Bendikt’s temper was immediately soothed. He drew in a deep breath. His head hurt a little from last night’s drinking, but now he had said the words, he knew he had to be held to them.

In truth, part of the reason for announcing a deadline was exactly this: for word to spread. It would keep the Imperial troopers honest. No doubt the traitors would hear it too, and the sapping seeds of doubt would be sown.

‘Yes,’ he said at last, ‘Servitore. I promise you. Crannog Mons will fall before Sanguinalia.’

The old man fell to his knees in thanks. Bendikt had to help him up.

Fifty days, he told himself as he lay down to sleep. For a moment he felt that stab of self-doubt. Did Creed ever waver? he wondered.

Surely not.

Bendikt and his staff were out long before dawn to see Crannog Mons with their own eyes. The night was still dark. Searchlights spread bars across the sky as he made his way to the landing platforms on the rear of the palace.

The lights of three Vulture gunships and his Valkyrie were flashing in the gloom. As he came closer he could see that they were outfitted in black livery, with flames about the mouth, the pilots’ masked faces uplit as they exchanged hand signals with the ground crew.

Bendikt bent as he climbed inside, his boots ringing out on the metal flooring. There were fold out seats. A few hours ago this craft had been ferrying Guardsmen to the front lines. Now it held the commander of Imperial forces on his way to see Crannog Mons for the first time.

He had a shot of amasec for breakfast these days, and already he could feel the warmth and the confidence spreading through him.

It was an hour’s journey, flying low over the ground with the Vultures flying point and wingmen. Below, Bendikt saw the neat camps of the siege army spread beneath him. Classic, solid, predictable.

Ten miles from the front line the pilot brought them down at a landing zone sunk beneath ground level. Sandbagged walls filled their vision, then they touched down.

An hour later Bendikt’s convoy of Centaurs and Chimeras was winding through the acres of artillery dug-outs. To either side were forests of raised Earthshaker barrels with an army dedicated to manning them all. Each gun was dug in and sandbagged. Each Basilisk platform was attended to by a team of gunners – two to carry the next shell into position, one to screw the fuse into place, another to sight the gun, and two more to close the firing chamber and one to pull the firing pin.