He looked at the data-wand in his hand thoughtfully.
‘My fault,’ he said quietly. ‘My oversight. I have been well aware of your disaffection for years. Some of that I put down to thwarted ambitions, or differences in strategic thinking. I knew there was dissent. I knew that many were unhappy with my focus and my style of command.’
He looked up again.
‘I ignored it. I trusted in the loyalty of your stations. Whatever you thought, whatever our differences, you knew I was warmaster. That, I thought, was all that mattered.’
Macaroth put the wand down on the glass tabletop.
‘Not enough, clearly. Not nearly enough. And whatever awareness I had of your discontent, it needed one man to stand up and tell me so. To my damn face. To risk everything in terms of his career and future, his alliances and political capital, and simply tell me. That, I think, is loyalty. Not to me. To the office. To the Throne. To the Imperial bloody Guard.’
Cybon turned slowly to look at Gaunt.
‘You bastard,’ he rumbled. ‘You told him, you treacherous bastard–’
‘Treacherous, General Cybon?’ said Macaroth mildly. ‘I don’t think that’s a word I’d throw around, if I were you. And certainly not a word I’d expect you to use of the man you personally chose to replace me.’
He walked over to Cybon and looked up at the towering warlord.
‘Gaunt told me, because it was his duty to do so. You put him in a situation worse than any war he’s ever faced. Conflict of interest at the highest degree. Yet he served, as every good Guardsman serves. Served with unflinching loyalty to the Astra Militarum, to the oath we all uphold. He came and he told me. He simply told me, Cybon. He told me the depth of your unhappiness. He supplied the one vital piece of intelligence missing from my overview of this crusade.’
Van Voytz snarled and swung at Gaunt. Gaunt caught his wrist before the blow could land, and pushed back hard. Van Voytz stumbled backwards, collided with Kelso and crashed into the side of the strategium table. He steadied himself.
‘Is that where we’re going now?’ Gaunt asked. ‘Is it, Barthol? Open insurrection? Legal process fails, so you resort to violence?’
‘He just wants to break your face,’ said Cybon. ‘All of us do.’
‘All of you?’ asked Macaroth. ‘Everyone in this chamber? Really? My lords, officers, soldiers, now is the moment. If you would see me gone, then stand together. Now. Go on. I will accept your declamation of confidence and all your instruments of removal. Come to that, I will accept your blades in my back and your bullets in my brain. If I am unfit and you want me gone, get it over with.’
Macaroth closed his eyes, tilted his head back and opened his arms serenely as if to welcome an embrace.
‘For Throne’s sake!’ Van Voytz growled. ‘We are obliged to act! The crusade is failing! We’re losing this war! We must serve the declamation and rid ourselves of this infantile leadership! We must act for the good of the Imperium, in the name of the God-Emperor, and usher in a new era of clear and forthright command!’
Gaunt crossed to face him. He drew his power sword and lit it.
‘Do it, Barthol,’ he said. ‘But you go through me.’
‘You’re a thrice-damned idiot, Gaunt!’ Van Voytz raged, ‘You’ve ruined us all! We had a chance here. A chance to find new focus! Cybon, for Throne’s sake! We have to do this! We have to do this!’
‘Not like this,’ said Cybon quietly.
‘By legal resort, yes,’ said Blackwood. ‘Not by bloody coup. Never that way.’
‘Would you raise your hand against Macaroth?’ asked Kelso in dismay.
‘Step back, Van Voytz,’ murmured Tzara.
‘I have my grievances,’ said Cybon. He looked at Macaroth. ‘Throne knows, many. I am keen to discuss them. But I will not devolve to insurrection. Damn it, Van Voytz, he is the warmaster.’
Macaroth opened his eyes, and slowly lowered his arms. He smiled.
‘Put down your famous sword, Lord Militant Gaunt,’ he said. ‘I see only loyal men in this room.’
Gaunt glanced at Van Voytz, and then depowered and sheathed his sword. Blackwood took off his cap and his gloves and set them on the table.
‘You have my resignation, lord,’ he said. ‘My resignation for my part in orchestrating your removal. I cannot speak for the others, but I trust my colleagues will have the dignity to do the same.’
‘Oh, I don’t want your resignation, Blackwood,’ said Macaroth. ‘I don’t want your frightened obedience either. Resolving this isn’t so simple. I have been at fault. I have been absent. I have lost my connection with staff command. I aim to remedy that. I intend to take direct control of this battle-sphere and win this cursed war.’
He tapped his index finger on the glass plate of the strategium.
‘I am here now,’ he said. ‘Any man, any man present who finds no confidence in me can stay and have that lack of confidence disabused. Any who wish to go, go now. There will be no retribution. No purge by the Officio Prefectus. Just go, and you will be reposted to other zones and other sectors. But if you’re going, get the hell out now.’
He looked at Blackwood, Cybon and Tzara.
‘If you wish, stay. Serve me here. Don’t cower or meep weak platitudes of loyalty. Serve me here at this station. Bring me the insight and ability that made you lords militant in the first place. Help me as we fight for Urdesh and drive the Archenemy to ruin.’
The room began to stir. Officers began to move back towards the table.
Macaroth clapped his hands.
‘Come on!’ he yelled. ‘Move yourselves! This war won’t win itself! I need data revisions on zones three, eight and nine immediately!’
Tacticians and data-serfs began to scurry.
‘Get me oversight reports on Zarakppan!’ Macaroth demanded. ‘I want a link to Urienz on the ground. And set up a vox-link with Ghereppan immediately! I need to advise the Saint of our strategic approach. Blackwood, put your damn cap back on! Where’s that zone three data?’
The noise and mass activity resumed. At the heart of the war room’s reignited frenzy, Gaunt faced Van Voytz.
‘You made a mistake, Gaunt,’ said Van Voytz.
‘I don’t think so,’ Gaunt replied. ‘History will decide.’
‘I trusted you.’
‘As I have trusted you many times. The outcome is what matters, isn’t that what you always told me?’ Gaunt looked at him. ‘It may not come in the form we expect, and it may cost us personally in painful ways, but the outcome is what matters. For the Emperor. For the Imperium. Whatever price we as individuals pay.’
‘Damn you. Are you really throwing Jago back in my face? That was a necessary action! Sentiment doesn’t enter into–’
‘So is this. You heard the warmaster. Do your job, or get out. I just heard him calling for zone nine data.’
Van Voytz glowered at him. Gaunt turned away.
‘My lord warmaster,’ he called through the hubbub. ‘General Van Voytz had oversight of zone nine. I believe he has tactical advice in that regard.’
‘Tell him to get over here!’ Macaroth shouted back.
Gaunt turned back to Van Voytz. Van Voytz glared for a moment more, then pushed his way through the staff to the warmaster’s side.
‘Sir?’
Gaunt looked around and found Beltayn standing beside him.
‘What is it?’
‘Um, signal from transfer section, sir. Our retinue has just entered the safety of the palace precinct, with two companies in escort. Major Baskevyl asks to report to you at the earliest possible opportunity.’