A spectre of death.



As Varus Theirch-Mantel Dominus fussed with his greatcoat one last time, he remembered the writings of Commissar-General Amenya Theodosius. How a Commissar be 'like unto a spectre of death' and stand in the image of the deathly Emperor in Service, "as grim in purpose and bound to the Throne as He." Grim. That was a good word. It described his mentor, Lady-Commissar Velania, perfectly.



He glanced out the one-way window, at the awaiting Raschlanders. The bearded one was one of the 'barbarians' Alaine mentioned. Mountaineers, if he recalled his geopolitical lessons from the Schola correctly. The others, baseborn Raschlanders, likely from the industrial cities. All four were slouched at their position, not even giving a second glance to the officer's staff car right in front of them, one of them chewing on something. Lackadaisical. He took one last look at his dataslate, then up at the driver outside who seemed ill inclined to open Varus' door and indeed, more concerned with a lho break. Varus shook his head, looking up toward the heavens.



"Alright. No point in waiting-I got this. Time to put the fear of the Emperor into them," He whispered to himself, before prying back the lever to the door. He swung out, holding back a curse as he almost bashed his head against the top of the door-frame (Clearly, not made for a Velorum man's height), and stepped out into the light of day.



As Varus' polished boots crunched against the gravel, he was grateful how easy his uniform made putting Amenya's advice to work. The midnight great coat, the blood-red sash wrapped around his waist, the fine gold braids of his epaulettes, and the distinctive skull-tipped cap, and of course the bulky garm-pattern bolt pistol holstered at his side all added up to one thing: Suddenly, all four Guardsmen were standing straight, lasguns taut against their shoulders. One swallowed whatever he'd been chewing on.



With some effort, Varus didn't smile at that. He swept his eyes downward to meet the gazes of all four Guardsmen. Only the Corporal met it, and for a moment they stared at one another. The other man scrutinizing, judging. Varus had his scars, the cuts earnt in training alongside the Scions Tempestus, but they did not make his youth any less obvious. His fair skin was smooth, his aristocratic features softened by slight curves that left him as much 'pretty' as 'handsome'. His close-combed blond hair likewise stood in contrast with the more expected appearance of a Commissar.



If the man was judging Varus by his appearance, Varus put his attention to the bearded man's sword. Perhaps it was because he was rebuttoning the sheathe of his chainsword to his belt-A motion made somewhat awkward by keeping his eyes ahead-But memories of a half dozen forms and cuts to use against that blade echoed through the back of the Commissar's mind, a dozen more able to kill the man before he drew it.



After what felt like minutes, but had only been a few seconds, the corporal saluted. “Welcome sir.” The Corporal said. Varus liked the formality in his tone. Even this man feared, or at least respected, the marks of office. “May we see your pass documents?”



Varus nodded, hand reaching into a pocket beneath his coat when his apparent aide stepped forward. 'Sergeant Rike', then, a baseborn as he'd expected. He didn't return the woman's salute, as was his privilege as a Commissar, but instead nodded respectively at her. She was certainly punctual, and he could certainly appreciate that. He just hoped she could read High Gothic.



"Thank you, Sergeant, it's a pleasure to meet you. Though, for future reference, Commissar Varus would probably be more appropriate. Nonetheless, the good corporal is quite right in asking me, for uniforms can be faked or stolen and more importantly, it is his duty. My compliments," Varus said, showing his papers to the corporal for a cursory inspection. "You know what they say: 'a good soldier obeys without question'."



A good officer commands without doubt. Varus shook his head. Feeling a tension in his belly, he checked the sheath on his chainsword for again. Secure, so why did it feel like he was forgetting something?



Taking back his papers, Varus blinked as he heard the sound of boots on pavement behind him. Ah shite. He half-turned and shuffle stepped forward, hand snapping out and grabbing the driver's shoulder tight before he could get back into the car.



"Ahem. My luggage?" He asked, pointedly motioning a hand toward the back of the autocarriage.





A few moments later, a military hard-case in hand, Varus stepped in beside his new adjudant. "Remind me to write command about that driver," He said quietly as he handed the case over to her. After years of military marching, it chafed to have someone else carry his kit, but it was expected-A Commissar would hardly look imposing carrying a bag around. "If I'd been a moment later, first thing everyone would have seen their new Commissar doing is sprinting after a speeding staff car."



He shook his head, smiling slyly. He'd be working closely with his adjudant. No need to be as stern with her when putting her at ease would be wiser. "I'm surprised-And a little impressed- that you're more punctual meeting me than the officers. I'd appreciate the tour, Sergeant. I'd like to see as much of the unit before they realize I'm here and putting on their best impressions of a Saint."



He scanned over the camp, resting a hand on the pommel of his chainsword. Indeed, the laxity of the officers was concerning. Even insulting. And it showed the same disheartening attitude that went into the fortifications. Wood palisade for a defensive line? Ill-Disciplined stoage of equipment and food. Some of it likely came as a result of restructuring after extensive casualties (If he had the numbers of the unit pegged right), but it still showed how necessary he was here. Perhaps Alaine's warning was correct, that this was a poor assignment. But then, was not a Commissar of much more importance in a poor regiment? He had a chance to do much more here, a chance to lighten the scales of the Dominus line by instilling discipline. He was sure his parents would agree.



"It'll also give me a chance to ask a few questions, Sergeant," Varus said conversationally, nodding his head at the primitive carriage. "Like who owns that...Thing. I'm no expert on wooden vehicles, but if I'm not mistaken, that looks to be out of the paygrade of the Irutean tribesmen I've seen. A local lord, I presume?"



"That aside, if you're to be my aide, I'd also like to know a bit more about you, Sergeant Rike. I heard there was a Commissar prior to me-Alaine, I believe. Were you also her adjudant?" He asked, careful to keep his tone casual. Besides making it easier to work with her if she was friendly, it'd also help lower her guard if Alaine's suspicions' of the regiment's underhandedness were true. "Served long in the Astra Militarum?"