When he and Duncan rejoined the Atreides troops on Ecaz before the combined force departed for Grumman, Paul proudly wore a new Atreides uniform. After surviving in the wilds of Caladan, the young man took care to present himself properly to his father, without looking like a popinjay or a cadet who had never felt dirt under his fingernails. Paul had noticed that none of the veterans, such as Duncan and Gurney, looked overly polished. They had a hardened, professional appearance, and their weapons were worn from use and frequent cleaning. Not gaudy, but perfectly serviceable.

He and Duncan went to the landing field outside the Ecazi Palace, where the Atreides and Ecazi armies prepared for their primary strike against Hundro Moritani. This combined fighting force would be more than enough to crush the Grumman leader and avenge those who had been killed by the Viscount’s ruthless schemes.

Paul and Duncan found Duke Leto standing in the shadow of the Atreides private frigate. The young man couldn’t wait to tell him what he had been through. He wondered if the Duke would shed a tear upon learning of his mother’s death….

Leto surveyed his troops from the base of the embarkation ramp. In an instant, Paul noted the extra shadows around his father’s eyes. The scars on the nobleman’s heart had never healed from the deaths of Victor and Kailea, and the tragedy of his friend Rhombur. The murder of Ilesa had opened fresh wounds and, studying his father now, Paul saw a new haunted look. Duke Leto had been through his own ordeal here on Ecaz.

He embraced Paul, but seemed hesitant to show his relief and joy. He smiled at the Swordmaster. “Duncan, you’ve kept my son safe.”

“As you commanded, my Lord.”

As the clamor of activity continued around them, with soldiers checking weapons and hustling aboard frigates, following their sub-commanders, Paul and Duncan told their stories. In turn Leto told them how he had killed Prad Vidal by his own hand. He seemed to take no pride in it. “That is what a War of Assassins is all about, Paul. Only the correct combatants face death, not innocents.”

Armand Ecaz came to them, accompanied by two gray-suited Guild legates, a male and a female, though both looked remarkably sexless. “Leto, we have formalities to attend to.” The Archduke kept his empty sleeve pinned to his side, like a badge of honor; by now he had recovered enough that he could complete his duties without being slowed by the handicap. “Forms and agreements.”

“Yes, we follow all the rules,” Leto said bitterly. “The prescribed niceties of civilization.”

The Guild legates peered through droopy eyelids, and when they spoke they were entirely passionless, as if only husks of their bodies remained. “The forms must be obeyed,” the female legate said with emphasis.

“And we have obeyed the forms,” Leto replied, somewhat curtly. Paul knew he was anxious to dispatch the frigates to the Heighliner and head off to Grumman. He looked up at Gurney Halleck, who scowled at the bureaucrats from the entry hatchway. When Paul caught his friend’s gaze, the lumpy face transformed to a smile.

“All necessary documents have been filed with the Landsraad, and copies sent to Spacing Guild headquarters on Junction,” said Archduke Armand. “This is a proper, legally sanctioned military action.”

Leto added, “Thufir Hawat presented our case before the Emperor, and an Ecazi ambassador has done the same. Shaddam IV publicly censured Viscount Moritani, so he has implicitly accepted our grievance.”

Gurney spoke up, “‘Once God casts His game piece, it is best to stay out of the way.’” Paul had never heard the quote before, and wondered if Gurney had made it up. “And now, by the grace of God and under the shield of vendetta, we intend to hit the Grummans hard.” Gurney’s words carried an unspoken dare, as if provoking the Guild legates to try and stop them.

The strangely identical representatives simply bowed and took a step backward. “It is so. You may bring this battle to House Moritani, though the Emperor himself reserves the right to intervene, if he so chooses.”

“Intervene?” Leto asked. “Or interfere?”

Neither legate answered the question. “You have permission to load your military forces aboard the Heighliner.” They departed swiftly.

Archduke Armand snapped orders for his troops to board the frigates in an orderly fashion. Gurney hustled about, keeping the operation in order, shouting even louder than the warming spacecraft engines.

Duncan, though, remained beside the Duke, looking saddened, even shamed. He unwrapped a bundle he carried under his arm and presented the worn hilt and discolored, damaged blade of the Old Duke’s sword. “My Lord, this was your father’s weapon. You told me to carry it with honor and use it to defend House Atreides. I have done so, but I am afraid that —” He could not speak further.

Paul said, “Duncan used it to save me, many times over.”

Leto looked at the famous sword that Paulus Atreides had used for his popular spectacles on Caladan and his legendary battles during the Ecazi Revolt fighting alongside Rhombur’s father. Duncan had carried the proud blade for years, fought with it, trained Paul against it.

Duke Leto’s chuckle was a startling contrast to Duncan’s glum demeanor. “That weapon has more than served its purpose, Duncan. It shall be retired with honor when we get back to Castle Caladan. For now, I need your fighting arm and a sharp blade in your hand. You are a Swordmaster of Ginaz, in service to House Atreides. It is high time you had a sword of your own.”

Duncan looked at Paul, smiling uncertainly, then back at Leto. “A fresh new blade before going into battle on Grumman. Yes, my Lord, that would be a fine christening.”

AN ODDLY QUIET Swordmaster Bludd meticulously searched the armory and museum wing of the Archduke’s palace until he found a sword he considered appropriate for Duncan Idaho. He insisted it had to be a masterpiece of metallurgy and craftsmanship that had never been used in battle.

The foppish man carried the gleaming weapon solemnly. As he stepped forward, he flexed the blade and made quick, expert thrusts to each side. “A fitting piece,” Bludd said. “I tested it myself.” He looked teary eyed as he presented it to the Duke, who then turned to Duncan.

“When we return victorious to Caladan, our best metalsmiths will add a hawk sigil to the hilt. But this blade is yours, Duncan. Use it well, and in defense of House Atreides.”

Duncan bowed, then accepted the sword. “My own sweat will be enough to mark it until that time, my Lord. I will use this with honor.”

Leto’s voice took on a stern tone. “And you still have the charge of protecting my son’s life. We are going into a larger battle, and I can’t have you joining the fight with an inferior sword.”

All around, Paul saw military aircraft lifting off from the field — frigates, cargo vessels, fighter craft heading for orbital rendezvous with the Heighliner. Gurney Halleck, who had appeared to watch the brief ceremony, nodded when he saw the new sword.

“I think Gurney should write the ballad of Duncan Idaho someday,” Paul said.

“Duncan’s got to distinguish himself first, young pup. I can’t be writing songs about every average warrior.” Gurney smiled. “Duncan is not, and will never be, average,” Leto answered.