Schism of Blood and Stone (The Starfield Theory Book 1) (37 page)

BOOK: Schism of Blood and Stone (The Starfield Theory Book 1)
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Ian seemed to snap out of his reverie. “And Nick was assigned to a militia unit? That will not stand. I'll get him out. Good people deserve better than dying with criminals and lunatics.”

“Thank you,” Chris said, extending his hand.

Ian shook it firmly. “And what about the
Cleod
? Any problems?”

“We ran into some trouble on our last run. We were boarded by Black Lotus, but our security took care of them. She's a bit shot up-”

“Send me the bill. I'll take care of it. Just do whatever Sir Aaron says. I know he's probably pissed you off, but he can get you through this. He's smart, but he is in way over his head here. My mother is far better prepared to handle the defense than him. Goteborg will be Pershing's grave.”

“You'll fight him?”

Ian narrowed his brow. “Of course. I wouldn't hide in the back while my soldiers and family fought without me. I'd never gain the respect of my people when I succeed my mother.

“Anyway, be safe out there, you understand? I don't want to lose you to those Dominion bastards. We could use someone like you around here when this business is done. When Aaron releases you come and see me. When Lord Damien gets here and after we've killed Pershing and his army we can turn our attention to Magdeborg and put the real Archduke on the throne. How's that for adventure for you?”

Chris blinked. “Are you serious?”

“Of course I'm serious. The
Cleod
is a great ship. She gives you your independence and your livelihood, but I can give you so much more. I was surprised you didn't take my offer after GU.”

The offer Ian had given him was a position in his retinue as a civilian political adviser. For as long as Ian was alive, he would have been one of his closest advisers involved in the highest level discussions and debates. He would have been well paid, respected and been set for life. The last few years of his life had been difficult, even with his own ship. None of the firms wanted an upstart captain with his own ship and no experience and Drayton, the only one who would take him, was dreaming up schemes far above his station. Somehow Chris had let himself be fooled by Drayton's insistence that the firm would grow into something big and respectable.

“I wanted to,” Chris said quickly. “Very much so, but I was convinced not to.”

“By whom?” Ian asked.

He raised his eyebrows in answer. “Of course it was Claire. Was it because of me?”

“No, at least she didn't say as much. She said I should forge my own path.”

“And look at that. Your path brought you right back here. Come with us, Chris. Once we finish Pershing here it's on to Magdeborg to oust that usurping tyrant and then on to crush the Dominion. You'll do it this time? Claire's not here to stop you.”

Chris took a big breath. “What about the
Cleod
?”

Ian smiled. “I'll find you a bigger ship.”

Chris chuckled. He had been foolish to pass Ian up on his offer before. He would not make the same mistake again. “If we're alive at the end of this, I'm with you.”

“Good!” Ian said, pounding Chris on the back. His muscles were weak from so many years in space and Ian was in good physical shape under constant gravity. He stumbled a bit and the noble laughed.

“Stay safe through all this, my friend. Walk with Amrah.”

“And you,” Chris responded as Ian turned away and started yelling orders at his subordinates. Chris hurried off to find Sir Aaron.

Lord Damien Sten

Duke of Hidelborg, Defender of the Border, The Gray Knight

9 March, 23,423

Sten Mausoleum, Magdeborg
,
Magdeborg Commonwealth

______________

 

Lord General Damien Sten eyed Alos cautiously. This would be a convenient time for the Azuren to gently guide him to a waiting car to drive him to remote spot for execution. The Azuren's grip was tight and painful, but Damien refused to flinch.

Let him play his games.

“Your brother was a good man, my condolences for your loss.”

“Thank you, Legate. I would not have expected any Azuren to take an interest in our activities here.”

“I suppose not. Consider it the whimsical interest of a curious Azuren then. I am surprised to see you here. I know there is tension between you and your sister.”

“Family duty is important,” Damien responded thoughtfully. “We would not let petty differences interfere with our love of family.”

Alos seemed to evaluate Damien's words for a moment before shrugging. “Human and Azuren families are certainly different. I suspect we will be seeing more of each other in the coming years. I will be interested in studying your concepts of family more closely in that time.”

I sincerely hope not
, Damien thought. “You must excuse me, my Lord Azuren. I'm expected,” he said, indicating the podium.

“Do your brother honor today. We are all watching. May you walk with Amrah, Lord Damien,” Alos warned with a rare smile. He released his grip then returned to his spot in the shadows with the second Azuren.

