Tomb World by Jonathan D Beer

Author:Jonathan D Beer
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science fiction: space opera (FLS)
Publisher: Black Library
Published: 2025-08-13T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 3

Solome Sinos has never had any patience for theatre.

Of course, she understands the purpose of it. Pomp and pageantry are vital tools for the control of a populace. The unifying effect of martial pride is a cornerstone of Imperial authority.

Even so, Sinos has never enjoyed sitting through it.

Two hundred yards below her the 182nd Devash Auxilia marches in lockstep, the bright light of noon reflecting from six thousand fixed bayonets. They are followed by the Ketzok 47th Armoured, whose proud Leman Russ tanks rumble three abreast along the arterial. Then come the 74th ­Sameters, ‘The Gregorians’, as her host explains. Then the Tartaran 999th, their three-bar pennants fluttering in the wind that races down the man-made canyon of hab-blocks and municipal buildings.

And on and on they come. Men and women drawn from every quarter of the galaxy, honoured to become soldiers of the God-Emperor’s Astra Militarum. They are dressed in all the panoply of ceremonial uniform, each regiment competing to outdo their peers in prominence and pride. They wear freshly fabricated jackets in royal blue, blood red, smoke grey. Golden epaulettes, crimson sashes, plumes and cockades and the embroidered furs of a dozen different beasts. Brass buttons and silver buckles polished to a mirror sheen, though by the time they reach Sinos they are dulled by the dust kicked up by those who are ahead of them.

Each and every soldier carries a lasgun, newly stamped by the forges of a dozen worlds.

The fighting machines are as varied and as colourful as the troops who march beside them. Leman Russ and Rogal Dorn main battle tanks. Chimera troop carriers. Basilisk artillery pieces, their great barrels held aloft. The myriad support vehicles, belching smoke from promethium stacks. Sentinel walkers, cockpits swaying from side to side with each metal footfall. The occasional super-heavy, Baneblades and Shadowswords and Crassus transports, each one testing the structural integrity of the elevated arterial on which they drive. The roadway will be out of commission for weeks after this parade concludes, General Cullen reveals after a trio of Doomhammer tanks grumble past, their wide treads tearing up the asphalt.

He says this while leaning close, attempting to press Sinos to accept a glass of amasec from an aide who hovers close at hand. She had refused when she joined him on the balcony of the city governor’s office, and refuses again, this time more sharply. Cullen is a brave and foolish warrior for looking beyond Sinos’ storm-cloak and badge in the hope of finding the woman beneath. He would find her even more stern and less corruptible than the icon of her office.

Sinos has been obliged by the strictures of politics to waste her time watching the parade of regiments. As the most senior member of the Adeptus Arbites now on Orymous, she is required to represent her organisation in such ceremonies. That meant accepting, with feigned grace, General Cullen’s invitation upon her arrival in the district capital.

Two dozen other worthies share the long stone terrace, along with their many aides and advisors.

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