The doors of the Chamber Imperius swung wide onto darkness. The lumens were out, though the shutters were open, admitting a pale wash of starlight from the high windows that made up the walls. Like the dome overhead, the walls were almost entirely of armaglass, and numerous enough that they gave a near-complete view of the ship, from its gargantuan ploughshare ram to the outer edges of its city-sized engine stack. Felix stopped, momentarily taken aback. There was no better way to see the Macragge’s Honour, one of the last Gloriana-class battleships left in the galaxy, than to view it from the Chamber, and he was arrested by its majesty. It was immense, of a scale that defied description. It was surrounded by many more massive craft, the core of Battle Group Alphus, chief spearhead of Indomitus Crusade Fleet Primus. But these others, though huge themselves, were but slivers of metal against the Macragge’s Honour. There were no women or men who could build its like any more. The science was lost. The will was lacking. The Macragge’s Honour was a relic of a better age, a monstrous weapon from higher times, and in that it was exactly like its master.

Roboute Guilliman was on the far side of the room, near the raised stalls where the Council Exterra sat when in session. Just then, there were no others present, and the chamber was completely empty but for the primarch, making it seem larger than usual despite all the chairs and thrones that took up its floor.

Guilliman cut a lonely figure against the field of stars and ships. The primarch was not looking at the view, but had a hololithic light weave, depicting a world, open in front of him, and it was to this he gave his full attention. The hololith shone a wan glow up into his face, lending him an ashen cast. Even from the far side of the room, Felix recognised Iax. The signs of a planet sickened by Nurgle’s maladies were clear, and seemed to infect the primarch by reflection.

Not for the first time, Felix thought Roboute Guilliman looked tired.

Guilliman looked up from the image. Shadow trapped his eyes.

‘Decimus,’ Guilliman said. Felix’s given name echoed around the Chamber Imperius, as if looking for somewhere to settle. It found no home, but died quietly, lost in the high peak of the dome. ‘It is good to see you.’ He sounded sincere.

Felix approached his lord. In Felix’s body were numerous additional organs, and coiled supplemental strands of gene-code, all taken from the primarch. Guilliman was not truly his father, but Guilliman was as close to kin as Felix had. Their blood was mixed.

Felix knelt with difficulty, his heavy armour hampering his movements, and bowed his head. He waited for Guilliman to speak. When he did not, Felix spoke instead.

‘You are not angry that I came?’ he said quietly, expecting rebuke.