‘Captain Aeschelus,’ she replied with a bow. She pointed to the embroid­ered portcullis motif on her chest. ‘The Order of the Gate. You are of the Ultramarines Chapter. The gene-sons of the lord commander himself.’

‘You are aware of the pri­march’s return?’ Aeschelus was pleased. Such conversations were always difficult and he preferred to avoid unnecessary questions regarding Roboute Guilliman’s apparent resurrection. ‘You have been in contact since the storms broke the Imperium?’

‘For several years, yes,’ said Aures. She nodded towards Fedualis, who stood behind and to the side of the captain, fidgeting nervously. ‘Your fellow astropaths will be waiting for you in their choir-hall, adept. You will be guided to them momentarily.’

‘My thanks, Sister.’

‘Where is the Imperial commander?’ Aeschelus stepped forward and the Sister-Chatelain moved with him, maintaining an air of grace despite her rapid steps.

They passed between two lines of ten scarlet-clad soldiers, who fell in behind the Bladeguard. Ahead, two more squads of planetary troops formed up to lead the procession through a gilded arch. The walls of the gallery were lined with large portraits, several dozen in all. Aeschelus could see the familial resemblance between them. The floor was carpeted, strange underfoot after so many years of nothing but ship decks and battlefields to tread upon. It felt like sinking into mud. The walls were decorated with printed paper in ochre and green, the floral patterns intertwined with figurative iterations of the Imperial aquila. Evidently they had docked at some privileged station more accustomed to welcoming dignitaries and figures of rank from the Adeptus Terra.

‘He is through here, captain,’ the Sister replied, indicating the grand archway ahead. At its apex was a monogram shield held in the claws of a double-headed eagle, with the initials KML. Scrollwork beneath attested to the commander as Benefactor of Orestes, Chosen of Terra, Beloved of the Emperor.

Titles that spoke of ego, not service. Fedualis’ argument that the Imperial commander had surrendered for his people seemed flat in the face of such evidence of selfishness.

Something in Aeschelus’ expression must have warned Aures that his thoughts on the commander were not complimentary.

‘I hope we do not have cause for regret for inviting you aboard our palaces.’ Aures’ words were a warning that the Oresteans would protect their leader.

Aeschelus said nothing and tried harder to keep any violent intent from his face and posture. If he was to act, it would be better not to broadcast the fact.