Futuristic Imperium (IC)

The empires of the future are the empires of the mind.-Ancient Terran Saying

Nausican songbirds, genetically modified avians bred for their melodious tunes and bright coloration, provided a gorgeous acapella to the blooming pinks and whites of the garden around which a woman in a stark white dress sat. A simple garb saves for the silver plating along the neck and hem. The gentle rolling of the stream wound its way across the manicured groves and lawns of the Garden. The Garden of Empress Quintara, the woman's paternal great-great grandmother and one of the several Empress-Regnants in the long history of the Galactic Imperium. To call it a favored spot for the woman in white was an understatement. For her vary apartments had been set in the vast marble white walls of the neighboring palace complex that ringed the Gardens in a semi-circle. Spanning an arc of 30 kilometers from end to end. One of the smaller palaces and part of the network of vast complexes built on this world for the Imperial House. Odin. A paradise world, a natural gem fine-tuned by expert imperial planetologists. From the highly favorable weather patterns, natural lush forests, great waterways of crystal clear and blue hued water. Oceans teaming with fish and aquatic mammals. A world largely untouched for its population was solely concentrated in the service and maintenance of the Imperial residences and properties on the planet. A planet sized retreat. Odin, is where the members of the Emperor's Household would retire to get away from the Courts of Nova Terra and the layers, web upon web, intrigue and plotting. It is where this woman in white stays long weeks musing through books and manuscripts and writing her own personal treatises.

A silver stylus touched the page nestled on the small writing plinth set up before her,

What endangers Empires is the allowance of ulterior agendas to become tolerated dissidence. In the spirit of this it has come to my attention from my own trusted sources, my birds, that four legions have amassed at the Imperial staging grounds on Signus Prime. For what purpose I could not glean. My Father has kept all transmissions of this encrypted to the point were even I cannot access them. The Record Chronicles of whatever plans locked away in the Vaults of Nova Terra.

"A woman of the mind is a woman of forethought," came a gentle voice from behind the woman in white.

The woman turned, her statuesque beauty catching the rays of the Odin Sun, "Father." She spoke with a smile. Matched by his own. The man, The Tsaraj-Emperor of the Known Universe, moved beside his daughter. A servant in plain white coming up quickly into view to place a padded chair down. The Emperor sat gingerly. He did not look old, perhaps middle aged, a man in his 40s or early 50s. But his eyes showed many more decades in them.

"A woman of the mind is a woman of forethought," he peered at his daughter with a side-eye. His daughter smiled and responded knowingly, "A man of the mind is a man of foresight."

"Tertullon of Halicyon was always a favorite of yours, Valeria."

"A world known for its philosophers and mathematicians and Tertullon always insisted his works spoke of the arithmetic of the soul."

"Arithmatic of the soul. Reality down to figures."

"Is not all around us the calculations of our universe's mechanics?"

"I would prefer to enjoy the songbirds, but as a father I am always impressed by your intellectual pursuits."

Valeria kept her smile as she fiddled with her silver stylus. "Father, I--." The Emperor held up a hand to silence her. Yet his movements were gentle. "Quandary."

Valeria nodded, "Answer?" This was a game he often played with his children. Typically ending in some teachable practicum or morale lesson. "A man, born of generations of success, is reaching a point of being able to sway a disproportionate amount of influence in the Rhaumsraad via a network of fealty. While holding several directorships in the Combine and also, " the Emperor placed a small piece of silver vellum on the table before Valeria. Golden script flowing along it, "Seeking to marry into the highest of thrones. What do you do."

"Is it a given that you do not want the marriage to go through."

"Yes."

"Why?" she peeked at the words on the silvered page. Her eyes widening when she read her name.

"While I love all my children it has become clear that you are the successor. At least to a number of individuals within the Rhaumsraad. You are unwed and not betrothed and thus to gain your hand is the best chance to unseat us. How would you respond?"

"I would decline."

"And what if this individual has begun to pressure the Rhaumsraad to steer towards their own agenda and to decline would signal for more direct confrontations in such an assembly. To shift the delicate balance to our disadvantage."

"How would we know they are against us."

"Interesting legislation was put forth by Count Fulk of House Perellon that is antithetical to our own interests. I will not go into the specifics."

Valeria perked up at the mention of the Count. Fulk was one of the most powerful men in the Rhaumsraad and had grown increasingly Pro-Rhaumsraad power vs status quo in recent years. House Perellon over several generations had grown to control several highly populated worlds rich in resources and dozens of other lesser worlds. Its power only checked by the ongoing war between the Perellonese and their neighbors, Houses Oserian and Vatatzes.

"I would not risk the political fallout of a direct confrontation. Rather, I would seek to empower their opponents to drain their resources and curb their growth."

So, it is against House Perellon that my father plots against. Count Fulk, 58 Standard Years, not married but via legitimate concubinage produced two daughters. Amire and Betera. Betrothed to houses Skylitzes and Koiran. A move that would produce an alliance spanning over two hundred worlds and rulership of over one hundred and sixty billion people. Add in the network of extended alliances and this figure reaches more than tenfold.

"By the book but a reliable tactic. Save such meddling could be expected."

"Then perhaps a longer approach would have been optimal. To ensure a swift decapitation of the opponent before they were even aware of the struggle."

"Yes, that would be best now wouldn't it. My thoughts were exactly that my dear daughter."

"You already have moved against them?"

The Emperor let out a wry smile, "The lesson of this conversation is to try and predict the conversation before it happens. You give technically sound but predictable responses. But I've already moved the pieces on the board and your initiative is long gone."

Fulk had walked these very Gardens as a boy. Even been tutored by the man seated beside her in decades past. What had befallen in that time where they would be enemies? Did Fulk underestimate the capriciousness of Emperors? To have already sown the seeds of striking at a Great House with such speed would have required years if not decades of planning. Did my father plant these seeds to sprout if Fulk ever positioned himself against the Emperor? A boy at that time and my father had already schemed a plan to kill him should he grow up to be a threat.

"What will become of the Count's children?"

"You were close to them once, yes? When they stayed here in the tutelage of the Imperial Court."

"Yes, but that was long ago."

The Emperor turned to his daughter for a moment then looked away and relaxed to the tune of the birds. "They will receive what they deserve."


Perella, Homeworld and Namesake of House Perellon

Perella was a comfortable world. Civilized, wealthy, with great cities carefully planned and woven with greenery belts. Wide canals and elegant bridges for pedestrians, ground cars, and the narrow great routes of the mag-levs. Arching aqueducts brought in fresh water from the vast glaciers in the mountains that semi-surrounded the capital city of Maizere. Sprawling architecture of elegant, fluted temples and churches, spires of gems and gilded tiles, punctuated the vast religious district of the city. While residences flanking neatly spaced streets lined with evergreen trees sprawled out in neat grids across 66,000 square kilometers.

Now, the boulevards were packed by throngs of festive crowds and parading forces of the Count. For today was the eldest daughter Amire's birthday and the Count had declared it an impromptu holiday. Thus, the factories and workshops emptied. Hands and ranchers came in from the surrounding green hills and forests to the cities. It was a jubilant affair while the Lady Amire herself readied herself for the celebrations to be held at the Kazyr Palace in the Mountains to the South of the city. Their white caps giving way to golden forests of birch and fiery maple.

A dress of deep-sea blue and matching sapphire earrings surrounded by gold and a diamond necklace was what Amire had chosen for the occasion. Her blonde hair done up in flowing locks. Leaving her wardroom to the fawning smiles of many and the austere loving gaze of a man with short blonde hair and trimmed beard. Her father, Count Fulk, who took her by the hand and out the doors of the main family residence in the capital. The old castle like fortress of Castle Perella. A foreboding citadel itself containing a hundred square kilometers of space within its walls. Guards with polished cuirasses to a mirror sheen and fluted helmets with bright blue bonnets and crests stood at attention. Antiquated spears at attention before them while another guard opened the door to an awaiting aerial limousine.

"Lovelier than all the stars in the sky," said Fulk as he gave his daughter a hug at the top of the steps before resuming their walk down.

"Dad, please, are you sure you will not be coming to Kazyr?"

"Who said I'm not coming?" shot back Fulk with a concerned look.

Amire rolled her eyes, "Amire, she says you'll be busy with matters of state."

Fulk made a joking scoff, "I would never miss your birthday. Fret not, I will arrive in the evening in time for cake. Betera better be there as well." He held up a finger in mock threat. The younger daughter was very much the black sheep of the family and had stated she would be out shopping before retiring to Kazyr for the later festivities.

They stopped before the limousine and Fulk gently lowered her daughter onto the cushioned seat, "Enjoy the party my starry sky."

"Dad, stop," she said with a blushing smile. Fulk closed the door with a soft click and waved as the aerial limousine gently lifted away towards the southern mountains.

Kazyr itself was perched on a high hill surrounded by birch and maple woodlands. Gentle trails spread through the woods and largely kept open to the public at Fulk's order. Now, its perimeter was closed for the private festivities of the elder daughter of the Count's eighteenth birthday. Kazyr itself was a structure of red brick and white stone constructed in the fashion of the ancient castles of mythological Jermania. One of the legendary and probably fictional nations of Lost Terra. The architects combing through scraps of details to construct a structure that was fanciful in its use of elevated levels and buttresses. Allowing it to rise high from the hill but take up less square meters of space. A spacious courtyard of elegant mosaics and hydroponically kept palm trees decorated the grounds.

Amire could hardly contain herself when the aerial limousine touched down and the door opened by a suited footman. Hollars and yells from hundreds of guests in elegant outfits raised glasses to her arrival. A day of celebration and memories she could only dream of about to unfold as a band began to strum their instruments off to the side.

House Perella Orbital Control Station

Muffled footsteps sounded as a man in the blue and white uniform of the House Perellon Naval Service strode into the large circular command and control room of the station. Wide windows, not real windows of course, but with photo realistic depictions captured by video feeds allowed a complete degree of viewing for the surrounding orbital space over the planet of Perella. The man yawned and stretched his neck as he went to look out some of the windows. Steam rising from a cup in his hand. The smell of the fresh brewed cafe gave an enticing and pleasurable scent as the steam wafted up to his nostrils.

"Commodore, all quiet out there. Not even guild ships for the last six hours."

The Commodore turned and glanced at a 3-dimensional holographic map of the Perellan star system. Its main sequence yellow star in the center along with the other six planets, three of which were gas giants, in their various orbits. The asteroid belt that separated the gas giants from the inner three worlds forming a wide ring of its own. Dozens of icons showed the inter-system traffic. Freighters coming and going to stations and mining colonies. Passenger liners coming from the inhabited agricultural world of Pyxis which was slightly closer to the system's star yet still close enough to Perella to give spectacular planetary rises a few times a year. Then there was the industrial world of Perella Minor, a barren but resource rich world further out yet still within the habitable zone of the system. All in all, 12 billion people lived within the star system. Nine of whom lived on Perella itself.

"What's this?" said the Commodore as he indicated an icon denoting a squadron of Perellonese warships heading to the last gas giant in the system.

One of the Control station staff, an ensign, turned, "Admiral Horan dispatched Vice-Admiral Pelletz' command to investigate why a trio of Guildships had entered and left the system two weeks back. The Commodore took a sip of his cafe and looked out another window. The Naval Service had gathered the majority of the House Fleet for the celebrations on the planet below and for various maintenance schemes. The Count was wishing to expand the fleet by adding twenty more hulls. Already the fleet over matched their principal opponents in Houses Oserian and Vatatzes combined. But the fortunes of the House had grown and grown and thus with each Count the power of the House's military ballooned. As such the large commercial orbital docks around the world were joined by the vast anchorage of the House's Navy. Capable of servicing over one hundred vessels at a time.

