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 By Scholar of Trivia
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 « We are all the servants of the Emperor.», Sister Catena said. « The only question is: Are we a dutiful one, or a rebellious one?”. She inclined the candle she held for the briefest instant, letting but one drop of molten wax fell on the bare back of the prostrated young man on the floor. She noted he did his best to hold back a cry. Good. She pulled the leash of the shackles that restrained the boy's hands, forcing him to stand up, his naked body exposed. “Or perhaps should I say,” she continued, her face dangerously close of his, “The only question is: Are you a dutiful servant, or a rebellious servant?”
 
-Even through the dishevelled blond hair that dangled before his eyes, the boy could see that the look she was giving him indicated she wanted an answer. “D-d-utiful.”, he shuttered. He saw Sister Catena's feature soften, and she let go the leash to reach for the leather collar around his neck. “Good boy.”, she whispered as she pulled his face even closer. She then swiped his legs from under him. He lost balance and would have ended up on the floor if not for the Sister's grip on his collar, which began to strangle him. Locking her eyes into his, she shouted: “And how would you prove this, hmmm!?!” With a sight, she released her hold, letting him fall brutaly.
+Even through the dishevelled blond hair that dangled before his eyes, the boy could see that the look she was giving him indicated she wanted an answer. “D-d-utiful.”, he shuttered. He saw Sister Catena's feature soften, and she let go the leash to reach for the leather collar around his neck. “Good boy.”, she whispered as she pulled his face even closer. She then swiped his legs from under him. He lost balance and would have ended up on the floor if not for the Sister's grip on his collar, which began to strangle him. Locking her eyes into his, she shouted: “And how would you prove this, hmmm!?!” With a sight, she released her hold, letting him fall brutaly.
 
 At least the expensive carpet he landed on lessened the impact. Be grateful for the Emperor's small boons: That was part of the lessons that Nathanael the Third of House Alabaster, son and heir of the Planetary Governor Nathanael the Second, had started to learn. Be grateful, be obedient, listen to every word. Those were the rules Sister Catena had introduced him to at their first meeting. He didn't take them seriously at first. Or rather, he took them as seriously as any imperial citizen would have. Which is, as Nathanael found out, leagues behind the degree of dedication to the rules deemed tolerable by the Adepta Sororitas. This reflexion was interrupted when Catena's leather boot made him roll on his back, followed by her stomping her heel on his solar plexus.
 
 “I said,”continued the woman, “how would you prove you are the dutiful servant you claim to be?” Her tone was cold as ice, full of threat and of danger. Nathanael felt her heel dig in his chest as she shifted her weight on it. “Your ancestor, Flavus Alabaster, did commit the eternal crime of Heresy, after all. Nothing guarantees me you will not take the same path. It takes more than a few healthy branches to prove that the tree is not rotten.”
 
 Nathanael gluped. He tried: “I-I-I will pray to the Emperor every day, do pilgrimages, donate to all churches, all orders, all convents.”
 
 “Ha!”, the Sororita exclaimed, didainous. “You think you can buy redemption with a few gifts, boy? That you can waltz in an holy place, and be cleaned of all sin? As for praying, every traitor says he do so.” Nathanael's eyes widenned as the Sister was suddenly pointing a bloter to his face. Despite his terror, a part of his mind wondered where she pulled it from: Women in tight black leather outfits weren't supposed to be able to hide weaponry this large on their person. “I might as well kill you right now, if you honnestly thought this could be the correct answer.”, she declared.
 
 Nathanael saw her finger reach to the trigger. “I-I-I will obey to everything you say!”, he shouted. “Every commandement of Terra! Every word said by the priests! Every scripture, every text!”
 
 Sister Catena examined him for what seemed to be hours. Then, slowly, deliberatly, she moved her bolter from Nathanael's form. She bowed, her face close of the young noble's once again. With a smirk, she wishpered: “Good boy.” Then she let herself fall on his guts, knocking the winds out of him.