Starfield Theory
Schism of Blood and Stone
Copyright © 2014 Brian Frederico
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 1500920002
ISBN-13: 978-1500920005
DEDICATION
This book is dedicated to my family, without whom none of this would have been possible.
Starfield Theory
BOOK I
SCHISM OF BLOOD AND STONE
Lord Dietrich Sørensen
House Master of the Sørensens, Knight of Magdeborg, Royal Retainer
10 February, 23,423
Remmington stargate, Remmington, Magdeborg Commonwealth
______________
“These people are insane.”
“Insanity has been in the Sten family for generations,” Lord Dietrich Sørensen remarked flatly.
The Azuren Supreme Legate, Alos, flicked his gaze at him. “So I've seen. I have heard that Elias Sten butchered his first born and ate part of his heart because a voice in his head told him to do it.”
Dietrich nodded sadly, the lines in his old face creasing. “It's true.”
“Such defects do not appear in the Azuren genetic code. We are a pure line so I can't speak about experiencing this insanity. It is possible in humans because of some mutation or failure in your DNA. We could remove it, of course. It is a simple procedure.”
“You would do that?”
The Azuren considered this for a moment then shook his head. “No.”
“Why not?”
“It seems more interesting that one of the most powerful realms in human space is ruled by a genetic line of lunatics.”
Dietrich wasn't sure if it was a pathetic Azuren attempt at a joke or if Alos was serious; the big pale man's face was unreadable. He'd never heard of Azuren telling a jokes before.
“What of these two?” Alos asked, referring to the two humans visible on the monitor. Alos had been assigned to Magdeborg for decades so Dietrich found it unusual for him to have to ask about them. Perhaps he simply wanted Dietrich's opinion, or perhaps Azuren really do forget.
Dietrich looked them over for a moment, then replied, “They each have their own unique sort of madness.”
Indulging in their respective madness was what brought them here today. Archduke Peter Sten was dead, the throne of the Magdeborg Commonwealth was vacant, its armies were without leadership, and its people were terrified. Peter's sudden death and his lack of an heir complicated the matter significantly. The Lord regent, Dietrich Sørensen had been silent on the matter of succession for weeks, far beyond the time it should have taken for an heir to be selected. The silence disturbed the commoners and, like a rising tide, their restlessness grew with each passing day. Local militias had to be called on several worlds to maintain order and, in some cases, reestablish it as commoners rioted in the streets. Dietrich's advisers even considered deploying line units not already involved in the war with the Caeph Dominion to potential danger zones to discourage some landed nobility from revolting, though he had vetoed those plans. Detailing such actions would take away from his primary responsibility: determining which of the late Archduke's surviving kin was next in line for the throne.
The Sørensen House Elders had spent long days debating the merits and shortcomings of the throne's primary claimants and pretenders. Finally, two months after Peter's death, his brother, Lord General Damien Sten, and his sister, Lady Salena Teton-Sten, Duchess of Danvers, were called to discuss the Sørensens' decision. After another long consideration, Dietrich had decided on the jump station at Remmington for the summit and the system's Azuren legate was happy to oblige. The local liege, Lord Ashram Grayson, was somewhat perturbed by the disruption of trade and exclusive use of the jump station, but was placated by reassurances of the honor done to his house and himself by graciously hosting such an historic event. He might not be so pleased when the summit is finished, Dietrich thought mournfully.
“They bicker like children,” Alos, said frowning.
Today, Damien and Salena had been shoved into a conference room to wait for Dietrich to address them. He and Alos observed them from down the hall through a hidden camera system the Azuren had installed before their arrival. The siblings threw barbs at one another as soon as they were alone and hadn't ceased for the last twenty minutes.
Neither does much to enhance already tarnished reputations, he thought.
“You should have seen them when they were children,” Dietrich lamented as he settled a pair of headphones over his ears to listen in on their conversation again.
“The throne is mine by right, a right which was foolishly denied me the first time,” Lord General Damien argued, smug in his chair as if dressing down a subordinate. “Your claim is a waste of time. I should be on the border preparing for the Dominion's next assault, not listening to you prattle on about issues of succession.”
Salena was standing behind her chair, gripping the back as if it were Damien's throat. “Abandon my claim in favor of yours? You've spent your entire life on the backwaters along the border. The nobility does not know you nor trust you. You would not last a month before they plotted to bring you down.”
“My strength of arms will keep them in line. I have an entire army under my command,” he said indicating the military patches he wore on his immaculate uniform.
“We don't need soldiers. We need a leader which actual political allies and entrenched relations to keep the Commonwealth together,” she snorted.
Damien snorted and threw up his hands. “And who would that be? You?”
“You're such a foreigner to your own court that they call you the Absent Prince on Magdeborg,” Salena sneered.
“You should hear what they call you on the border,” her brother smirked as Salena's face dissolved into disgust.
Dietrich put down the headset more forcefully than he intended and snapped off the video feed. “They grew up competing for their father's attention, always upstaging one another. Peter won that contest and he managed to keep his sibling's egos in check during his reign.”