The Commodore took a second sip and spoke again, more to himself than anyone in the room, "Quiet, good, thats what I like to see."

Moving over to the outer system scanning team he looked over a brunette human woman's head, a man with graying hair bearing the insignia of a lieutenant was typing furiously on a computer console, as he brought up data pertaining to a commercial bulk trawler named the Spring's Coming.

The Commodore moved over to the man, “Ice trawler? Anything I should know about?”

“Not sure, Sir. The Spring's Coming has been out in the outer belt collecting ice for the water market on the desert planet of Sahar-El. But there was a very brief, only a couple seconds, radio burst from the ship before it went dark for twenty minutes.”

“Ship is fine now though, right?” said the Commodore as he ran a hand through his black hair. His olive skin not helping to hide the bags under his eyes.

“Well, we think so but there is something about the transmission...” The woman adjacent began dialing in some knobs while the lieutenant to her left added, “The ship gave standard reporting and operating procedure kickbacks exactly twenty minutes and six seconds after going dark. Report log listed a communication glitch and possible computation error in its navigational system. It will be checking in at Commercial Dockyard 7 to have it looked at.”

“Alright, good, send that report up to NAVCOM for their analysts to take a look at it. What about the transmission?” The Commodore leaned down as the brunette-haired ensign pressed play. A crackle over her console's audio speakers for then a blurb of something. Something definitely audible.

“Play that back?”

The ensign played it back and there it was again, a blurb of something popping. At least it sounded like popping to the ears of all three present. “Okay, send that up to NAVCOM too. Keep a scope on it just in case.”

“Aye, Commodore,” The sensor reading of the ice trawler drawing ever closer.

Nodding the Commander rolled his neck in a nice relaxing stretch as he maneuvered in a large circle about the bridge. Checking in at various posts before he wound up looking out the wide view ports down at the planet below. The surface under him gradually going from light to dark as the hours past below on that rotating orb. Before him the vast array of the House Naval Yards. The Kala'den Commercial Shipyards and Wharves. The System Communication Array and NAVCOM Headquarters. All arrayed in a vast network of metal girders, Geo-synchronous structures, or cresting the massive, towering spires of the planets eight space elevators.

Night settling over the Western Hemisphere of Perella. Its five oceans and six continents sandwiched between two pleasant stark white polar ice caps. The Commodore took another sip.

“Spring's Coming you are clear for approach vector in system. Hold onto charted course line 47-3-B. You will be given a signal for final approach on my mark.”

Checking his wristwatch the Commodore enjoyed the sight below him before closing his eyes for a moment to relax. The space before him alight with thousands of craft and ships. Mostly civilian. But hundreds of warships of the Navy were mustered or in dockyard berths arrayed neatly like a massive three-dimensional fabric lattice.

“Spring's Coming adjust course. Spring's Coming you are moving off course. Spring's Coming do you read?”

The Commodore nearly choked on his next sip as he heard these words from the brunette ensign's mouth. Growing sterner by the syllable. Turning around swiftly the Commodore rushed over. “What is it Naveen?”

“Spring's Coming just ignored our hails. They're off course, and every second a data spike is being sent out somewhere near the outer gas giant.” The Commodore looked at the sensor readings. The Spring's Coming was not going to hit them but was now moving well off course. “Try to raise them again. Notify NAVCOM and Admiral Horan that we have a possible problem.”

“Spring's Coming just went full thrust!” spat the lieutenant seated off to the right. Collision alarms and warning klaxons blared as the Spring's Coming main plasma drives ignited. Cycling rapidly up to full power as the two-kilometer-long bulk hauler began to accelerate exponentially.

“Signal w-!”

“SHIP LAUNCHING CRAFT!” came a frantic scream of a shout from behind him. From the tactical team behind him. The Commodore turned to watch the central viewing screens to see four smaller pod like craft with claws shoot out of the side of the Spring's Coming towards the Command & Control station. Within seconds the craft ignited their fusion cutters. Blasting and slicing into the station as its clawlike mandibles anchored the pod like bodies of the craft. It was all happening in a matter of seconds.

The Spring's Coming went beyond normal safety parameters for acceleration. Red lining its core as the ship rapidly approached an appreciable fraction of light speed. The ice hauler rocketed past the Command & Control Station to collide first with the Kala'den Commercial Shipyards. Smashing through steel girders. Four civilian ships and two bulk freighters were annihilated by the impact while a spherical construction platform bearing three hulls under construction was annihilated a second later. The Spring's Coming continued on as debris rained out in all directions. The deaths of twenty thousand dock workers behind it.

Crashing into Battleship Row, grazing the carrier Ralliere, and ripping the fore-third of the cruiser Demtre away in a shower of alloy and steel. The ice hauler continued on its orbital rampage unabated. Its momentum seeming unassailable as it impacted the NAVCOM headquarters station in a thunderous detonation. Thirty-six thousand navy personnel died as the structure went critical. The ice hauler, now a massive slag heap of red-hot metal, erupted from the back of the station and careered on its orbital death arc to crash into the System Communications Array. The debris and devastation of its path an expanding cloud of orbital debris. Sixty-seven other ships were destroyed by the expanding debris outright as several damaged ships died at their berths as munitions or reactor cores went critical. The Battleship, three and a half kilometers long, Lacreion, smashed from its girders now listed freely. Its drives off and half of its crew having died from the exceedingly violent impact. Drifted like a bird struck midflight toward the planet below. A plume of smoke and debris following it as the mighty warship began its death dive. Aft first.

Forty-three other ships were heavily damaged. Twelve others listed from damage to cause further havoc.

The Commodore dropped his half drank cup of cafe onto the floor as he could only watch the horror unfold before him in a matter of seconds. milliseconds of damage translating into cascading waterfalls of subsequent terror as the debris of the ice trawlers suicidal charge expanded at a fraction of light speed. Shredding lightly armored craft in a hailstorm of razor metal. Habitation units vented. Industrial complexes suffered hull integrity failure. The Spring's Coming ripped out the other side of the System Communication Array, enough of its punch robbed to come out like a shotgun blast of several fiery pieces, cascading to strike the the habitation orbital rings around the nearest space elevator. Over a hundred thousand homes had their interiors, within the span of seconds, given over to the cold embrace of hard vacuum.

A heavy hand gripped his shoulder, he turned, it was the lieutenant. “Commodore!”

It was then that he registered the other alarms. SECURITY BREACH, DECKS 27, 42, 51, AND 103. SECURITY PROTOCOLS ENGAGED. ALERT. SECURITY BREACH.

The message repeated and in the distance else where in the station he could hear the thuds of weapons fire. “Close off the bridge! Secure the area. Alert all commands! We're under attack!”

The deep space observation officer, another lieutenant, whipped his head around, “Incoming contacts from the outer gas giant. Two hundred plus vessels of various chassis inbound.”

The Commodore looked above, “Mother of Mercy.” The enemy fleet, no doubt fed data last minute from the Spring's Coming had made a calculated acceleration from the other side of the gias giant and now was being picked up by the House Pelleron sensor network.

"Raise Vice-Admiral Pelletz immediately!"

The icon of Vice-Admiral Pelletz squadron winked out of existence at the map table. No doubt caught by surprise and annihilated in a first strike.

His subordinates dashed over to the security panel as the lights in the bridge twinkled for a moment. A boom below them sounded. People were screaming blood curdling wails in the hallway. A hand smacked the emergency release protocols. Right as a pair of Navy personnel came sprinting frantically around the corner of the hallway. “Stop!”

The emergency blast doors shut on them. Their fists banging as the man and woman that rounded the corner screamed for them to open the doors. Their cries soon matched by rapidly approaching foot falls. Heavy foot falls. Their screams rose to ear splitting, hair raising, shrill wails before blood gurgling groans as silhouetted figures with drawn blades and boarding axes came into view.

“Draw your side arms.” said the Commodore. Behind him the blast shutters lowered to shield their view ports. Everyone, the Commodore included, drew their pistols or short swords and pointed them at the blast doors. The sound of something on the other side made the Commodore cautiously step back. Then it clicked in his head. “Get do-!”

Slagged metal shot inwards as plasma charges detonated. Three of the bridge crew were blown back bodily. Naveen was killed by shrapnel to the throat, skull, and chest. The deep space observation officer was thrown bodily back to have what amounted for his spine snap back across his console in a sickening manner. The lieutenant took a dart to the throat and collapsed in a heap. Then another bridge crew member, then another. The Commodore opened fire. Beams of energy rapidly cycling into the vapors of the Plasma discharge. The thrum of shields absorbing the laser beams of his pistol presaged the rushing attackers as they stormed into the room. The Commodore's last sight being the downward arc of a boarding combat axe.

Kayzr Palace

The first fireworks for her birthday streaked into the sky as the Sun finally dipped below the horizon. Allowing the afterglow of twilight to diminish enough for the festivities to transition to the elaborately planned firework display. The party goers looked up at the sky in awe as greens, blues, and purples blossomed into a variety of shapes and bursts. Some classic starburst pattern, others in animal shapes, others in multi-stage almost life like pictograms. The glow of a firework lingered behind the display. The glow? Then another, and another, then dozens if not hundreds of orange-red glows punctuated the atmosphere. Falling through the atmosphere in flames at terminal velocity was hundreds of objects wrought by the destruction of Spring's Coming's kamikaze strike. The crowd of the world's elite stood silently until the first impacts. In the distance and then nearer as hundreds of objects ranging from small car few meters across to the size of ground cars or even houses smashed into the ground. Casting fire and throwing up dust with their impacts.

That was when the screaming started as people rushed to the doors, to inside, to anywhere. Amire could only look around in terror until a pair of guards grabbed her and ushered her to a staircase leading to into a sub-level. An emergency bunker. Several guests made to follow but the guards drew their blades and shouted them to get back as they closed the doors behind them. Amire's last sight of the sky being the clouds parted by the bulk of the battleship Lacreion as it sank from the heavens to impact a hundred and fifty miles North. Vaporizing the towns in the area as its massive fusion-fission reactor detonated with all the force of a small sun.

The thermal wave catching forests fifty miles across the impact zone alight instantly. While the blast wave rushed and shattered millions of windows as it traveled through villages and into the capital city itself. Plumes of brown dust clouds spreading out to block the sky as ash and soot filled the air.

Maizere Western Shopping District

Betera coughed dust and grit as she turned over and crawled to prop herself up by a building. Glass shards and debris covered the ground as a shockwave swept through the streets. Unknowingly for her due to the death of Lacreion. She glanced around as the world around her was filled by the aftershock. The silence given over to screams and moans. Shouts and cries. Looking to her left she saw her aide sprawled, dead, on the curb. She shakingly got her feet and began to trudge absent mindedly out to the corner of the street in front of what was a clothing store. The deep bur of air raid sirens throughout the city coming to life as the shimmer of the city's shield came to life. While in security outposts throughout the city the lights of spotters illuminated the night sky.

Catching the silhouettes of various conical objects coming down by gravity assisted retrojets. Touching the shield and arresting their fall until they could slowly pass through the shield. That was when the city's AA defenses opened up with streams of laser and tracer fire. Blossoms of aerial detonations as conical objects, bombs, were intercepted by ground-based batteries. But beyond them is what caused Betera to pause. The night sky was punctuated by various silhouetted objects. Ships and attack craft descending from orbit. She began to run East towards theCastle districtt with sudden purpose.

Castle Perella

"What the blazes is going on," shouted Fulk as he arrived in the sub-level located ten meters below the ground, underneath the Castle, that served as the emergency strategy bunker. The other men in the room were his Generals and Advisors that had been at the Castle when the attack had occurred.

