《The Duel of Flames》 Chapter 1 ¡°War is like your first time. You are nervous, they are nervous, by the end of the night someone is bent over.¡± ¡ª Archon Azure Yorhal, during the gathering of the Conclave on July 25, 2429. Doubt. Fear. It¡¯s all around me. My crew is anxious. Their eyes dart from screen to screen, stealing nervous glances my way, but they cannot see me. Not when the PhantomShield is up. It thrums faintly, engulfing the holoprojector, Captain Gerard Nulse, and myself. The hum strains my ears - isolating me and reminding me that no sounds escape this field and that outsiders cannot see inside, allowing some privacy. On the holo, Second Admiral Horus Lensh¡¯s gaze is scrutinizing me. He is watching me as I pace without saying a word. I stop as a drop of sweat races down my bald head, then cleanly shaved face, before falling onto the gold and blue plating of my armor. A head of an elephant depicted on my torso stares outward, its presence both a blessing and a curse. My eyes are heavy, everything blurring due to sleep deprivation for the last twenty-eight hours. I wipe another drop of sweat from my cheek, gripping my sword tighter, as if a drowning man would a branch. ¡°We should attack, Grand General,¡± Horus says, and I turn to him. His face is stoic and bony, with grayish hair styled to his right and his gray eyes not hiding his distaste. I find it hard to place the object of his repulsion. Is it for the situation, the lack of information, or as per usual with me? I shake my head, ¡°Not yet.¡± ¡°You are too careful.¡± He clasps his hands behind his back. ¡°Marcorians are not hailing, and most of their fleet is missing. We should attack.¡± ¡°Our allies have not arrived yet either,¡± Gerard¡¯s voice booms beside me, and I wince. ¡°This smells of a trap.¡± My hand grips the handle of my sword tighter, my knuckles turning white, as I glance up at Gerard. He is a head taller, with softer facial contours than either Horus or I. At forty-five, he is the youngest member present. I pat him on the back with my other hand as I pass him by, nodding in agreement with his assessment; the situation presents itself as grim. ¡°Could the Marcorians have gotten wind of our plans?¡± Fear whispers in my ear with its coarse voice. No, I push those thoughts aside. No, that¡¯s impossible. ¡°Your wife could already be dead if they did,¡± the voice nags on. I clear my throat and gaze to the starboard, where radars read our surrounding area without rest. ¡°Marcorians could hide on the other side of the planet,¡± I continue thoughtfully. ¡°I won¡¯t fall for this trap.¡± ¡°Then why don¡¯t they hail us?¡± Horus hisses, his jaw tightening. ¡°They are buying time. We must strike. Now.¡± ¡°Watch yourself,¡± I snap at him, harsher than intended. But once I¡¯m on that path, I know better than to step off it. ¡°I¡¯ll have you know your place, or you¡¯ll know the void.¡± I point to the cold space outside the viewport. My hand thanks me as blood flows without obstructions through it again. Silence settles over us. My eyes are on his, and his on mine. I hear Gerard shuffling, his feet dragging on the metal. But I won¡¯t lose this standoff. My patience pays off. Horus looks away. I hide a smirk. ¡°Marcorians may find it hard to grasp the situation,¡± Gerard breathes out in relief. ¡°Lions don¡¯t bargain with mice.¡± ¡°It¡¯s good to know how you see yourself,¡± Horus says, cutting him off and straightening his uniform. ¡°Although their spirit animal is a scorpion, ours is an elephant. We should stomp them the same.¡± ¡°If the roles were reversed,¡± I say, bringing their attention back to me, ¡°we wouldn¡¯t have answered the slave¡¯s demand for surrender either. Regardless, they might be praying to their gods and goddesses for blessings or similar things.¡± I smirk at that, the same as Gerard does. Marcorians and their gods. In our day and age, where humans traveled far and wide and encountered nothing. Not even aliens. These men and women still believe in their gods. In their destiny. ¡°Their loyalty to their cause inspires,¡± Horus adds nonchalantly. ¡°Perhaps that is why they are our masters for the last three hundred years. But it would be wrong of me to downplay our ancestors¡¯ role. They surrendered without a fight. Choosing their lifestyle over some of their freedoms.¡± ¡°With each passing second, I see the beauty of their choice,¡± Gerard says, shaking his head. ¡°Any news if Marcorians are attacking our planets?¡± I turn to Gerard. ¡°I¡¯ll check with Nesi.¡± He bows and leaves the PhantomShield¡¯s zone. But I¡¯ve already answered my question. If they did, Nesi would already be here, interrupting our conversation. I meet gazes with Horus again. ¡°I¡¯ll not tolerate your behavior in front of my officers. Conclave or not. Some of their backing of you or not. I still control the army and the fleet. One more provocation from you, and I will report HBC Munzioth¡¯s untimely death to the Conclave.¡± He clears his throat, his teeth grinding against each other. ¡°Threats, my Grand General?¡± He looks me dead in the eye. ¡°Aren¡¯t we the promoters of peace?¡± I disconnect from him, and the PhantomShield is gone. Chatter fills my ears. Officers and crew members run around, giving orders and relaying information. I tune them out and glance at the grand viewport, which takes up most of the forward wall. Two of the three Marcorian Defensive Planetary Platforms (DPP) are in view in their full glory. They are like moons orbiting the red planet, although their shape reminds me of a disk¡ªone of the force shields gleaming in the retreating sunlight, redirecting the rays to our tinted viewports. Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. My stomach twists as I see only a handful of their ships on the radar¡ªtwo cruisers and three destroyers. My chief radar operative has already checked the entire surrounding area. It is apparent the Marcorian fleet warp-jumped. But where they jumped is a whole other question. ¡°Incoming!¡± I jerk my head toward the voice, my heart skipping a beat. ¡°It has begun,¡± the voice whispers in my ear. I turn to the viewport again, only to see a momentary passing of an orange plasma. It¡¯s thin, thinner than ours, but deadly. One of my cruiser¡¯s shields takes a direct hit from a pulse cannon. An orange plasma blast breaks against the shield, and the shock waves wash in all directions like ripples in the water. It¡¯s a beautiful, almost mesmerizing display. ¡°Their cruisers are maneuvering, their weapons are activating.¡± Another of my officers is yelling. I scramble to issue orders: ¡°Grand General to the Hewshian fleet¡ªweapons free. I repeat¡ªweapons free.¡± Relief washes over me as the initial shock subsides, and I realize the fight has begun, and we didn¡¯t fire first. That lessens some of my guilt, but my heart remains heavy. Now, other thoughts strain my mind. I order my cruisers in a cluster battle formation, and I have a group of destroyers make their way to my starboard. I hesitate, uncertain whether to unleash the full potential of my battleship, Caedes. She could be our salvation or our downfall. I choose to tank the shots for now. The C.O.R.E. (Critical Operations Regulation Engine) will sustain the shields for a while, but our seven-mile size makes us a prime target. I watch as our plasma shots barely reach the enemy, their ships maneuvering to get closer to the planet. I curse. Their plasma cannons concede in raw power but make up for it with deadly precision and superior range. They are yet to miss their target. I curse our intel. We warp-jumped to this location, expecting to fight a fleet. They would be closer; we would rain hell on them. Now, we strain our C.O.R.E.s even to reach our targets. ¡°Horus!¡± I contact the vice Admiral. ¡°Take your group and make sure those cruisers burn to ash.¡± I point at the two Marcorian cruisers, which were finishing activating their weapons, I assume. ¡°Gabar, you and your group will advance to the nearest DPP. Unleash your fighters. Others will tend to the damaged cruiser,¡± I assure him. The man is still worried about one of his cruisers malfunctioning during the warp-jump. I spot a horde of fighters in the viewport flying by. Like mosquitoes, they break into a crazed furor and meet with their deadly dates, which take off from the enemies¡¯ DPPs and cruisers. They are agile, fast, and precise. One fighter caught my eye. It twists between pulse cannon blasts, torpedoes, and drifting debris¡ªwreckage left behind by less fortunate pilots. It veers left, then rolls upward, dodging plasma fire from the enemy fighter closing in behind. More of our fighters surge into the fray. The plasma tears them apart in seconds. I grimace after an explosion, imagining the pilots¡¯ screams of pain - until the bitter truth caught up: no audible screams in space. Some enemy fighters broke through, heading for our left flank. ¡°Do not let their fighters reach our cruiser¡¯s engines,¡± I order the fleet. ¡°Destroyer group three, move about our aft.¡± Seeing no warp activity anywhere near us and having enemy ships preoccupied with my cruisers, I let my mind run rampant with various possibilities. There may be a chance to end this now, I decide. ¡°Grand General Varick to Caedes, engage full throttle. Hold the course.¡± Gripping the metal railing, I command, ¡°All weapons free.¡± Cheering follows, and I fought the urge to cover my ears. Biting my lower lip, I let all that shrieking wash over me. All the while, I wait with anticipation. The ship shook after the shield ate up a shot. Then another. And yet another. The shields ate up most of the energy each time, but bits of it got through, hitting the ship and shaking it. After another shot, one of my officers wavers, falls, hits his head, and gets knocked out. Medic rushes to him. Too eager. She slips and falls next to him. I shake my head and return my gaze to the radars and the viewport. We brake forward, and the enemy responds as expected. They double down on their efforts to get closer to the planet and DPPs. But I have thirteen cruisers, not counting the one with C.O.R.E issues. We¡¯ll have the upper hand if we are far enough from the anti-ship guns based on the planet. ¡°I¡¯ve incapacitated one of the Marcorian cruisers.¡± Horus updates. His bony face appears on the holo, still not a wrinkle on his uniform. ¡°Let him be. Destroyers will finish him if needed,¡± I say, turning away from the holoprojector. I can almost feel Horus¡¯s disapproving stare - the favorite son of the blood-thirsty Conclave. I continue, ¡°Pursue the other, but do not get pulled too far out of position; their fleets are probably on their way here.¡± ¡°Yes, sir,¡± Horus spat. I¡¯ll deal with him later. Another shot and the first DPP ruptures in an array of explosions. Yet still, they do not hail us. I clench my jaw as my heart races almost achingly. I look at the radars again. No allies had arrived yet. Technical difficulties, I tell myself. They have technical difficulties. But I can lie to myself for only so long. This is feeling more and more like a setup by the Fraxonnians - our allies of convenience, more so than anything else. I curse. I curse myself, the Conclave, and the day I heard this plan. I let my fingers massage my eyes, as if trying to suppress the memories of that day. Fraxon made many vows. None kept so far. Tricked! I muse under my breath. Sweat pours off me, eyes scanning radar and viewport. I take a few deep breaths, trying to devise a logical scenario. Contacting Fraxon is out of the question. If they are in a warp-jump, they cannot pick up on my signal, and if Marcorians are attacking them at their home worlds, they won¡¯t pick up from me. That isn¡¯t my biggest concern, however. A darker thought looms over my head - what if this is what they wanted? Ordering Nesi to contact all the captains, I turn my gaze to the viewport and let my thoughts run rampant for the moment. Pressing on is a mistake I could not afford. I need more facts. Without them, I knew I would get trapped one way or another. ¡°Grand General¡­?¡± Horus¡¯s coarse voice attempts to disrupt me. ¡°We should finish them. Press on. We are close to a victory here.¡± I glance away from the viewport and turn to the holoprojector. A multitude of captains eyeing me - Horus in the middle. ¡°Not yet,¡± I utter. ¡°All of you are to assume a defensive posture. There is no need to center on me, but we are not pushing for now. Just get far enough where their DPPs are not too dangerous to you. We must be ready in case their fleet shows up. Horus,¡± I stop the man before he can say anything. ¡°You all know how this is looking. No enemies and no allies. I fear they may be in league, and we are the target.¡± They all acknowledge. Even Horus says nothing, but then again Gerard is eying him, almost daring him to say something. I disconnect from the call and let my hands fall to my sides. ¡°Their fleet is somewhere,¡± the nagging voice returns. ¡°You don¡¯t think they disappeared into thin air now, do you?¡± It continues; the tone is soft and sarcastic, unlike before. I close my eyes, but all I see is Hewshia Nexus on fire. The entire planet. A chill runs down my spine as I see my house engulfed in flames¡ªall the trees, bushes, and flowers. I force myself back to the ship, where everything is quiet. For now. ¡°Grand General,¡± Nesi runs up to me, his eyes betraying his fear. ¡°The Conclave demands your presence. Immediately.¡± Chapter 2 ¡°My dearest, don¡¯t wait up for me. A matter of most importance plagues my mind - bureaucrats.