Nothing. No sound, no life, no movement except the shimmer of light from outside the windows as he passed them. Five floors now, six.

Loken suddenly felt foolish. The tower was probably empty. This search and purge should have been left to others while he marshalled Tenth Company's main force.

Except... its ground-level approach had been so furiously protected. He looked up, pushing his sensors hard. A third of a kilometre above him, he fancied he caught a brief sign of movement, a partial heat-lock.

'Nero?'

A pause. 'Captain.’

'Where are you?'

'Base of a tower. Heavy fighting. We-' There was a jumble of noises, the distorted sounds of gunfire and shouting. 'Captain? Are you still there?'

'Report!'

'Heavy resistance. We're locked here! Where are-'

The link broke. Loken hadn't been about to give away his position anyway. There was something in this tower with him. At the very top, something was waiting.

The penultimate deck. From above came a soft creaking and grinding, like the sails of a giant windmill. Loken paused. At this height, through the wide panes of glass, he was afforded a view out across the palace and the High City. A sea of luminous smoke, underlit by

widespread firestorms. Some buildings glowed pink, reflecting the light of the inferno. Weapons flashed, and energy beams danced and jumped in the dark. Overhead, the sky was full of fire too, a mirror of the ground. The speartip had visited murderous destruction upon the city of the 'Emperor'.

But had it found the throat?

He mounted the last flight of steps, his grip on the weapons tight.

The uppermost ring platform formed the base of the tower's top section, a vast cupola of crystal-glass petals, ribbed together with steel spars that curved up to form a finial mast at the apex high above. The entire structure creaked and slid, turning slighdy one way then another as it responded phototropically to the blooms of light outside in the night. On one side of the platform, its back to the great windows, sat a golden throne. It was a massive object, a heavy plinth of three golden steps rising to a vast gilt chair with a high back and coiled arm rests.

The throne was empty.

Loken lowered his weapons. He saw that the tower top turned so that the throne was always facing the light. Disappointed, Loken took a step towards the throne, and then halted when he realised he wasn't alone after all.

A solitary figure stood away to his left, hands clasped behind its back, staring out at the spectacle of war.

The figure turned. It was an elderly man, dressed in a floor-length mauve robe. His hair was thin and white, his face thinner still. He stared at Loken with glittering, miserable eyes.

'I defy you,' he said, his accent thick and antique. 'I defy you, invader.'

"Your defiance is noted,' Loken replied, 'but this fight is over. I can see you've been watching its progress from up here. You must know that.'

The Imperium of Man will triumph over all its enemies.’ the man replied.

'Yes.’ said Loken. 'Absolutely, it will. You have my promise.'

The man faltered, as if he did not quite understand.

'Am I addressing the so-called "Emperor"?' Loken asked. He had switched off and sheathed his sword, but he kept his bolter up to cover the robed figure.

'So-called?' the man echoed. 'So-called? You cheerfully blaspheme in this royal place. The Emperor is the Emperor Undisputed, saviour and protector of the race of man. You are some imposter, some evil daemon-'

'I am a man like you.’

The other scoffed. You are an imposter. Made like a giant, malformed and ugly. No man would wage war upon his fellow man like this.’ He gestured disparagingly at the scene outside.

'Your hostility started this.’ Loken said calmly, You would not listen to us or believe us. You murdered our ambassadors. You brought mis upon yourself. We are charged with the reunification of mankind, throughout the stars, in the name of the Emperor. We seek to establish compliance amongst all the fragmentary and disparate strands. Most greet us like the lost brothers we are. You resisted.’

You came to us with lies!'

"We came with the truth.’

Your truth is obscenity!'

'Sir, the truth itself is amoral. It saddens me that we believe the same words, the very same ones, but value them so differently. That difference has led directly to this bloodshed.’

The elderly man sagged, deflated. You could have left us alone.’

'What?' Loken asked.

'If our philosophies are so much at odds, you could have passed us by and left us to our lives, unviolated. Yet you did not. Why? Why did you insist on bringing us to ruin? Are we such a threat to you?'

'Because the truth-' Loken began.

'-is amoral. So you said, but in serving your fine truth, invader, you make yourself immoral.’

Loken was surprised to find he didn't know quite how to answer. He took a step forward and said, 'I request you surrender to me, sir.’

You are the commander, I take it?' the elderly man

asked.

'I command Tenth Company.’

You are not the overall commander, then? I assumed you were, as you entered this place ahead of your troops. I was waiting for the overall commander. I will submit to him, and to him alone.’

The terms of your surrender are not negotiable.’

Will you not even do that for me? Will you not even do me that honour? I would stay here, until your lord and master comes in person to accept my submission. Fetch him.’

Before Loken could reply, a dull wail echoed up into the tower top, gradually increasing in volume. The elderly man took a step or two backwards, fear upon his face.

The black figures rose up out of the tower's depths, ascending slowly, vertically, up through the open centre of the ring platform. Ten Astartes warriors, the blue heat of their whining jump pack burners shimmering the air behind them. Their power armour was black, trimmed with white. Catulan Reaver Squad, First Company's veteran assault pack. First in, last out.

One by one, they came in to land on the edge of the ring platform, deactivating their jump packs.

Kalus Ekaddon, Catulan's captain, glanced sidelong at Loken.

The first captain's compliments, Captain Loken. You beat us to it after all.’

'Where is the first captain?' Loken asked.

'Below, mopping up.’ Ekaddon replied. He set his vox to transmit. "This is Ekaddon, Catulan. We have secured the false emperor-'

'No,' said Loken firmly.

Ekaddon looked at him again. His visor lenses were stern and unreflective jet glass set in the black metal of his helmet mask. He bowed slighdy. 'My apologies, captain.’ he said, archly. The prisoner and the honour are yours, of course.’

That's not what I meant.’ Loken replied. 'This man demands the right to surrender in person to our commander-in-chief.’

Ekaddon snorted, and several of his men laughed. This bastard can demand all he likes, captain.’ Ekaddon said, 'but he's going to be cruelly disappointed.’

'We are dismanding an ancient empire, Captain Ekaddon.’ Loken said firmly. 'Might we not display some measure of gracious respect in the execution of that act? Or are we just barbarians?'

'He murdered Sejanus!' spat one of Ekaddon's men.

'He did.’ Loken agreed. 'So should we just murder him in response? Didn't the Emperor, praise be his name, teach us always to be magnanimous in victory?'

The Emperor, praise be his name, is not wifh us.’ Ekaddon replied.

'If he's not with us in spirit, captain.’ Loken replied, 'then I pity the future of this crusade.’

Ekaddon stared at Loken for a moment, then ordered his second to transmit a signal to the fleet. Loken was quite sure Ekaddon had not backed down because he'd been convinced by any argument or fine principle. Though Ekaddon, as Captain of First Company's assault