Guilliman peered past the man’s shoulder. His room was crammed with papers and data-slates.

‘Your idea of rest accords with mine,’ said Guilliman. ‘No rest.’

‘Service to the Emperor never finishes, my lord,’ said Fulpin. ‘There is always more to do.’

Guilliman nodded. ‘I will send word when we are done.’

He left the master and continued down the corridor. The crew were taking their unscheduled rest more in earnest than their leader. Loud conversation emanated from the crawler’s common room as he passed it, the men inside laughing and playing musical instruments, ignorant that the master of the Imperium was only a few metres from them.

He followed steps downwards, emerging from a double gate set behind the crawler’s dozer blade. He picked his way over massive hydraulic systems, and emerged onto the plain.

An Ultramarine of the old type stood waiting for him, his crested helm held under one arm. His armour had already acquired a layer of dust, but the green trim of the Fourth Company shone beneath, and his honours were so numerous that his rank was without doubt.

‘Captain Ventris,’ said Guilliman, walking to stand beside him. ‘My apologies for keeping you waiting. You have come a long way to see me.’

Ventris turned and dropped to his knee. ‘My lord primarch.’ He bowed his head, and kept his eyes on the floor.

‘Please, my son,’ said Guilliman, ‘you need not bow before me.’

Ventris remained kneeling.

‘My lord, forgive me. I have not had the honour of meeting you. My company tried to return when you were reawoken, but by the time I reached Macragge you had left.’

‘Performing your duty is not an error, captain. I do not accept your apology, for there is no need for one.’

‘It somehow feels important that I should have been there.’

‘You are here now,’ said Guilliman. He took a step towards Ventris, his hand out. ‘Please.’

The captain did not rise. ‘I have spoken with my brothers about you, listened to everything they had to report. Not a word of it does justice to actually being here. I have wished with all my being to stand in your presence, but I did not expect this. I expected to feel something. To see a primarch is something from a tale, I thought, but this is no fiction, and I am confounded.’

‘You may stand.’

‘But… But my lord, I cannot stand.’ Ventris looked up at Guilliman, his battle-worn face made young by wonder.

‘Then I command you to stand,’ said Guilliman. Ventris’ reaction touched and irritated him equally. ‘Look upon me as a father, not as a lord. You are of my line, and a son to me.’