‘What is it that you want from me, Lord Vangorich?’ said Thane. ‘Summoning me here, where so much of import has occurred these last months, surrounded by the warriors of the great Legions, you can only be hoping to make some sort of point.’
Vangorich went to look out over the vista of the Palace. He leaned on a marble balustrade eroded by the corrosive air and drummed his fingers. The dome looked so fragile, like a bald head ready to be cracked. Only fate had preserved it from the shattering of the ork attack moon.
‘Providence played a part in preserving the Great Chamber, don’t you think?’ Vangorich said. ‘The Emperor watched over it, I am sure.’
‘I am unconvinced by your piety.’
‘I pray daily, my lord.’
‘Koorland told me. In the Chapel Ordinary. I am sure the common people are most affected by your display of humility. Not I. You do not believe in the Creed. I can tell.’
‘That’s an interesting observation.’
Thane made a dismissive noise deep in his throat. ‘My kind knew the Emperor when He walked among us. You are not so far divorced in time from the founders of the Officio Assassinorum yourself. There have been, how many, twenty Grand Masters since your order was founded?’
‘Eleven,’ said Vangorich. ‘We Assassins become adept at staying alive.’
‘You are too rational for faith. I’ll not play your games, Grand Master. I am not Koorland. The war is over. I tire of Terra.’
‘No, you are not Koorland,’ agreed Vangorich.
‘Then tell me why I am here. Speak plainly to me as Thane, not as your puppet. Koorland was a great hero, but he heeded you too closely. I am weary. The Imperial Fists, my Chapter,’ he added, with a touch too much stress, ‘are battered. We may be brothers in blood but we must learn to be comrades. I have much to do and little time to do it in.’ Thane stalked forwards, ceramite boots scratching the porphyry floor, to stand over Vangorich.
Vangorich rested on the stone rail. He was a fraction of Thane’s armoured weight, yet he was easy in the Chapter Master’s presence, a poisonous spider as deadly as the great cat in whose shadow it lurked.
‘Well then, I shall get to the nub of it. You might be done with Terra, but Terra is not done with you. Wienand is going to propose you as Lord Guilliman. You should accept.’
Thane blew out a prodigious sigh. ‘Politics. I will not do it.’
‘I suspected you might say that. That’s why I called you here.’
‘I am not a politician. Ask the Ultramarines. I belong on a wall facing outward against our enemies, not sequestered in the keep surrounded by vipers.’
‘The Ultramarines mourn the loss of their master. They have their own realm to look to.’
‘We mourn our master too. I will not do it, Vangorich.’
‘I see. A shame. Oh well.’
‘I am glad you do not press it.’
Vangorich looked at the fantastical, miniature landscape of the worn rock and traced it with his finger. ‘Ask yourself, what happens when the Traitors come forth from the Eye of Terror again, or if the eldar become resurgent?’ said Vangorich.
‘So you are going to press it,’ said Thane.
‘What happens,’ said Vangorich, raising his voice, ‘Emperor forbid, if the orks find a new Beast? Or if another xenos threat arises? We became lax. Ullanor should have been levelled, or better yet, destroyed. The site of the greatest victory of our supposed god, and what, we forget where it is? Our leaders neglect the defence of our frontier in favour of chasing more riches or shiny medals for themselves? It’s insanity, you know it. The Senatorum Imperialis is broken. We need something else while it is restored to something approaching the Emperor’s vision.’
‘I will not play medicae to Terra’s ills when there is much work to be done beyond this system. The Emperor never intended that the Adeptus Astartes rule over common humanity. Our role is in its defence, and in furthering the Emperor’s glory.’
‘You’re going to leave,’ stated Vangorich.
Thane’s blocky transhuman face registered something akin to disdain. ‘You quickly come to that conclusion? There are hundreds of worlds in the thrall of the orks. Thousands of fleets. Dozens of attack moons. They must all be dealt with. The Beast is dead, but if one warlord gains traction a fresh ork crusade could build. In its weakened state, the Imperium will crumble. There are many armies and fleets scattered across the galaxy. They must be reorganised and motivated to fight back. The campaign to cleanse the stars of orks will take decades, and it must be done now.’
‘See, our fears coincide!’ exclaimed Vangorich. ‘You will be in a better place to deal with it as a High Lord. You will make an excellent Lord Guilliman.’
‘I cannot afford the delay.’
‘What is a few more weeks? Then you can be on your way.’
‘You propose that I assume the office, then depart?’ Thane looked at him in puzzlement.
‘The threat of your return will be enough to keep them in line.’
‘A few weeks saw us delivered of Magneric’s intelligence. Had we had that sooner, the first assault on Ullanor would have been the last. Koorland would live. Many of my brothers would remain in service. A few weeks is everything, Grand Master. You, the deliverer of the perfectly timed blade, know this full well.’
‘Days then,’ Vangorich said reassuringly. ‘Put the house in order, then head out to employ your talents where they are needed. There are many here on Terra who could rule in your stead and—’
‘Many as in one?’ Thane clapped his armoured hands slowly together. The clash of metal rang off the statues. ‘Who do you propose, Vangorich, yourself?’
‘No! No,’ Vangorich shook his head. ‘Good grief, no. I belong in the shadows. I was thinking… Veritus? I’d suggest Wienand, but she wouldn’t do it. She is like you, chafing to get back to her business now the crisis is past.’
‘Veritus because he will object to my appointment.’
Vangorich grinned. ‘You’ve become good at this.’
‘A Space Marine who cannot judge a battlefield and adapt himself accordingly is not worthy of his battleplate,’ said Thane. ‘The Senatorum is as deadly a warzone as any.’
‘Of course, Wienand will need mollifying. I suspect she might want the role herself, and if you give to it Veritus she may be outraged. It wasn’t so long ago that the Inquisitorial Representatives were trying to kill each other. Might I suggest your first act as Lord Guilliman should be to transfer control of the Deathwatch permanently to the Inquisition?’
‘I was thinking of disbanding it,’ said Thane, ‘along with the Last Wall.’
‘Ah good, I was going to bring that up too. The latter has to be done. But the Deathwatch have proven their utility. They serve very well in building bonds between your Chapters. You have become a little, well, estranged since the Second Founding, and the Third didn’t help.’
‘I do not—’
‘If you would indulge me, Chapter Master,’ said Vangorich. ‘The addition of a Chapter-strength force of Space Marines to the Inquisition’s arsenal will greatly shore up their authority, and further keep the High Lords’ minds focused where they should be: on the business of government, and not on their own estates.’
Thane stared down at him dubiously. Their faces were so heavy, thought the Grand Master, that it was too easy to see the Adeptus Astartes as stupid.
‘Come now. You know the rules very well,’ Vangorich went on. ‘The reformation of the Imperial Fists and that presentation to the High Lords in the Plaza Decamerata? Masterful work. You already have them in retreat. Take on the mantle of Lord Guilliman and put them to flight. The Imperium needs you, Maximus Thane. Now is not the right time for another mortal man to lead.’
‘And what do you gain from all this, Master of Assassins?’