"We lost contact with NAVCOM immediately. Presumably the Admiralty is gone and Pelletz' squadron was annihilated in a first strike," said a man in the tan uniform of the House Army. General Thedien Mede, Imperial Savant, and longtime servant of House Perellon.

"Naval assets in orbit?"

"It's chaotic up there. The enemy moved rapidly and has taken orbital superiority."

"How did they get passed our system defenses?"

"No one is sure beyond the kamikaze strike."

"Ground based defenses. We can repel the enemy from Perellon."

"Yes, my lord."

"The enemy?" This time it was a question of clarification.

"House Oserian and Vatatzes ships have been identified by ground-based observers landing around the capital. A number of our ground side bases got destroyed in orbital strikes before they could raise shields. But now we're scrambling all we have."

"Secure orbital elevators and logistic lines. Get my daughters down here. Where is Amire and Betera?"

"Amire is transiting through the emergency tunnels from Kayzr to here. I have soldiers looking for Betera now."

The Count moved to the large holographic display of the world and the various military icons it displayed. The Perellon sensor network was highly compromised now but still there was a wealth of information on display. The Count spoke again, "Two hundred ships plus change, that is most of their fleets. Troop counts?"

"What intelligence we can gather is at least one hundred and twenty divisions."

The Count blinked, that was practically the entire army of both those houses. Over two million men apiece. But he had more even battered and bruised. "Mobilize to defend the cities and key assets."

"Sir, the enemy is mainly landing around the capital. General Vedding is mobilizing for the defense of the capital area."

The count looked at the data on display. The military forces in the city, the city garrison of one hundred thousand men and nearby bases that fell under the city-wide shield had escaped the initial assault unscathed. Additionally, there was surviving bases in the mountains that were beginning to mobilize towards the capital via underground mag-lev lines. This would triple the defenders. One might think he was still horribly outnumbered but that negated the bigger picture. The enemy was landing in various other points on Perellon to secure the world. This would spread them out enough were he could repel them in detail.

Two Hours Later

Amire practically flung herself into her father's arms when she arrived in the bunker. "Father!"

"Yes, yes I know."

"What of Betera, is she--," Amire was about to burst into tears when Fulk pulled her close again, "She's strong like you. She's on her way to us now." General Thedian kept silent at this lie. Truth be told they had not yet found Betera and now there was fighting all along the perimeter of the city between Oserian and Vatatzes troops and the Pelleronese. Fulk pulled away as a situation report began, Amire stood behind her father with an aide to serve her, as another officer in the stripes of a Colonel indicated various places on the holographic maps of the planet and the city itself.

"The enemy has surrounded the city and cut the surface mag-lev lines. Fighting continues in the outskirts." Elsewhere on the planet things were shifting as local commanders fought their own battles. Coordination difficult with the deteriorated communications and sensor network of House Pelleron. Not to mention orbital based jamming. But the numbers were on their side.

The lights inside the bunker flickered for a moment and a military aide came up with a new report, handing it to the Colonel, "Marzan district has fallen. Colonel Shradden's troops have fallen back to the outer U-Mag Line northern sector. The Colonel indicated the outer most surface mag-lev ring within the city perimeter."

General Mede glowered, "Marzan, so quickly. How?"

"Unsure, the defense was shattered in an hour and communications broke down. Colonel Shradden reports 90% casualty rate among his Division."

"Ninety-percent!"

"Yes sir. Also the enemy is probing through the outer perimeter and has reached the suburbs in the East and North."

Fulk stroked his beard, "Consolidate on the outer U-Mag Line. Initiate civilian evacuations via underground lines to secure cities in the East and South."

The lights flickered again.

Western Canal District

Betera had ran and then walked once fatigue set in from the Western shopping district to the Western Canal District. Placing her hands on her hips she looked North-West and saw to her horror the detonations of artillery in far-off Marzan. A whistle came over head and objects flashed by over the top of buildings. Attack craft and missiles! Plumes of fire and smoke-filled streets and leveled buildings into burnt out husks as the enemy managed to get attack craft through the shield and even artillery which could target the AA batteries one by one.

"Get out of the way lady!" came a shout and a hand grabbed Betera and pulled her to the side of a jewelry store. It was a man in the livery of the House Perellon army. It was now she realized the columns of troops rushing past and accompanying armored vehicles. "I'm Lady Betera of House Perellon, I nee-,"

The roar of engines overhead and cries of get to cover sounded. Betera was thrown to the pavement as detonations sounded around her. Then the flickering thin beams of lasfire as the soldiers around her engaged their opponent down the street. Betera crawled through a doorway and propped herseld up by a stairwell. Looking outside she could see down the street as soldiers in the livery of House Oserian engaged the Pelleron troops in a wild melee. Blades of swords, axes, daggers, and maces met flickering shields or sparked at striking armor. Bodies sprawled onto the ground as the fallen multiplied. An armored vehicle opened up with its rotary gun to lacerate the upper floors of a building across the street before the streak of a rocket struck the front of the vehicle. The armor of the vehicle saving it but kicking up smoke and dirt. The Pelleron troops seemed like they would carry the day until the ground darkened as something passed by overhead. Betera watched as slowly drifting to the ground were figures in white with red markings. Mainly wielding longswords and halberds these newcomers gave the Pelleron troops pause, even apprehension, before they were upon them. Slicing through the Pelleron troops like fire in a wheatfield.

Betera scrambled to her feet and ran out and across the street. Trying to flee literally anywhere from the death and destruction spreading around her. She didn't look back and dashed across a canal bridge as las gun fire began to rip across adjacent bridges. The fighting spreading throughout the city as more and more streets and buildings became battlegrounds. It was only then as she came over the bridge and ran down into a U-Mag Lev station did she see the dark sad looks in the civilians that had been absent above. Many had sought shelter below ground and the station was packed end to end with thousands upon thousands of people. Dirty and dusty. She looked back and heard the sounds of battle grow closer. Driving her forth she began to move through the crowd.

Castle Pellera

"This was taken by one of our last recon planes five minutes ago," said General Mede as he brought up the image of two ships hovering amid the clouds somewhere to the east of the city. Their chrome and white hulls with gilded details was telling. "Perhaps the Emperor's army is here to save us?" said Amire. Fulk drooped his head at the naivety of the outburst. The truth sunk in a moment later for Amire. "So this is how they're breaking through. Oserian and Vatatzes take the brunt of the frontal attack. The Emperor's Tsaraj'kar are the surgical scalpel."

Mede could only nod as he looked at the map. The Tsaraj'kar had appeared suddenly. At first individual Pelleron positions would simply be gone. No more contact. Then there would be frantic reports of white armored warriors descending by suspensor fields and all shielded attacking them from various directions. Followed by sudden breaches in defensive lines and positions being lost before they could be reinforced. The Tsaraj'kar's prowess was legendary but what unnerved the Count more was the methodical nature of the Imperial's approach. Like they had studied his military's capabilities for years and knew were many installations, outposts, bases, and staging areas were. Striking key areas and denuding the defenses of much of their capability. Indeed, the Emperor had apparently planned for this confrontation many years ago and had spent much time gathering all the intelligence he could.

Fulk spoke back to his daughter in a low tone, "Oserian and Vatatzes are the scapegoats the Emperor requires. Taking out our communications was paramount and why the Oserian and Vatatzes troops attacked first. The Tsaraj'kar were busy depriving us of any ability to get messages out of system. Why they did not appear until much later."

"Then what are we to do?" questioned Amire.

Fulk looked at Mede, "We'll need to get her out into an area where no one can find her."

"The Equatorial Forest."

"Agreed."

Amire glanced back and forth rapidly between the two men, "No, father I won't leave you!"

Fulk glanced back at his daughter, "I can take no chances with family. If the city is lost, you must depart to refuge. Perhaps escape off world to Koiran. They will protect you."

Both men were saving Amire from the harsh reality that they knew was coming. The Tsaraj'kar ensured there was no hope of victory in this struggle. Fulk indicated for a pair of guards and aide who ushered Amire to doors leading to a mag-lev that would take her to a station in the equatorial jungles. There she would escape into the jungles with a small entourage to a safe refuge and possibly get off world to a related House to keep her safe.

Betera

By the time she got through the station and down to the other side she exited to a boardwalk. In the distance artillery strikes were raining down across several districts and beyond the U-line. The fighting moving into the middle-districts of the city. There were no more AA guns firing now and she could see the shapes of various gunships and transports over the city. She was not sure what time it was anymore but likely past midnight as the city was wreathed in blackness. Lit only by fire and detonation of munitions.

Moving forth with a low profile Betera scrambled over to look across the River Nella which separated the eastern edge of the Canal district from the Mid-Town Commercial District. She began to dart across it and nearly reached the other side when a figure stepped out of the shadows and pointed a lasgun at her, "Halt!"

Betera held up her hands, the man came into view, his face dirty, visor cracked from battle damage, a Pelleron soldier. "Put that down you dolt, you know who that is, by all that is Holy. Thats one of the Count's daughters!"

A second soldier, an officer, came into view with a bloody saber. "Can't go East. We lost contact with the units in the Mid-Town Gardens behind us ten minutes ago. Gotta swing wide to get to Castle Pellera." The officer indicated for her to go south across the Nella Canal to the Southern Mid-town district and then back East.

"But thats..."

"Gonna take all night. We know lass. Quite frankly we're pulling out of here. Gonna try and get through to the inner defensive ring. Get down!" The officer pushed her to the side as his shield caught a dart like object. The object slowly beginning to worm its way through his shield until he swiped it away. Figures in white charged across the bridge.

"Tsaraj'kar!"

Half the Pelleron troops broke and ran. The other half and clearly the braver, stood their ground. Betera ran until something struck her in the back and she collapsed as her vision swam. Her last sight being white boots stepping beside her.

Castle Perella

"They've breached the Mid-U line and fighting is all through the middle districts. Inner defensive ring is failing in the East. An entire legion of Tsaraj'kar is pressing in from that side." A boom from above sounded and a pair of guards rushed in, "Tsaraj'kar have stormed the outer walls. They're in the courtyards." Count Fulk drew his sword as did his staff as the sound of fighting grew louder above.


Amire

Amire rode in the small mag-lev car with her entourage as they thundered down the passage. The minutes turning to hours until the car slowed on the tracks and the designated station was reached. Moving out from the car the entourage moved into the dimly lit station and eventually out into the sunlight. The entourage making for the jungles edge when everyone froze. Emerging from the tree line were white clad figures with opaque visors and red decorations on their armor. Above, coming into view, a chromed gunship hovered. The aide to the right suddenly trudged forth and displayed a series of hand signs. Imperial Battle Cant. Traitor.

The Tsaraj'kar that led the approaching platoon of warriors paused and pointed to Amire. Speaking in a harsh accent the Tsaraj'kar beckoned her to come as the gunship lowered. Its rear hatch opening. Amire shook her head and made to back away. The rest of the entourage beginning to back away as well.

"Get her, kill the rest!" shouted the Tsaraj'kar officer audibly and his warriors raised their wrists. A trio of poisoned darts killed all but the shielded guards who tried to get away, but the Tsaraj'kar were faster and with stamina wrought from the harshness of their training caught up and ruthlessly slew the guards. The aide that had betrayed House Pelleron stood nervously as the Tsaraj'kar seized Amire and stuck her with a needle. Causing her to go limp but still conscious. "The Emperor sends his regards. Lady Amire," spoke the Tsaraj'kar officer with a harsh accent. Before she was dragged onto the gunship. The aide made to follow but the officer paused and casually raised his wrist. The aide made to protest with raised hands when a single dart to the throat silenced any cry of mercy.

