Lazarus has his back turned against the room, facing the city from a large balcony; his station weighed heavily upon him, the last member and now de facto head of the once proud Markov dynasty, forged in the very fires of Sainthood before the God Emperor, now reduced to a single warship and a residential complex, grand a ship as it may be.
Nevertheless, something had to be done about the family's dwindling fortune, and it fell up to him to contend with one such a solution. With one such a military vessel as his only asset, and contacts among the Battlefleet, military engagement would, of course, be the most sensible course of action, if also the riskiest one.
Noticing the arrivals, he starts, without turning around "I see you are all here; as you well know, my brother and former family head has disappeared into the void for all we know, a regrettable event, though one that places me at the head of the family. Not that there is much left... Other than that, of course" he says, referring to the grand cruiser.
He turns back, slowly walking towards the center of the room "That asset is, thus, our only strength, and one we must seek to employ for the sake of His Empire; what better way to accomplish that than lend the Battlefleet a hand, I ask? Let us break the stalemate at Jolis, and as the Warrant mandates, liberate the planet for the Markov dynasty; surely, after the treacherous heathen at the helm of the planet is dealt with, a new governor, one of less shifting loyalties and truer faith, shall have to be arranged for".
"What is your take on it, loyal servants of the Empire?" he concludes, stopping besides his desk.