The aftermath of the Drukhari raid will long resonate in Dargonus memories. Such pain and suffering! Casualties were horrendous — families torn apart, parents forced to watch their children suffer and die, lovers stolen and taken in bondage to the Drukhari's home, wherever that is, simple people left broken, unable to fulfil the simplest duties of a virtuous life… This has set back Her Ladyship's Magnae Accessio by several weeks, much to the despair of Olever af Putnam, whose biggest grief was losing a few scarves. To add to his injury, Her Ladyship has firmly ordered him to tone down the ceremonies, on account of her fortune needing to be put to the nobler use of rebuilding. So, unless the Ecclesiarchy pays for it, there shall be no new gilded cathedral consecrated for the occasion — although the ones that already exist and were profaned by the xenos shall be rebuilt from Her Ladyship's purse, of course.

To my greatest pride, not only did no Werserian die during the raid, but all proved their mettle in the direst circumstances. I have already recalled in these pages how Clementia assumed command of the Lord-Captain's Own when their colonel perished in the line of duty; well, today Her Ladyship confirmed her in that role. Never one to underestimate the power of trinkets and baubles, Her Ladyship also created a commemorative medal for those who distinguished themselves during the raid, which Clementia was the first to receive! For one who wears nothing on her tunic but the Aquila and her own sigil, the lord-captain is always astute in giving away such official recognition. She does say it's not the medal itself, but the words that go with it that make its worth, and it is true she dedicates time and effort to exchanging a few words with all those she honours so.

Young Astartia is already drawing plans to improve on rebuilding. She has entreated me to put those on Her Ladyship's desk and, much as it pains me to disappoint the lass, I simply cannot allow the suspicion of nepotism to taint her work. She will have to send it up the normal hierarchy.

Going back to Her Ladyship's Magnae Accessio, lady Katov has decided who of her retinue she will distinguish and chose as her witnesses to her oath-taking. Master van Calox was the obvious political choice; much as I dislike the Inquisition, even lady Theodora tried to curry favour with lord Calcazar — but I do suspect Her Ladyship has more personal motivations in giving him that honour. Well, months do pass and he has managed so far to keep his different loyalties from conflicting, so perhaps the lad is more reliable than I first believed. Still, such dalliances cannot end well. Her Ladyship ought to select her paramours from less diplomatically fraught backgrounds. Certainly she could find in her protectorate some good fellow — perhaps younger than van Calox — who would be glad to serve her in every way! If she could bear the subservient, that is. Ah, perhaps van Calox isn't too bad; after all, she could have picked a Cold Trader of Mistress Heydari's ilk. While I do enjoy Mistress Heydari's sunny disposition, I shudder to think the antics she would perform were she given a Rogue Trader's utmost favour.

Anyway, I was most surprised at Her Ladyship's choice for her second witness. Dear lady Cassia, in my opinion, would have made a perfect candidate — not to mention the way this would have cemented the budding Orsellio alliance. But no, this morning Her Ladyship came to me on the matter, having given af Putnam the slip with a cunning probably honed in her years as a cadet. She slinked discreetly in the gymnasium while I sparred with Clementia — she still tends to favour her right side, which does her disservice — and sat waiting for us to finish our bout. Her court clothes still surprise me; I swear af Putnam gives her a new outfit each day but, as long as he refrains from putting her in gaudy dresses and sticks to somewhat simple-looking things that don't hinder her movements, Her Ladyship agrees to humour him.

'Abelard,' said Her Ladyship, 'please have a seat.'

I sat, and drank some from my canteen.

'Abelard,' she said, 'please be my second witness.'

I almost choked! Her Ladyship had to hit me square on the back twice before I stopped coughing!

'Oh, don't make a fuss, will you. You're my seneschal, who knows more about my protectorate than my own self, and I want to believe you are also my friend. Emperor grant me life, I'll have decades and perhaps centuries to make alliances with all the factions in the Expanse. For this day, I want people I trust by my side, and of those you are the one most deserving.'

I am not too proud to admit her words deeply stirred this old heart of mine! My eyes swelled with tears of gratitude — the first time in ages.

'Still, lady Cassia…' I protested.

'… is seventeen and will be happier being a flower girl or something,' cut Her Ladyship. 'I'll pair her up with a few others of her age for the evening, and before that she'll lead her House delegation, which will fill her plate enough that she'll relish a bit of quiet during the ceremony itself.'

'Sister Argenta?'

'Has barely gotten over her stated goal of shooting me on sight if I stray from the Creed, so I'll take small steps with her.'

'Surely, Magos Pasqal would be most honoured.'

'He's busy babysitting Nomos which, for a techpriest, is a much more fascinating matter than some swearing-in gig where there won't be a cogitator in sight.'

'Well, isn't Mistress Heydari your trusted friend, too?'

Her Ladyship's expression took a strange, mellow, turn. She barely looked at me when she said: 'Jae didn't wait for me on a bridge filled with vapours of terrenic acid. She is a dear friend, yes, that I cherish. But she doesn't have my back the way you do.'

I didn't suggest Mistress Lanaevyss. Words eluded me. Her Ladyship chuckled and added: 'Besides, I do want to see what kind of outfit Olever af Putnam will find for you. My bet is on a whale-fur cape.'

And so, that was it. Lady Theodora valued my work immensely; I was, after all, several times the de facto protectorate regent while she went on journeys of exploration. But Lady Theodora was a heretic. Lady Katov is not, and strangely as it feels, she values me just for myself.