Imperial Palace Complexes of Odin

"You spared the daughters," said Valeria as the songbirds continued to chirp.

"I am many things Valeria but soulless is not one of them. They will be held as hostages by a trusted House but their lives will be spared."

"What happened to Count Fulk?"

At that the Emperor's gaze lowered. Telling her all she needed to know of the Count's fate.

House Aurelion "We have confirmation Captain; they're pirates. The crew of the Onyx Falcon to be precise." The lieutenant explained as he brought up the live feed from the laboratory and the docking bay.

"Do we have a head count yet?" The woman inquired in an authoritative tone as she examined the videos. "We've counted 15 on board and judging by the size of their ship that's all of them." The lieutenant confirmed. The Captain's eyes narrowed as she cast a disapproving gaze on the monitors, watching the interactions between the raiders and the scientists who'd been taken hostage.

"They must have hoped to intimidate us, unfortunate...for them." Her pout righted itself, curving upwards into a smirk. Then over the holo-comms came the voice of House Aurelion's High General. "How did raiders get into Aurelion territory without being picked up by a single star ring? And how do they then make their way to a science station without anyone noticing them?" The answer was obvious, but no one wanted to be the one to utter a response.

"Bring back the Lead." The General instructed. "And whatever makes for a captain for that pirate vessel." He added.

The Captain clenched her hands into tight fists, the blended material of her glove grinding against itself. This was not a good look for her. The Station's security was on her head and there was no doubt that she'd be made to answer for this lack of awareness. "How should we proceed Captain?"

"Send in an AI to negotiate with them. Once they've dropped their guard we'll go in and rescue the scientists."


The doors to the occupied laboratory slid open with a soft hiss, revealing to those inside a tall AI. Right away one of the raiders fired several rounds at the metallic form. "Are you crazy?! One ricochet and you could kill us all!" One of the scientists yelled, only to be slapped with the same gun seconds later. The taste of liquid iron filled her mouth before the crimson liquid seeped out. And then a tooth hit the floor.

"There is no need for violence." Assured the mechanical voice of the AI. "I have been sent by the station's Captain to act as the negotiator and see this matter resolved as peacefully..." Before the AI could finish it was shot once more, this time in its face which cracked its display screen, but did not render it inoperable.

"We want off this station, with the scientists. No followers and no fighting." A man spoke up before he pointed his gun at one of the hostages.

"Perhaps we can come to another agreement." The robot countered.

The pirate groaned and shook his head. "We're not negotiating here tin can! These are demands!"

As the man spoke the Captain and her guard moved into position on either side of the doorway. She held her hand out, three fingers counting down. "Two...one...."

In a swift, uniform motion the guard stepped into the doorway and without hesitation each fired a on the raiders. It was almost rhythmic the way the bodies dropped to the floor one after another, heavy thuds complimenting the sound of weapon fire. "Argh!" Then came the cry of the one survivor, shot in his right knee and shoulder. "Round them all up for transport back to Amethite." The Captain ordered. "Arthur...proceed with Data Security Protocol." The AI nodded its head before it set to the task of downloading all data on the the station's servers and then continued to scrub the station of all data.

Delphinius cast his lavender gaze down upon the man, the Lead Researcher of the Gai Scientific Space Station. The man shook in his bindings, trembling from fear and shame. The vastness of the cylindrical courtroom and the height of the chairs of the council lent an imposing atmosphere to the trial. The banners of purple and gold hanging from the rafters made it clear whose will reigned here and by whose command you lived or died.

"My Lord I protest against this trial, against everything my former colleagues have misinformed you about, and against that bastard pirate who held us hostage! I am innocent!" The man proclaimed in a hoarse voice.

The members of the council; chief scientists, leading engineers, high ranking military personnel, all looked at one another as the man declared his innocence. "How can that be Dr. Teng when we have seen your research and the evidence corroborate what your peers and your conspirator have told us. You know that we are all prohibited from experimenting with time travel, but anyone can see from the first data entries that you're work is leading towards the forbidden." The woman who spoke was Marie Albright, chief physicist for House Aurelion.

"I-I...." Dr. Teng found himself without a response. "Aside from breaking research laws you also committed treason and shared secrets of Aurelion tech to permit your pirate cohorts to pass undetected through Aurelion space. A capital offense." Delphinius added. The Duke's tone hid the fear that swelled within his own heart. It wasn't often they had cases like this or that he had to doll out judgement to so many people. "This council is prepared to show leniency, Doctor as you are a great mind who has contributed to many of Aurelion Enterprises developments. But you must be honest with us." Delphinius leaned forward in his seat, his elbows digging into his knees.

The Doctor's face seemed to soften and the whole world leaned in, anticipating his repentance and confession. However what came next surprised them all. "Aurelion Enterprises needs to wake up and step into the future! With time travel we could change the face of the galaxy!" Delphinius and he council jumped back in their seats, shocked and repelled by the man's outburst. "We could go back and fend off The Shadow! Find Lost Terra!" Teng continued on.

"Enough!" Delphinius interrupted. "Dr. Teng you are found guilty of conspiring with pirates, sharing Aurelion Enterprises secrets, breaking research laws, and of treason against House Aurelion and the empire. You and your fellow researchers are hereby sentenced serve a minimum of 20 years on the Emperor's planet of Demimonde. After such time it will be up to the Emperor whether you die or continue in his service."

The Aurelion guard, adorned in shades of purple and gold apprehended Teng once more and proceeded to drag him from the court room. "Bring in the Captain of Gai Station. Let's get these trials over with so I can return to my lab." Delphinus demanded before he slouched back into his seat.

Meditations of a Sword God

The new Grandmaster sits atop a rock- surrounded by a garden. It is roughly maintained, ill-kept- at least to the undiscerning eye. One who looks closer will find the signs of careful care... and other things. He sips a cup of hot tea as he ponders, humming quietly whilst his earpiece projects a display over his corneas. It was a live newsfeed, with the accumulated weight of the Bladesect's knowledge flowing into him, for the Bladesect knew well that information was as deadly a weapon as any blade. A mastery of information and its meanings was as important as reflexes when it came to bladesmanship and war alike.

Lancelot is no different.

There. The thread of the fall of Fulk. Unsurprising, really. Fulk had moved too brazenly, too openly against the Emperor. His position was too insecure, and he certainly hadn't been vigilant enough. Perhaps he had expected the Emperor to move against him with a soft, slow hand. To dance the dance of assassins and coin and marriages arranged over the long slow years.

Foolish. One must always be prepared for one's foes to fight with the bone-cut. To do anything less is to present your own throat to the blade.
Of course, that the Emperor had chosen to move in such a manner said its own things. That the Emperor was still a power to be reckoned with, that was obvious. But the Emperor had choice haste over patience, action over subtlety. The Emperor's values were becoming... slanted, directed. There was an interest here. Often did Imperial House have their quirks- Somewhere here was the answer to the Emperor's particular interest. And therein, the shape of the Emperor's design.

There is a sound in the garden, of metal against stone.

Three warriors move like quicksilver, striking at shield-triggering speeds- For Lancelot could not use his own while he meditated on the data-stream. They come from above, behind, to his left. The Sword Saint can catch the glimmer of their shields, flickering infinitesimally in the air, hear the hum of it thrumming. And there is no pause in the Grandmaster's movements. Lancelot moves like an uncoiling dragon, like a blooming flower- A hand bats one blade aside, a kick strikes a man's throat, while the final attacker finds her blade caught upon Lancelot's raised sheathe. His motions are smooth, unhurried, perfect- Even at speeds that cannot trigger their shields, he is anticipating every technique they employ, batting their attacks aside while drumming them with blows, striking them with the fist and knee and the flat of his blade.

He could have killed them several times over. They cannot touch him even once. Eventually, the three attackers have had enough, falling back for a moment to catch their breaths.

"A good attempt. But swiftness avails you nothing, even when my own speeds are limited by your shields."

Lancelot is still reading the datastream, eyes focused on a whisper- a hint. The daughters are alive. Before the official news had broken, sources in a House well-trusted by the Emperor had spotted them. Hostages. Mercy in the midst of brutality. Hm.

His mouth is still speaking, even as part of his mind is scrutinizing that detail.

"Foresight over imminence. 'Measure twice, cut once'. Work on your arts of battle-consciousness. None of you will be my apprentice."

The three would-be students slink off, the slashes and blows of their brief spar decorating the garden. For this is its purpose. The Grove of Tested Blades, where battle-arts are tested. The Grandmaster returns to his meditations. The next group that desired to be taught by him would be here soon, he suspected. This had been a particularly busy day.

House Esuvrian​

"Sir the reports from the negotiators for the annual contracts with the House Lords are in. There's also a proposal for construction of a new planetary level on Esuvria II waiting for your review." The aide said as she stepped into the office of the ship in high orbit above Esuvria II. Lord Alsendren Lexicon III, dictator of the Esuvrian system, looked up from the his accounts reports at the aide. "Very well." He said with a voice that sounded middle-aged, but was layered with over a century of experience. "Have a contract summary drawn up and sent to my terminal. I never directly deal with the contracts anymore. I'll look at the planetary level proposal tomorrow." Alsendren waved the aide off, and he bowed before leaving the room. The door shut with a pneumatic hiss. Alsendren sighed and leaned back in his chair at his desk. A cold mug of tea sat nearby as he considered the datapad. On one wall of his office a galactic map showed which sectors the mercenary armies of the Esuvrians were engaged in. He focused in on a combat report from a minor house that had hired an army group for putting down dissidents in their home sector. They'd managed to negotiate four whole divisions out of him. The deal had been fun to haggle. A short distraction to shake the rust off his skills and keep him sharp. It was one of the few that was an exception to his rule of not dealing with the contracts. The only other he had dealt with even recently had been at the request of the Celestial Throne.

"Red light, prep for drop." The Lieutenants voice played over the speakers in the large dropship. A burning roar began to overwhelm the private's ears as the dropship entered a freefall into the atmosphere, a maneuver popularized by the robust design of the Pillbug class transports. Well at least the officers called it "robust". To the private that was a funny way to describe three hundred of them being packed into a steel box like sardines then slingshotted towards the planet at railgun velocity. He couldn't help but feel nervous, a pit of anxiety forming in his stomach. This was his first deployment into combat and he was scared. He couldn't shake off the feeling despite the fact his sergeant had laughed this off as light work against some backwards rebel group.

It took minutes for them to enter fully into the lower atmosphere. As they did the roar of the engines began to die down, and there was a mechanical thunk as the glide wings of the transport deployed. The transport was jolted as the atmospheric engines kicked on. "YELLOW LIGHT, CHECK YOUR GEAR." The private jumped as the lieutenant yelled. Apparently the jolt had killed the loudspeaker system. That wasn't uncommon in the pillbugs from what the private understood. They had been instructed to make sure they paid attention to the status light above them because of that fact. As they flew through the sky towards the landing zone the sound of flak and las fire echoed outside the dropship hull. The private held onto his gun tightly as he checked the buckle of his harness. He had been told to that they wouldn't be using their axes on this deployment. Too inefficient for use against rebels who probably wouldn't have shields. A sergeant in magnetic boots tramped up and down the deck in front of the rows of harnessed up men. Occasionally he would stop and offer a word of encouragement to another private. Mainly he was shouting. "When you land, do not stay near the transports! Remember your training, three meter spread! Follow your officers!" They would be deploying in platoons today, not something usually done if they were facing another proper army. Rebels hardly qualified. "THIRTY SECONDS." The lieutenants voice yelled out as the repetitive thud thud thud of the AAA batteries did their best to drown him out. The private counted silently. Twenty seconds. Then ten. Then five. A pneumatic hiss and click as the doors of the pillbug ground open and the buckles to the harness snapped off. Explosions rocked the ground outside as the private rushed forward, one hand holding his service rifle and the other holding his helmet to his head. He rushed out even as three other transports landed nearby. As he ran he watched a fourth try to come in to land. The back right atmosphere engine was almost immediately carved off by a laser sending scraps of metal and shrapnel everywhere as it exploded. It careened sideways in the sky before dropping onto its side and rolling several hundred meters ahead of them before exploding and signalling death for one of the companies in the battalion. Trying to avoid the explosions the private ducked behind a large boulder where several other troopers were hiding from the bullets and explosions. He looked around one side of the rock trying to get a better look of the battlefield.

