Her role as Celatrix of the Ministrae meant she kept the secrets of Mercury’s Indigimenta, a book which included all the rites and names of gods met during Mercury’s travels. However, hers was a dual role, for she was also the Archeireus of the Templus de Ambros, charged with maintaining the spiritual health of the kingdom. She monitored the Ignis Fatui and taught the rites of Mercury. She had a bad habit of thinking before acting and nearly always acted rationally. Both behaviors caused problems during her ascendency. Problems which magically disappeared once she’d assumed her role as Archeireus et Celatrix Ministrae. All in all, she was a busy lady, laden with heavy responsibilities, and quite unaccustomed to receiving orders. At the opening of the gallery doors, she was blasted with the unbridled hostility emanating from Brimley and openly reflected by Santos.

     “At ease,” Celatrix Verna ordered.