Those have been busy weeks indeed. The triumphal arch has been rebuilt — gardens planted again and fountains cleaned, and very few scars are left of the Drukhari raid in the higher hives. Guests have started pouring out from all over the Koronus Expanse; the palace is alive with accents from everywhere around. A bell has been forged out of some metal from the orbiting wrecks of our voidships that perished against the Enemies of Humanity and will ring the first call of Her Ladyship's official reign, to remind us all of our steadfastness against adversity.

A contagious cheer is spreading through the hives. Her Ladyship has ordered more fuel and rations to be dispatched to the lower levels, and even public banquets. The High Factotum is torn between pure anguish at the cost and satisfaction to have an occasion to be openly generous, instead of his usual stealthy ways. Certainly, his orphans fare well; they shall have a full week of holiday to witness what shall be the highlight of their lifetime. The dead and grieving are still remembered, of course, but the people seem determined to celebrate both their own resilience and their new Rogue Trader.

Now that the middle hives have been all but taken over by the common visitors, the upper crust of the Koronus Expanse is arriving. While we won't get either Calligos Winterscale or Incendia Chorda yet — their flagships, however, are currently making the last in-system crossing at a leisurely pace — Lord Inquisitor Calcazar quietly arrived today with his following, slipping almost unseen in between several cardinals and Administratum nobility. Van Calox subsequently vanished from the palace grounds — a fact brought to my attention by af Putnam, who was quite distraught at the thought of being unable to have the man at hand for the last fittings of his ceremonial garments.

I do not think the three oldest and grandest Rogue Trader dynasties were brought together for at least a century, and yet today — the day before the lord-captain's Magnae Accessio — such a reunion happened. Her Ladyship met with both Winterscale and Chorda parties in her throne room; a round table had been prepared for them with three equally lavish chairs and she met the visitors by the door. I stood at her right hand; Janris Danrok was at her left and Governor Drivestem trailed somewhere behind. He now is perfectly punctual whenever summoned by Her Ladyship, although he is still barred from owning private transport and must make do with some lent at the palace's discretion.

Incendia Bastaa-Chorda was accompanied by the Reverend Hieronymus Doloroso. Emperor-botherers do stick together, and that joyless spectre of righteousness is a perfect fit for Lady Incendia's own brand of dogmatism. Unless it is the reverse. Calligos Winterscale, on the other hand, had a sort of goon with him — the silent sort who looks at people as if planning their disembowelment. He called him his Arch-Militant and named him Worten.

The meeting went about as well — or as bad — as could be expected given the personalities at hand. Her Ladyship tried her best to be gracious to a very rude Lady Chorda, and to maintain a proper diplomatic tone with an overly familiar Lord Winterscale. Lord Winterscale gifted Her Ladyship a xenos gun — very beautiful thing made of wraithbone, I believe, and probably deadly in the right hands. She herself does not use xenos weapons, but she accepted it in good faith as the token of the Rogue Traders' privilege. Mistress Lanaevyss shall probably put it to good use.

Refreshments were served and accounts settled, mostly about Footfall. Lady Chorda resents the lord-captain for saving the station from her shipment blockades, that she hoped to use in order to punish the local sinners and criminals. Lord Winterscale resents the lord-captain for stealing his spot as the Liege's most trusted ally. The lord-captain — not yet lady von Valancius, not officially — smoothly replied that she contented herself with filling a power vacuum and that the Footfall populace would probably applaud a contest of generosity in between the dynasties. Both the others scoffed, for opposite reasons: one cares too much and the other too little about what happens on that perpetually derelict station.

After an hour, the lord-captain rose and invited her guests to a walk through the grounds. The itinerary had been carefully crafted so that lady Chorda could admire the several shrines dotting the place — the lord-captain had even organised a lighting of candles and offering of prayers at one that holds a relic of saint Drusus — but also that lord Winterscale could comment on the tame beasts and birds that roam the place. Reminiscing about old hunts put him in a good, raucous mood.

We then walked back through an aisle that holds many works of art and treasures of the dynasty. Music was played, but lord Winterscale complained about having to listen to such tame tunes and lady Chorda frowned, because the musicians wore outfits too revealing for her taste. It ended when lord Winterscale bellowed a tavern song, by the looks of it, that the musicians could not follow and properly botched. Lady Chorda suggested summary execution, although of who, be it lord Winterscale or the musicians, was unclear. The lord-captain forced a smile and shepherded everyone to the dinner hall.

When the state dinner was over and everyone left for their respective flagships, the first sincere (almost beaming) smile of the day lit the lord-captain's face. We both stood at parade rest atop the grand stairs to the palace, Her Ladyship waving goodbye. When the last of the visitors' retinue disappeared on the avenue to the triumphal arch, Her Ladyship turned to me. She was once again very serious.

'As my seneschal, I would like you to make me a promise,' she said.

'Anything you wish, lord-captain.'

'If I ever show any sign of becoming like either of those two, please shoot me in the back of the head. I won't feel a thing, won't even see it coming, it won't hurt, and I'll be grateful for it from the grave.'

I considered her; I still have a hard time, on occasion, deciding whether she is joking or not. In any case, a Werserian does not give their word lightly. I clicked my heels, saluted her with the Aquila and promised to indeed grant her the Emperor's peace should she show the signs.