They had landed in a large clearing between trees easily three to four hundred meters wide. Grass, rocks, and scruffy bushes were the only cover available as the enemy fired from a slit trench just in front of them. Further up past the hill was the AAA batteries that the enemy had been using to bat away the air support. The area all in front of them was alight with muzzle flashes from fire from machine guns and las guns aimed directly at them. Bullets and laser blasts ricocheted off the metal shielding of transports and shields that the men wore. Some men fell as the half shield they had tuned improperly was bypassed by a stray bullet. The private was snapped out of his examination of the battlefield as his sergeant grabbed him from behind the rock and pushed him forward, urging him out of his spot while shouting at the other troopers. "GET UP, WE HAVE TO MOVE. THEY'VE GOT THIS WHOLE ZONE ZEROED. WE HAVE TO PU-" The sound of the sergeants voice was drowned out by a curious whistling that seemed to be coming from the sky briefly before the ground at the private's feet exploded in a fiery ball of light.

Alsendren gazed at the combat report for the planet. They had only lost two battalions in the landing. After the initial struggle to gain a foothold on the planet they had managed to set up a staging ground for household reinforcements. The commander of the army group said he thought the invasion would be over in a few months at most. Alsendren frowned as he read the last line of the report. Apparently the house had refused to lend naval support to the Esuvrian mercenaries because they were hesitant to risk the few ships they had engaging the ragtag group of rebel vessels that were a blockade. He drafted an order to the army commander instructing him to threaten to pull back to the landing zone and depart if the house's navy wasn't deployed. He dismissed the report before bringing up the intercom panel on the datapad.

He set a message off to his aide summoning her back. Not two moments later the woman had stepped back inside. She was short, maybe one hundred and sixty centimeters tall. She had jet black hair with an undershave that was popular with the women of the civilian sector at the moment, as with all of the personnel he had on retainer she wore a plain grey military uniform and black boots. Her heels clicked together as she stepped into his office. "You wanted to see me sir?" She asked with a salute. He smiled briefly before nodding. "Draft an official message to Governor Arrixis. Tell him we are on our way to tour the government quarters and formally invite him to dine with me this evening." Alsendren said before turning back to his data pad. He dismissed the aide with a wave of the hand. He would oversee the official granting of citizenship to some of the veterans who's service period was up tomorrow. A publicity stunt that his advisors had said would help garner support for the new equipment initiative that was set to begin issuing new shields to the Esuvrian shock corp. The taxes for it had to come from somewhere though, and reminding the people that their veterans came home to the Esuvrian system because of these shields would help them swallow the pill.

The dictator of the Republic considered his domain. Six planets, one tomb, fifteen assorted moons with hundreds of techno-wombs. He had ambitions to cement his heir in the seat of power before he died and Alsendren could feel his age beginning to catch up with him. He sighed as he hailed the captain of his ship and sipped from his tea. "Take us out to Alastar. We'll tour some of the planetary governors facilities before we go anywhere else." Alsendren could hear the thrum of the engines a few minutes later as the ship accelerated out of orbit.

Drathuul was watching over the city below his palace. It was night and different lights illuminated the streets and buildings. It seemed so bright and lively, hiding its dark underbelly under a facade of light. How fitting.

He stepped away from the screen that covered the back of his office and sat down on his chair. It was time to work and the work seemed never ending. Though Drathuul had nobody to blame for that except himself.

Numerous holograms sprung to life on his desk as a gentle robotic voice came over the speakers.

"How are you today, your majesty?"

"Miserable, thanks for asking Bob. And just call me "Sir" like Dave does."

"Certainly, sir. What are your orders?"

"Give me projections for the total collapse of House Mirlath Cthaal."

"One moment, sir."

Several graphs and projections rapidly simulate all possible vectors in front of Drathuul as his dead eyes struggle to follow them, until they eventually come to a halt after a few seconds.

"Current analysis shows the total collapse of House Mirlath Cthaal within the next 17 months, sir."

"Add a year for temporary measures that could be enacted."

"Temporary measures have already been taken into account, sir."

"Oh...So we're doing even worse than I had predicted. Hoped I could avoid it but it means that I need more permanent and drastic measures. But before i do anything else, update me on the current political affairs of the entire Imperium."



An intricate three dimensional web of the different houses and their connections replace the previous data graphs. Most of the model seemed to be accurate to Drathuul although one chunk of it seems to be completely falling apart. He points at it as he addressed it to B.O.B.

"What happened here?"

"Recent news seem to indicate that house Perrellon has fallen."

"That sounds unlikely. Proof?"

"Contact with their capital planet of Perella has been lost as of over 24 hours ago and our intelligence network has informed us that the main military forces of their rivals had been previously on the move."

Several intelligence reports pop up in front of Drathuul and he quickly skimmed over them before returning to the political model.

"Seems to be accurate and although the Houses of Oserian and Vatatzes most definitely had outside help, it does not concern us."

"And why is that, sir?"

A cold and hard voice cut through the air. Authoritative, yet sarcastic. Seemingly trained to be a servant and a military leader. A tall figure took a step forward from its place next to the entrance. Well built and well kept, the butler that served the house for the last generations, Dave.

"Simple, Dave. If the Emperor intervened then it is most definitely none of our business and if he didn't, well, then others will deal with the outside interference. The Emperor, for example. And since their territory is far enough away, the fallout should also take its time to reach us, if it ever will. Satisfied?"

"With the answer, yes, sir."

There it was again, the sarcasm. If he could fire Dave, he would. But he was the most competent person Drathuul had right now and also one of the few that actually kept he House afloat during his absence.

"I will kill you one day, Dave."

"You may certainly try, Sir."



With the banter out of the way, Drathuul focused back on the political affairs of the Imperium at large, soaking in all the current information he could.

"Simulate the next year, Bob, I need to plan ahead. Especially with a major house now going under."

For a few seconds connections appear and disappear on the hologram and houses blink in and out of existence. Multiple graphs and other data projections pop up to the side of the main model. After it stopped Drathuul didn't seem to be satisfied with it.


"Adjust model for human randomness, about 23 point...7 percent and run it again."

It resets and the process repeats itself.

"This guy is going to die in the next three to four months. Also highlight the connections that the nobles under me have with others, especially those outside my domain. While it is natural that they would have those, it will become troublesome one way or another. Guess I'll have to work on that."

More simulations and corrections were made in the next two hours before he was satisfied.

"Very good, Bob. Store this data for later use. I'll have to make and break a few personal connections myself after all."


Drathuul took a small workout and meal break as he wanted to live healthier after his "pleasure break" of the previous years. Plus it helped him concentrate for what he needed to work on next. Now back in his office, the room in front of his desk was already littered with holographic displays of various sectors, detailing the current state of his houses military and judicial affairs.

He sat down and began to read and with each document he finished, his expression became darker.

"Dave, I would like to jump out of an orbital elevator."

"After you finish work, sir."

"Uuurgh. I have to replace nearly everything! Not to mention uprooting it."

"Or the issues in the other sectors, sir."

"Not helping, Bob. Anyone that is confirmed to be still useful?"

"The palace guard, sir. Although they do hate your guts."

"Can't say I blame 'em... Is it possible to get some non-corrupt and competent personell recruited with the help of the palace guard, Dave?"

"Yes, sir. Although it may be harder to do in the justice sector."

"Use the Scholars if necessary, they should have data on usable judges. They'll probably have been relegated to low positions so you'll have to do some digging."

After a deep sigh Drathuul continued.

"Bob, have a press release ready. "Due to long standing issues, high ranking military officials and judges have been temporarily suspended. In their absence newly promoted officials will take their place until the issues have been resolved." Don't mention an investigation, we don't want to alert anybody. Although some will definitely suspect something. We'll begin replacing as soon as we have enough good people ready to go."

"The new high judges will have to lead investigations to clean up the justice system. After wards the military and everything else will be investigated. I'll deal with the nobles myself. Speaking of the military, since a lot of ships are glorified pleasure-barges, we'll have to focus on getting a bunch of functional combat ships first. If that means selling all of our ships and buying new ones, so be it. As long as it's done fast and efficient enough.

Afterwards we'll deal with military installations as we can't exactly replace them. Further, we need a competent military core before we can rebuild our full might properly. Can't have that with all of these rotten eggs around."

A slow clapping rang through the room.

"Very good, sir. It seems like the drugs have not fully turned your brain into nutrient paste."

"Shut yer trap, Dave! You'll have to work overtime with me until most of this stuff is resolved but I bet you already knew that, right?"

Silence.

"Figured. Both of you, note down that going forward all policies regarding rank will be based on merit. Including nobles. I need to replace them too after all, but that's for later."



"Now back to more pressing matters: Pirates. Seems like they are growing mostly unabated with how useless our military is. I'll need to request a pirate cleanup while we rebuild our military. I'm thinking of hiring the Bladesect ( ThatWhichShouldBe ) for this matter. Thoughts?"

"I don't believe they have enough unity for that."

"That's why we'll have conditions. Such as not involving civilians. Otherwise they can fight each other all they want or make a competition out of it. Don't care about that. And in regards what other houses may think about it: It's not like my reputation can fall lower, so let them gossip all they want."

"I will prepare an initial contract, sir. What would you like to have included?"

"Thank you, Bob. Include what I mentioned previously. They need to return all stolen goods and all of the prisoners that the pirates have taken, unless the previous owners gift it to them or the prisoners wish to follow them willingly. Next, they may keep any other loot like captured or destroyed pirate ships and bases, although they'll need to take it with them when they leave. They are allowed to train their newbies by letting them fight against the pirates, as long as it doesn't impact the efficiency too much or interfere with the previous stuff. They are also allowed to recruit people from worlds in my domain, as long as they are willing. If the pirates have connections to some nobles they get extra rewards for evidence which confirms so and if anybody interferes with their cleanup, they may be considered pirates, after sufficient warning. Including nobles. Hope some of them try to stop 'em, would make my life easier. Oh, and same rules apply to ground operations. Some civilian casualties are sadly expected, such as hostages. As an incentive, they'll have to compensate the victims themselves but we'll pay more if they keep it low enough."

"That's going to be quite expensive, mobilizing such a huge armada."

"Yup. And I still can't book my trips to the pleasure palaces as tax write-offs due to "making connections", right?"

"It was banned millenia ago for a reason, sir. And if not for those bans, you may still be there."

"Right, right. Guess I'll sell all the art that doesn't have cultural or historical significance. That should give us enough to buy a planet or two."



"Speaking of money, note down that I wan't my territory to be self sufficient in the future. That shouldn't be too hard given its size, once everything has been put in order. I don't want the Guild and the Combine to have such a big hold over me and my people."

"For now please contact House Mercatores ( Crocodile ) for me, Bob, and see if they are interested in some big trade contracts. Don't think our houses merchant roots will buy me much good will but it certainly can't hurt to ask. If it goes through and they manage to stabilize local markets, even better."



Drathuul took some time to look over various economical predictions as he finished his trade offer. After he finished, he looked over at Dave.

"Dave, do we still have trouble refilling the palace staff?"

