>>4033Wanky parts finally arived! Took me merely thirteen pages to get there! Woo-hoo!
PART V
+++ THOUGHT FOR THE DAY +++
++ “Hope is the beginning of unhappiness.” ++
“Lady Brabazon,” Seneschal spoke quietly, lightly tapping Navigator on her shoulder. “I beg your pardon, but that’s mildly inappropriate.”
Sighing, Navigator slowly put down her utensils and turned her glazed look towards Seneschal.
“High as a kite again, I see,” thought Seneshal.
Clearing her throat theatrically, Navigator let out a mighty belch, making the semi-transparent veil that hid most of her face ride up in the air.
“This is inappropriate,” she stated. “Not arriving on time is inappropriate. Eating when one is hungry? Perfectly appropriate. Any objections?”
“Unless it’s your third meal since the break of dawn,” thought Seneschal, forcing a friendly smile on her face. Few were foolish enough to dare incite the ire of a member of Navis Nobilite – and fewer still lived to tell the tale.
“None, Lady Brabazon.”
“Good… good,” giving everyone at the table a quick glance, Navigator returned to her meal.
Her loose green mantle hid her newly acquired bulk surprisingly well – that is, when she stood, because right now her swollen midsection and bulging hips were quite visibly protruding through the tight fabric.
“Lady Caffarael, why are we doing this?” Seneschal’s voice sounded almost like she begged for mercy.
“Why?” Trader raised her glass of brandy. “To commemorate your valiant services to the House Caffarael, of course! Come on, it’s all for you!”
“Yes, mock me because I’m the only one here actually doing something,” Seneschal grit her teeth, eyes glancing over Agatha. “Something other than glutting myself to oblivion at every waking moment”.
Trader still wore the same outfit, though it obviously was re-tailored at least a couple of times to properly accommodate her recent growth – and though it caused her apparel to lose some of its’ extravagant flair, it was a small price to pay for maintaining decency. Trader’s tailors clearly put a lot of thought and effort into refits – as her elaborate apparel not only maintained most of its’ rather elegant appeal, it also did wonders smoothing her newfound collection of curves. Yet, for reasons beyond Seneschal’s understanding, Agatha’s corset stayed the same – and it revealed the full scope of damage done to her figure. Laced only halfway through, not only did it squish her profound breasts so hard they started to ooze from the top of it, it also revealed a gap of oozing love handle flesh on Agatha’s right side, below which a belt was cutting deeply into her hip.
“S...sorry I’m late...” stammered Voidmaster, appearing in the doorway. Panting for air, her face reddened with exertion and glistening with beads of sweat, she looked down, folding flesh on her face revealing a newly formed double chin. “There were some… pressing matters… to attend to.”
“Is everything alright, Master von Fjund?” asked Seneschal, doing her best to fake genuinely concerned tone.
“Y...yes, just a minor… power grid anomaly, it’s already been… dealt with.”
“Divine Grace, this woman can’t lie to save her life,” thought Seneschal, smiling and showing Voidmaster her place at the table. “That’s good to hear. Please, take your seat.”
Even though Voidmaster did her best to keep her cape in place, Seneschal did manage to get a couple of glimpses of what she tried to hide beneath. Her Navy uniform was still the same, and it was fighting a losing battle against Voidmaster’s notorious eating habits. Her outer jacket was undone, and the white shirt beneath was stretched so much it looked as if it’s been painted on, specks of belly flesh bulging through the gaps in fabric between buttons. Her belt was buttoned into the last hole, and underneath it Seneschal managed to spot flaps of her unbuttoned and unzipped pants, which, in turn, clung to her thighs so tightly she could have sworn she heard a creak or two as Voidmaster awkwardly shuffled to her seat.
“Before we proceed,” Seneschal looked at her companions, a glimmer of hope flashing in her eyes, “did anyone hear anything from Magos?”
“I did,” replied Agatha, “She found four more recipes while you were away.”
“Oh, that’s fucking fantastic,” Seneschal involuntarily clenched her fists, spotting new dishes on the overloaded table, “So… are there news regarding safely switching off the STC?”
“No,” Agatha shrugged, “why do you keep asking?”
“Lady Caffarael, it’s been nearly six months since we’re mothballed deep within the quarantined space, and if anyone jumps into this system...”
“Emperor above, not this shit again,” muttered Voidmaster, her voice clearly irate, “Look, we’ve been through this a dozen of times already. She’ll notify us once she’s done. You get notified first. Let our coghead do her thing in peace, alright?”
“When was the last time any of you saw her? Not heard on vox, not saw on screen – in person?”
“Alright, that’s enough!” barked Agatha. “This banquet is being held in your honor, to commemorate your efforts and celebrate your exploits in the service to House Caffarael! If you are so insistent on annoying us, so be it, but don’t expect me to give you such honors in the future!”
“You know, I might as well accept on that offer,” Seneschal grinned sarcastically. “Because if none of you noticed, let me be the first to enlighten you! This device is tainted! It clearly did something to our Magos! And this food is tainted too! Just... look at yourselves! If that’s not enough, take a trip through the decks and look at your crew! Please, Lady Caffarael, I beg you,” Seneschal dropped down onto her knees, tears veiling at her eyes, “just give the order to cut the cord! This madness has to be stopped! I will do it myself, if needs be!”
“Out,” Rogue Trader pointed at the door.
“Lady Caffarael, I implore you...”
“Get out of my sight. And don’t ever return until I receive a proper written apology. If anything happens to the STC in the meantime, you are getting keelhauled. Dixi.”
With a defeated sigh, Seneschal rose back to her feet, picked her data-slate from the table and left for her office.
“Gluttony is a sin,” briefly stopping by the door, she said to no one in particular, “yet it’s not too late to repent”.
For a moment, an uneasy silence fell upon the banquet hall.
“M-maybe she’s right,” mumbled Voidmaster, “Maybe… we did get… you know... a little bit overboard...”
“Reverent Ellyn, what say you?” Agatha inquiried.
Reverent Ellyn did not look comfortable during the exchange, but not because any of the words disturbed her – Missionary was still painfully full from the morning sermon, and she did her best to appease her bloated stomach throughout, yet had little success so far.
“Many denominations within the Ecclesiarchy do not recognize gluttony as one of the mortal sins,” replied Missionary. “And even if it ultimately is, the food before us is clearly a gift from the God-Emperor himself, so even if we did get a little overboard, it’s not because we wished to commit sacrilege, but because of our righteous desire to take most from the divine blessing that He bestowed upon us.”
“Could not have put it better myself. Say, can you talk some sense into our Seneschal? If you get the chance, of course.”
“She’s overworked and she needs to rest first and foremost. Let’s give her a couple of weeks and see how she fares after that.”
“Fair enough. Alright, that’s enough beating around the bush,” Agatha raised her glass of brandy, “Ladies, let’s dig in already, lest our feast grows stale.”
“We humbly thank our Immortal EmperURP...” folding her hands into the sign of Aquila, began Missionary, only to be interrupted by an ungainly belch. “Ahem. We humbly thank our Immortal Emperor for the food He provided for us today, and we pray we can serve Him like He serves us. Amen.”