“Peter was also the middle child if I recall your liege's family history correctly. Damien was skipped over for the throne and Salena was upset she was not chosen instead,” Alos pointed out. “The situation was only solved by banishing them to opposite ends of the realm.”
Dietrich nodded in agreement. “A simple solution to a complex problem. Each got to play at being the master of their own universe. Damien was the Archduke of the border, Salena was Archduchess of the court at Danvers. Peter may have been wise to keep them separated, but we can't maintain that strategy any longer.”
“Your Archduke did not do much to secure his legacy or the future of his realm,” Alos remarked with what seemed a hint of condescension.
Though a simple statement, Dietrich understood all the hidden context. He also took some pleasure in knowing that a great and mighty Azuren was wrong. Peter did well in keeping his secrets.
After Peter's death his siblings understood the status quo had changed and began to position themselves accordingly to curry favor with the Sørensens. The Lord General had arrived three days early, as Dietrich had expected. He had been honed by nearly fifty years in the Commonwealth military to be prompt, but short on patience. He spent his time reading readiness reports from his subordinates and complaining to Dietrich about his sister's tardiness. Yesterday, he claimed if he had any non-gray hair left it would have turned so waiting for her. He'd gone prematurely gray many years back, although there were rumors that it bad been permanently dyed because he liked to be underestimated as old and incapable. T
hose who fell into that trap called him the Lord Grandfather, but only by his rivals and never within hearing distance of his allies, which were few and far between, but fiercely loyal to the man who protected their fiefs. He'd spent most of his career fighting the Caeph Dominion along the thirty-six light years of border the two states shared. Around the capital, he'd been referred to as Damien the Border Duke, but he'd been gone for so long he was stranger to the court and many of the nobles who spent their time there. The newest generation of nobility would have read about him in their history studies as children.
Salena Teton-Sten had arrived with her husband two days late, further angering her brother. These were typical of the games Salena liked to play to antagonize her rivals and her brothers. As children, her brothers were always her favorite targets as they became victims of her manipulations. As the youngest, she was accorded a certain degree of assumed innocence that often proved false.
Duchess Salena had arrived in splendor with a royal retinue of servants, aides and even nobles in tow as if the entire court on Danvers had been lifted to serve her here. Damien observed her arrival with all the pleasantry of a man suffering the harshest of insults. Salena had no scruples about such displays of wealth and power as if to reinforce her claim to the throne. Dietrich almost felt Damien's fury as he watched Salena and her royal escort exit her ship. Her hair was still golden and flowed about her like a mane and her blue eyes sparkled with intensity. She wore the finest silks and robes in Sten blue and gray, trimmed in Teton gold. She had approached them like a champion marching for her medal, proud, powerful, victorious. Arrogant, Damien had snorted. Perhaps Peter was wise to keep them on opposite sides of the Commonwealth. How much did Peter do to keep the fragile alliances together in order to keep the Commonwealth intact?
Richard Teton, her husband, had accompanied her. He inherited the Teton solar systems upon the death of his aunt, an ancient crone who had milked those systems for every bit of wealth she could find. Richard had been granted a vast piece of territory and a treasury beyond counting which he, in turn, dedicated to his wife. Salena had been granted permission to marry him decades ago and bid her time, grooming her children, reinforcing her alliances, and waiting for the moment that she thought had finally come.
“Neither of them are ready,” Dietrich said mournfully.
Alos nodded, the beads in his white hair clinking together. Dietrich knew the beads indicated an Azuren's status. The bead closest to their heads contained their genetic make up and a sample of their DNA. The other beads in the strand were awarded for hard work, achievements in politics and religion and for combat. Alos had a strand of beads that reached to his shoulders, a considerable accomplishment for a younger Azuren.
Alos towered two feet over the old retired knight and his alabaster skin seemed almost to glow in the light of the monitors. He was the Azuren Supreme Legate to the Archduke and Magdeborg. His relationship with the Commonwealth's capital made him the ranking member of the cadre of legates that aided in the administration of the Commonwealth's worlds in the core of human occupied space and served as the link between humanity and the Faith.
The selection of the next Archduke was of great interest to the Azuren as the Commonwealth was one of the six core human states. Alos traveled from the capital at Magdeborg to Remmington to observe the summit. As Amrah's representatives to the temporal universe, he would have to sanctify the selection and perform the coronation itself. Legates in the other human states were often highly involved in issues of succession, but the Commonwealth had proved itself a stable and obedient state that Alos had permitted Dietrich and the other Sørensens to deliberate without his direct involvement. He and Dietrich had been at court at Magdeborg for the last four decades and a certain level of mutual respect had developed between the two.
Though one must remember that one can never really befriend an Azuren, he warned himself.
“I do not envy your decision, my Lord Regent,” Alos said. “However, it must be made, now.”
“I would prefer more time. There are other candidates who can be vetted.”
“I cannot hold off the Dominion's armies forever,” Alos said almost gently. “Their lord commanders have complained to their legates demanding an end to the ceasefire which we generously granted you after the death of your Archduke.”
