A pair of ornately armoured warriors flanked the steps of his throne; Hendrick was surprised to realise they were aelves – lithe figures in crested helms, gold armour and flowing white cloaks who stood to attention as the regent descended from his throne, and who prowled at his side radiating elegant menace as he strode forwards.

‘Welcome, my children, welcome to Draconium!’ he said in a booming voice. Hendrick wasn’t sure what he had expected, but it was not this.

‘My lord regent militant,’ said Captain Morthan, dropping to one knee and motioning for the Swords to do the same. All of them but Borik complied, Romilla going so far as to prostrate herself with a heartfelt ‘Your divine grace.’

The regent militant laughed, taking Romilla gently by the shoulders and raising her to her feet. He smiled broadly at her.

‘Sister, there is no need for formality. You are all to call me Selvador, for we are all but humble equals beneath the gaze of the God-King, are we not? Come, all of you, stand, stand.’

Hendrick rose, feeling thoroughly wrong-footed. Romilla’s expression was almost comical in its amazement, and Bartiman was smiling with relief. Surely, his expression said, here was a man who would listen to what they had to say.

‘Helena, my dear, how fare my brave watchmen?’ asked the regent militant.

‘As well as we can, my lord,’ she said, and Hendrick noted that the captain hadn’t relaxed despite the regent militant’s avuncular nature. ‘The problems persist, and dark omens continue to manifest.’

‘And I do not doubt for a second that, just like my dear Arch-Lector Hessam, you are more than equal to this trying time,’ said Selvador, smiling indulgently. ‘Sigmar tests us all, does he not, but we will not be found wanting! Now, I understand that these brave souls have fought their way to our gates to deliver a message, is that not true?’

‘My lord, they come with a warning, bought at great price. I believe they may have been sent by Sigmar himself,’ said Captain Morthan. Hendrick felt his heart beat faster, felt the predatory stares of the aelven guards and the sudden pressure as the moment they had worked for arrived all too suddenly.

Selvador turned to look at him, then at each of his companions in turn. His expression was grave.

‘Well, by all means deliver your message, and I shall hear each and every word as though it came from the lips of the God-King to my unworthy ears.’

The next ten minutes felt like an eternity. Hendrick did his best to explain how they had come by their message, though he was acutely aware that his rough soldier’s voice sounded jarring and out of place in this magnificent chamber with its soft choral song. Eleanora delivered the words again, exactly as she remembered them, and the regent militant frowned and nodded with solemn severity throughout the entire account.