¡±¡ª Grand General Varick, from personal messages to his wife on July 25th, 2429. I open the doors to my quarters on Caedes. A spacious living room spans in front of me, with a couple sofas in the middle, a massive coffee table between them, and a large, dull gray rug covers the floors beneath the sofas and the table. Oceanspire lily, our national flower, dictates the smell in the air. The scent reminds me that of a salty sea breeze on a cool afternoon. It has petals of deep blue tipped in green, Hewshian colors. It grows on half the bushes which line up the right wall of my living room, where bookcases span from floor to ceiling, leaving just a portion of the wall clear of anything for the holoscreen. I turn left and head towards the far wall, stopping briefly to admire the 3D map of our empire. It spans three star systems, with four hospitable planets in total. I pull a bottle of cognac from the cabinet on which the map originates and pour myself two fingers¡¯ worth. It disappears in an instant. Hewshia Nexus, our capital world, is one of the smallest on the display. Only Guiltkin is slightly smaller, both in size and population. I allow myself a smile as I recall Hewshia¡¯s cool evening breezes and the bird¡¯s songs. People yelling and pushing in the markets, trying to get to one place or another. Kids being kids, away from all worries of life, enjoying the perfect weather conditions any human could ever want. I look at the hologram of the planet as it slowly turns in tempo with the actual planet. Water covers around sixty percent of the surface, and no desert in sight. Snow is present only on the northern continent and southern isles. In sharp contrast to Marcoria, red rocks and sands cover a good third of its surface. No snow at all. I put the glass down hard and make sure my armor is clean and presentable, symbolically dusting the shoulders and upper arms to make sure there¡¯s nothing on it. With a sigh, I turn from the cabinet and walk past a door leading to my bedroom, and walk to the second door, which leads to the conference room. The room is only about a tenth of the living room, with a holoprojector in the middle, and nothing else. Apart from a shimmering light from the holo, there are no other sources. I stand there for a moment, gathering my thoughts. The Conclave, our governmental body, will be unhappy by my delay, but words are about all they¡¯ll be able to throw my way today. Regardless, I want to make sure our conversation remains private, as yelling and bickering are what I expect from them. I close my eyes and take three deep breaths before accepting the communication. ¡°Varick,¡± Archon Brian Enon appears before me. His fat cheeks remind me of a bulldog, and I wince as I imagine spit landing on me. Thank gods for the holoprojectors. He is not a tall man, about a head lower than I am, but his mass makes up for height. ¡°Do you mind explaining why you ceased hostilities?¡± ¡°He ceased,¡± Archon Azure Yorhal¡¯s silky voice commands our attention, ¡°And you, my dear, start.¡± A light smile on his lips as he lingers on Brian. ¡°I¡¯m sure Grand General got his reasons. Let us not be hasty at dismissing them.¡± Only his colorful wardrobe of turquoise, green, and gold rivals his velvet voice. Blue hair up to his shoulders, sharp facial features, high cheekbones, and eyes almost the color of a Sapphire. Are they natural? Enhanced? I know not for sure, but they are mesmerizing. Azure is about a decade younger than I am, but his sharp tongue bridges that gap. He eyes me, offering a full smile. ¡°But it is curious.¡± Azure continues, his finger drumming on the armrest of his throne. ¡°Perhaps a dilemma plagues your heart, Grand General?¡± ¡°That¡¯s an understatement,¡± I respond without smiling. A couple of other Conclave members join in a quick succession. ¡°Ah!¡± Catching my confused glance, Azure leans in closer and almost whispers, ¡°Don¡¯t be alarmed, dear friend. This is a rather short notice gathering, and three of the beloved Archons could not make it.¡± I nod as I scan the empty thrones. One of three men is missing, and two of the three women. The seventh member, our Elder, sits in the middle. At seventy-eight, he looks almost like death itself. Long white hair falls down his shoulders, his stature similar to mine, but he is a good thirty-forty pounds lighter than I. ¡°I can only imagine one man who would tell you so quickly about the sharp change in my strategy,¡± I began, clasping my hands behind my back. ¡°But more on that later. Fear of a trap led me to change my approach in this battle. Marcorian Conglomerate¡¯s fleets are gone. Fraxes broke their promise and failed to join, as did the pirates. More importantly, Marcorians are not responding to our hails, and they fled to the safety of the planet, as if daring us to attack them so close to their planetary defenses.¡± Brian¡¯s eyes burn a hole in me, but he bites his tongue for now, for which I¡¯m thankful. ¡°Did Tarfahtan reach out to you?¡± I inquire about the Marcorian leader and High Priest. The weight of a thousand suns lifts from my shoulders as I feel my heart slowing down its rhythm. These burdens are no longer my own to carry. As expected, Tel-Chaz, our Elder, sits quietly, letting others speak. For now. No smile on his lips. He directs his eyes my way, but looks past me, as if trying to pierce the veil of reality itself. ¡°Well,¡± Azure shifts in his seat for comfort, crossing his arms, ¡°this certainly exceeds expectations.¡± His eyes wander over to the women¡¯s section, idling on Sinclair, as though auditing her. She wears all black, from her dress, to shoes, to jewelry, which is plenty around her neck and wrists. ¡°D¨¦j¨¤ vu,¡± Azure gifts a playful wink to Sinclair as she meets his eyes. ¡°It seems almost like yesterday we had this conversation, but many moons already passed. There were whispers of caution within the walls of this very citadel. Gods¡­ I wish they had a loudspeaker. But let bygones be bygones, am I right, Brian?¡± Azure turns to his right, gently brushing his hand against Brian¡¯s. ¡°It¡¯s not like the council of Blood always prevails, and reason discarded. But I digress.¡± His eyes now linger on me, glimmering, ¡°If we may, more details about the situation, Grand General.¡± ¡°Two cruisers, three destroyers, and two DPPs are all which is challenging us.¡± I release the hilt and cross my arms across my chest. A smirk passes over my face as Azure¡¯s words finally catch up to me. Half a year ago, he and I allied in dissuading the Conclave from attacking Marcoria. Today, he is making sure everyone remembers his stance. Considering the looks I am receiving from the other members, I can only assume they are testing me. They want to know where I stand. If I too will wash my hands clean. But do that, and they¡¯ll perceive me as a threat, and will spin my decision not to attack as insubordination or treason all together. Words are my enemy now. More formidable than even Marcorians. Brian¡¯s gaze eats me up, watching me with distaste. His pale grey eyes follow my every motion with caution, as if expecting I¡¯ll strike at him. I clear my throat, but it¡¯s too dry, and a cough comes out. ¡°Currently, we do not know the whereabouts of the Marcorians. The plan was for Fraxon, pirates, and us to attack in tandem and take them by surprise. That is the only way for us to win our freedom. I fear one of two things transpired. Technical difficulties on their part¡­¡± ¡°Or Marcorians are already striking at Fraxon,¡± Brian cuts in ¡°These speculations are all so terribly terrific,¡± Azure draws attention back to himself. His voice sounds as if we are discussing a party, not war. ¡°Any facts? Anything concrete at all?¡± Silence eats at me. I hate silence, hate this inaction. There are no facts. Not yet. And I fear facts may emerge too late, but I can¡¯t tell that to them. I¡¯d rather die a thousand times on the battlefield than talk to these oligarchs. But I am not the only one uncomfortable. They are all calculating, deliberating, and trying to come up with plausible scenarios. Azure and Sinclair likely are thinking of their planets, which they governed on behalf of the Hewshian Empire. Brian likely is still thinking of ways to get rid of me, and install Horus. ¡°The fact is,¡± Sinclair Shena steps in, and I turn to face her. ¡°If the public finds out that a whole Marcorian fleet is missing, there will be panic. Riots maybe.¡± She takes a long, hard look at me, her thin lips pressed tightly together. ¡°This information cannot get out past the citadel walls.¡± ¡°What a marvelous idea, my dear,¡± Azure leans forward as if to get a better look at her. ¡°Say, if the Marcorian fleet shows up here, what do we tell our brave people then?¡± He falls back on the backrest of his throne, finger resumes its drumming. ¡°We have¡­¡± He pauses, letting his words sink in, ¡°serious things to consider.¡± I watch as Sinclair shakes her head, annoyed. But refrains from speaking, knowing all too well there¡¯s no arguing with him. Alcohol kicked in, and I am already regretting drinking it at all. It eased up my mind, but my eyes are becoming even heavier. I¡¯m now on the twenty-ninth hour without sleep. All the thoughts mingling together into one uncohesive dream. I pinch my leg to stay alert. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. ¡°Even if they attack us, Grand General,¡± Tel-Chaz¡¯s coarse voice sent shivers down my spine, helping me to stay focused. ¡°Your fleet is not yet ready to warp jump to defend, is that correct?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± I answer. ¡°Then our options are few,¡± Brian continued calculatedly. ¡°If we can¡¯t defend, then there¡¯s only one other option.¡± ¡°I will not attack!¡± I spat. ¡°If I do, that puts my fleet in a position for a potential trap.¡± ¡°Calm yourself, Varick,¡± Brian spoke, belittling me by calling me by my name already twice, rather than rank. ¡°You will do as you are told.¡± ¡°Brian,¡± Azure puts his hand on the armrest of Brian¡¯s throne, his voice soft, ¡°I applaud your bravado. Perhaps you¡¯d like to lead the fleet from the frontline?¡± Sinclair clears her throat, and I turn to face her. But she is throwing her gaze towards the men¡¯s section of the Conclave. ¡°Azure, perhaps you and your theatrics should get a room. Help us, or please, don¡¯t interrupt.¡± She offers him a hardened gaze, which he meets with a smile. ¡°Already have reservations, darling. I¡¯ll clean up this mess, and then I¡¯m gone, I promise.¡± He returns to the warmth of his backrest. ¡°We pursue Marcorians back to their planet, and their fleets may reemerge¡­ A poor idea indeed.¡± Azure concludes thoughtfully. ¡°Agreed,¡± Sinclair turns to face me. ¡°Perhaps it¡¯s all just a rouse, and they are hiding behind the planet, or one of their three moons. If that¡¯s the case, they¡¯ll crush us from both sides and wipe us out in hours, maybe even minutes. Grand General is right to be cautious.¡± Brian shakes his head, annoyed that even Sinclair takes my side. Azure lets out a laugh. A chilling laugh that rings in the ears long after he is done. ¡°I love this new side to you, my dear Sinclair. First she agrees.¡± He strokes his blue beard, ¡°then she advises caution. My heart warms at the thought. Perhaps your father¡¯s fate is not your own.¡± I open my mouth to speak, to stop this before it escalates. Too late, Sinclair is already speaking. ¡°Is that a threat?¡± She challenged Azure. ¡°Hardly. An observation,¡± Azure said. ¡°A caution, really. I don¡¯t take my feeble heart could survive another demise of the Shena family.¡± ¡°Enough,¡± Tel-Chaz says, and hits his staff against the marble floor. ¡°Grand General looks embarrassed to be here. Rightly so. We decide here,¡± He points his bony finger at each Archon, ¡°but our decisions might spell death for our men there.¡± His finger turns my way. ¡°Thoughts on Fraxon, Grand General?¡± Sinclair takes the floor, lifting her hand to silence others who wanted to speak. ¡°As always, a pleasure to be included.¡± I smile at her. ¡°Fraxon¡¯s absence is most troubling. It is one thing if they have technical issues; it is another if they threw us to the wolves, hoping to use us as cannon fodder. But their fleet is smaller, as we know. Without us, they stand no chance against the might of our enemy.¡± I pause, knowing the next words will not be light. ¡°The last possibility is that Fraxon and Marcoria are now in league against us.¡± ¡°Evidence?¡± Azure raises his brow. ¡°Both are missing. Perhaps joining fleets together,¡± Sinclair answers before I get a chance. ¡°But that is not fact, merely a speculation.¡± Azure does his best to suppress a coming laugh, ¡°Speculation indeed. But we must act on what we have, not what we wish we had.¡± He tilts his head, as if studying something, ¡°The courteous thing to do is contact Poltr directly and see what the Emperor of Fraxon says himself.¡± ¡°That will alarm them into thinking we are unto them.¡± Brian adds, and I nod in agreement. ¡°I said it was a courteous thing, not a smart thing.¡± Azure offers him a sly smile. ¡°In either case, someone respected and tactful would need to contact him. Someone less than that, and we might fight against them regardless of their current intentions.¡± His gaze lingers on Brian. ¡°Or,¡± He turns to Tel-Chaz, ¡°we can remain silent and hope for the best.¡± I can only imagine that was a polite jab at our Elder for staying silent on his stance all this time. Azure tries to hide his irritation, but I catch it. It¡¯s fleeting, and he recovers from it fast. ¡°How many died already, while they argue?