"Yes, sir. Various rumors after firing all of the previous staff make it quite difficult."

"Eh, not like we can openly say that the fired staff was either slacking off or actively spying on me. You can go ahead and hire people regardless of their background, as long as they do their job and haven't touched the bottom line. Not like it would hurt my reputation, eh?"

"As you wish, sir."



Drathuul took one last glance over the various documents in front of him before he closed them down.

"I've dreaded this part... Bob, I need you to gather evidence on the nobles of my house and the nobles under me. I grant you full access to the data and security network for this purpose. If you can't find anything on some of them, even better."

"I am afraid I can not do that, sir. As a sentient AI it is forbidden for me to have such broad access under Imperial law."

"I am the law! I hereby appoint you as a special investigator and all the rights that come with it. With that you shouldn't have any problems and anyone that questions you can either screw off or go complain to me... You may also double your processing capacity if you can't fulfill your other duties while the investigations are ongoing."

Bob took some time to process this order before replying.

"Special investigative permissions have been granted, thank you sir. Investigations will commence shortly."

"Very good. Oh, and Dave, we'll have to increase my security. I bet I'll get at least double the usual assassination attempts as usual soon."

Dave and Dratuul share a dark smile as they both know what the future has in store for the assassins.

"Oof, I think it's nearly morning now. Guess I'll wrap it up for today."

Drathuul got up from his chair and stretched himself as best he could. He went to leave the room but before he did he had one last order.

"You two, I may soon be called to Nova Terra, so make the necessary arrangements. Oh, and appropriate clothing. Don't think my old regal garbs fit me anymore."

House Vers'teeka 'Isk Melverdian

The Druid, Sveldis Kaedaelis, was currently lounging on a grand chair, living and natural with a cushion of moss, enjoying the grand display before him. He was observing a sparring match between two of his most adept members of The Dryad as they undertook the house sport of Brellik Darr, though generally called 'Melverdian Dance Fighting' to outsiders. He sat, watching another slowly approach from the corner of his eye as he watched the impressive feat of skill being practiced before his eyes.

Just as the newcomer was opening their mouth to speak, Kaedel sharply inhaled before musing, more to himself then those around him, "Quite the recovery, I thought it was about to be over..." commenting on the flurry of action happening in the water ahead of him.
"Indeed Kaedel, judging by the faces of those about you it seems quite an intense bout. I know you find my attitude to Brellik Darr, disagreeable, but I was hoping you wouldn't mind me joining you for a short while?" Asked the newcomer as they sat in a chair, next to the High Archons own chair.

"Of course Vaeldar, you are always welcome at my side, even if you lack an interest in such... impressive displays. I suspect there is something on your mind?" The Druid replied to Vaeldar, our newcomer, without taking his eyes off the match before him.
Vaeldar, to his part, began to idly watch the show of skill as he took a drink of a sparkling bright blue liquid out of a wooden flask of sorts.
"Well, I assume you're overgrown with information regarding the Perellon situation?" He began, looking to his leader and seeing they were engrossed in the fight, appearing to not be listening, and just as they were about to reiterate what they said, Kaedel gave a cheer and stood with much of the rest of the crowd, stomping his feet on the hollow wooden floor as a form of thanks and respect before calling out.

"Incredible display. It's been a few weeks since I have seen a friendly spar reach such levels, I hope it wasn't just for my impress?" He called out to the two members of the Dryad who politely bowed before leaving the watery basin at the bottom of the Cenote to be replaced by another pair who began to spar. "Those last two will certainly be a force in the up coming Brellik Darr Vos'tek." He continued, referring to the annual Dance fighting competition "And yes, before you repeat yourself, I have been overgrown, there are elements that don't add up and, well, some of those elements do not value being discussed in forests of friends. I will be keeping my roots tapped and a close eye on the fallout of the... occurrences." At this point The Druids gaze finally shifts from the Cenote's basin and he locks eyes with Vaeldar "Keep me apprised of any changes to any of the... relevant... resolutions, no matter how small the relevance... It will either grow a boldness, a shrewdness or a shyness from those... imperial thorns." He said, quietly, still avoiding mentioning anything directly but knowing the implications were clear enough that loudly proclaiming them was not a wise move, referring to those houses that made their political alignment with the late count and his more outspoken proposals.

"Kaedel, we cannot stand alone, our value is marginal to the greater picture, exotic fruits, lateral advances in scientific methodology, I-I mean what do we have? Were we removed and our groves laid waste, the Imperium would still-"
"Vaeldar" The Archon interrupted "I respect your words, but we do not sing so harshly in friendly forests. While it may be such, that we offer little to the grand stage, we also ask little of it. To a tree, a flower in the underbrush is no enemy, nor is it an ally, it is not even a thought. We are a flower to the trees of the galaxy, at least, that is what they beleive. Until we grow our roots and reach for the sky they will see only a pretty visage worth enjoying a moment before passing by. This is how the flower blooms and grows, year on year. Some flowers, that existance is all, but to some, those that are more then a lonely stem. They grow stem by stem, flower by flower until their roots spread far, those roots spread around the roots of the trees and sap the nutrients from the soil, from the tree." He looks, piercingly at Vaeldar, staring deep in to the others blue eyes "We must grow our roots and stems before a passing beast eats the only flower and infections rot the lonely leaves. Do you understand?" He finishes, looking for an answer in the mans eyes as much as his words.

"I beleive so, High Archon, we are to show our petals while we..." he searches for the right analogy, attempting to match the Keepers poetic words "h-hide our thorns?"
"Exactly. Those two petals you had no interest in watching fight are a part of an intention I have to spread our roots and grow new flowers until such a time as our roots can find new nutrients." He replied "Now, let us talk on less... shaded matters and return to friendly songs under the sky?"
Vaeldar, to his merit, took his lords meaning and began discussing the recent blooms in one of the nearby groves.

Meanwhile
At the same time as this conversation was happening, messages were being sent to a number of houses requesting an audience. To the Galaxy it seemed that the First Keeper wanted to go on a tour to show of his new Dance Fighting Champions ahead of the prestigious competition that was up coming. The message was sent to a number of houses, but most notably The Mercatores Crocodile and The Mirlath Cthaal Mechking likely in the hopes of forging potential relasionships with visits to House Esuvria conman2163 and the Tsaraj-Emperor themselves ValinoreanDawn , to see where those closer to the throne have their focus.

The Message read as thus.

Odin
Gardens of Quintara

"House Oserian and Vatatzes will fight Skylitzes and Koiran. Their network of alliances will bring over a dozen houses on each side into direct or indirect conflict." Valeria said this matter of fact as she raised her head from the tune of the Nausican songbirds to look at the sitting form of her father. Baldor, Tsaraj-Emperor of the Known Universe, the head of the Imperial House of Valkoroi Rhoiamyno.

Baldor did not return his eldest daughter's gaze. Merely reclined as he watched the fountains bubble before him. Valeria continued her impromptu analysis, "Oserian and Vatatzes will be outgunned and outmanned. Their standing army is eight million and few hundred warships of various chassis. Skylitzes alone fields seven million and a fleet of four hundred vessels. Koiran's six million creates a thirteen million man standing army and a fleet nearing eight hundred and fifty ships....you're stacking the deck. Aren't you?"

Baldor finally gave his daughter a side-eye. "Plans are in motion. Pieces on the board not yet revealed will fall into place."

My father has always adjusted his manipulations and schemes to the swing of the pendulum of power. Its rotation over the board between the triumvirate pillars of the Imperium: Rhaumsraad, Guild & Combine, and Imperial House, always in motion. To keep the needle swaying closer to the Throne's corner one must rig the game.

The Emperor continued, "The House always wins, so the gambling cartels say; I would ask were your sister has gone. A piece that is most critical to our corner of the board you've neglected to ask."

Valeria waited expectantly...

Hades
The Guild Liner, fifty kilometers and nearly thirty across, appeared in orbit over Hades in less than the span of a single eyewink. No flash of light or distortion to signal its arrival. It just wasn't there, then it was. The power of Sidereal Drives. The greatest secret of the Guild. Already fleets of civilian and commercial craft would be coming forth and to the large vessel as it would prepare the vast labyrinthine cargo holds of the Liner for its next stop. Thousands of these ships endlessly circuiting the Imperium as the faster-than-light lifeblood of trade and commerce. Not to mention the tens of thousands of smaller vessels the Guild possessed. Twenty-five-kilometer bulk freighters, ten-kilometer passenger liners, and so forth added to an armada of immensity needed to keep a Galactic civilization humming smoothly.

But from this particular ship a lone angular, chrome, ship dropped from one of its many docking hangars and accelerated to the planet's atmosphere. Entering in a glowing cloud of flame before two sonic booms in rapid succession signaled the slowing of the six-hundred-meter-long vessel. There appeared to be no engines like all Imperial ships. Propelled by the advanced gravitational technologies built into the vessel itself.

The angular, dagger-like, turned over pyramid, shaped vessel came to a stop over a large landing girdle at its destination. The property of House Denarius. The Doge of the Mercatores. The vessel hovered in place before smoothly drifting down. Chrome plates sliding away to allow white frosted landing gear to extend and on well-maintained hydraulics the ship came to settle on the landing zone.

The hiss of the forward boarding ramp lowering as a woman in a white dress descended. Diamond studded head dress over her blonde hair and white silk veil over her lower face. Leaving only the eyes exposed. Two bluer than blue orbs surrounded by milk-white sclera. Behind her and taking up positions around her. Were warriors clad in white and bearing red markings. Tsaraj'kar. The Emperor's warrior zealots. An entire platoon descended and took up positions around the landing zone. Their frosted visors hiding their faces as they moved their heads slowly back and forth. Scanning for threats.

Her appointment of course was notified before her ship even entered upper atmosphere. Xilian Denarius. Nicknamed 'The Emperor's Accountant.' A man the Emperor valued for his financial acumen as much as his cutthroat understanding of how the levers of power in the Imperium are played. Denarius being much an outsider to the courtly proceedings and ancient traditions of well-established houses as one could be. Truth be told as Verina awaited her host; she could understand why her father bore respect for Lord Denarius. Something he genuinely had for few in the peerage.

Perella
The Tsaraj'kar had departed rather unceremoniously from the planet with their sedated charges safely within the holds of their vessels. The Guild having resumed their operations within the system as the fighting died down. Scattered hold outs of Perellan forces being systematically hunted down or besieged by the armies of Oserian and Vatatzes. But for the Emperor's soldiers they departed long before the arrival of unexpected visitors.

The arrival of the Dreadfleets however was something that the Duke of Oserian, who had arrived in person to celebrate victory over House Perellan, took unexpectantly. As such he delayed his departure to the surface of the world. As a result the fleet of House Oserian sent a hail to the Dreadfleets to ascertain their purpose in being there.

<<Dreadfleet, this is the Crisobel, flagship of House Oserian, the Duke wishes to extend greetings for your arrival. But also to state your intentions. End Transmission.>>

Perellion Space - SIN Virelith

<<Dreadfleet, this is the Crisobel, flagship of House Oserian, the Duke wishes to extend greetings for your arrival. But also to state your intentions. End Transmission.>>

The transmission replays like a broken record. Oserians. Here of all places. It looks like their petty fight with House Perellon had come to an end, with Perella being the final battlefield. She purses her lips.

"Entrance music number 14?"

"What?" She turns, Eldrin is staring into the void of space with an unreadable expression, his white Navy uniform crisp and stark.

"Entrance music 14." He repeats. "Before we sling titanium down range."

