‘Clans Kharr and Boskobel.’

Bendikt didn’t know them. Mere explained. ‘Boskobel are led by their clan master, Dunelm. His family have a century old feud with the leader of the Kharr.’

‘Have they been stationed well apart?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Good!’ Bendikt didn’t know a unit who loved their feuds more than the Drookians. They liked killing each other almost as much as they liked to kill the enemies of the God-Emperor. ‘When the time comes I think we should field them alongside each other. A little competition will go a long way!’

Mere nodded. ‘I will make sure of it.’

Bendikt arrived at Malouri seventy hours earlier than the 101st, his lander bringing him down onto the planet at night. There was a welcoming committee of senior military staff. Mere stood at the general’s side as the joints of Bendikt’s augmetic hand grated against each other.

Mere scanned the assembly. ‘No Praetorians,’ he commented.

Bendikt nodded briefly. ‘Good.’

An hour later General Bendikt was at the command head­quarters to meet and greet the commanders of his army. The adepts of the Munitorum were building a small city for the Administratum staff, with hab-blocks, sunken bunkers and a magnificent palace with dining rooms. They were also constructing a prayer chapel, libraries filled with military histories and broad gardens featuring aquila-shaped parterres of neatly clipped box.

Bendikt took the place in at a glance. His metal hand flinched with irritation. The Munitorum were clearly preparing habitation sufficient for decades of siege.

That number was ringing in his head as the palace staff led him along the gravel paths. There were broad steps up to a double set of high windows, and a pair of cherubs hovered above the doorway to the great hall. The planetary dignitaries were gathered there to welcome him. He saw a line of stiff dress coats, velvet lapels, embroidered shakos and long white gloves.

The planetary governor-general was a thin and youthful man, with a high starched collar and prominent Adam’s apple. He had the air of a man newly appointed to the role and spoke platitudes about his arrival being a ray of hope for their planet, the indignity of having traitors upon their home world and what an honour it was for Cadians to die to free his planet from heresy.

‘We have already started the foundations for a mausoleum fit for such heroes,’ he said.

Bendikt nodded. ‘Don’t make it too big.’

The humour was wasted upon the other man. He appeared overwhelmed by the reputation that Cadians brought with them. ‘If you have time, perhaps I can show you the architect’s plans.’

‘Thank you,’ Bendikt said. ‘Let me win your war first.’