Terra. Corvus Corax descended the ramp of the Stormbird.
He saw three thousand Adeptus Custodes drawn up in formation to receive him, their golden armor adorned with the same Palatine Aquila as the Emperor's Children.
Before them stood a man in a voluminous robe: the Sigillite, Malcador.
The Regent of Terra, appointed not long ago by the Emperor of Mankind himself.
A golden eagle soared atop his staff, spitting bright flame that cast its light across his weathered face.
He had grown older still, his back bent beneath the burdens of the Imperium's governance, his body leaning entirely on the scepter in his hand, a gift from the Master of Mankind.
Corax inclined his head in greeting, then looked toward the fully armed Adeptus Custodes.
"I hope their presence is merely a matter of courtesy."
"Purely ceremonial, I assure you," Malcador replied.
"I apologize for the questioning you were forced to endure earlier. I hope you understand that we can afford no laxity in our security now."
Corax shrugged. "It seems a primarch's assurances have lost their value."
He strode forward, and the Adeptus Custodes parted, surrounding him, his entourage, and Malcador in their midst.
"Only in certain cases," Malcador said.
"Some of your brothers remain loyal to the Emperor. As for the others, I am still determining that."
"I have already sent word to Leman. He will dispatch the Wolves to ascertain their loyalty."
They walked down the landing platform together, and Malcador went on.
"Rogal asked me to convey his apologies. He assures you he will join us tomorrow as agreed."
Corax nodded. "I can understand the pressure he is under now. He is the Imperial Palace Guard."
For the first time, a smile appeared on Malcador's taut face.
"Not in the way you think."
"His sons have