“Of course the Dominion would use our tragedy as an opportune time to renew their invasion. Dishonor has guided their path for centuries. I suppose we should expect no less from them.”
The Caeph Dominion and Magdeborg Commonwealth had shared a border since the Dominion had coalesced into a state eight centuries before. The two states had been at war for nearly that long, conquering star systems along the border and occasionally dragging other neighbors into the fighting. The Azuren had kept a careful eye on the conflict, allowing their human charges to settle their disputes without the fighting erupting into chaotic violence by controlling access to their star gates. Historically, whenever one side appeared to be too severely weakened, a veteran mercenary unit or a small allied state often seemed to declare their allegiance with the losing side. For centuries Sørensen and Sten leaders believed the Azuren played a hand in the delicate balancing act, but more recently their involvement had grown more obvious. When Archduke Peter died, a ceasefire had been called to stop Dominion troops from overrunning the border while Damien was away, which may have saved the Commonwealth from annihilation Dietrich thought. He could not continue to test Azuren patience.
“Lord General Damien recently captured the great Dominion knight Lord Morlan Pershing in combat has he not? Such a disruption to the Dominion's command structure will likely keep them away from your borders for some time even without a ceasefire,” Alos reminded him.
“The Dominion has many noble generals and plenty of knights to cram into the Goteborg Duchy without Lord Pershing. We have already lost Mkuranga while Goteborg itself is in their sights. We must have more time,” Dietrich insisted.
“I cannot give it,” Alos snapped, losing his patience. “You have delayed long enough. In the interest of the laws of war we have given you the time allowed to settle matters of succession and then some.”
“The laws of war exist to prevent chaos. If I were to place either of them on the throne it would destroy the Commonwealth. If Damien were selected, we'd lose the rest of the border to rebellion and the Goteborg Duchy would fall to the Dominion.”
“Then keep the Lord General on the border. He has had success holding them off, has he not?” Alos asked regaining his composure.
“Granted, and if Salena is on the throne then Damien will revolt and lead his armies to Magdeborg and throw her from it.” Dietrich sighed. “If I had not failed in my duty and allowed Arthur to be killed we not be in this position. Archduke Peter should have had me shot for that failure.”
“Peter had already lost his son, why should he sacrifice one of his best retainers to settle some misplaced feelings of vengeance?” Alos asked him. While the Azuren probably intended the question to be reassuring, Dietrich hardly felt so.
“Lord Sørensen,” Alos continued, “You have been a member of this court since before I came to Magdeborg. Your guidance has led the Commonwealth through crises before. You must cease this stalling. I know neither candidate is ideal, but we have the utmost faith that you shall make the right decision,” Alos said.
The right decision?
“You Azuren see everything in black and white. Sometimes the correct choice is more ambiguous Sometimes you must throw caution into the wind.”
Alos narrowed his brow. “It sounds like blasphemy. There is only the one True Path that Amrah reveals to us.”
“Perhaps so, but shadows abound, and sometimes the way is dark and uncertain. In any case, I should address them before they kill each other.”
As Dietrich turned to leave the observation room, Alos warning followed him,“Follow Amrah's Path, Lord Sørensen.”
“Indeed,” Dietrich sniffed dismissively a
nd left the room.
Dietrich had long ago retired from wielding a sword and instead wielded a cane which he leaned on heavily as he made the short walk to the conference room. It made a sharp retort every time it hit the floor. He still kept the Sørensen blade in its sheath at his hip. As House Master he had the right to the sword and kept it honed and polished, though it had not been drawn in anger in decades.
He straightened his gray uniform and steeled himself for the storm before opening the door. Both siblings had taken their seats at opposite ends of the table and stewed. The surprising silence led Dietrich to believe, hopefully, that the storm had blown itself out.
The conference room was typically reserved for high level meetings of the station's staff and ruling nobility. A massive bay window looked out over the shipyards and polarized when the rotation brought Remmington's star into view. A large ornate teak table polished to a dark sheen dominated the room, adorned by thick leather and teak chairs. The room's walls were decorated with images of Remmington's third planet, an A-class beauty that served as the system's capital and House Grayson's seat of power. With its sweeping plains, vast oceans and thick forests, it was the envy of lesser houses.
He left his cane to lean against the table and laid his sheathed blade on its surface as was traditional in such meetings to keep weapons in plain sight. Damien kept his blade at his side, he noticed. He is nervous. Salena carries no blade, but her words are her weapons. They are always kept hidden until the perfect time to strike.
He slowly sat himself into the chair left for him and he felt every bone and muscle creak with his movement. I am too old for this.
He laid out on the table three folders and kept them closed, though each sibling regarded them with cold anticipation.
Sørensen offered a strained smile. “My friends. First, let me express my sorrow for the loss of your brother. He was a great leader, a great man, and a personal friend of mine for many, many years. The entire Commonwealth is mourning his passing, and we shall struggle to find one who can lead as nobly as he. As you know we have been very busy at work these few weeks and we have recently concluded that work.”
Schism of Blood and Stone (The Starfield Theory Book 1) Page 1