¡± A voice whispers in my ear. Not now, I think, clenching my jaw. You are the last thing I need. Go away. ¡°Ten thousand? Twenty, perhaps? Ships?¡± It continues to ramble on. I close my eyes. Teeth grinding against each other. Hands eating into the metal of the holo-projector. ¡°If Fraxonnians attack us, we could always detonate the bombs we installed on their planets during their civil war. They won¡¯t do much damage, but they won¡¯t know that we have no more. The public backlash should give them plenty to worry about, and hopefully will buy us some time.¡± I raise my head. Azure catches my glance, and his eyes sparkle with excitement. ¡°Harsh, Grand General. Harsh,¡± he waddles his finger at me, ¡°but understandable. I¡¯d stay that course of action.¡± A sharp bang against the marble diverts my attention. Azure¡¯s mouth hangs open; he says nothing more. The Elder has hit his staff against the floor. His tired eyes still linger on me, but he doesn¡¯t address me yet. ¡°Get me Tarfahtan.¡± Tel-Chaz broke the silence. And I hear hurried footsteps. ¡°He and I have much to discuss.¡± His eyes stop on mine. ¡°Do not engage unless fired upon. Tarfahtan is an enemy now regardless of what might have happened to our allies. A conversation with him may yet yield some results.¡± And they are gone. Leaving me in silence, and even the voice inside my head says nothing. I strike the holoprojector with my fist, denting it slightly. I think I¡¯d have broken my fist if it wasn¡¯t for the armor. ¡°Why listen to bureaucrats just to arrive at the same conclusion?¡± I whisper at the ceiling. ¡°Takes a hundred times longer, but results the same.¡± I walk out of the conference room and out of my quarters altogether. Not slowing my pace until I reach the bridge. ¡°How¡¯s Peacock?¡± Gerard whispers as he approaches. My eyes burn into his. ¡°Archon Azure Yorhal is in good health, if that is what you want to know. Show some respect to the members of the Conclave, Gerard. We don¡¯t know who hears us.¡± He nods, ¡°as you command, Grand General. Any news?¡± But I¡¯m already walking past him. ¡°Grand General Varick to the fleet,¡± I take to the communicator as precautions need to be taken. ¡°Assume defensive posture around Caedes. Do not power down weapons,¡± I added, unconvinced about that last part. Having weapons powered on for no reason went against everything that is taught. The C.O.R.E., or Critical Operations Reactor Engine, could take on only so much strain. Having everything powered on¡­ History would be different if some Admirals took that lesson to heart. Waiting is a fool¡¯s game. Yet here I am - a fool. Too many thoughts plague my mind and turn my insides out. A flash catches my eye. In the distance, next to the planet, I watch as a fleet of orange and green color scheme ships emerge from behind the planet. ¡°Umaz!¡± I turn to face the man. ¡°They must have warped jumped.¡± He feverishly studies the radar. ¡°The radar wouldn¡¯t detect anything if they warp jumped so close to the planet.¡± If that is true, Umaz is right. The planet would cover any tracks of warp activity if it happened next to it. The planet¡¯s mass and pull would scramble any warp jump detection device. A dangerous maneuver, and I know only one admiral who is foolish enough to attempt it. The Marcorian expeditionary fleet of seven cruisers and around twenty destroyers position themselves next to the DPP. They already activated their shields and weapons. They don¡¯t outnumber us. But with the DPPs on their side¡­ ¡°We have warp activity at our stern.¡± One of the officers calls out. ¡°They are hailing us,¡± Nesi- my communication officer - announces as well. Turning, I sat back down. I exhale and start breathing a little easier. ¡°Patch them through,¡± I command and fold my arms. Now they want to talk? ¡°Grand General Varick,¡± an older man with short, gray hair appears on my holo. His attire is orange-green as the ships, with a grand scorpion emblem on his torso. His rolled-up sleeves reveal the missing part of his left arm below the elbow. A red glowing cybernetic eye fills his left eye socket, and burn marks spread from it. His other hand is behind his back. He stands, a bastion, eyes consuming my soul. I shift, battling the urge to look away, avoid those eyes. ¡°Admiral Rhu¡¯Kra, I presume,¡± I utter, and cleared my throat. ¡°Explain yourself.¡± He motions outside. ¡°Where¡¯s my third DPP?¡± ¡°Admiral Rhu¡¯Kra, if it¡¯s still unclear to you, let me be the first to extend you the courtesy of a formal declaration of war.¡± Getting up, I fold my arms across my chest and walk towards the holo. A PhantomShield activates as I press a button on the holo. ¡°Tel-Chaz and Tarfahtan are now engaged in diplomacy. I suggest we wait on their decision.¡± ¡°That¡¯s rich coming from you. I can¡¯t believe I counted you among the honorable warriors.¡± Rhu¡¯Kra spits at the floor, his brow tensing up. He raises his gaze, extending his arms to the side, ¡°Undetuka, close my gates to the afterlife if these fools are not ash by day¡¯s end!¡± Marcorians and their gods¡­ twelve they have. ¡°To be fair, I offered for them to surrender.¡± ¡°And I will not extend that courtesy to you,¡± Rhu¡¯Kra growls back. ¡°You rendered that right null by showing up here in force,¡± he continues, his jaw tensing up with each word. ¡°Surrender yourself to me alongside your cruisers, and I may yet let some of your men return home in one piece.¡± A vein on his temple pulses, ¡°I knew that our kind attitude towards you would one day bite us in the ass. We should have treated you like the scum you are, slave! We all know how you act when there¡¯s a force greater than yours - you surrender without a fight. So do that. Surrender.¡± Pointless arguing with him. I could tell him that my ancestors are not I, or that he doesn¡¯t have a greater force here, either. But that would only bring up more insults from him. Most of which would probably hit home. At the end of the day, he is right. Although nobody outside the Conclave will ever hear me say so. A staring contest ensues. I can see a thousand ways to end his life - I can only assume he sees the same. But it is out of our hands unless I want to be court-martialed. I should fire upon him. That would give me the advantage. My eyes never leave his and his mine. It is now a battle of wills rather than wits, and I¡¯m not about to lose. I felt like a kid; it almost makes me smile, but that wish is fleeting. Unless Tarfahtan agrees to our terms and surrenders, there is no way this could end peacefully. And even if he agreed, that left me with Rhu¡¯Kra. Marcorians didn¡¯t habitually falsely bring their gods into any fray. I contemplate if I should be worried about being shot in the back if we are to leave this conflict. ¡°Seems like diplomacy is over.¡± Rhu¡¯Kra smiles and disconnects. Talks failed. I can¡¯t see another option. ¡°Then I¡¯ll attack,¡± I whisper. Chapter 3 ¡°If a man steps on the path of war, he has but two weapons. Wield a sword to take down a man, but a lie is more suited to shatter a nation.¡± ¡ª From Etkragret Kraghul (The Edicts of Kraghul), god of war and deception. ¡°Once at three thousand kilometers from the planet, the fleet is to turn starboard,¡± I tell Gerard. The ship shakes as the volleys break against Caedes¡¯ shield, and my hold on the holoprojector tightens. I study Gerard¡¯s face. He is biting the inside of his cheek, weighing my words. Between us is the holoprojector, with a map of Marcoria and its surrounding area. Five hundred kilometers from the planet Rhu¡¯Kra¡¯s fleet is waiting for us, stationed directly in our line of sight. One of the smaller moons is passing them by, covering parts of the DPP for now. My fleet has just now reached its full speed, and is around four-thousand kilometers away from the planet. Gerard lifts his eyes up from the map. ¡°If we do that, their planetary based anti-air will be in range to hit us. We should -¡± ¡°I¡¯ve made myself clear,¡± I wave off his concern, although the same burdens my mind. No one has besieged Marcoria for a long time, and we have very little information about their ground capabilities. I only hope they don¡¯t expect this move from us. But this is war, and we are soldiers. Soldiers follow orders. Gerard¡¯s eyes still linger on me. His finger hovers above the map, not too far from the planet. I nod, ¡°permission granted, speak freely.¡± ¡°They will decimate us, Grand General. We should turn at three thousand two hundred fifty. Especially since you ordered almost all fighters to engage against the two cruisers at our aft in order to protect our damaged one,¡± he says, looking at the holographic map. ¡°Our cruisers here need a screen. Destroyers are great, but something smaller, more expandable is better.¡± I nod and turn towards the viewport. The red planet is in front of me, growing with each passing second. I can barely make out the silhouettes of the Marcorian cruisers, with their dull orange and green color schemes. But the flashes of the pulse cannons illuminate them, even if it is for a moment. I see my target. Their flagship stands off center to the right of their formation, its starboard side facing me. That is how most of their fleet faces us - on their starboard or port side. I take a deep breath. Rhu¡¯Kra knew we would have to use a tactic such as this. ¡°Either way we turn, they can chase us¡­¡± I mutter to myself and offer a prayer to the gods. The air tightens with the so-familiar smell of sweat and metal. The pleasant fragrance of the Oceanspire Lily is all but a distant memory now. I look at my watch. ¡°Once we begin our maneuver, we will have one minute and about seventeen seconds before we enter that zone. For fifty-five seconds, planetary fire will bombard us, and during that time, all our port guns will have the best firing positions against enemy cruisers. Not to mention the ideal distance.¡± I draw our trajectory on the map with my finger. ¡°Half of the Marcorian fleet will have their engines exposed, and we will have an advantage for a moment. That is a risk, but a risk worth taking.¡± I finish matter-of-factly, not letting him say another word. He bites his lip, a vein on his head throbbing, but he doesn¡¯t challenge me. Pushing himself from the holoprojector, he makes for his station, barely keeping his balance as another shot shakes the bridge. He relays my message to the entire fleet, and I pray he doesn¡¯t crush the communicator with that grip. There are whispers from the surrounding crew. None dare to look at me for more than a second, however. The only noise now is their fingers running across holo-keyboards. A heavy sigh escapes my lips as I fold my arms across my chest. I gaze forward at the viewport but see nothing but orange plasma flying by. The radar indicates that most shots land on destroyers, which is good. That is their mission anyway - to provide a screen. ¡°Executing the turn due starboard,¡± my helmsman says, his voice steady. ¡°HBC Platigith and HBC Klath move about my port. Then maneuver to your starboard. Focus on enemy cruisers whose starboard side is to us. Take them out as soon as you are in range,¡± I order and take a more commanding posture, with my legs planted in a wide stance and hands clasped behind my back¡ªacknowledgments follow from both ships. But one captain¡¯s voice trembles. I understand him. They aren¡¯t blind, and they are not stupid either. What is playing out is far from what we had expected, even further from what we wished. An orange plasma strikes my viewport dead center. My eyes flinch, and my arm shoots up to shield my face¡ªa useless reflex. Part of the energy breaks through the shield and hits the ship itself. The bridge trembles, and I curse. ¡°Shield status?¡± ¡°Seventy-one percent,¡± an officer answers in a hurry. I don¡¯t bother looking at who responded. No time. No care. The Marcorians are overburdening their C.O.R.E.s, the only logical explanation of how they are able to breach at this distance. My eyes find Gerard getting up, checking himself for any injuries, and motioning for the medics to back off after not finding any. ¡°Marcorian bastards!¡± He shakes his head after catching me watching him. He says nothing else, but his eyes are full of apprehension or disappointment. ¡°A dual input system is useful,¡± I say, still looking at him. ¡°But let¡¯s keep emotions in check.¡± While our ships¡¯ weapon systems draw energy directly from the C.O.R.E, the Marcorians have a two-method system. The first one was the same as ours, and, if need be, they switched over to canisters, which are fed in by an autoloader and have enough energy for two or three shots before they need to be refilled. We push on, turning. I watch the radar. The distance between them and us is becoming shorter and shorter. My hand grips my sword tighter and tighter. I feel a tingling in my throat and fluttering in my stomach. Almost there, I tell myself. Just a little more¡­ I should feel worry. If not for the men and women that I¡¯m sending to their deaths, then at least for the ships, and for the number of them we are about to lose. Conclave can have my head for this. Instead, I speculate on Marcorian¡¯s next move. Their tactic is not something I would have done, no. I¡¯d hide part of my fleet on the other side of the planet, and would let the enemy guess from which side it would emerge. A smirk spreads across my lips - perhaps Rhu¡¯Kra is of the same mind as well. We are now pushing past where our previous engagement took place. Debris from destroyed fighters is bouncing off our shields. So do the dead. The dead who no longer evoke the same emotions from me as they did before, when I first saw a person die. When I was eighteen, fighting against pirates, or rather butchering them. There. Now there¡¯s worry. ¡°Our weapons are now in range,¡± Gerard hollers, and I blink myself back to the moment at hand. ¡°Open fire!