+ inload: Meanwhile, on Cepheus +

+ This inload continues the Court of the Sun King project. If you're a newcomer, or want a refresher, this is probably the best inload to read to get an idea of the atmosphere [+noospheric inloadlink embedded+]; but please do follow along on the dedicated blog on the Ammobunker forum [+noospheric inloadlink embedded+] +

+ Childeric is continuing his investigation into the identity of Sciriusc the Sun King, bearer of the false Cephean Warrant of Imperial Commandery and Planetary Governance. The underscribe Ferlinghetti, one of his companions, takes up the story: 

Childeric and Ferlinghetti arrive on the scipping-rigge.

We had reached the scipping-rigge three months previously, after a long coach-trip took us out of the City. The coachman was... convinced not to sell our whereabouts; but in any case Childeric had altered our plans immediately on reaching the coast. We spent a shivering three days clambering over and picking our way through the coastal ruins, before buying our way onto an unlicensed fishing boat and bullying the ship's master to dropping us, via an awkward wrecker's route, on Mastermann's Islet; an abandoned and storm-tossed outpost. We laid low in the shadow of the Blac-lichthus for a week before finding ourselves, as Northgrass had suspected, not alone. 

The Sun King's agents were predictable only in their perseverance. Unexpectedly – at least to me – the Owlingmanne had not come himself. It is unbecoming to eavesdrop, but such is my wont. In situations such as that in which we found ourselves, manners leave men like me dead. It was the – tacit – opinion of Northgrass and Childeric that the Owlingmanne was not under the King's influence at all. That raised unpleasant implications for me. At best a second party was interested in confronting Childeric; at worst the Inquisitor's identity was already unfurled, and one of the few advantages I had been counting upon was lost.

Our pursuers slipped. They were little more than distant, scuttling silhouettes on the foreshore as Northgrass lit up their location. The wildlife did the rest.

So we continued. An occasionally gruelling, but mainly reassuringly dull voyage on a cash-in-hand hauler took us to the rig overseen by the Mechanicus.

Manderghast, as is typical of the priesthood of Mars, had played his cards close to his chest. Wisely; for no Inquisitor can truly be said to have friends in any real sense; and the Magos knew the power of leverage. Still, once his manhound was down; and with all of us nursing bruises, Manderghast and Childeric reached an agreement. No Inquisitor can have friends, but Childeric could certainly have confidantes. 

...And thus we discovered the identity of Sciriusc, the Sun King. Little did we know that, back in the City, Sciriusc knew our names too...

+++

A champion of the Cyng-in-exile confronts Orphan Arcimboldo, the King of Collars. The meeting is brief!