What Lord-Marshal Holzhauer read did not feel heretical. It seemed to express truths that he had never seen put into words before. ‘Silence!’ he ordered, and a backhanded blow from one of his aides enforced the command.

The words of Father Bellona outlined what had gone wrong with the Imperium of Mankind. They explained that with brutal surgery, a cleansing crusade and a return to the ways of the Saint Vandire, the Imperium of Man could be returned to vigorous health.

The thesis called for a military leader of great skill and purpose to lead the crusade. A warrior of faith and conviction and iron. The last chance to save the Imperium of Man.

Lord-Marshal Holzhauer considered all the skeins of fate that had come together in this moment. It seemed like divine providence that these words had been posted this day. That he should be here to read them.

He had never been defeated in battle. What greater proof did any have that he could be that warrior? With a moment’s consideration, could changed to should.

Holzhauer beckoned the priest forward. Father Bellona stood before him, boots set squarely onto the rockcrete, resolute and defiant. He looked emaciated. His cheeks were pinched. His swollen eyes stared out from his face. But there was an inner light that seemed to glow from within him that spoke of great holiness and purity.

‘There are many within the Imperium who would consider your thoughts heretical,’ Holzhauer stated. ‘Servants of the corrupt will try to destroy both you and your words. You will need a worthy protector.’

‘Are you that man?’ Bellona demanded.

‘I am,’ Holzhauer declared. With one swift motion he tore the parchment from the doorway. He turned to Adjutant Lehr. ‘Make copies of this and distribute them to my commanding officers. And ensure Father Bellona has my personal protection.’

Lehr bathed in the lord-marshal’s attention. ‘It shall be done as you command, my lord!’

Lord-Marshal Holzhauer felt a new sense of purpose. This was what he had been born for: to be the cleansing flame that would start the Imperium anew.

From the towers of the Cathedral of Saint Helena Richstar, the bells struck the hour. After, when the true cost was being tallied, the Munitorum would fix this point as the moment the Malouri Uprising began.

Part One

PART ONE

One

ONE

Sergeant Minka Lesk shaded her eyes as the bombardment resumed. This was her thirtieth day upon Malouri. She was ten miles back from the front, sitting on her Gryphonne IV Chimera armoured transport, but even here she could feel the ground shudder as the building roll of Earthshaker batteries warming up became a rolling thunder.

The fyceline smoke grew thicker and darker as battery after battery added to the onslaught. The target for this fury was five miles off, across the steel-grey waters: the island fortress of Crannog Mons, known to them as Traitor Rock.