Flying into the sky, she realized that the zombie horde would follow her. Not at a respectable pace maybe, but follow her anyway. They had little else to do. So she’d have to ensure that there was no zombie horde to follow her. Gathering her faith, she released it in a massive explosion of power that lit up the Underhive. Though it also released a concussive shockwave that knocked Emia out of the sky. Her shield managed to block the damage, as well as the crash to the floor, but that and her wings drained the faith to zero just as she landed back where she had come from.

And not having any faith was a bad thing because there was a damned war going on here. Madmen in armour better than she thought the Underhive could get were beating people over the head with shock batons and arc mauls, weapons designed to incapacitate rather than kill. These guys weren’t here to kill or take over or anything like that, they were here for people. So Emia pulled her pistols up and and plugged a pair, though firing through the crowd without hitting any of her flock - when people call you a Saint, might as well live up to that - took enough focus that she missed a man on her right, and got tackled off her feet, guns flying across the ground as her arms flailed to keep their balance from the sudden tackle.

It was here that she regretted not putting any points into strength, as the brute straddled her, pinning her to the ground as his hands wrapped around her throat and started squeezing. Emia’s legs started to kick as she was choked, and she thrashed at the man, throwing punches that didn’t land well because of the terrible angle. Coughing and retching as she started to asphyxiate, she was saved just before unconsciousness by a man braining the guy with a rusty pipe, allowing Emia to get up.

“Come on, Saint! We gotta get outtaaaaaaaa!” He was cut off by an arc maul electrocuting him and dropping him to a twitching pile on the ground. Emia was trying to get her breath back, and seeing the guy coming at her, panicked in the moment, trying to think of something to do rather than just doing something.

The maul smashed into her torso, knocking her off her feet and sending a painful jolt through her body. It wasn’t as bad as it should have been for her high stamina, but it was definitely something she wanted to avoid. Unfortunately, the universe was a bitch, and the guy came and jabbed his maul into her back, pressing it in while Emia twitched and screamed, until she finally passed out from the shock. It was a dreamless unconsciousness, and one interrupted by a kick in the ribs, waking her back up.

Her first thought was that time had passed so she’d launch blazing fire at everyone in range, but there was a heavy collar around her neck, and it seemed around everyone else’s neck as well. A slowly flashing light implied there was something terribly bad about these collars, and if she tried anything, it could go really badly. So she tried to get up and found her arms were tied in a horribly painful manner, around her back and attached to the collar, feeling like her arms were going to wrench out of their sockets. Mockingly, though no doubt inadvertently, they were in the same position Emia held them to pray to The Emperor, only around her back instead of her front.

Dragged up, chained in a line, and force marched across the underhive, Emia had had better mornings, though she managed to keep her flock going with gentle encouragement and soft words, along with Faith powers. The march took most of the day, and her flock were flagging with fatigue by the time they arrived. A large instillation, it was recognized as the water purification plant for the Hive above. Renovated as a strong defensive fortification, and manned by guys with better hygiene and equipment than was to be expected from underhive creatures, it was an impressive edifice. Though right now was not a time to be awed by the infrastructure, as they were dragged in front of a man who, with a swipe of his fancy baton, would direct them away to different parts of the ground.

Emia and a large portion of her flock was dragged away to an indoor field. Heavy artificial lighting helped the crops grow, but also made it oppressively hot and uncomfortable for the people working here, as well as the incredible stench of the dead bodies being used as fertilizer . Still, the slavers didn’t care, and forced them to get to work tending and farming. Emia did as she could, making sure that her flock were buoyed and emboldened by her, healing their fatigue with her touch, though at a cost of her own. Which was fine, she could handle it.

Another thing she quickly learned was exactly what the collars were. A few days into this slavery, when she was scouting exits and number of people, a loud crack rang out across the compound, and then some slaves dragging a headless body into the ‘farm’ to become fertalizer for the plants. Bomb collars certainly put a hamper on her plan...With every day growing less and less likely to get out of here, and every one of her flock growing more reliant on her. Sure they called her Saint and looked up to her memory, but the memory was a far different thing to the real being. She unequipped her armour because it was far to hot for that, and turned her dress into small strips so that she could cool down if only slightly, and gave the rest to others to do the same. With Emia at the helm, her people did not do so terribly. Unfortunately, though she made a little cult here with her flock, it attracted the wrong sort of attention.

A few months after arriving, her skin tanned from the constant exposure to the fake sun lights, her eyes bagged and her body sore and weak from the constant work and aid supporting her flock, and she was dragged elsewhere. Through the ‘city’ and to the water purification plant that was doubling as the palace. Here, she met the King, self-styled but no less powerful in this plot of land.

“Ahh, hello. I heard great tales of the Saint in my midsts, and wanted to meet you in person. I hope you don’t mind?” He spoke. The clothes, the speech, the way he moved, it was clear he was not from the Underhive. And so Emia spoke up as much.

“You don’t belong here” she told him, a dispassionate glare locked onto him. Not that it bothered him at all.