¡± I command and lift my head. ¡°All ships, open fire!¡± Our blue plasma shots fly at the Marcorians, and their orange plasma flies at us. Theirs is narrower. More precise. More efficient. But it doesn¡¯t pack as much of a punch as ours, which our enemies know all too well. We hit Marcorians. Barely scratching their shields but hitting them - good news, as they cannot fire at us without being punished as well. The lousy being is that this is Marcorian¡¯s ideal range. Our maximum. Cheers of the crew echo in my ears, forcing me to grin momentarily before logic sets in again. Little did they need for joy. I wonder if they even understand that we are now stuck in this battle to the bitter end. If we cannot destroy all starboard-facing vessels, they will chase us and fire at our engines - all their other ships will take time to either turn or go around the planet. But the crew doesn¡¯t think about that. No. They are happy to hit back. The explosions excite them. They delight and will continue until the flames burn them. They scorch me now. HBC Platigith is now making its way past my viewport, soaking in some of the incoming shots. But its mile height isn¡¯t enough to fully cover Caedes from that distance, and the readings of our shield integrity trickled down. I walk over to the holoscreen with the shield readings - Sixty-four percent. And as the ship shakes, the reading drops - Sixty-one percent. I look at my watch, running a hand over my bald head. For the next fifty-five seconds, our ships will be at their most vulnerable, if everything goes right. Flashes from the planet catch my eye. Too many to count, and coming in hot. ¡°Focus on the furthest cruisers first,¡± I instruct my fleet. The cruisers closest to us, we can always focus down a bit later. Marcorians are in motion, moving towards us. Others are turning their ships around. ¡°Once we are outside the planetary anti-air, turn the fleet towards the port side,¡± I tell Gerard. ¡°We will circle around the planet, and with any luck, will go for round two.¡± The first volley of fire is now reaching us from the planet. ¡°Brace for impact!¡± I order, and my fingers eat into the metal. The bridge shakes, red lights flash. A breach. ¡°Fourth deck is losing oxygen.¡± ¡°Seal off the bay,¡± I say. Good thing our fighters are not here. ¡°If our fighters survive, let them know that the fourth deck is gone for now,¡± I tell Gerard, and he nods. The red light continues flashing, alarms blaring off, but I suppress them the best I can. The second wave of fire is on the way. ¡°My shields are at fifteen percent.¡± Nothe Gabar, captain of HBC Huwlen, appears on the holo projector. ¡°Permission to withdraw to the back-line.¡± ¡°Proceed.¡± I rub my chin and start pacing the captain¡¯s bridge. ¡°Order HBC Canlit, Munzioth, and Xilini to move ahead - full throttle.¡± ¡°Grand General, are you sure that¡¯s a good idea?¡± Gabar presses his lips into a fine line, his eyes narrowing. ¡°Two of those ships are well past their prime. Taking so-¡± ¡°I believe I¡¯ve made myself clear, Captain,¡± I interject. ¡°Their shields are intact; yours are not. Proceed.¡± He nods. ¡°Understood.¡± The second salvo strikes, sparing Caedes this time. My crew explodes with applause as the first of the Marcorian cruisers erupts in a momentary fire. It dies off quickly, as did the crew, I imagine. Fire or open space make sure of that. ¡°We¡¯ve been hit!¡± My eyes dart to the radar. ¡°I repeat¡ªwe¡¯ve had a breach in the shields, we¡¯ve been hit!¡± Nothe Gabar¡¯s voice snaps me back to reality. He salutes me in his wrinkle-free uniform, ¡°It was a pleasure, sir.¡± I catch a flashing light from the corner of my eye. ¡°The honor is mi-¡± I jerk as the flash blinds me. Static on the holoscreen. Debris of the cruiser flying every which way. My throat tightens up, and I¡¯m left standing with my mouth open. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Shit. Shit. Shit!¡± I strike the holoprojector, as one destroyer gets hit by the largest chunk of what used to be HBC Huwlen. Their captain¡¯s bridge is smashed to pieces, and pods with survivors eject in the following seconds. No helping them now. My eyes dart from one thing to the next, and I suck in the air, my chest rising with each inhale. ¡°Focus on their flagship!¡± I yell out and loosen the color of my uniform, my eyes burning with rage. I should have ordered him to pull out earlier - I berate myself while clearing my throat. ¡°Three thousand forty,¡± a voice whispers in my ear. That is the number of dead from the cruiser alone. I suppress that knowledge. Regaining my posture, my gaze falls on the Marcorian Defensive Planetary Platform. ¡°Don¡¯t let up. Their DPP must be on the brink,¡± I demand of my men. ¡°Horus!¡± I call the Vice Admiral, ¡°They are yours.¡± He says nothing, but smirks before disconnecting. The pain eases as my better sense fight through to the front of my cortex. The burn in my arms eases as I relax my hands, but a lump in my throat prohibits me from saying anything else. Fourth volley is now on approach, coming for us. Caedes shakes violently. Shields are now at ten percent. Another destroyer disappears from the radar - its crew from the living. No time for grief, I tell myself and regained my composure. ¡°There will be time to mourn,¡± I tell the crew. ¡°But if we die, there will be no one to do the mourning. Press on!¡± Marcorian DPP ruptures. The flames blind me for a moment, even from that distance. ¡°Executing turn due port!¡± my helmsmen announces, and I exhale. Relaxed too early - another of our cruisers is gone. Marcorian cruisers and destroyers picking off the weakest links. We do the same. But I can¡¯t help but wonder where the rest of their fleet is. They should have four times the amount of ships I¡¯m seeing. Perhaps going around the planet is not such a great idea. This can still very much be an ambush. Another few rounds of plasma land on my ship. ¡°Push us out of their cruiser¡¯s range,¡± I tell the helmsman. ¡°Tell the destroyers to cover us, and release whatever fighters we have left. Have fighters suicide if they have to, but Caedes does not fall today!¡± I hate myself for that command. But a death of one or the death of the whole battleship with its crew. The lesser evil. But still evil. We fire one last volley. I watch. We hit. Their flagship loses parts of its bow. At least it won¡¯t charge after us now, but its bridge is still intact. The ship shakes. I¡¯m thrown to the floor and I curse, ¡°Where is our screen?¡± A medic rushes towards me. I motion for my helmet, and soon the rest on the bridge wears one too. The lights go out, deafening alarms blare, and red lights illuminate everything, but barely. ¡°Shut those alarms off. No one leaves for the pods!¡± I yell out a command. ¡°One of our engines is out, and some relays are gone. That seems to be the extent of the damage, and we are looking for ways to redirect power back to the bridge,¡± an officer informs over the comms, his voice even, and almost nonchalant. A testament to our training, I suppose. ¡°Our fighters are inbound,¡± Gerard informs me. ¡°They paralyzed those two cruisers.¡± ¡°Grand General, sir.¡± My radar operator, Selmor Umaz, runs up to me, his blonde hair clinging to his head, fused by sweat. ¡°Ripples to our starboard.¡± Not now¡­ I let out a sigh and run to the radar. Thoughts race through my mind, and my heart seems to have reached my throat. ¡°Any sign of if it¡¯s enemy or friendly?¡± I ask. Umaz shakes his head. ¡°Did Fraxon or anyone else contact us?¡± I holler at Nesi. ¡°No, sir.¡± Nesi runs up and stands at attention. His eyes dart to the communication array and back to me. ¡°All we have are these ripples.¡± Umaz clasps his hands behind himself. ¡°Whoever it is, I estimate they will emerge in five.¡± ¡°Just in time for our round two,¡± I whisper, and dismiss both. If an enemy is incoming, I have to run. We¡¯re already overextended, and most fleets¡¯ shields are low. Mine are now gone altogether. There is good news, no enemy ships on the back side of the planet, just anti-air guns, which are trying to hit us, but we are just barely far enough away. I look at the radar - no pursuit from the Marcorians. There could still be one last explanation for the ripples. An explanation I¡¯d prefer. Maybe Poltr has decided to show up after all. But these are just wishes, and they are wishes of a dead man, it would seem. I can almost feel my heart jumping out, my throat dry, and a throbbing headache coming on. If Marcorians won¡¯t kill me, a heart attack will. I motion for Gerard. ¡°If Marcorians show up in numbers, tell the fleet to surrender,¡± I whisper to him without gifting him a glance. ¡°And send a communication to Conclave, telling them it¡¯s over as well.¡± I feel him nod, swallowing down his emotions. An alarm beeps thrice, and red lights die off, regular lights coming back online. The crew¡¯s spirit comes back to life as well, as they redouble their efforts to calculate and recalculate. Scanning the surrounding areas the best they could. Walking back to the radar, I avoided all eye contact, sweat running down the back of my neck. I can¡¯t shake the feeling that I¡¯m about to walk into history as a fool who decided in his lunacy to challenge a greater force - and failed. Granted that I have decided nothing. Historians would care little. With hands behind my back, I watch for what felt like hours with anticipation. My finger drums against my hand. Seconds tick. I feel the ticking of the watch with my palm. Despite that, it feels like time is dragging. A few minutes pass, we are circling back around the planet, my viewport now looking directly where the radar says ripples are. The moment of truth. I nod at Gerard, as he takes the communicator into his hand, reading to surrender just in case. A slight flare, and boxlike metal behemoths emerge with their dull black and red color scheme. A sigil of a lion¡¯s head on the torso of all ships. I sigh in relief, and air rushed to fill my lungs. Fraxon has arrived. Smile spreads across my lips, and I pat Umaz on the back. The crew is offering congratulations to one another. Cheering and some are applauding, and Nesi closes his eyes for a silent prayer. ¡°Looks like we live today!¡± Gerard stands next to me, his hands trembling, and so does his voice. ¡°I¡¯ll be honest. I was worried there for a second.¡± ¡°Monitor our allies¡­¡± I stop mid-sentence as more and more ships emerge. My eyes widen and my face pales. My better senses scream that there is no way they can possess that many. Not after the last encounter with the Marcorians ten years ago and then their civil war¡­ A quick thought shoots through my brain regarding their quality, but I sweep it aside. Now is not the time for underestimation. The crew¡¯s excitement dies off, and soon there¡¯s deathly silence. Seven¡­nine¡­thirteen. The sixteenth was the last¡­ not counting the destroyers. The only thing I don¡¯t know is if Fraxonnians threw all the apples into the same basket. That would be a bold move. Dumb, sure, but bold. I left a few ships around Hewshian planets in case the Marcorians decide on a counterattack. I can¡¯t imagine our ally doing the same thing with so many of their ships present here. If they are, their fleet would be greater than ours, I realize, and take a step back. The bridge is silent. Only the shaking of the ship after a hit brings people back to life. Nesi is stealing glances my way, but I ignore him. I look for Gerard. He is as pale as I. The question, ¡°Where could they get that many resources... and go unnoticed?¡±, is mirrored on his face. I make a mental note to interrogate our spy network. ¡°How did we miss this build up?¡± Gerard whispers, his voice fluttering, but his eyes unwavering. His hand is gripping his sword, fingers crushing the hilt. ¡°They are unleashing missiles¡­¡± Umaz says before I can respond, and I make my way to him. Gerard at my heels. ¡°Missiles?¡± I question as I scan the radar and turn to the viewport. But they are too far away, and I can¡¯t see anything but their silhouettes. Eyes dart back to the radar. The dots are flying fast. Too fast. ¡°No!¡± I yell, and my eyes widen as the cold sensation runs down my spine. Realization hit. Time stops. Crew is looking at me, and slowly they too turn their head to the viewport. I hold my breath and watch in awe as the first missile reaches the DPP. Nuclear explosion. Then another. And another. Two missiles annihilate the Marcorian flagship. A couple of destroyers follow suit soon after. A dozen more missiles head for the planet¡¯s surface. People below¡­These tactics are inhumane, I think to myself, unable to utter these words aloud. What have we done? ¡°Grand General?