Some grunts bring them breakfast, officers’ food served on silver trays. Pot-grown roast on buttered grains, thick mugs of milk tea. As the circ network thins the savory fumes Misery studies the expressions of those around her. She’s gotten good at reading people, saint or no. The blend of hope and terror in this room is peat-rich and full of potential. Such orchards she could plant in this fertile ground.

“I have come,” Pyrex Imogen says, “to ask a favor. Or perhaps I should not call it such. I have come to encourage you upon a course of action.”

“It’s a good course of action,” says the Duke. “The only reasonable one, really.”

They’ve talked about this beforehand, the two of them alone. General Tsung and the major know just as little as Misery does. Secrets and machinations. She nods to show she’s listening.

“I have been monitoring closely the actions of the Throne. While they remain unaware of the many miracles that have transpired on this station, there is a growing sense of their impatience with the Church. The Emperor remains spooked by his last brush with divinity, and has chosen to withdraw further into the shells that protect him. He will not entertain audiences, nor will he appear in public. He has, to all appearances, vanished.”

“Coward,” Lightning hisses.

“We would expect nothing less of him, and the apparatus of the Throne,” General Tsung says. “What are you truly asking, Imogen?”

The Archbishop folds their hands, calm as ice and just as bright. Their food glistens cold and untouched before them. “Word from the inner circles is that the Throne is close to a deal with the Heretics. A refreshing of the Truce of Logan, or perhaps even a cessation of hostilities. An end to the war, but in the worst possible way.” They fix their gaze upon the General. “You are, I presume, entirely unsurprised by this.”

General Tsung leans back in the silver of their chair, brows heavy. “No. I am not.”

“A surrender to the nullvoid,” Major Reyes mutters, shaking xer head.

The Archbishop continues: “What I am saying is that the miracles here may not be enough to sway the Throne from its foolishness.”

Major Reyes slaps the table with a fist, the sound bouncing off the walls like a shot. “We vanquished enemies that have plagued us for cycles. We destroyed a Heretic ship. Will they deny that?”

Pyrex Imogen remains unmoved, still and resolute. “I am telling you what I know. The Throne values making peace with the Heretics. I fear that our achievements here will not sway them. Church analysts think they will take our archangel and present it to the Heretics, whose curiosity over these sacred artifacts is both profane and insatiable.”