“Correct. I am in fact from the Upper Hive, would you believe? Bah, boring place up there. Everyone has their power bases, and there is nothing to do except what has been done a million times over. All skulduggery and sneaking and trying to kill anyone in your way without it being tied to you but in such a way you take control of their assets. Bah, I say. So I came down here with my houseguard, where might rules and there is a wealth of undisputed power” he exclaimed, clearly quite proud of his achievements and bursting to tell anyone who would listen and a few people that didn’t.

“Well, your noble kingliness, it’s delightful to hear your tales, but I have work to do” Emia replied drily, pointing towards the door.

“Indeed. Though, I have called you here because you have better work to do for me than such grunt work” he told her, stepping up and then stepping back. “Later.Markus, take her to the bathroom, have her cleaned up and properly dressed will you?” he spoke to one of the burly bodyguards standing nearby, who nodded and grabbed Emia, dragging her off. She hadn’t the strength to oppose him at her peak, and didn’t want to risk the idea that the bomb collar did more damage than she could survive. So she simply let herself be dragged off to the bathroom, where a pair of women stripped her out of her clothes, and dunked her into the tub. Half-drowned by the end of it, coughing and spluttering but smelling nice, she had little breath to fight against them drying her off and sticking her in a surprisingly lovely gown. Pure white, almost glimmering, with a wide skirt that reached her feet and sleeves that covered to her wrists. Not a single point bar her face was uncovered, there was even a tall strip for her neck, that was folded down as the bomb collar covered that.

Washed and fluffed and dressed, she was taken back to the King, who was dressed far more sparsely and sat on a throne, two girls crouched next to him.

“There we go. That is an outfit befitting the Holy Mother” he exclaimed, laughing softly to himself.

“The what?” Emia asked, not small amount of vitriol in her voice. She hated the idea of this man being anywhere near her faith.

“The Holy Mother. See, you made a lovely little cult out of the farm slaves, I thought I’d use my property in a more efficient manner and have you make a Cult out of the entire city. I always wanted to be worshipped” he told her, leaning back and stroking the head of one of the girls. “Ohh, take that gauche collar off her, would you?” he ordered, Emia’s bomb collar coming off a few seconds later. It was the worst thing he could have done. The two girls besides him made it hard to unleash a gout of flame, but she could still run up to him and punch his smug face in. Which was exactly what she did.

Moving rapidly, she got a few blows in before the bodyguards pulled her off, but the vindictive smile on the man’s face made Emia freeze, as if it was a terribly bad decision.

“Haha! Yes, I suspected you were a woman like this” he exclaimed, wiping the nose blood away. “You are a martyr who can take horrendous amounts of abuse for her faith, and will die before acquiescing to evil, like me. It would be a waste of time and effort to even try. So we won’t” he would then speak into a vox bead, and one of her people were dragged in, held by another rough looking army man. “You will have several levels of infractions, Holy Mother. Minor infractions, such as scoffing, sneering, or glaring at me derisively, will be minor, and it will earn you front row seats, to a beating”

He would gesture to the man brought in, who would get a strong punch in the face, and then a few more that left him bloody.

“Hey! They have done nothing wrong!” Emia shouted, thrashing in the grasp of the man holding her.

“Indeed, totally innocent. Which makes them a good incentive for you to follow the rules. Moderate infractions will include not calling me Master, not following my orders, and interrupting me. It will earn you front row seats, to a crippling” he carried on, totally remorselessly as the crunch of bone rang out from the man’s legs being broken.

“P-please! I’ll do as you say, just stop hurting them” Emia screamed. Here she realized how much she had relied on them. How much her people had meant to her heart. Maybe this was what Faith did, made those who gave it so close to those who received it.

The King would step up from his throne and walk over, grabbing her chin and dragging it up to look at him.

“Good Girl” He spoke, such a condescending tone it boiled Emia’s blood. But, she could do nothing about it, and was just freed from the holdings of the man behind her. She quickly ran up to her dear mutant follower and healed his wounds, stroking his head gently and soothing his nerves so he could stand.

“Ohh, also” the King spoke, her man’s throat getting slashed out a second later. “Severe infractions involve any act of violence, attempts to escape, or goad others into escaping. This will earn one of your friends dying in a fittingly horrible manner” his voice was just the same as before, even as a man bled to death from a slashed throat. Emia was frozen in horror, that the King would allow her to heal the man and then kill him. “As for Critical Infractions, well. They involve not calling me Master in public, disobeying my orders in public, undermining my authority in any way, and not wearing your veil in public. You really don’t want to find out the punishment for those” The king would finish.

Stunned and mentally reeling, Emia looked up at him, stuttering as she tried to get the words out.

“V-veil?” she asked, trying to cling to something.

“Ohh, yea. You are to wear this whenever you go out into the town or to the balcony to give a speech. A delightful jewel like you will only be seen by those who I deem worthy” he would attach a white cloth veil over her face, hooking over her ears and covering her face from the eyes downwards. “Now, with the ground rules out of the way, what do you say we begin this?”