¡± I turn to find Nesi standing by. ¡°Hail Poltr,¡± I order and run to the Holo projector, activating the PhantomShield. ¡°He¡¯s gone insane for sure¡­¡± I tell Gerard, and he grunts an agreement. The next few moments are worse than hell. I can¡¯t think. Can¡¯t come up with an action plan. The PhantomShield is now activated. I hit the holo projector and wince with pain. Gerard forces himself to exhale. I motion for him to leave. He¡¯s reluctant, but obeys without question, for which I¡¯m thankful. My chest is tightening. I try to wet my lips, but my mouth is too dry. All I can think of is, what do we do next? I grab the rim of the holo, trying to calm my shivering. No one had used these tactics since the Orphan¡¯s Strife almost four hundred years ago. We swore. After Earth became glass, all nations vowed to avoid using nuclear weapons. ¡°Grand General Varick¡­¡± Poltr appears on my screen. His dark skin stands out in contrast to the white background of his surroundings. Tastefully placed around him are expansive furniture and portraits of him and other great heroes of previous ages. I couldn¡¯t help but wonder if Poltr thought he was on a cruise ship. He could not be serious. I told myself, but then another thought shot through my mind: How did he win a civil war? Not nukes; otherwise, I would have heard of that. ¡°You bastard!¡± I yell at him, unable to keep my composure. ¡°This is not what we agreed upon! Civilians-¡± ¡°That hardly qualifies as a ¡®thank you.¡¯¡± Poltr chuckles and straightens himself out, and looks down on me like a child. His thin ponytail of grey hair dangling at his waist. ¡°You are delusional,¡± I mutter through my teeth. ¡°What trickery is this? Where were you? Where are the rest of the Marcorian fleets?¡± I ignore the blinking light and my communication officer. Whatever the case, now is not the time. ¡°I assumed you decimated them,¡± Poltr says a playful smile on his lips, but a momentary confusion still flies across his face. ¡°And don¡¯t worry, nukes are only to soften them up. I¡¯m merely testing them, really.¡± He offers me a smile, revealing a row of white teeth. ¡°There¡¯s a reason we don¡¯t use them,¡± I counter, trying to reason with a plain madman. ¡°Where did you get them, anyway?¡± ¡°Our ancestors didn¡¯t use them and look where that got them. Three hundred years in slavery to the Marcorians, and counting.¡± Poltr¡¯s face grimaces as he spits at the floor. ¡°I will use any tactic necessary to deliver my people from these fanatics. As our ancestors used them to deliver us from Earth¡¯s rule. Tell me Varick, do you hate Herald, son of Jetu, a Hewshii, who was the mastermind behind the glassing of Earth? Or Kiltur, the one who engineered all the warheads? Or even Marcoria herself, the leader of the Five Orphans? Do you blame them for orchestrating all that death?¡± ¡°That was different.¡± ¡°Different how, Grand General?¡± Poltr leans in, and my heart skips a beat. Glimpsing movement out of the corner of my eye, I return my gaze to the viewport. Hundreds of transports are now making their way to the planet. Marcorians try to shoot some down but, for the most part, are stuck fighting Fraxonnian cruisers. ¡°Cease your hostiles, Poltr,¡± I demand, still not looking at him. ¡°Marcorians yet still may forgive your people for this transgression.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not why I came here.¡± He pauses. ¡°However, if you cannot stomach this, you may return to the hole from which you came. Your job here is done. My people came to take our rightful freedom. And I will make sure that the freedom we gain today will last forever.¡± ¡°History will judge you,¡± I state, and disconnect. ¡°Draw the fleet away from the conflict,¡± I tell my helmsman as I head towards my seat. My head drops into my hand as I sit down. Retreat to Hewshia? I open my eyes and allow my hand to drop. ¡°What now?¡± Gerard whispers. I ignore him, but his question lingers - eating at me. Gerard still stands. I motion for him to go, shaking my head. I need to think. Duty compels me to continue. We came to get our freedom, and no one said that I would like the way we would win it. But this was not a war for freedom anymore, not in any sense I can justify, and I hope the Conclave will see the same. ¡°What am I to do?¡± I whisper to myself, and take a deep breath. Gerard commands the crew to do their job and steals a glance my way. I nod in appreciation. I gather my thoughts. I need to salvage the situation. Retreating now would only waste time and nothing more. Our warp jump was still not ready, and once we jump back, we would have to wait and waste even more time. And the things I want to do to Fraxonnians right now should not be hindered by time. Go against orders - help the Marcorians? My conscience whispers in my ear. If only war was this simple. If only doing what¡¯s right won wars, I¡¯d bet atrocities wouldn¡¯t happen. I sat up straight. To what end will I help them? Changing sides without Conclave¡¯s approval... I bite my lip. I want to yell. To break something. But only allow myself to clench my fists. Nails dig deep into the flesh of my palms. ¡°Let me know if there¡¯s any change in the posture of their fleets. I¡¯ll be in my quarters,¡± I order Umaz. ¡°I need time to think,¡± I tell Gerard as I walk past him. I grab my head with both arms as I sit down on my bed. So much death. More than we were promised. This will be a quick war, they told me. Now, I¡¯m part of bringing genocide in the full meaning of the word. I wish politicians fought their own wars. Getting up, I head to the conference room. I need to speak to the Conclave, and I need to talk soon. However, interception is possible, so I won¡¯t use the holo. They must see me. They must know the cost of their shortsightedness. And if they don¡¯t condemn Poltr and Fraxon, I will resign, honor or not. My holo call is answered, and I lift my tired eyes up, ¡°Marwen, I need a favor.¡± Chapter 4 ¡°We are not monsters. Not yet.¡±¡ª Herald, son of Jetu (later known as the first Elder of Hewshia), on the brink of Earth¡¯s annihilation in the year 2106. The engine¡¯s therapeutic hum is calming as I go through warp space on the shuttle, heading for Hewshia Nexus. Unlike a cruiser, you can feel every minor bump as the transport slews towards its destination, with only the seat belt saving my head from meeting with the overhead. Crates, fastened to the sides and the ship¡¯s deck, are trying to break free. Somewhere, something is sliding, crashing against the crates. I shift my leg, but something slimy makes movement more challenging than expected. Now, it makes sense why I¡¯m the only passenger here, and I think one cannot call this a favor. For this one, I owe Marwen nothing. My stomach growls. I cannot hear it, but I feel it. I don¡¯t bother looking for food here, anyhow. Even if there¡¯s something resembling food, I don¡¯t suppose a human can digest it. Crates on both sides are pushing on me, and my elbow is shooting with pain after being pinned into the metal armrest for the past hour. The only bright side to this ordeal is I got some proper sleep while I traveled from the fleet to Yuricon¡¯s shipyards in secret aboard one of the damaged cruisers. From there, Marwen directed me to this shuttle, where sleep flees me like one would a burning building. I kill time by swiping through the fleet updates with my other hand. All captains report the damage done to their ships and how battle-ready those ships are. I eventually turn off the screen and close my eyes. The hell Fraxon unleashed still haunts me. No amount of sleep washes that horror away, and I¡¯m stuck in a loop. I replay all scenarios in my head, looking for anything I could have done differently to prevent those nukes from reaching their destinations. Asking myself over and over how we didn¡¯t catch Fraxon building up a fleet and weapons of mass destruction (WMD). I still see those explosions with intense clarity. I repress my thoughts, but they reappear sharper, fueling repetitive prevention strategies. Nothing ever comes to mind. Nothing at all. Thought that no one could predict Poltr going this far doesn¡¯t help either. Of course, someone within our spy network could play us for Fraxon¡¯s sake. Marwen? Our spy master has the resources and opportunity to do so. If Conclave¡¯s concerns shift anywhere near my train of thought, Marwen will be a prime suspect. But I shut that thought down. There was just no way. It is too easy. Too obvious if it is him. He knows I will question him first. The Conclave will also be all over him if, indeed, he is a traitor. We¡¯ve known each other for too long, for crying out loud. I¡¯d notice if something was off about him. I hope. Regardless, Marwen was secondary. Conclave is a bigger concern to me. News of what Fraxon has done should have reached them by now. One could count on Horus to deliver such news with haste to his favorite patron. Seeing as no Archon tried contacting me, I must admit that some of my threats and promises are still working on the Vise Admiral. Perhaps this news didn¡¯t reach them yet, and that was preferable. Shock and awe. They could be powerful weapons within the Citadel. I look at my watch. The fleet will soon complete its withdrawal from the battlefield, moving out of sight. If everything goes according to plan, neither Marcoria nor Fraxon will know I left the fleet. Conclave¡¯s enthusiasm may differ from mine. The ship rattles as we emerge from the warp jump. Shields open up from all the viewports. The ship stabilizes, and soon, we are gliding without interference. I produce my personal Holo and dial-up Horus. ¡°How are things looking?¡± I inquire once he appears. ¡°Not much has changed, Grand General.¡± He answers, his gaze as cold as his tone. His head tilts in confusion as he sees me in civilian clothing. A flicker of disapproval crosses his lips. ¡°Much of the same,¡± He continues, returning to his usual stance, ¡°Marcorians and Fraxes are going at it. But either Fraxes ran out of nukes, or they are planning something more sinister.¡± Shifting his belt, he adds, ¡°No new losses on our end. Regrouping is going better than expected. Of course, we could have prevented most losses if we had attacked upon arrival.¡± I ignore him. Now was not the time. ¡°Good,¡± I nod. ¡°What about that vanguard vessel which used to be under Captain Nothe Abur?¡± ¡°It¡¯s moving, but I would advise to send it back to port for a proper diagnostic. I don¡¯t trust it.¡± Horus looks away, his face unreadable. ¡°No,¡± I shake my head. ¡°Analyze the problem on site. A cruiser in its condition is at risk of being destroyed mid-warp-jump. What are you looking at?¡± I stretch my arm out, the pain subduing at the elbow. ¡°Fraxes are assuming a rather aggressive stance against us¡­ It¡¯s almost as if Poltr considers us enemies already.¡± Horus sends me an updated map while continuing. ¡°He is cautious. Half his fleet is sitting idle for no apparent reason other than a warning to us. Perhaps taunting us to attack him.¡± ¡°What bothers me more is why he sent troops to the planet.¡± I get up, expecting smooth sailing the rest of the way. ¡°Looking for something? Someone?¡± It made no sense to me. No one sends troops to the planet they nuked. Especially not in those kinds of numbers. ¡°Any ideas?¡± ¡°He is a madman.¡± Horus clasps his hands behind his back. ¡°As far as our intelligence goes, I¡¯m told Frax landed on the outskirts of Xugres, a possible nuclear testing site.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve heard rumors, but nothing to confirm them. Nukes are something all nations outlawed.¡± ¡°Does Poltr strike you as a man needing proof?¡± Horus sneers. ¡°Not all nations, as we saw. It wouldn¡¯t surprise me to learn that Marcoria also harbors some nukes. I¡¯ll bet they are more powerful. And Poltr¡¯s strategy, then, is to disable Marcoria from activating them and using them against him. Perhaps he is there to take those nukes into his possession. Go for round two. Who knows?¡± I nod, pacing the narrow paths between the crates. ¡°If we are to assume Marcoria has nuclear capabilities, it makes little sense to assume all of them are in one place.¡± I lean against one crate. ¡°If Poltr is close to one potential site, and for the sake of argument, let¡¯s assume he is. It disables Marcorians from striking Fraxes from other locations. If for nothing else, for fear of annihilating a chunk of their planet, if whatever they have at Xugres destabilizes.¡± A quick chime of the alarm indicates we will soon enter the planet¡¯s atmosphere. I study Horus¡¯ stoic face, his eyes looking more blank than usual. ¡°Regardless of his intentions, Fraxon is not formally an enemy yet. Don¡¯t engage unless fired upon first. Better yet, get the fleet further away to dissuade potential hostilities.¡± He offers a polite nod.¡°Horus,¡± I add. ¡°No word of anything to the Conclave. Am I understood?¡± He nods again, slower this time. I disconnect the call. My shuttle makes its way to the planet, passing by the two DPPs. Their shape is thicker, and their movement is more gradual than their Marcorian counterparts. However, firepower-wise, they are not all too behind. With three cruisers backing them, they are not to be reckoned with. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Soon, we land at the civilian starport on the planet, and I put on my hood. Once outside, the sun hits me in the eye; I find myself at the cargo area of the starport. Only one tech is near my shuttle. He comes up; I pay him. He nods, smiles, and leaves, while I wonder who else could use something like this to get into our empire. Again, everything is at the hands of Marwen and his loyalty. I move quickly inside, trying to lose myself in the sea of people. There I am greeted by various smells, ranging from food to sweat to something strangely familiar, but I can¡¯t identify it for the life of me. People run and shout here and there. Some walk too slow, and the shouting is being addressed to them. Footsteps echo against the marble floor, which I assume used to be white at some point. But: Time is unfriendly to all, causing the floor to turn yellow despite attempts to seal it. Vases filled with flowers and bushes sit in nearly every corner and along every separating wall, their fragrance permeating the air. Turning a corner, I bump into a rather large man with a covered head. ¡°Excuse me,¡± I say after hesitating as he turns to face me. His eyes almost glow inside the hood, and there¡¯s not enough light for me to discern any characteristics of him. ¡°Three minutes late.