Catyaina Curiatia

The first thing I took note of, upon entry to docking yards, was the presence of ten men clad in flak armor of the most brilliant blue, each with a gold dragon's emblem on their breast. A lasgun of compact design was slung over each man's shoulder, its placement betraying the training each Armsman had received. One amongst them, carrying the cutlass that marks him as the sergeant of the squad, held an arcane catalog device. Fate grants me the opportunity to see it's function as I arrive, passing the reader's crimson light over a crewmen's papers, marking his passage away from the ship and onto the freeport of Footfall.

Apparently known by face, Felix approached the guards and passed threw without so much as being given a second glance, and I, under his lead, passed likewise unchecked. The door opened up to the primary loading bay, an expansive area buzzing with the activity of human and servitor labor alike. As we covered the distance across the bay, I watched with curiosity as small cartloads, even armloads of cargo are carried out of the ship's doors and consolidated into loads for Footfall's service trucks.

The reason for this seemingly inefficient mode of unloading quickly became apparent to me as my guide lead me past two more squads of Armsmen, each fortified with a heavy stubber, who watched over the landscape with the calm attentiveness of those firm in the belief of their side's own superiority. Now onboard the great vessel, the wide and easily traveled passageway quickly surrendered itself to an obscurely marked series of doorways the very size and quantity of the carts and cargo haulers I watched with such curiosity just moments earlier. We exited by way of a side door I could not have picked out from the score of seemingly identical portals in the room, and made our way to the bridge.