The rebel leaders drew back their hoods, one by one. Lord Cypher was in the lead, his expression flat and unreadable. The others Zahariel recognised with a mix of anger and dismay.

The first of the rebel leaders was Lord Thuriel, scion of a noble family in the southlands that still clung stubbornly to its last vestiges of wealth and power. Behind him came Lord Malchial, the son of a famous knight who had earned much renown during Jonson's crusade against the great beasts. The fact that he and Thuriel had been bitter enemies for decades led Zahariel to wonder what could have possibly united them so.

After Malchial came another surprise: the third rebel leader was a woman. Lady Alera had inherited her title when all four of her brothers had been killed in the Northwilds, and under her leadership her household had prospered until the coming of the Emperor. Now her fortunes were in decline, like all of Caliban's noble families, but she remained a force to be reckoned with.

But the last of the rebels was the most surprising of all. Zahariel recognised the man's ruined face at once: more than a half a century ago, Sar Daviel had been among the knights who had stormed the fortress of the Knights of Lupus, and was one of the warriors who fought the terrible beasts that their foes had loosed upon the Order. A monster's huge paw had crushed the right side of his face, caving in his cheekbone and bursting his eye. The creature's talons had carved Daviel's flesh down to the bone in five ragged arcs that stretched from his right ear all the way to his chin. By some miracle he'd survived the terrible wound, but when the Emperor had come and the Order had been absorbed into the Legion his request to join the ranks of the Astartes had been denied. The young knight had left Aldurukh soon after, and none knew what had become of him. Daviel was an old man now; his hair had grown white and his face seamed with decades of hard living out on Caliban's ever-shrinking frontier, but his body was still lean and strong for a man almost seventy years of age.

Thuriel caught sight of Zahariel, and the noble's sharp, aristocratic features darkened with rage. He rounded on Cypher. 'You assured us that only Luther would attend the parley,' he snapped. Lady Alera and Lord Malchial cast suspicious looks at the Librarian's tall, imposing form.

'That's not for Lord Cypher to decide,' Luther replied in a steely tone. 'Brother-Librarian Zahariel is my lieutenant; anything you say to me can be said to him as well.' He folded his arms and stared forbiddingly at the rebels. 'You requested this parley, so let's hear what you have to say.'

The cool menace in Luther's voice caused Lord Thuriel to pale slightly. Malchial and Alera looked uneasily at one another, but neither seemed willing to speak. Finally Sar Daviel let out an impatient growl and said, 'We speak for the free peoples of Caliban, my lord, and we declare that the Imperial occupation must end.'

'Occupation?' Luther echoed, his voice faintly incredulous. 'Caliban is an Imperial world now, governed and protected by the Emperor's law and the might of the First Legion.'

'Protected? More like conquered,' Malchial interjected. 'It was Lion El'Jonson who welcomed the Emperor - his father, if rumours be true - to Caliban and delivered the planet into his hands.'

'For all we know, that was their plan all along,' Lady Alera snapped. 'It seems very convenient to me that Jonson arrives on Caliban under very mysterious circumstances, and then, just when he's gained control of the planet's knightly orders, the Emperor just happens to find him.'

'That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard,' Zahariel snapped. 'You people don't know what you're talking about! If you had any idea how vast the Imperium is—'

Luther cut off the Librarian with an upraised hand and a warning glance. 'My lieutenant speaks out of turn,' he said smoothly. 'Nevertheless, your suspicions, Lady Alera, are groundless at best. As to you, Lord Malchial, how do you defend the assertion that my primarch delivered Caliban to the Emperor? Our own legends speak of Caliban's ties to distant Terra. Now, thanks to the Emperor, those ties have been restored, and our planet has entered a new age of prosperity.'

'Prosperity?' Lord Thuriel snarled. The noble's initial pallor had vanished beneath a swelling tide of outrage. 'Is that what you call the wholesale plundering of our world? Perhaps if you'd stuck your head outside the walls of this spreading canker you call a fortress you'd see how Caliban suffers! Our forests are gone, our villages ploughed under, our mountains cracked open like nuts and scraped clean by huge mining machines! Noble families that fought and bled for their lands and their people for generations have been disinherited, their feudal subjects carried off and put to work in Imperial factories and mines. And the knightly orders who might have protected us from all of this have all been disbanded or—' he glanced up at Zahariel's giant form '—altered nearly beyond recognition.'

Zahariel's fists clenched at the implied insult. Only Luther's steady demeanour kept the Librarian's anger in check and the rules of parley intact.

By contrast, the Master of Caliban folded his arms and chuckled softly. 'And now we get to the heart of things,' he said with a mirthless grin. He indicated the rebel leaders with a sweep of his hand. 'Your grievances are personal, not collective; you're not rebelling for the sake of your feudal subjects, as you call them, but because you've lost the wealth and power your families have hoarded over the centuries. Do you imagine that the majority of our people would actually want to become peasant farmers once more? The Emperor has completed the process that Jonson began here with the Order: providing safety, security and above all, equality for everyone, regardless of their class or station.'

Lady Alera looked pointedly from Luther to Zahariel and back again. 'Clearly some people are more equal than others,' she said.

Luther shook his head, refusing to take the bait. 'Appearances can be deceiving,' he replied evenly.

'Indeed they can,' Sar Daviel said, stepping to the front of the group. 'Look at me, brother. I'm no pampered earl's son. I earned these scars by your side in the Northwilds, serving Jonson's vision. And how was I rewarded?'

Luther sighed. 'Brother, it was nothing more than cruel fate that kept you from the ranks of the Legion. Your injuries were too severe to permit the process of transformation, just as I was too advanced in years. It was your decision to leave. You still had a place at Aldurukh.'

'Doing what?' Daviel shot back. 'Polishing the armour of my betters? Scurrying through the halls like a pageboy?' Tears shone at the corners of his remaining eye. 'I'm a knight, Luther. That used to mean something. It meant something to you, once upon a time. You were the greatest among us, and frankly it kills me to see how Jonson has used you all these years.'

Zahariel saw Luther stiffen slightly. Daviel's blow had struck home.

'Have a care, brother,' Luther said, his voice subdued. 'You presume too much. Jonson united this world. He saved us from the threat of the beasts. I could never have done that.'

But Daviel didn't waver. He held Luther's gaze without flinching. 'I think you could have,' he replied. 'Jonson could never have convinced the other knightly orders to support his crusade against the beasts. You did that. The plan might have been his, but you were the one who rallied an entire world behind it. The truth is that Jonson owes you everything. And look how he has repaid you. He's cast you aside, just like me.'

'You don't know what you're talking about!' Luther snarled, his voice sharp with anger.

'Not so,' Daviel said, shaking his head sadly. 'I was there, brother. I watched it happen. When I was a child, my greatest ambition was to become a knight and ride at your side. I know what a great man you are, even if no one on Caliban still remembers. Jonson knows, too. How could he not? You raised him like a son, after all. And now he's left you behind, like the rest of us.'