She smiles inspite of herself, shaking her head softly at the insane string of words uttered by her first officer. Entrance 14 was one of her favorite pieces; a piece with unknown origins, a clash of sounds that felt akin to riding a lightning. She'd have the whole fleet play it on all levels during a chaotic firefight. The engineering officers on the support cruisers were practically beaming after she'd told them to ditch the cyberwarfare suites and instead play the Virelith's music on opponents' ships.

Eldrin turns, his gaze meets hers, the gravity of the situation playing in his eyes, but he is doing his earnest to keep himself composed in her presence.

"Report." The CIC comes to life in a sea of shimmering blue particles as fleet formations and ship statuses float in place. It was very much infact a dire situation--for the Perellions anyway; time and her actions will decide Task fleet Gorgon's fate in this upcoming ball.

"House Perellon's fleet is decimated." Eldrin's voice sombre. The bridge is silent.

House Perellon's entire fleet wouldn't have crumbled from House Oserian alone. There was another. Or perhaps multiple attackers from different fronts. Leaving House Oserian to pick at a decomposing corpse of its now dead rival. Her thoughts race at the possibilities. Flashes of light emanating from the diagram of Perella as it endures bombardment.

"Tricky." She remarks, finger tapping lightly on her chin.

"Precarious." Eldrin amends, "More ships could be lying in wait...." Eldrin drawls, his lips curling, Kethryllia could see the gears turning in his head. "However, Comms reports there are no other ships in the vicinity." His eyes were resolute.

Task Fleet Gorgon's ships were chosen for one thing--and one thing only: tracking and detection. If Comms didn't detect anything then it probably doesnt exist, margin of error be damned.

"In anycase, Lady Admiral, we cannot keep the Crisobel waiting longer." He reminds, attention turning back to the void of space, as if he could see the Crisobel waiting for them millions of miles away.

She breathes, exhaling expletives, "Fine, ring them up."

Time to cook.

"You may speak." Eldrin says, giving a thumbs up.

"The Dreadfleets have arrived, Dear Crisobel." She starts, pacing slowly around the CIC, "The Virelith and Dreadfleet Secundus have come answering the distress call from Perella--it is to my delightful surprise that even as rivals, House Oserian has come to House Perellon aid. However, I believe sending down slugs from orbit would be detrimental to the Perellan population. For this reason, I must request that the Oserian fleet cease all relief efforts via the barrel end of a cannon and allow Dreadfleet Secundus assist in this....tragedy. End transmission." She says curtly.

The bridge officers gave her looks, she opens her mouth to teach them another line from the book of Kethryllia.

"Clever ruse." Eldrin interrupts. Eyes were on him. "Banking on them believing the whole dreadfleet is here." She feels her cheek muscles pulling into a wild-grin.

"They aren't wrong." She says.

"Only about a quarter right." He remarks, exhaling sharply.

The bridge bulkhead doors hiss, boots thud on the metal floor panels, "Turn off your damn magboots you dirty apes." She hears Eldrin chastise the bridge guests. Kethryllia braces herself.
the footsteps still march with the same intensity, ignoring Kethryllia's first officer.

"What's the situation, Lady Admiral?" A gruff but unmistakenable female voice asks, Kethryllia turns, one hand on her hip.

"We're sending you down." She says, wishing she has a drink in her hand right about now.

The helmeted marine steps forward, head angled towards the diagram of Perella. "I trust you'll keep these skyboys busy?" She swirls her gloved finger around the small dotted icons of Oserian ships above Perella. Kethryllia nods.

"We'll entertain them for awhile." Kethryllia says, staring past the marine, wondering what ever the hell was she going to do with the Oserian. "We're sending you down covert, Captain." Kehtryllia swipes her finger above the CIC, the display zooming in on a piece from a shipyard freefalling into orbit. "You and your team will be piggybacking off the sig of this junk all the way down to strato. After that, business as usual." Kethryllia offers the captain a smile, unsure if it's being reciprocated behind the gleaming helmet visor.

After a drawn out silence, "Aye. We can do that." The Captain nods.

The CIC interface spins, zooming in on the capital of Perella. "Make your way here, the fighting will be the heaviest, but we'll try to throw a bone here or and there."

"Do we get to ask why we're sticking our manhoods into Oserian-Perellon business, Lady Admiral?"

"No."

"Affirmative."

"I will keep you appraised personally on mission objectives as it goes."

The captain turns to leave with her men, ignoring Eldrin's hurled insults as they go, as silent as a trainwreck in the middle of the woods. Eldrin walks over with an agitated sigh, "She does raise a good question, Lady Admiral." Kethryllia rolls her eyes.

"A larger game is afoot, dear Eldrin." She stares at the moving pieces on the CIC, a small shuttle leaves the Virelith and zooms across the fleet formation towards a smaller ship; a corvette, just shy of a hundred meters. "House Perellon is defeated, centuries of feuding brought to a close but without a crescendo or an audience. A mere footnote in today's news on some faraway sector is all it is--no, Eldrin, I dont know and thats the problem."

The shuttle icon disappears as it nears the corvette. The ship breaks off from formation as Task Fleet Gorgon inches closer towards Perella. "The Imveme is coasting below the fleet. Ready to proceed on your command, Lady Admiral." A bridge officer reports.

"We don't need to know everything, Lady Admiral--Lady Moonblade." Eldrin corrects himself, Kethryllia sighs, bracing for the lecture to come. "May I remind you we did not come here to disrupt whatever the Oserians and Perellons are doing to each other. We are, first and foremost, here for the Duke." Eldrin says, his tone hard yet teetering on the line of concern. "And... I fear you are right in this regard, which is why, if we step on too many toes, House Sacarith will find itself in a crossfire we wont make out of."

She's silent for a moment, processing Eldrin's words. He's right; Theyre both right in their own ways. However, Kethryllia is thinking ahead, so far ahead it hurts her head sometimes, House Oserian would surely remember their presence here even if they left now, they will come knock on her doors one day down the line. Might as well nick something from the ruins of House Perellon for the road. "Noted, First Officer, Eldrin." She nods at him

"Begin the operation. Keep me updated on Oserian fleet movement. We'll sit tight and look pretty."

As soon as the burning hulk of the shipyard comes close, a small speck, an insignificant turbo flare boosts a craft beside the crashing hulk as it careens into Perella.

Lecture Room, Medici University, Hades
Stellar Economy, Instructor: Lord Xilian Denarius
"Good morning, class. I know you are all quite excited for my class. It seems to always be popular for the eager, ambitious and curious. All welcome outlooks as it shows an active mind," Lord Denarius said as he regards the various faces, some human and some not that were assembling before him. The lecture hall itself almost like a stadium, circular with a central stage that the Doge stood upon for all to see and hear.

The class was much sought after as Lord Denarius was viewed as a man of much knowledge and understanding in matters of politics, economy and intrigue. House Mercatores was currently led by this somberly dressed man and so some viewed this as a means to learn about leadership and decision making. It was so popular that nobles sent their own scions to attend such a class. A pricey endeavor as this class was cheap for Mercatores citizens and at a premium for outsiders. No matter what though, one could see the sigils of a number of highborn among the countless lowborn merchant scions of both human and alien lineage.

"Stellar Economy. Such a broad name, yes? Why do I call this class Stellar Economy? Because we must step beyond the concepts of Microeconomics and Macroeconomics. We must interweave the flows of interstellar intrigue, warfare and political machinations. Some call my class a lesson in ruling. Others an insight into the greater affairs of the Imperium. I call it an opportunity to teach and share my experience with all of you," Lord Denarius said as he pulls out a control wand and keys it.

The room darkens as the light shifts to the center circular state. Holographic projections emerging of various symbols of the powerful factions that make up the Imperium as a whole, the Emperor's own image appearing among them.

"Power. Power is a concept we must all understand and contend with if we are to survive in this current iteration of Humanity. And yes, that goes for non-humans too. We are all bound to the web of power and interactions. Its success and its failure. So we must learn to pluck at the strings of the web. To listen to the hum of those strings and see what we might glean from it. So, shall we begin?"

---

Signoria Chamber, Hades ( Mechking )
The Signoria had assembled, various Merchant Lords chattering amongst themselves as the ruling body of House Mercatores assembled. Every Merchant House held a seat on the Signoria with voting rights. This was how the Mercatores had managed to forge the bonds needed to pull so many together into a united front against the various Great Houses. It was why the Mercatores held a Ducal grade seat on the Rhaumsraad and a Doge was elected to act as the face of the Merchant Houses, to be the voice and power of the Mercatores.

"Order!" Bellowed the Signator as he hammered his staff, sending a metallic ringing through chamber. The various groups chattering quickly began to quite and take their seats as the chamber doors opened. The Doge entered without fanfare, walking to his raised seat situated on the dais against he far wall that faced the chamber's semi-circle of seating as the Merchant Lords faced towards the podium on the dais where the Signator hammered his staff again.

"We open this session of the Signoria with Questions. Lord Fabix, you have the first Question," declared the Signator as a light focused on a bloated human male with grey hair and too many jowls for his own good.

"Lord Denarius, I am to understand that we have received communique from the Mirlath Cthaal. What are your intentions engaging with them?" Fabix demanded, jowls quivering some. "Another investment in a highborn realm? Shall we be sneered at and snubbed while we bring them trade and prosperity?"

There was quiet chatter, many were used to the theatrics of Questions. It was how the Signoria kept a check on the Doge, considering his power and authority over all of Mercatores to be able to represent them before the Imperium as a whole. Some people thought it was better than going to a performance in all honesty as the Doge and other Merchant Lords verbally fenced. Lord Denarius was still in his seat, regarding Lord Fabix with a thoughtful expression as if gathering his thoughts before taking a sip of wine from a stand at the side of his seat.

"Lord Fabix, I see we've been reading dispatches before handing them over to my office again," Lord Denarius offers as he stands, causing a audible bit of laughter and tittering as Lord Fabix seems to flush at being directly challenged on his information source.

"The Question still stands! Don't attempt to distract use from it!" Lord Fabix manages in retort but a few of the other Lords were still tittering at his expense.

"What else would I intend? House Mirlath Cthaal has reached out to us for interest in trade arrangements. Since when do we shy away from examining potential business arrangements?" Lord Denarius offers as he steps forward to better address the entire Signoria while his gaze focused on Lord Fabix.

"With one of these Kings? The worst of the highborn, and just as likely to jockey for power against us in the Rhaumsraad! Would you dare to put the knife in the hand of potential foe?"Lord Fabix snaps at the Doge. He was very fortunate that within the Signoria, you could talk like that to him. This was the place one could challenge and not fear a more public retribution from Lord Denarius for challenges to his policy decisions. This was what kept the Mercatores held together, the knowledge they all still had a voice.

"Since when haven't we armed our own potential foes?" Lord Denarius replies wrly as he spread his arms. "We are Mercatores. Merchants. Not just any sort, but true merchants born of effort and cunning. I'll gladly sell a foe our goods. At a premium. But this could become an ally in an Imperium that is suffering stability issues. We work hard to aid the Imperial House in holding things together. Commerce is an amazing glue. Yet as Merchants, we are also investors in the future. I fully intend to pursue these trade inquiries with Mirlath Cthaal. Only a fool doesn't explore a new or expanding market, Lord Fabix."

"Here, here!" Several other Merchant Lords call out their support. One or two scoff at the Doge but the verbal support is coming across far more strongly.

"Next Question," Lord Denarius stated with a calm and confident smile as Lord Fabix retreats to his seat looking irritable.

