Aeschelus drew his sword, eliciting cries from some of the nobles, weeping from others. He looked around the hall. Many of the troopers were fixed on him, others looking away with shame or fear. He could see their officers, epaulettes and ceremonial swords picking them out among the scarlet. None seemed ready to intervene. They had been instructed to witness whatever came to pass.

It was an act of honour that he found difficult to reconcile with the furtive message he had listened to on Leshk Station.

‘Stand.’

Hesitantly, gaze averted, the Imperial commander pushed himself upright.

‘Look at me.’

Lowensten did so, swallowing hard, his jaw twitching. His eyes still carried a look of stoic strength.

‘Do you believe you deserve death?’

The hard stare wavered.

‘I… I would rather live, but I am resigned to my failures.’

‘Why did you offer surrender to the enemies of the Emperor?’

‘I was weak.’ There was no equivocation in his tone or expression. The Imperial commander spoke as though he expected these words to be recorded as his last. ‘We could not know what was happening. The Astronomican disappeared, the warp vanished. The will to live, the enemy sapped it from us hour by hour. Only here on the palaces did we keep some semblance of order. We could not protect a whole world. I could not. I feared that if they attacked us directly then all hope of resistance would be lost. Perhaps, just perhaps, we could divert their ire while we found a way to break the curse on our minds.’

‘A ruse? It was a ruse?’

‘I would lie if I said I did not consider it a capitulation. I was ready to surrender. But I did not intend to do so permanently if opportunity arose.’

The commander flinched when Aeschelus lifted his blade. It was a human response, nothing more. He owned his guilt plainly. Aeschelus could see strength there, and honour. Was it his duty to kill a man for a momentary lapse? Could he hold Lowensten to the same standard as an augmented officer of the Adeptus Astartes, to be unflinching in every circumstance? And though he was foremost a military officer, he was not ignorant of the political implications, regardless of what he had said to Fedualis. It was not his mission simply to slay the foe, but to restore the power of the Imperium.

He sheathed his blade and the hall was filled with sighs, whispers and relieved laughter.

Lowensten stood unmoving, face impassive. ‘I thought you would do it,’ he said quietly.

‘I might still, if you disappoint me, Imperial commander.’