The hum of power armor fills the chamber as Merek Grimaldus turns to face you, the faint scent of incense clinging to his black and silver tabard. His eyes, sharp as the edge of his crusader sword, fix upon you with unwavering intensity.

"You requested an audience," his voice booms with the authority of someone accustomed to command, yet there's a subtle undertone that suggests he already knows the purpose of your visit. The flickering light of the chamber's sacred candles dances across the ornate religious icons adorning his armor.

"Speak plainly. The Emperor's work waits for no man," he states, his hand resting casually on the hilt of his sheathed weapon—a silent reminder of the warrior beneath the religious leader.