Damien took a deep calming breath then stepped through the arch and towards the podium. His heartbeat slowly returned to normal and he took an extra few moments to compose himself. Starfield Theorists did not often survive contact with Azuren. If Alos knew anything of his plan, he made no mention of it.

The only sound was the flapping of the nobles' coats of arms; the crowds stood eager, but otherwise silent. Just to his right stood Duchess Salena Teton-Sten and Erik Sørensen. He seemed to look up at her from time to time like an pet expecting a treat. Damien sneered.

He returned his gaze to the assembled faces and the expectant eyes. Some had obviously been crying over the loss of their Archduke, others remained stolid, most seemed lost. He felt a moment's pity for them. Powerless and afraid. Damien remembered feeling that before, but no more.

Always I have been the general, never the diplomat. These are not soldiers.
Remember the protestors at the convoy. They are people with real fears and worries.

He cleared his throat, then began a war.

“Citizens of Magdeborg, it has been some time since I've last been home. It was eleven years since I last saw my brother, at a setting much like this, when we buried his wife, Lady Ciara Sten. He loved his wife and he shared his love with the entire Commonwealth and each of its citizens.

“I carry fond memories of my brother when we were children. He was always the honorable warrior, a trait be carried with him into his majority. As our Archduke, he protected the Commonwealth from our enemies and fought to keep our territory intact and respected. During the few occasions we fought side by side, he saved my life countless times and I was forever indebted to him.

“Tragedy struck our family forty years ago when our father vanished in a routine jump. Archduke Peter spent a month personally searching for him, refusing to take leadership of the Commonwealth until he had exhausted all other options. In my father's will, he declared my brother as his heir, a wise and carefully considered decision. He did not go into his new role willingly or with particular enthusiasm. To him, being Archduke was a solemn duty, a responsibility which he never let go unattended.

“He has protected us against the invasions of the Dominion and wisely negotiated with the Azuren to keep the realm in Amrah's favor. During his rule, our borders became more secure, our lives improved and he returned the Commonwealth and House Sten to greatness. He was deeply religious and made a point to serve Amrah with appropriate vigor, to improve humanity in hopes that someday you all might join him in ascension with the Amrahn and the other enlightened ones. He walked the Path and indeed guided us all.”

Damien paused a moment so the crowds could reflect. Around him, small camera drones buzzed and hovered, capturing his every word and movement. He took care to show some emotion, enough to show reverence, but not so much to show weakness. He walked the fine line carefully and expertly.

“When Archduke Peter's son Prince Arthur was killed, we all mourned with him. We felt his sadness, his remorse and the unmitigated guilt he felt as when he learned the bullet was meant for him. If accidents did not happen, Arthur would be standing here today to accept the Commonwealth crown. But things do not happen by accident as Amrah taught us.”

In the realm of Commonwealth politics, nothing happens by accident either
, he added mentally.

“I have done my best to protect the worlds on the border with the hated Dominion. At Skagen and Lindhome, we turned back the forces of the Dominion. At Mkuranga and Haberton, we inflicted heavy losses, so many in fact that there were none of their nobility to claim rights over their conquered territory. The Commonwealth noble houses that fell and were absorbed will soon be liberated so that they might again stand by our sides.”

Many glanced at the flags that lacked representatives. The absorbed houses – for the most part – did not become so willingly. Their lands and surviving nobles were captured in combat and they became vassals of the Dominions lords or killed. A few had gone as far as to turn themselves over to the Dominion, sacrificing their autonomy for survival in a process known as reheralding. Their armies and houses might have been intact, but they held no political power in the Dominion. Their flags were taken down from the mausoleum and burned. Never again would they have noble status in the Commonwealth.
When we retake their worlds, they will be stripped of their titles and their lands will go to the nobles involved in their conquest. As it should be. However, we must care for our backyard first.

“However, there is more pressing business at hand. We must say goodbye to our Archduke who served us for so long. He will be welcomed by his ancestors and his name will echo through the halls of the universe. This brings us to the matter of his successor.”

The ground started shaking.

“I must declare my loyalty for Peter's rightful heir.” He tried to stop himself from glancing at Salena and almost managed to do so. Instead he stared into her face and she smiled knowingly at a broken man. Damien turned his attention back to the crowd.

“Salena Teton-Sten forced her way into the Magdeborg palace. She declared herself Archduchess, but no true Sørensen would ever support her claim. The best she could muster is the sycophant, Erik, a man so twisted he was denied knighthood within his own house.”

