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Vegna Fouroux

This being the words of Tiridates Mikadze

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"you know what I do boy?"

The adjutant nodded quickly. He couldn't see the old man due to the darkness and realized the he in turn couldn't have seen the nod and was about to speak when -

"Good. You don't talk. I hate talkers."

There ensued a silence. The young NCO looked about the office. It was, (much like the old man himself) a relic. Very much a touch of the "old Ordo" about it. No neon to be found here, or brilliant sheets of metal...or much technology at all. With what he could make out from the warm, lamplight , there appeared to be a large, dark, wooden writing desk in the corner of the room. A few framed photographs with some very senior Ordo Personnel in them and the pale outline of the outdated Ordo Imperialis Crux dominating from above the desk. Again the voice came out from the shadows.

"But you're wrong you know. No one knows what I do. Except - well."

The adjutant approached the desk. "Sir...I have here..a message from His excellency, The Imperator." But the voice just kept on talking; "You know I'm the most unfortunate? Oh they all did well for themselves; Zrazor got that Harem finally approved, bloody degenerate, Agares got to facelift the entire Imperiosus Cult. Kytec...well I always liked him. I don't begrudge him anything. But Kristian Kit and that cane of his? We're the same age you know, but he makes me feel like a wrinkly fish, dying his hair silver prematurely...smarmy bastard. They were all my friends once, in the old days, before Intus and Aelus..died.."

The man hobbled to the desk from the back of the room, where he had been sitting on the floor the whole time. His face was like a battered Ash tree. But the first thing the boy noticed was the way the light danced in his eyes. Big, brilliant, blue eyes gleaming with a ferocious intelligence. "However, that's the past and I guess you're here with the new. Give me the message young man."

"Well...uh...Sir it's more of a parcel"

"Give it here."

Taking the parcel, He hobbled over to the comfortable, leather chair, and removed what sounded like empty bottles off the desk. There was a rustling of paper, a thud of metal. And then utter silence.

"Oh."

After 5 minutes

"Sir?"

He swivelled the chair around. "Oh it's too be expected, someone like me." His eyes flashed in the light. "Too much up here you see." He said pointing to his head. he took the parcel off the desk and showed it to the boy. Inside there was a gun and a note simply stating You're in the way, leave at your convience. - Aryte

"Sir you don't mean -"

"Yes. Surprised? Don't think Ordo doesn't do this to each other?"

"But...But...you're..."

"Yes I'm Tiridates Mikadze, former Primus of the Frumentarii. 7 great wounds I bear from battle. I kill my enemies and scatter their ashes to the wind. Yet now I must make this sacrifice for the Ordo. My past services disregarded. My memory deleted. Tell me boy, what would you do?"

"Sir...I don't know..."

The old man smiled.

SUDDENLY, multicoloured neon lights started flashing up the office. a podium arose out of the ground. A Furry in a hot pink officer's uniform started gyrating as loud, drumming, techno pulsed through the room. Enlisted men in hot pants started rushing the office, everyone dancing to their own Boom Boom. Howling furries descended from the ceiling caked in glowstick fluid. Zrazor Rozenstrauch, the pink uniform-clad furry, begin singing; "IT'S RAINING MEN..HALLEJUAH IT'S RAINING MEN..." At this point The Imperator Aryte Vesperia strode into the epileptic office, donning a flashing multi-coloured strobe-cape, he looked every inch the diva-wolf. He leaped at the young NCO roaring;

ORDO IMPERIALIS - IT'S A PARTY.

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