‘Infested is not the word I would use for such valued Imperial servants,’ said Felix drily. ‘But in essence, your observation is correct. This is not the primarch’s only war. Beyond the Five Hundred Worlds the Indomitus Crusade continues. He will be done soon in Ultramar. He is preparing to move on, once the final blow is struck at Iax.’

They made straight for the primarch’s personal scriptorium, Felix knowing from his long association with Guilliman that this was his preferred place. The heralds evidently expected the Imperial Regent to be within also, and raised no objection, but enquiries with the historitors there revealed the primarch to be elsewhere, and they were redirected further upward to the Chamber Imperius.

They took lifters to the pinnacle of Guilliman’s Palace Spire. It was a dome of armaglass, a meeting place for matters of the most important sort. Felix knew it well.

He led his men down a vaulted approach corridor as ornate and high as a cathedral nave. As they neared the great doors to the Chamber Imperius, twenty of Guilliman’s Victrix Guard trooped out from rooms to either side and stepped in front of the gates, forming a perfect semicircle, and halting Felix’s progress. They stamped once, slammed their shields down, then clashed them together, presenting a blue wall of ceramite decked with skulls and wings to the tetrarch. In the centre they left a gap wide enough for a single Space Marine to pass, and through this stepped Sicarius, once captain of the Ultramarines Second Company, now commander of Guilliman’s personal guard. He came forward unhelmed and stopped before Felix.

‘Greetings, Tetrarch Felix,’ said Sicarius, with a slight bow of his head. He gripped his sword hilt. His hand was never far from the weapon, either resting on its pommel or toying with its decoration. Sicarius had always resented keeping it sheathed, and that appeared to be ever the case since his return from the warp. ‘To what do we owe the honour of your presence?’

‘I think you know why.’

Sicarius stared at Felix. ‘Do I, tetrarch? Enlighten me.’

Felix looked down on him. Sicarius was unusual for so high ranking a Space Marine in not yet having crossed the Rubicon Primaris. He was older than Felix, at least in terms of active service, though if one counted birthdates, Felix had greater years than nearly every human alive.

‘The primarch. He has my prisoner. Let me through.’

‘He does,’ said Sicarius, but he gave no ground. The Chosen of Vespator and the Victrix Guard stared at each other. A tension stretched the air. Wherever the Adeptus Astartes went, violence was not far behind. There was no hatred between them, but there was an aggressive curiosity. Both groups wished to test themselves against the other.

Felix looked past the shorter warrior to the chamber gates. ‘Was the regent expecting me?’

Sicarius inclined his head. ‘What do you think, brother? He is a primarch.’