Amidst the throng of humanity in the streets shuffled a completely unremarkable figure, easily blending in with the multitude of workers and menial laborers surrounding him. From underneath a thick, heavy hood, inquisitive grey eyes stared, underlined by dark bags that suggested a minimum of rest was part of this person's daily cycle. Haxtes was an archivist, far down in the hierarchy of bureaucrats and paper pushers, labouring endlessly over dusty old papers and data slates, copying and passing on their contents to the requisite recipients. However, a year ago, the adept had been transfered to the local Arbites office, at the time in need of clerks and bureaucrats, and half a year ago he had been attached to an Arbite investigator named Cat Thebe. His job was to provide her with intel, information on red tape and procedural rituals, and make notes of everything she found in her job. So far, he had proven himself to be a tireless and effective, if somewhat peculiar, assistant.<br/><br/>Keeping his head low, the thin, gaunt man followed the investigator into a building, away from the teeming mass of people, the scent of sweat and humans replaced by the stink of urine and decay. Why they were here, he didn't know, and he did not really expect to be told. He simply followed her and did as he was told. Her guidance led them up into the upper floors of the building, and into a dark room, lit only by the glowing light of a data slate. It was slightly larger than the one he carried in the pocket of his Administratum robes, along with his auto-quill, the principal tools of his trade. But even if the room was dark and bereft of furniture apart from the table, it was not empty.<br/><br/>From what Haxtes could tell, one of the men was a member of the Imperial Guard, though the uniform was of an unknown design, the origin of his regiment obscured to the gaunt man. He could of course just pull out his data slate and find the information, his fingers itching nervously to fill the small hole in his knowledge, but the adept resisted the temptation. The other was an adept of Mars, a tech priest, one hand locked securely around the reins of a brutish, animal-like machine, which Haxtes effortlessly identified as a sort of mechanical attack beast. Warily, he glanced at it, while shifting subtly closer to Cat, the only familiarity in the room. "Seems we are not alone, Miss," he muttered quietly, his voice a raspy little sound which seemed to disappear into nothingness unless there was near-total silence, like the one dominating the room. He offered a bow and a slight smile towards his mechanically-inclined colleague, but the smile at the tech adept was broken by a nervous twitch of the right side of his face.<br/><br/>The short, gaunt adept startled visibly as a voice appeared behind them, belonging to a being which seemed if possibly to be even skinnier and more wretched than the adept himself, the thick robes almost drowning the man if not for the eerie glow of his eyes. Haxtes took a step back, subconsciously putting Cat between him and the new presence, the stub revolver inside his robes suddenly feeling heavier. The adept lowered his head, letting the darkness of his hood conceal most of his face, his lips working silently with some inner monologue.