¡± He whispers with a smile. I smile back, ¡°they are your men, Marwen.¡± I motion for us to walk. ¡°Next time, book me for first class.¡± ¡°There¡¯s a marketplace nearby,¡± Marwen catches up to me. ¡°We could get lost in the sea of people there, perhaps in a bar.¡± ¡°You? Getting lost in the sea of people?¡± I smirk, ¡°Perhaps lose weight to look like them.¡± ¡°Unnecessary rude.¡± He laughs and pats his belly, whispering, ¡°He didn¡¯t mean that.¡± We walk the rest of the way to the marketplace separately to avoid drawing attention. Starport and marketplace share similar distinct scents. The noise level here is higher, amplified by vendors¡¯ calls and hollers. I have a momentary urge to shoot a couple of those vendors, with their pestering selling tactics, walking behind me, nagging me to buy something from them. This market is a relic, a point of interest within our empire. Build to offer people a taste of how things were back in the day on Earth. Tents cover most of the inner plaza. Vendors sell food, clothing, and other merchandise, while shoppers haggle over prices. Police officers make rounds, breaking up an occasional fight. I smile, how far away the war seems from here. Bitterness festers; I crave their world, free from death¡¯s shadow. The biggest concern here is if a vendor drops the price, even slightly. The joy people express when they do. It¡¯s a victory to them, a victory they deem hard earned. Finally, I saw the bar that Marwen mentioned. Close to the market¡¯s center, beside the main plaza, white stone shops with blue roofs surround it. Entering, I pause, letting my eyes adapt to the darkness. Marwen waves me over from a darkened corner. I¡¯m puzzled; he arrived before me and already has drinks. ¡°Don¡¯t ask.¡± He smiles as he sees my facial expression. ¡°Whiskey?¡± ¡°Yeah, it¡¯ll do,¡± I mutter. ¡°I assume the trip wasn¡¯t too much trouble for you.¡± He gulps down one drink. ¡°Apart from losing time, all went well.¡± ¡°Ah, time!¡± He rolls his eyes and washes down another drink. ¡°You¡¯re here; Conclave knows nothing; can¡¯t have it all.¡± ¡°Traveling to Yuricon might have been excessive.¡± I take a sip of the drink, ¡°But regardless,¡± I stop him from talking, ¡°These things can wait. Actual business can¡¯t.¡± ¡°You must be fun at parties.¡± ¡°I am. You must still remember our youth.¡± I chuckle. Marwen, whom I¡¯ve known for years, rarely showed his true self. The moment jokes disappear, was the moment he was planning your death. ¡°Fraxon dropped nukes on Marcoria.¡± I whisper but even I could barely hear my voice. Marwen continues to savor his drink, his face stoic, and gaze distant. ¡°I know.¡± He whispers back. ¡°I also know that you think we have a traitor. Between us missing Fraxon¡¯s buildup of ships and WMDs, it only makes sense. It¡¯s that, or you¡¯d have to think us incompetent.¡± ¡°Well¡­¡± I pause for a second. ¡°I¡¯d give you the benefit of a doubt if Fraxon built up at some remote location. But where would they get resources to build that remote location? If someone missed these inconsistencies¡­¡± He arches his eyebrow and leans over as much as his stomach allows. ¡°My name must have crossed your mind.¡± ¡°Crossed?¡± I set the glass down, yet my fingers toyed with it, rotating it. ¡°I want to believe that I know you well enough, but I know no one who can hide their intentions better than you¡­¡± I lean towards him. ¡°All points to you. Only thing missing is motivation.¡± I sigh, ¡°all cards on the table, I don¡¯t think you have that motivation. Money? You have plenty. Power? You possess an abundance. Respect?¡± I lean back and raise my glass to my lips. ¡°Poltr won¡¯t give you more than us.¡± Shaking my head, I finish the rest of my glass. ¡°I¡¯ll be cautious around you. How about it?¡± He offers a half-shrug, and relaxed into the chair, which screeched under his weight. ¡°Yeah¡­¡± He drags his words. ¡°Since I¡¯m not arrested, I assume the Conclave doesn¡¯t know yet. But they have their own networks, and news of this will reach them, eventually. I wonder if they¡¯ll offer me the same courtesy as you.¡± Marwen¡¯s gaze wanders around the room and I follow it. I assume he is being cautious, looking at everyone present, scrutinizing them, and deciding if they are just civilians or undercover agents. Few use tables; most bar patrons occupy barstools. If I know Marwen, he is considering his escape route, but he must also realize that he is hard to lose track of. I pour myself a drink. ¡°Horus is under threat to keep silent. But you are right, Conclave will know.¡± I swish the drink in the glass, but don¡¯t dare to bring it up to my lips. ¡°Heads will fly, and we need to make sure it¡¯s not ours.¡± His head falls into his hand, eyes closed. ¡°There will be an investigation for sure. I can prove that the buildup wasn¡¯t on any Fraxonnian planets. That amount of materials is hard to hide. So that leaves one option.¡± His head resting in his hand, he looks upward. ¡°They likely constructed it elsewhere. Rich in resources too, and we missed it. Conclave won¡¯t like this explanation, but it might delay some finger pointing for a couple of days.¡± ¡°Will that be enough time for you?¡± ¡°You sound like all the hookers I hire.¡± He chuckles, and another drink disappears. ¡°What, you hire them a minute at a time?¡± I pour him a drink and shift the empty bottle to the end of the table, motioning for another. ¡°It¡¯s all I can ever spare, so why overpay?¡± ¡°Also,¡± I return my gaze to him, ¡°I¡¯ll need you to come up with a good excuse why I¡¯ll need two million troops ready by the end of three days.¡± Marwen spits out a part of his drink and gags on the other half. ¡°How many?¡± He finally sputters, a bit too loud, and draws some attention our way. I clear my throat, ¡°Yes, the bill is a bit much, but it¡¯s fine; I¡¯ll pay,¡± I say, loud enough for all to hear. The gazes of the surrounding people turn from us one by one, and I shake my head at Marwen. ¡°And you are a spy?¡± I whisper. ¡°Was. Fifteen years ago.¡± Marwen says, and I watch as another drink disappears. ¡°Spy-Master now,¡± He continues, ¡°And you know well enough that we never assembled a ground army that big. Not in the last century. Excuse me if that took me by surprise.¡± ¡°We are at war.¡± ¡°And the war, as you call it, should have lasted about five minutes.¡± Marwen counters. ¡°It was supposed to be quick. In and out. Not you leaving the fleet in secret to beg for an invasion force at home.¡± With one move of his arm, he moved his glass and the bottle to the side. ¡°What¡¯s my role here? I don¡¯t have the authority to give you men¡­¡± Marwen pauses for a second, his mouth slightly opened, eyes - calculating me throughout. ¡°I¡¯ll be feeding theoretical information as if it is one hundred percent accurate, so the Conclave will give you what you want. Is that it? Your desire for clandestine entry explains this. For this meeting. To make sure our stories align.¡± With a smile on my face, I nod. ¡°You are paying for these drinks. And all the drinks for the foreseeable future, Varick.¡± Marwen smiles back. ¡°If Conclave catches wind of this, we are both dead. Investigator or not.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll send you all the info on a paper-¡± ¡°No,¡± Marwen interrupts. ¡°No paper trail. You will tell me everything I need to know here and now. If documentation surfaces¡­¡± ¡°Understood,¡± I say and pour myself a drink. ¡°Will you remember it all?¡± ¡°Do I have a choice?¡± Marwen gulps down his drink. ¡°I swear, Varick, all your scheming will make me an alcoholic.¡± Chapter 5 ¡°It¡¯s ironic. Politicians scheme and bicker, but the common man dies. Then politicians sign treaties while others cry.¡±¡ª Kiltur, son of Krit, First King of Nar, in a speech on his coronation, February 17, 2106. ¡°Remember,¡± I whisper to Marwen as I finish laying out my plan. ¡°Everything must be in place by tomorrow for the Conclave to make the right decision. No casualties.¡± He nods, his eyes distant, appraising. ¡°I¡¯m sure the Conclave will have their hands full with me today,¡± I continue. ¡°But tomorrow, when all of them will be present at the Citadel by my request, and present they shall be, they¡¯ll witness Fraxonnian resolve.¡± ¡°Gods willing, your head stays where it is,¡± Marwen chuckles, still looking past me. I snap my fingers close to his face, bringing his attention to me. ¡°Can you do it?¡± My jaw hardens as I study him. ¡°Doesn¡¯t sound like I have much of a choice.¡± I lean back, taking my drink to my lips. ¡°You could always say no.¡± ¡°And miss all the fun?¡± I smirk. ¡°Anyway.¡± I get up and throw cash on the table. ¡°This should cover your drinking for the next five minutes.¡± ¡°A good friend you are, Grand General,¡± Marwen murmurs, his usual light demeanor gone. I turn to leave, tightening the hood around my head. ¡°We are not monsters,¡± I whisper to him. ¡°Not yet,¡± Marwen tells me, motioning for the bartender to bring another bottle. ¡°Your security detail is waiting outside. I know. Secrecy and all, but I¡¯m not risking harm coming your way.¡± I take a deep breath and head out. Three Elites sit near the bar entrance, their gold and blue armor shimmering in the rays of the afternoon sun. They are the best warriors our nation can offer. The Sargent turns my way, his helmet marked by three red lines, one straight down the middle and two starting where the parietal bone is and going through the eyes, converging at the nose. Once they see me, they get up hastily and lead me to a hovercar without a word. It¡¯s light blue, slick in its design, and looks like a raindrop turned sideways. The journey to the Conclave is quite lengthy. I figure I have about an hour to come up with some way to convince the Conclave to sever relations with Fraxon - to avoid the idiocy I plan for tomorrow. Exiting the market area, we zoom past the suburbs, where houses spread as far as the eye can see. Most are two stories high and painted in cold colors. However, purple and violet remain uncommon. Trees, bushes, and flowers are plenty any way you turn, and people we pass all seem oblivious to the galactic troubles. I turn to the sergeant, who sits across from me. ¡°You guys seem awful quiet.¡± The second Elite sits to my right, and the third is behind the wheel up front. ¡°Sir.¡± The sergeant nods. He¡¯s tense, and I guess he¡¯s confused, too. I shouldn¡¯t be here, and they all know it but remain silent. I study them for a second. Only light weapons on them - a single pistol, a dagger, and the sergeant has a flashbang. But their deadliest weapon is often overlooked. I, too, possess it as I have the same training - our bare hands and minds. Bullets run dry, and knives dull or fly out, but if you can think, and at least a hand remains, you survive. I noticed nothing but duty and respect in the sergeant¡¯s voice. Perhaps it was even a forced show of respect, but I decided against pressing him on. At the end of the day, he only cares about doing his job, which is to make sure that I remain alive. Frankly, our cares align. Driving into Platigith, Hewshia¡¯s capital city, we leave the suburbs behind. High rises, civilian complexes, offices, and some businesses take up the scenery. We also leave them behind quickly upon entering the forest. Pines mostly grow here, but an occasional oak tree breaks the scene. We disembark the vehicle about two miles from the citadel and continue on foot. It¡¯s an old rite. Dumb. But traditions are traditions. Unless you want Conclave members beating you over the head with all the broken rules, it¡¯s better to follow them. I don¡¯t mind this walk today, however. It buys me a few minutes. Rather, it pushes away the inevitable, and I¡¯m glad for it. But the time it procures doesn¡¯t last nearly long enough. Trees here offer shade to all the pedestrian walkways. Serenity is so thick that people whisper in this part of the city without engine interference. Conclave prohibits all vehicles, ground or otherwise, from the citadel grounds, which extend two miles in each direction. Birds fly peacefully in the sky, singing their songs. Flower beds, bushes, and an occasional bench add to the scenery. Twenty meters in front of me, a kid of about six yells in excitement, which earns him a whack to the back of his head by his parents. They shake their head at him and smile uneasily once they detect us nearby. The scene is so familiar it almost feels like d¨¦j¨¤ vu. As if I was watching myself some fifty years ago. All were too similar, except some trees were older, others gone, and new ones planted. The path is wider now and seems never-ending - like my dread. Soon, I reach the Garden of Heroes, Hewshia¡¯s most immense terrace of statues. Succinct descriptions accompany sculptures of the mighty heroes and elders placed throughout the grounds, ensuring their memory. I remember someone telling me that these men and women watch us, protect us and even judge our actions. I hope that is far from the truth, at least for today. In the middle of the garden is a single building - a citadel. A grand fountain stands between the two staircases leading to its entrance. Five figures made that fountain their permanent home. Five heroes who were instrumental in our infancy when we rebelled against the leadership of the UCE - United Coalition of Earth. Five heroes¡ªone from today¡¯s empires, three men, and two women¡ªrest in peace, noble souls. I walk past the fountain and ascend the stairs. Four Elites stood guard at the entrance doors, deterring bystanders from disturbing the ones inside. Entering the citadel, I am surprised to hear yelling. The echoes ricochet from the marble walls and floors and eighteen columns. There are nine to each side, and an Elite guard stands at each one. Plants of various kinds grow along the walls and almost to the ceiling¡ªanything from shrubs to flowers, with Oceanspire Lily being the dominant one. The room¡¯s freshness makes breathing enjoyable¡ªa detail usually unnoticed but unavoidable here. Behind the seven thrones is a mosaic of the Empire¡¯s first capital, Croton, which now lays in ruins some seven hundred miles west of here. From what I can gather while walking up, Azure and Sinclair, alongside her favorite colleague Brian, argue about some rather personal matters. They stand away from the thrones, trying to look secluded, but their voices tell a different story. ¡°As always, Sinclair, you lack finesse.