‘Lieutenant Dido,’ Lady Bianca continued, ‘I put myself and my honoured forebear, Saint Ignatzio Richstar, within your care. Now. Escort me to General Bendikt!’

Eleven

ELEVEN

Bendikt was stood on the stairs of the General’s Palace with a committee of Astra Militarum grandees to greet the Gerent Bianca. He had clearly just come straight out of a planning meeting with the Munitorum ambassadors and looked exasperated. He had a map rolled up in his hand, and he patted it into the other hand as he waited.

Gerent Bianca’s lifewards followed behind her as she walked to the palace steps. The palanquin bearing Saint Ignatzio was brought forward. Already, a crowd that almost numbered a hundred trailed behind in a state of religious awe. They were menials, mainly, and kept a respectful distance.

The guards waved them back, but Gerent Bianca intervened. ‘They are with me,’ she said, ‘and they are with Saint Ignatzio. You shall let them through.’

Bendikt came down the steps to greet her. ‘Welcome,’ he said. ‘I have issued instructions for you to be given full honours. As befits your rank.’

He had ordered that the palanquin be lodged in his private chapel, while he himself gave up his suite for Lady Bianca.

‘I could not,’ she insisted.

‘Please,’ he said. ‘I would be honoured, and it is important that you and Saint Ignatzio are kept somewhere where your safety can be ensured. I am moving all the general staff closer to the front. It is not healthy for them to be pampered in the rear while our troopers are in trenches at the front.’

As Lady Bianca and her entourage continued up the steps, Bendikt approached the Sister of Battle who had followed in their wake.

‘Superior Melissya,’ Bendikt said.

Her face was as hard as carved marble and it did not soften when she saw who addressed her. ‘Yes, general.’

‘I wanted to thank you.’

She stared at him as if he was an idiot. ‘For what?’

‘The honour you pay us in joining this warzone.’

Despite her finely cut face and almost fragile-looking cheeks, the suit of power armour gave her both bulk and height that dwarfed him as she turned full square onto him, the pistons within her armour giving off a low, menacing whine.

‘Our presence here is no honour to you or your men. My charges gave up all chance of honour long ago. Now there is only shame and disgrace. Only their deaths can mitigate their sins.’

‘Well,’ Bendikt said. ‘We are honoured nonetheless.’

‘All I ask is that you allow us the chance to give up our lives in battle.’

‘I will do that,’ he said. He paused. ‘Tell me, superior. You speak of your wards, but what about you? Are you here to die as well?’

‘I am not a penitent.’

‘I did not mean that…’