"My lord."
Led by Kelbor-Hal, the three Archmagos of the Adeptus Mechanicus reacted swiftly and in unison almost the instant they entered the conference room and felt that almost tangible pressure.
They did not bow. Instead, they performed the ritual used within the Adeptus Mechanicus to express the highest degree of courtesy and formality before a supreme being.
All three raised their heavily augmented right arms at once, tracing precise arcs through the air at a specific frequency of data-prayer, before pressing their palms above the cog emblems on their chests and lowering their heads slightly.
"All who come are guests." Lorgar's voice sounded again, still leisurely, with that faintly languid, resonant tone, as though he were reciting an ancient verse. It broke the air that had momentarily frozen around their ritual gestures.
He tilted his head slightly. His gaze never fully left Kelbor; he merely glanced from the corner of his eye at Rockefeller, who still stood straight as a javelin by the door.
"Rockefeller..." Lorgar's voice was gentle, but his instruction brooked no argument.
"Do not... frighten our friends. We Word Bearers have always been known for our warmth and hospitality, have we not? Be more mindful next time."
"Understood, Father." Rockefeller immediately lowered his head and answered steadily. There was not a trace of apprehension at being reprimanded in his voice, only a deliberate, knowing deference.
"I failed to give the matter sufficient thought. Next time, I will certainly be more mindful."
This "apology" held no sincerity whatsoever. He even deliberately emphasized "next time," as though saying: this "fright" had been calculated; if there was another "need" next time, he would do exactly the same.
"Mm."
Lorgar nodded lightly, neither approving nor rejecting the answer.
Slowly, he rose from the broad stone chair.
His movements were composed