¡± Azure shakes his head and lifts his eyes my way. There¡¯s tension in them, a momentary wonder, which is hidden just as quickly as it appears. ¡°Your father was the same, but at least he had vision.¡± He continues without breaking eye contact with me. ¡°Nay, I mean nothing foul.¡± He shifts his gaze to her. ¡°But one must remember why we¡¯re here.¡± Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. ¡°And one wonders why you¡¯re here,¡± Tel-Chaz says weakly, but that is enough to stop all other conversations. ¡°Grand General.¡± Tel-Chaz hits his staff against the marble floor, and four Elites from the four furthest columns march my way, close on my heels. ¡°I am rather surprised,¡± Tel-Chaz continues, ¡°to find you abandon your post with the fleet.¡± All Archons find their way to their thrones. Brian and Sinclair sit down, and Azure stands behind his throne, fingers eating into the backrest. ¡°With good reason, I did so, Elder.¡± I continue walking. ¡°I¡¯m fully aware of how this looks, but trust that it would be much safer for us to speak face-to-face. This stops us from worrying about compromised conversations. What I¡¯ll propose would not bode well with our enemies if they find out.¡± I approach the pedestal and bow in respect. Five of the members are present today. Weshi Kieron, a forty-six-year-old who charged herself with the wellbeing of our empire, is looking at me playfully. Her full lips suppress a smirk, and her blue eyes are as bright as the sky. Her long, straight blonde hair is down to her waist as she stands near her throne dressed in blue and green silk. ¡°The things you must have seen,¡± she whispers to me. ¡°Fascinating.¡± With that, she sits down. ¡°Unless I¡¯ve missed the point where Marcoria submits to our demands, I find your presence here equivalent to treason.¡± Brian crosses his arms across his chest. ¡°So quick to judge!¡± Azure sharply turns to Brian. ¡°Manners, my dear friend. Manners are what you lack, and it pains me. Must I always be a voice of reason? Grand General, do tell me what happened.¡± ¡°Betrayal occurred, that is true,¡± I begin as I clasp my hand behind my back and stand up straight, presenting some authority. ¡°But not by us, and not by myself, either.¡± Pausing momentarily to build tension, I continue. ¡°Fraxon has shown its true colors. Not only did they delay their attack so Marcorians would weaken our fleet, but once they showed up, they dispatched nuclear warheads to the surface below, as you might have heard by now. There was no warning from them. They didn¡¯t ask Marcoria to surrender or else. The first shots fired by them were nuclear.¡± I continue to look at Tel-Chaz, blood draining from his face and looking more pale than usual. ¡°So the reports are true¡­¡± he mutters. ¡°I suppose we all wished for this to be no more than a figment of someone¡¯s imagination,¡± Azure says, his finger drumming on the backrest. ¡°But this hardly warrants your presence, Grand General. I assume there¡¯s more?¡± He cocks his head to the side. I nod. ¡°I request the full gathering of the Archons. Any other must not hear my words, nor can we afford for my words to be intercepted by Fraxon - thus my presence here.¡± I wet my lips. ¡°We must vote on how to proceed with Poltr and Fraxon altogether. Their first shots were nuclear. So far, at our common enemy, yes. But how long until they decide to subjugate us? I find myself sympathizing more with Marcoria. They are defending, but did not retort to these horrid tactics.¡± Taking a few steps forward, I bow my head regarding them. ¡°If we may find common ground with Marcoria, it is my recommendation to turn on Fraxon for the sins of mass destruction.¡± ¡°What is there to discuss?¡± Brian says, his voice full of rage. ¡°We cannot afford to be seen as Poltr¡¯s allies.¡± He gets up from his throne, leather boots squeaking on the marble. ¡°Strike. Decimate his fleet and sell it as coming to aid the Marcorians. I will not have him taint our empire for the rest of times!¡± ¡°You must think the public is void of brains,¡± Weshi raises her voice. ¡°They all know we went to war against Marcoria.¡± ¡°Tell a lie a million times, and all believe it.¡± Azure continues to drum his finger. ¡°One can suppress the public, despite their intelligence. It will be a massive campaign, but doable. The bigger problem is politicians.¡± His gaze hardens as he looks around the room. ¡°As once you were begged to stay out of this conflict, so now I advise you to stay the course. How will our actions look if we turn on our ally? Will any nation trust us again in our lifetime? I truly hope Brian jests.¡± ¡°Jest? You must be out of your mind, Azure.¡± Sinclair jumps in before anyone else speaks. ¡°We must punish Fraxon. Can we let them think they can break the rules and do what they please? We must not tolerate these inhumane tactics. I align myself with Brian¡¯s proposition and call for a vote.¡± Brian¡¯s mouth widens in a grin, his fat cheeks tightening. ¡°I must be within a nightmare.¡± Azure makes a show of walking around his throne to sit down. ¡°I recall this happening six months ago. This exact scenario - my advice being discarded. How many times can our nation afford to do so? You all jump at the opportunity to shed blood, and then, when something inevitably goes wrong, you marvel where was your reason. Well, it¡¯s here, sitting among you, being neglected consistently.¡± ¡°You all act like children.¡± Tel-Chaz exhales and shakes his head. His fingers tighten around his staff, but they are still shaking. ¡°Eager decisions breed early graves. We do not know all the facts or how ready our fleet is.¡± He lifts eyes his my way. I take the cue. ¡°The fleet took a beating. After the last engagement, I regret to inform you that the enemy decimated two cruisers, one of which was a heavy class, and seven destroyers. Another four cruisers sustained damage, yet we repaired two to be sufficiently operational. Eight destroyers suffered heavy damage as well.¡± ¡°That leaves us with two heavies, eight regular cruisers, and fifteen destroyers¡­¡± A vein pulses on Azure¡¯s face, his tone flat but even. ¡°With losses like these, what need do we have of enemies? What of the Marcorians?¡± One of my palms curls into a fist behind my back. ¡°Of eleven cruisers, the enemy suffered six destroyed and heavily damaged casualties. We annihilated two DPPs, and at least five destroyers are out of commission.¡± ¡°Archons!¡± One of the Elites raises his voice to be heard. ¡°Marcoria is hailing us.¡± ¡°Patch them through,¡± Tel-Chaz instructs. ¡°We are not done, Grand General. Stay.¡± He shifts in his throne, trying to show strength¡ªa sad spectacle. I step to the side as the floor where I stand opens up, and a holoprojector emerges from below, positioned on a pedestal decorated with engravings. The Holo projector flickers to life, and the high-pitched squeals of pigs engulf the room. Fire is in the background, and in the middle, a man stands, his back to us all. He is reading or praying. Hard to say. It¡¯s in Marcorian. He raises his hands to shoulder height, a dagger in each one. Blood drips both from his hands and daggers. He wears a gray fabric tunic, his arms free from it. Dark hair is in a bun atop his head, and tattoos cover his whole body. Most notable are the two scorpion tattoos on his forearms. One is facing his wrist, and on his left hand, the scorpion is facing from it, and their legs are wrapping themselves around the girth of the arms. ¡°Tarfahtan¡­¡± Tel-Chaz whispers, and I swallow hard. My insides turn as my pulse shoots up. Suddenly, the room feels too small, claustrophobic. I fight the urge to look away and muster up only one thought - a grim reaper¡¯s presence would be more pleasant. From the corner of my eye, I catch even Brian shifts in his seat. Not so with Azure. No, he is all smiles. And for a brief second I contemplate who¡¯s a bigger madman: he or Tarfahtan. Tarfahtan finishes his mumbling. With a sharp motion, he brings both daggers down. The pig yells as loud as it can. There are others as well, but this one is now dead. Turning, he reveals a face covered in tattoos. Three rectangular lines run through his left eye, crowned with a star atop the middle one. He has a dozen tears tattooed from his right eye to his mouth. A sun is in the middle of his forehead, and five rays are spreading across his face, evenly distributed one from another. Tarfahtan scans each of us, letting his silence ring in our ears. He looks at me, examines with no haste. His eyes stop on mine and drill me to my very core. ¡°Scum,¡± Tarfahtan utters, breaking the heavy silence. ¡°This is how the wisdom-driven Hewshians treat generosity?¡± He spits, cursing us with all the gods of Marcoria. Thankfully, I understand little of Marcorian, but judging by Azure¡¯s facial expression, I would say Tarfahtan paints a vivid picture. ¡°Gralorm ret porma!¡± Tarfahtan finishes. My limited understanding roughly translates that into ¡®no peace in the grave.¡¯ I think that translation is correct if one is to judge Archon¡¯s expressions. ¡°Beg for mercy!¡± Tarfahtan commands. ¡°Souls of the dead yell into the void. They cry for vengeance! They demand justice. I offer Kraghul and Acebreta pigs, but soon, your blood will flow with the hogs in the name of our gods!¡± ¡°No.¡± Shifting his weight to the staff, Tel-Chaz gets up. ¡°Treat us as equals, and I will bring about Poltr¡¯s downfall. Let us go free. Unshackle us, and see us as a nation of equals for the sake of your people at this moment.¡± ¡°Careful, Elder.¡± Tarfahtan cuts one of his palms and smears the blood across his face. ¡°I¡¯m here as a messenger from gods. And they are waiting. For all of you. For when you die, the fallen souls of my men shall make you slaves there as well.¡± Tarfahtan disconnects. There¡¯s silence once more. I dare not look up, staring as the holo-projector hides itself. Once the floor closes off, I lift my head and step forward. ¡°We should contact Biragians. The Matriarch might help us, as we have helped them numerous times.¡± ¡°Stop.¡± Tel-Chaz slowly sits back. His eyes closed, his face twisted. ¡°The Matriarch died two hours ago.¡± Chapter 6 ¡°If one does not lend a helping hand articulating: ¡®Not my problem¡¯ ¡ª make it their problem.