The Raven, flagship of the Raven Guard's 89th Company.
Captain Alastor Rorschach stood on the bridge that bore his title.
Nykona Sharrowkyn stood beside him. "Ullach, Frye, Sabik, and Vaughn don't trust the Iron Warriors."
During the voyage, Nykona had spent a long time aboard the Sisypheum as a liaison officer, getting to know Ullach Brandon, captain of the Iron Hands' 65th Clan Company, Iron Father Frye Samatika, and Sabik Wieland.
He was less close to the Salamanders' Cassian Vaughn. He called the others by their given names, but Vaughn by his surname.
"They don't understand why we've come all the way to Damantyne to save the sons of a traitor."
"Don't forget the bullets the Iron Warriors fired at us."
My lord's oracle must be fulfilled, Alastor thought in silence. He can serve Lord Nimrod.
The communications officer spoke. "Captain, the connection is established."
"Barabas Dantioch, this is Alastor Rorschach."
"Rorschach." Barabas's voice was hard as steel.
"I'm fighting traitors."
"Have you brought orders from the Emperor and Lord Corax?"
"No." Alastor heard Barabas's disappointment.
"I've brought orders from Lord Nimrod."
"Lord Nimrod?"
"He commands your forces."
"That's right, Warsmith," Alastor said.
"Lord Nimrod has a plan. He needs your gifts and your skill."
"He says your hands can help him win."
The deep lines on Barabas's face eased. He remembered a conversation with Frix, leader of the Trident, from the days when he had still been in his father's inner circle.
Frix had once said, "Lord Nimrod should be Warmaster. He could soothe our father's bitterness."
"I will serve Lord Nimrod."
Barabas looked around at the blueprints. "Prepare for mass teleportation."
He stepped up to the control platform. "I'll send the traitors to hell."
In the Warsmith's philosophy of war, the last place to fall in a siege