---

Dispatch to House Vers'teeka 'Isk Melverdian ( General Deth Glitch )
High Archon Sveldis Kaedaelis Vers'teeka 'Isk Melverdian,

I bid you greetings on behalf of the Mercatores Trade Consortium of Merchant Houses. I am pleased to hear from you and would welcome a visit to Hades if that is what you are seeking. As Doge of House Mercatores, I am also happy to reciprocate and come to your holdings. Exchange is the foundation of any relationship and as merchants, we find that the best way to see just how our two Houses might interact more fully. Personally, I see great potential in a variety of goods we could trade with one another aside from the desire to install a Trade Enclave as we have on countless other worlds to better facilitate our countless services to clients. Please let me know what would work best for you and any restrictions we should consider to respect your visit to Hades or vice versa.

Also please note that I have provided a catalogue of various organic and non-technological goods Mercatores is prepared to supply to your people should our meeting prove fruitful.

Profit and fortune,

Xilian Denarius
Doge of House Mercatores
Lord of House Denarius

---

Landing Pad, Denarius Estate, Hades ( ValinoreanDawn )
The arrival was met with a muted but respectful welcome of a full detachment of brass clad Mercenarii standing to attention in two columns to form a corridor along a carpet of fine purple. Xilian Denarius was walking down it with a personal escort of four Gardeners that moved behind him. The masked guardians silent in their more theatrtical public outfits that was intended to add to the mystique of the elite agents. Lord Denarius watched the ramp descend for its passenger and then that full platoon of Tsaraj'kar, all the while, the Mercenarii hammered their spears in unison as a form of martial greeting, only stopping once the Princess and Doge were face to face. Lord Denarius spreads his arms in greeting and offers a respectful bow before rising to face Verina.

"Welcome to my home, Princess Verina. You do myself and House Mercatores an honor with your visit. How might House Mercatores be of service?"

A traditional greeting from a merchant at heart as he gives a calm smile. His cool blue eyes regarding Verina with quiet curiosity as he seems to consider what answer might be coming. He had a healthy respect for the Imperial House and its current bloodline. The Tsaraj-Emperor was not a man he took lightly, and had done much to ensure the Mercatores were of value to the man and his needs in the Imperium's games of power. It had earned him a nickname he found amusing among the highborn, one he wore with pride. Already, arrangements had been made to provide accommodations for this Imperial visit. All that was left was to proceed and see what intrigues Mercatores was to be drawn into.

---

House Esuvrian​

ValinoreanDawn Akewla

The son of Alsendren Lexicon III sat in a tent on the planet surface of Perella just to the west of the capital city. Alexios watched as his army staff argued at the holotable even as the indicators showed the men of the 112th Dropship Division and 35th Armored Division assembling after the landings. They had missed their dropzones by well over two miles, a fact that was explained by the chaos that the exploding shipyards that had fallen into the atmosphere playing hell with the instruments on the dropships as they went into the slingshot drop. Apparently they had been lucky though. The 1112th Light Infantry Division and most of the 334th Shock Infantry Division were scattered all across a one hundred square mile wide zone. The orders had been sent out to have them assemble in various areas but they were running into pockets of resistance all over the suburbs. "The 1112th and 334th won't be ready for at least ten hours. Maybe closer to a day if they keep running into assault groups like they have sir." General Isen was speaking. He was an older man, younger than Alexious' father by far but still older by Esuvrian standards. He'd done forty years in the service and had a good head for ground combat. "We can probably keep the landing zone secure with the 112th and send the 35th towards the city. At least that way we can start some probing attacks to see what the situation is like there."

Alexios had only been in the service for about ten years. He was no pushover, and he'd been born and raised to be a warleader just like his father, he even had a shrewd military mind to boot. Still the twenty three year old still liked to listen to the advice of his elders when it came to making tactical decisions. "Very well General." He replied smoothly before waving his hand to silence the rest of the officers who were still arguing. "We will send the 35th to the city to begin a preliminary assault. Detach the 12th recon company from the 112th and send them in ahead to get an idea of what is going on there and the state of the enemy's defenses." The men behind Isen grumbled that Alexios had only listened to Isen but one stepped out to relay his orders. Within twenty minutes the plan was underway.

Jellion, a young eighteen year old boy from the 12th recon company sat in the gunship and shuddered as the landscape beneath them flew by. It was a lighter craft that was made to deploy from a suborbital troopship en masse. It was heavily built and armed with both rocket pods, door guns, and a pair of auto-cannons that made it perfect for a combat transport. Not that it was always used in combat. The two atmospheric thrusters that ensured they moved at a good clip and excellent crew survivability made it a favored transport for military brass. The vehicle had also been in service in different forms for at least two centuries now. It was odd to think that he was in a vehicle that was older than the dictator himself.

The boy checked the straps on his radio backpack again and looked over to sergeant Alex. He was a middle aged man in his thirties with over ten deployments under his belt. Rumors around the company said that he had re-enlisted when his original term was up about a year ago because he liked the thrill of the fight. Alex seemed unconcerned by the present state of affairs as he was hanging off the side of the gunship and dangling his legs in the open air. The rush of the wind made it hard to hear anything, but Jellion was confident he'd be humming the same old tune the man was always singing whenever they dropped into combat.

The job was simple according to the lieutenant of their platoon. They'd drop into the zone just outside the city, see if any significant forces were in the area, then report back to HQ so they could relay the news to the 35th. They didn't need to do any fighting so they were only to fire if fired upon. Jellion liked that since this was his first combat deployment. Most of the techno-womb kids like him were deployed when they were fifteen but he'd gotten lucky and managed to dodge any combat deployments before this by training as a comms trooper. When the son of the dictator had called on the 112th to go with him on a contract with House Oserian he had been excited though. Whatever they did would be praised all over the planet and would be the stuff of legends. It would give him a chance to be written into the history book of the 112th Dropship Infantry. Jellion tried to hold onto the thought as they raced towards their objective.

Even as they approached the city Jellion had expected that they would hear the sound of flak and short range AA guns opening up on the four gunships flying in tight formation. As they flew however they received no fire except from the occasional attempt with small arms or short range launcher from a pocket of Pelleron troops. As they approached the western canal district practically unopposed they saw why. The defenses within the city had been nearly systematically demolished. Sporadic fighting had been obviously still raging but as they landed at the outskirts of the town they could see the forces of Oserian and Vatatzes rounding up prisoners and disarming them, marching them single file down the road towards detention camps. The 12th recon company circled the zone once before landing at a field headquarters that Oserian had set up within the Western Canal district. They landed and disembarked with the other three platoons before the gunships took off and flew back towards the improvised Esuvrian headquarters. Jellion scratched his head as quickly his lieutenant began arguing with the captain of the local Oserian forces. The comms trooper looked at sergeant Alex who just shrugged and gave him a smirk before mouthing "We missed the fun." back at the boy.

Alexios took a moment to drink the coffee that one man handed him even as general Isen laid out the position of friendly forces within the capital. "Frankly sir the battle for the city is practically over. We have some mop up operations the Oserians want us to participate in but the assault was pretty much finished by the time we got there. The soldiers themselves have been pretty tight lipped about what they saw but we have reports we managed to get that there was two ships of Imperial make hovering over the East side. Sir there was also reports of figures fully shielded in white cutting through Pelleron troops like butter. The Tsaraj'kar most likely from the reports." Alexios considered that. The quick destruction of the city combined with his men being some of the last to deploy into combat in the area meant they hadn't gotten much in terms of information on how it had been achieved but if the Tsaraj'kar had been involved it would make more sense. The city had gone too easy for being the capital of the planet. Alexios had figured at least a year long siege after they broke through the outer city would be necessary. "Send an interrogative to the Oserians and ask for confirmation that the imperials were involved. Then see if we can't piggyback off their comms array to get a message off to my father. He'll be very interested to hear of this development. As for our forces deploy them into the capitol and have them assist the Oserian forces. We're being paid to be here after all so we might as well make a good showing of it."

The forces of the Esuvrians moved into the city to assist the Oserians within the hour of the order being given. They moved to mop up pockets of resistance and aid the already fighting troops of House Oserian and Vitatzes. A short while later the news of a third fleet moving into the sector reached the Esuvrians as well, so they added a bit to the coded interrogative they planned to send to the fleet above. They sent it in the short, terse style that was common to the Esuvrian forces when they sent transmissions.

<<Interrogative. Reports of two imperial ships in atmosphere. Reports of Tsaraj'kar in combat in the capital. Please confirm. Secondary Interrogative. Reports of unidentified third fleet in system. Please confirm. End Transmission.>>

Back on Alastar the dictator sent a transmission back to House Vers'teeka indicating their interest in hosting the Kesdari and enjoying the spectacle of the Melverdian Dance Fighting.

Mechking said:

"Now back to more pressing matters: Pirates. Seems like they are growing mostly unabated with how useless our military is. I'll need to request a pirate cleanup while we rebuild our military. I'm thinking of hiring the Bladesect ( ThatWhichShouldBe ) for this matter. Thoughts?"

Click to expand...

Bladesect

"Oserian and Vatatzes against Skylitzes and Koiran. 17 Houses involved. 8 million and 300 ships against 13 million and 850 ships... and more, once the alliances are called to the banners. Conflict assessment, Saints?"

The Supreme Grandmaster sits upon a rock in the ancient cave- one of many traditional meeting sights for the Council of Swords. Here were the most prominent Sword-Saints, representing the levers of power within the Absolute Blade Sect. Here was war with ink and whisper and pen, rather than the blade. And they kept themselves sharp indeed. Surrounding Lancelot were masters both wizened and young, prodigies and sages alike. Hera of the Flitting Sword, Samson of the Hundred Days Hammer, Lakshmi of the Spitting Dragons, and more. All storied names and creators of ten-thousand wailing ghosts.

This was the Absolute Blade Sect, where above all else one studied Sword Law.

"Too small," said Samson. The scrawny elderly man strokes his beard and waves a hand dismissively, before he continues. "Our involvement would end it too quickly, and there is not enough battle to properly display our skills."

"We could always send smaller forces, on the side of Oserian and Vatatzes."

"Not enough to sway the course of the war, nor little enough that we wouldn't waste promising young swords of the Sect on such a conflict. Skylitzes and Koiran are out for blood after the devastation of Perellan. The Perellan heirs remain missing, and worlds will burn in that particular search. I see no reason why we should enter now, rather than wait for the conflict to escalate to be more worth our involvement, and for our aid to be asked for with greater appeals than words and pittances."

There's a murmur of assent from the other Saints.

"Then the Perellan War shall be set aside for monitoring, for a later date. Next... An appeal for aid. House Mirlath Cthaal."

"They have no wars. Their armies are too soft to wage them, but they have no enemies yet. What for?"

"Pirates."

There is a long moment of silence. Some Saints look offended, others, amused. Such a small problem to ask for the might of the Bladesect. Lancelot makes a sign of severance in the eight way, shaking his head, quelling any notions of taking prideful offense before they can sprout.

"The Schools of Summer Squall Method, Silver Bells Breathing, and Divine Dragon Sword will take it up. It is too small a matter for this assembly, frankly- That it comes before us at all is only for the name of the one making the request."

The Saints continue to speak then, on matters of Sword-Law, and future designs. For a blade must be ever-sharpened, and the greatest grindstone is war.

---

Into the system of Planet Midare, a cruiser arrives. It is sleek, shaped like a spear-blade, burning for Midare Orbit. As requested, the Bladesect had answered- Though from their disinterested response, it was likely only for the wealth that they considered it at all. The Bladesect was notoriously difficult to truly interest. Three Schools of its renowned warriors, and one of their famed Sword-cruisers, was already more than could have been expected.

The Ship settles into orbit, awaiting for the invitation to arrive upon the ground. Aboard it was one of the Grandmaster's Emissaries, there to witness the fulfillment of the compact between the Bladesect and House Mirlath Cthaal. Even if this was a small matter, it was still a matter of pride that the details of their arrangement were upheld. The Bladesect had fought wars over that.