¡± ¡ªPoltr, son of Frazil II, days before igniting a civil war on Fraxon, 2419. The sun disappeared below the horizon a few hours ago, and someone switched off the streetlights by the citadel just now after the Archons left. I sit outside, by the Five Orphans statue, with all the day¡¯s events gnawing at me, knowing full well that I¡¯ve failed to advance my cause so far. Azure¡¯s influence is proving far greater than I imagined, given the facts of the Fraxonnian sins. To be fair, I knew someone would take the stance of condoning the use of nukes, but I expected that to be Sinclair, with her usual cold, almost detached demeanor. But Azure¡­ ¡°Shit,¡± I whisper. There is no plan for a man such as he, not with words anyway. His voice stopped the Elder from taking a side so far, and that is derailing everything. It seems no matter the direction I take, I always end up backed into a corner. Worst of all, the only thing I got Archons to agree with today is that they all will gather tomorrow for a vote. ¡°Damn it,¡± I murmur into the night. I hoped it wouldn¡¯t come to this, but it looks like my scheming with Marwen will pay off in the morning. There¡¯s no chance in hell I¡¯m letting Fraxon come out of this unscathed. It¡¯s too bad the likes of Azure didn¡¯t share my viewpoint; otherwise, I could call off my idiotic plan. I gaze up at the sky. No clouds are in sight, with stars and the moon glowing brilliantly and illuminating the surrounding area. My thoughts drift to those stars, to the allies I hoped for. It¡¯s no secret that the Biragian Matriarch was frail, and there were even rumors going around of people wagering on when she would die. But by gods, she couldn¡¯t pick a worse time. At this very moment, any woman with any influence there is on the move ¡ª fighting, killing, and strengthening her power base. It¡¯s their way. I¡¯m no betting man, but anyone with any brains knows Birag will be in turmoil for the next couple of months, if not longer. However, even if there was a new matriarch tomorrow, why would she join us? She¡¯d owe us no favors, and she¡¯d probably prefer to lick her wounds after taking control ¡ª that is what I would do anyhow. With a heavy sigh, I fall on the bench¡¯s backrest, my left hand massaging my temples. If only Tel-Chaz would pick a side instead of sitting and idling. If he would give his blessing, I already had the two required Archons behind my idea. But without the Elder, I¡¯ll need all six Archons to vote in my favor. My thoughts drift, looking for any way out without utilizing the plan. I hear Marwen¡¯s voice echoing in my mind, warning me of the consequences if we¡¯re discovered. I wave that off. His warnings serve only to heighten my anxiety. I open my eyes and sit up as an Elite passes me, moonlight bouncing off his armor. He bows his head once he gets closer to me. I greet him in kind, without a word. I stretch my muscles after he is gone, cursing my aging body. Even a year ago, standing all day arguing with the Conclave was far easier. ¡°It¡¯s just stress,¡± I excuse myself and sit back down. However, the night is not getting any longer either. My lips widen in a smile as I realize that deciding where to go for the night is proving its own battlefield. I am compelled to go home to my Kathrine, for who knows if I¡¯ll be able to see her again. But it is past midnight now, and she is sleeping, or so I hope. Regardless, she would kill me if I didn¡¯t wake her up ¡ª but waking her means no rest at all. She¡¯d try to find a way to convince the Archons. And she¡¯d probably slap me a few good times for the scheming. Damn her father for spending so much time with her and teaching her tactics and strategy. The previous Grand General did a great job raising his children ¡ª gods rest his soul. But I shake myself clean of these thoughts. Either way, it doesn¡¯t feel right going home. How many men already laid down their lives? Their wives won¡¯t see them again¡­ No, it doesn¡¯t feel right going home to Kathrine at all. She will kill me, of course, for this, but that is a future problem. Gods willing, Poltr or Tarfahtan will get to me quicker. ¡°Sleepless night?¡± I jerk towards the voice coming from the steps leading to the citadel¡¯s entrance. His footsteps are heavy and paced. ¡°Heard it was quite the evening here.¡± He continued as he approached me. The gold and blue colors of the armor suit place him as an Elite. Once he gets closer, I make out a black emblem of an elephant on his upper arm - identifying him as a lieutenant. Helmet in hand, he shows his bald head. ¡°Grand General Varick, permission to sit down.¡± ¡°At ease, Lieutenant,¡± I say, moving over to make space for him. ¡°Making rounds or guarding the entrance?¡± ¡°Now, wouldn¡¯t it be sad to see someone guarding an entrance at my station?¡± Smiling, he sits. ¡°No, sir. I¡¯m making sure that the guards are in order here.¡± I nod. Jealousy overtakes me, as I would much rather be in his place. Free from all these decisions, musings, and scheming. ¡°Not to be a bother,¡± he continues as he sinks into the bench. ¡°Anything you can tell me?¡± Nodding towards the citadel, he crosses his arms. ¡°I wish someone would also explain that to me.¡± I chuckle. ¡°Can¡¯t be that bad, can it?¡± ¡°How much do you know about war, son?¡± ¡°Saw some action on Artuk, Graphvan district,¡± he says, almost forcing the words out. ¡°Some?¡± I smile, noticing his carefree demeanor show cracks. ¡°I guess it depends on which side you were on.¡± ¡°Hewshian expeditionary force. Volunteer. Served under Lieutenant Barnuh of the Elites, current captain. Fought for the Fraxonnian resistance under Poltr.¡± Turning to face him, I offer a gentle nod. ¡°Hell of a massacre. Poltr should have been more patient.¡± Upon closer inspection, I can see a couple of scars on his face in the moonlight, but nothing too disfiguring. Could he be telling the truth? I wonder to myself. If so¡­a smile is a hell of a feat to pull off for him. ¡°What¡¯s your name, Lieutenant?¡± I ask, fearing I already know the answer. ¡°Nordosh Bruk, Sir.¡± ¡°Nordosh Bruk? The decorated? That¡¯s what they call you. Late Grand General held you and your family in high regard.¡± His smile vanishes. ¡°Please¡­Don¡¯t call me that.¡± Turning his head away from me, he continues, ¡°Too many fell. Too many did not return that day.¡± He gazes at the ground, his neck muscles tensing. ¡°I wished to be among them, but I got half a pound of useless metal instead.¡± This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. ¡°Yeah,¡± I mutter, his words hitting too close to my heart. I can¡¯t help but think how many stories like this one will now be told by others. How many of them will blame me for what will happen to them? I put my hand on his shoulder. ¡°War is hell, son. War is hell. I¡¯d tell you that time makes things easier, but I¡¯d be lying. The trash we pick up in this line of work never burns away. However, I won¡¯t pretend I know what you went through.¡± I pause, trying to pick out the right words and coming up short as always. Why is it I have no problem ordering men to death but coming up short every time I face a broken one? I pat him on the back. ¡°You¡¯ve tasted hell¡­Make sure none under your command ever do. That is the only way forward.¡± I hate myself for telling him this. Back then, when the Fraxonnian civil war erupted, I thought anyone who went as a volunteer to be void of brains. My voice prevailed within the walls of the citadel on that fateful day. ¡°Not our war,¡± I told the Conclave. I was right ¡ª it wasn¡¯t. And although we didn¡¯t go to war that day, we allowed volunteers. ¡°It¡¯s not your fault, Grand General, sir.¡± Nordosh¡¯s voice brought me back to reality. ¡°All who went thought Poltr was a change for the better.¡± He looked at me, his eyes soft. ¡°Sorry, you looked too bleak, I figured-¡± ¡°Thank you,¡± I interrupt him. ¡°Let us hope that what we do now doesn¡¯t end up biting us down the line like with Fraxon.¡± I smirk as Nordosh laughs. ¡°Grand General, if we knew what consequences our actions sow, I¡¯d imagine none would ever lift a finger.¡± Nodding, I raise my eyes to the stars. They seem brighter with Nordosh present. ¡°I¡¯ll be frank,¡± I whisper. ¡°I¡¯m afraid. Afraid that what¡¯s about to transpire will make even Graphvan look like child¡¯s play. No disrespect intended.¡± ¡°How many?¡± Nordosh muttered after a pause. ¡°How many dead?¡± ¡°Enough to drown me in blood a million times.¡± I let out a sigh and look at my watch¡ªalmost one. I need at least a few hours of rest before meeting with the Conclave, and the conversation took a direction, which I don¡¯t want it to take, not yet, anyhow. I turn to Nordosh. ¡°Take your leave, Lieutenant. I¡¯m not the best company at this hour.¡± I offer him a weak smile. ¡°Grand General.¡± My comms buzz to life. ¡°What now?¡± I groan under my breath. Could Fraxon¡¯s fleet be making the first move? I bring up my hand to my comms with no haste. ¡°Speaking.¡± ¡°There¡¯s been an explosion at Elder¡¯s residence, Yorhal¡¯s residence, and Archon Kalidasa¡¯s landing pad is blown to smithere-¡± I¡¯m thrown from the bench; my ears are ringing, and I can¡¯t make out anything else I¡¯m told. My wrist twists as it eats into the ground. I roll to the side. Nordosh is close by, his helmet on, and his shoulder blocks a piece of debris that should have hit me. Prying myself up on my hands, I hear faint yelling, but I do not understand a word. I see the citadel on fire, the puzzle finally clicking into place. Another piece of rock is flying my way; I watch it, unable to force myself to move. This can¡¯t be happening¡­ The yelling is becoming louder. I can almost make it out. Nordosh jumps on top of me, blocking the stone with his armor, his pistol ready, looking around for enemies. I look towards the citadel ¡ª the entrance is gone, and a couple of Elites lie motionless. I pray they are only knocked out. Screams and commands are coming from other Elites, Nordosh¡¯s voice booming with commands to the nearby guards. ¡°The hell is going on?¡± I yell into my comms. ¡°What is this? There¡¯s an explosion at the citadel!¡± Nordosh pins me to the ground, dirt getting on my tongue. I hear a secondary explosion go off, and I close my eyes, cursing. A piece of debris hits me in the arm, and a piece of wood shoots into my leg. I yell in pain, turning to lie on my back, spitting dirt out. Nordosh covers me the best he can, but I notice his armor dented at his shoulder and a rock the size of a bench near him. ¡°I don¡¯t see anyone.¡± He looks at me. ¡°Must have been remote¡­Shit.¡± ¡°How?¡± I ask him. ¡°The grounds got Elites patrolling. Even the damn ants are accounted for.¡± My mind is racing. Elders and Archons make sense, but why would someone attack a citadel at night? And who? ¡°Get me Marwen!¡± I yell into the comms. ¡°Get Marwen to the Citadel. Now!¡± Shit, I think to myself. No, this cannot be. A sudden realization hit. This is not what I planned. It was supposed to be during the day¡­one location¡­ no casualties. Shit. Wincing, I yank the wood from my leg. I watch the front Citadel wall crumble, covering the few knocked-out Elites who guarded the door. Flames would finish the job if they didn¡¯t die from that. There¡¯s no use even trying to help them. But a few Elites try, nonetheless. A futile attempt, they soon give up¡ªthe stones are too heavy, the fires too strong. Limping to the bench, I sit down. ¡°Are you alright, Grand General?¡± Nordosh asks, his head turning from side to side, looking around, scanning the area. ¡°Marcorians?¡± ¡°Wish I knew.¡± I shake my head. ¡°Check the citadel. See if you can find out what caused the explosion. Perhaps that can shine some light on this.¡± Nordosh nods and limps away. ¡°Fraxon!¡± A voice yells in my comms. ¡°We found a bomb at Archon Shena¡¯s residence. It looks like it malfunctioned. We are checking all other Archons now. ¡° ¡°Keep me posted,¡± I command. ¡°And Marwen better be on his way already!¡± I hope to gods you are not involved. I think to myself. Please let this be a Marcorian retaliation. I hear choppers in the distance. Rescuers, I figure, and firefighters, perhaps more security, as if they¡¯d make a difference now. It feels like minutes drag into hours, but glancing at my watch reveals that only about ten minutes had passed. The choppers are putting down fires, and a medic runs my way. I ignore her, motioning for her to take care of others first. I watch rescuers drill into the stone, securing it by rope to the choppers, which takes it up and moves it a couple of hundred feet to the forest. I limp towards the citadel myself, forcing every step as pain shoots through my left leg, blood trailing down in a thin stream. I ignore it. An Elite runs up to me. ¡°Your leg, Gran-¡± ¡°Screw it,¡± I mutter. ¡°Help me get up the damn steps.¡± He nods and offers his shoulder for me to lean on. My heart pounds harder with every step, and every breath fills my lungs with ash. On the top step, I¡¯m greeted by a torn-out arm of one of the Elites; it¡¯s still half covered by armor. I turn away from it and head towards the entrance. The four dead Elites were moved and laid neatly next to each other. One of the dead has his helmet smashed into a pancake, and he¡¯s missing an arm. I turn towards the next unfortunate soul. His armor is seared into his body, both legs missing, and his right arm broken. It¡¯s not hard to guess he was the closest to the explosion. I can¡¯t force myself to look at the other two dead. I shake my head and whisper to the Elite, whose shoulder I still lean on, ¡°Help me back to a bench.¡± ¡°Sir.¡± He nods. My insides turn. Rage overtakes me as I try to figure out any scenario where this is not my doing. I pray, hoping that no one got hurt at any other locations, but logic says otherwise. Unless the explosions were way smaller, none of the residences should even be on the map. ¡°You are tougher to find than I figured.¡± I turn to find Marwen walking up to me. He is dressed casually in green silk. ¡°The hell happened?¡± I mutter once he gets closer and activates a portable PhantomShield. ¡°Are you responsible?¡± He laughs. ¡°I?¡± He shakes his head. ¡°Varick, you asked for this.¡± I punch him in the liver, and he doubles over, overtaken by pain. ¡°I said no casualties,¡± I hiss. ¡°One explosion. Enough to convince the Conclave that Fraxon attacked. By gods, tell me there were no casualties at the other locations.¡± Marwen laughs. ¡°That would be less than believable.¡± He straightens out, catching his breath. ¡°To sway a Conclave member, it needs to be personal to him. It¡¯s personal now. And they now know whom to blame, or do you think the bomb at Shena¡¯s didn¡¯t explode by luck? And before you strike me again¡­¡± He dodges another of my jabs. ¡°All the Archons are alive. Some of their servants are not so fortuitous, but that is details.¡± I hit him again, square in the jaw this time, and he fell to the ground. ¡°I should kill you.¡± I kick him, and pain shoots through my leg, reminding me of the wound. ¡°Yes,¡± Marwen chuckles. ¡°You should. But if we are to win this war, you won¡¯t.¡± I extend him my hand, helping him get up from the ground. ¡°Are there any more surprises?¡± ¡°An explosion destroyed your quarters on Caedes. Had to make it look like they are trying to kill you as well.¡± He laughs. ¡±If before, I ever thought you might be insane, now I just know it,¡± I say and turn to face the citadel. ¡°Always happy to help a friend in need.¡± He pats my shoulder.