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White and gold robes, far richer than his usual austere garb, draped Deacon Benedict's form as he lounged in a plush VIP lobby chair. Yet another gorgeous student in uniform, barely an adult, nervously refilled his ornate glass with ruby-red wine.
"Ah, and another for Anon," Benedict gestured towards you as you arrived, his tone dripping with practiced charm. "Anon! School treating you well, son?"
Relief washed over you, "Father! You're alive! The bomber-!..."
Benedict waved a dismissive hand. "A touch singed, but the Emperor protects! Others... not so fortunate. Pray for their souls, won't you? When you have a moment, of course. Busy with studies, I presume?"
"...Yup, Father," you replied, "And, uh. How are my... barrels?"
A ghost of a smile played on the Deacon's lips. "Rest assured, your... barrels are safe. Now, my dear," he addressed the student, "perhaps you could give us a moment? Be in my quarters in half an hour, yes?"
The student scurried away, clutching the empty wine bottle like a talisman.
Benedict swirled the wine in his glass, offering it towards you. "Larin red, from my homeworld. Try it."
You took the glass awkwardly, clutching the stem like a weapon, and managed a small sip. "Tastes... good."
"...There's a reason I'm here, Anon," Benedict leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "The Godlight, terrorists. Fanatics, heretics. Yesterday's bomber was theirs. And I believe in your talents. The Imperium needs you now. The Tarot, can it tell you anything about the Godlight? Are the students in danger? Others? Any insights you have would be very appreciated."
"Maybe," you replied, weighed by the expectations. "So, like... who are the Godlight? Why are they after the school? I saw 'Mutants' painted outside in the morning."
Benedict scoffed. "Extremists. Heretics who think themselves above the Emperor! They call the Glitterglobe natives mutants – those faces, those figures... all heretical genesmithing, they claim. Lies, of course. Pure slander. Their bloodline stretches back to the first colonists, those who joined the Emperor's Great Uniting. He didn't purge them then, so why now?" He shook his head, exasperation clear. "Generations fighting this 'mutant' paranoia."
"I'll see what I can do." you nodded, then started to draw from the tarot as you silently, mentally, mumbled questions, starting with something basic.
"Is the information that the Deacon has just given me entirely correct?"
[NO]
Well, fine. He might've made some mistakes. But, those looks, could it be..? Please be pure. Please! C'mooooooon!
"Are the Glitterglobe natives mutants?"
[YES]
Fuck!
