‘Thank you,’ Bendikt said. ‘Likewise. You have achieved much already. Your efforts have been noted in my dispatches to Cadian High Command. With our steel and conviction there will be nothing we cannot achieve here.’

The Mordian’s pale cheeks coloured a fraction. ‘Please do not flatter us. We live and die only to serve.’

Bendikt greeted each of the Mordian’s command. None of them spoke. They were a culture that valued actions, not words. Clearly their commander had said all that needed to be communicated.

Next in line were clearly the largest contingent, the divisions of Rakallion who boasted an entire field army with six infantry corps, artillery divisions, and a brigade of sappers and other ancillary units. Their commander was a tall man with a feather-plumed brass helmet, long waxed mustachios and a double-breasted kossack jacket. He bowed stiffly and introduced himself as Klovis Plona-Richstar.

Klovis’ aide stepped forward quickly. ‘General Klovis is the highest ranking Richstar upon this planet.’

‘I am honoured,’ Bendikt said. ‘Though, as for your status as senior Richstar upon this planet, I fear that will be an honour you will soon lose.’

Klovis looked bewildered as Bendikt moved along the line.

The void-miners of the Crinan Fourth stood out in their bright yellow fatigues with royal blue flak armour and tattoos up their arms and necks. The fierce-looking warriors were led by a dark man with a broad, black beard jutting out from his chin like a trenching shovel, and the badge of his regiment tattooed under his left eye.

He wore the yellow asteroid miner’s void-suit with enamelled blue flak breastplate, and his barrel chest gave his voice a deep resonance. ‘General Bendikt, I am General Waqani of the Crinan Fourth. We are deeply honoured to serve under the command of a general of Cadia. It is His will. We shall die gladly.’

‘I hope you live to do His will longer.’

‘We fight without hope,’ Waqani declared proudly, ‘for hope leads the soul onto the road of disappointment.’

Next were the Gilgamesh Rifles, the Besite Chasseurs and then General Folau of the Potence Mountain Infantry. Bendikt shook his hand. ‘I fought with General Dominika. Did you know her?’

‘She was my cousin,’ the other man replied.

‘A fine warrior. She died well.’

‘So I have heard,’ Folau said.

At the end, one of the Drookian Fenguard chieftains stood with his tribal Thanes and selected Fianna. No two Guardsmen were dressed alike. Each wore the odd mix of Munitorum-issue and homespun, and bedecked themselves with trophies – plundered and purchased equipment and armour.

They greeted Bendikt with deep solemnity.

‘I am honoured,’ Bendikt said.

The Drookian pulled him close and whispered, ‘I am Chief Dunelm of Clan Boskobel. The other,’ he said, nodding towards the opposite side of the room, ‘is of Clan Kharr. They are liars and thieves!’

Bendikt nodded. He somehow knew that the commander of Clan Kharr would tell him the exact same thing.