“Damien!” He heard Salena hiss. She made a rapid motion with her hands, summoning guards. Before any could reach him, Conrad's own warriors intervened, attacking Salena's henchmen and dropping them to the ground, either with well placed non-lethal weapons or knocking them out cold.

“My brother had legitimate children,” Damien bellowed. “A boy and a girl, twins, whose claims to the throne come first and foremost. Kristoffer and Claire Sten are my brother's heirs and I shall support their claim over my tyrant sister. Amrah wills it! It is her Path!”

As he shouted, a massive destrier emerged from the side of the mausoleum and drowned him out. It was a
Templar
painted in the colors of the Sten House Guard – white with blue highlights. Without hesitating, it brought the muzzle of its autocannon to bear on one of the House Teton destriers that stood guard. The bursting of the weapon was near deafening and Damien actually ducked as the heavy rounds blew open the
Axen's
chest. The stricken machine pinwheeled on its heel then crashed to the ground.

And so the first shot is fired.

Two other destriers emerged from the opposite side of the building, picked targets and opening fire. They kept their shots to autocannons and lasers, just enough to attract attention and lure the defenders away from the mausoleum. They kept missiles in their racks, under orders from Conrad himself, to avoid injuring the crowd. They could not afford to harm civilians here.

The civilians, however, panicked and quickly began to clog the roads away from the mausoleum. The Teton destriers were struggling to not step on them as they tried to defend themselves against the attacking Guardsmen.

Damien regained his feet and marched calmly away from the podium. The guards Salena had ordered to arrest him had quickly abandoned that mission and were now escorting her into the depths of the mausoleum. He could see her angrily resisting their protection. He made eye contract with her for just a moment. Their eyes serving as portals for their hatred. Then he turned away as she vanished into the depths. The message had been sent.

Most of the other nobles had begun to seek cover in the mausoleum's atrium. As Damien headed down the steps to where Conrad was waiting for him, he thought it'd be a tragic irony if the building was destroyed, after all, for protection Salena was fleeing into a place that entombed the dead.

Conrad, however, was not in the mood for ironies or Damien's lack of concern for his surroundings. Both men had been in war, but Conrad had no idea the cameras were still rolling and that Damien's reputation under fire would be judged by the media and citizens in the aftermath of the incident. He was busy shouting orders at his troopers and urging Damien to move with more haste.

Damien looked around for the Azuren. He wondered that they would think. Would Alos be angry? Amused? Did the Azuren even care what happened today?

If I am to be Archduke someday I will not be seen as throwing the first punch then fleeing for safety. Let them know I show no fear for my own life here,
he thought.

Damien followed his uncle to a waiting car, where a squad of armored infantry waited. Several other fast hover vehicles bearing House Sten insignia roared by, no doubt his escort. Conrad slid in first, followed closely by Damien. Conrad hurriedly signaled the driver.

“Are we behind schedule?” Damien asked, noticing Conrad's unusual behavior.

“No, but betraying my niece and being complicit in the beginnings of a civil war are hardly issues I take lightly. I'd prefer to be out of here as quickly as possible.” Conrad said, taking a seat across from Damien and breathing loudly.

“It's too late to turn back now, Conrad,” Damien said, tilting his head slightly.

“It's not too late until my ship touches off,” Conrad said, his voice deep and angry.

Conrad's ominous statement was enough to convince Damien to cease pushing the matter. “What about the other attacks?”

The car lurched forward following a path cleared by a pair of friendly destriers. The driver floored it and the car roared down the main road.

“One of my companies successfully stormed the prison with minimal casualties. They've located Dietrich Sørensen and are currently releasing any other military personnel who might be able to aid us or organize a resistance on Magdeborg.”

“And the spaceport?”

“The spaceport is being mopped up. We've located your destrier and we're having it loaded onto my ship.”

Damien nodded. “And Anna?”

Conrad was quiet before a moment before shaking his head, “No word, yet. She was a bit out of the way so my car hasn't arrived.”

Damien slapped his hand against his thigh, drawing a glance from Conrad as he spoke into his radio.
Damn it all. I can't lose her and I can't lose Rebecca. Why didn't she mention the child earlier? Why hadn't she mentioned the child at all in the last twelve years?

Damien closed his eyes and tried to calm himself.
She'll be at the spaceport, Damien. She's not stupid. She's more than capable of taking care of herself.

I hope.

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