‘I… I sometimes name them,’ Plient said as the machine lumbered over to my cases. ‘I don’t know why. Silly really.’

‘There’s no harm in it,’ I said, and shrugged, my gaze flitting to the runways. ‘Tell me, will Flight Commander Shard be touching down?’

‘No, sir, she will perform another pass. If those orks slipped through our perimeter it’s possible there are more.’

‘Ah.’ I nodded. ‘Of course. A pity, though. I would have liked to extend my thanks for our rescue.’

‘You’ll get the chance, sir.’

‘Well, thank you again, flight sergeant. I imagine you have other duties to attend to?’

‘Indeed, sir. Thank you for your understanding.’ He smiled, bobbing his head. ‘I’ll get back to maintenance. We have a couple of fighters that need to be patched up.’

‘You assist the tech-priests?’

‘In a manner of speaking, sir,’ he replied, his gaze shifting to his feet. ‘The enginseers are stretched thin between the regiments.’

‘I see. And you have been sanctioned to conduct repairs in their absence?’

‘That’s what they tell me, sir.’

It was not quite an answer, but I did not pursue the matter.

‘Well, good day to you, Plient. I hope we meet again soon.’

‘My pleasure, sir.’ He nodded, throwing out a crisp salute before spinning on his heel and marching across the grounds.

I turned to find the servitor and my possessions gone. I glanced round, fearful, only to spot it entering the château’s vestibule, cases in tow. I raced in pursuit, pushing my way through the press of bodies, struggling to keep pace. I caught a glimpse of it rising from the crowd, ascending a plush staircase. It was remarkably even-footed, plodding along at a steady pace whilst I found myself stumbling and tripping in my haste. Despite their gilded veneer, the stairs were rather uneven, the wood warped and cracked in places.

We ascended for what seemed an age, and I began to panic. Though hardly spritely, the servitor was tireless despite its load, and I fell further behind. At any moment I feared I would lose sight of it.

‘Slow down!’ I gasped.

But the machine did not respond. Mercifully, it abandoned the ascent at the next floor, veering down the leftmost corridor. It turned twice more before halting beside a door. As it attended the lock I leant against the adjacent wall, gasping for breath. The door was comprised of the same wood as the rest of the building, but I found myself wondering how its mechanisms functioned. The frame must have been cut, but it looked almost as though the wood had been coaxed into its current shape, the doorway an organic extension of the corridor, untainted by saw or blade.