Damien focused on the upcoming meeting with his uncle. They hadn't spoken in over a decade.
Lord Conrad Sten commanded the Sten House Guard, an elite fighting force made up of knights with blood ties to the royal house. Conrad spared no expense in outfitting his sections. Their weapons and vehicles were bought from the Harding Corporation, the best money could buy in the Human Core. He had a reinforced company under his command, more than a dozen knights and their sections. Thus far, they had not left their mountain fief nor had Salena attempted to make contact with them. That in itself was telling. Salena didn't think she could trust them and Conrad was watching the whole ordeal from a safe distance.
Conrad was a private man and a warrior by birth and honed through training. He took his knightly obligations seriously and provided exquisite protection first for his brother Archduke Haakon then for his nephew Peter. Despite the Guard's duty as protectors, they were not always successful. Conrad could not have done anything to stop his brother's death. When Haakon's ship vanished in the misjump, some of his own knights had even gone with him. Peter's death likely wore more heavily on his shoulders. If the assassination reports were true, Conrad would be devastated. He and his knights should have been able to prevent the tragedy. Now two Archdukes were dead on his watch.
The car passed quietly through the Magdeborg streets. They passed a few military checkpoints full of bored-looking soldiers. They watched the car go by with mild interest, but they never stopped them. Anna still had some contacts, he realized.
“They don't seem worried, even with an active resistance,” Damien pointed out. “What sort of show is Salena running here?”
“This is a special checkpoint,” Anna responded dryly.
Her meaning was clear. The soldiers here were either bribed or replacements. Apparently Anna still had a loyal and effective network in place. He made a mental note.
The streets were largely clear of traffic; most people were home now. The suburban landscape before him was even less congested than the city. As night fell, the street lights started to come on. A few televisions flickered in dark houses as their watchers caught up with the evening news. Damien felt torn. He and his family created news by participating in the constant power struggle in a neo-feudal society. The ordinary citizen was doomed only to watch the events unfold; they had no power. In a way, he couldn't help but feel a bit jealous. While they had no voice in the Commonwealth government, they were free of the violent dangerous power politics that claimed the lives of many noblemen. Governing is like walking a tightrope, you have to keep power balanced perfectly or else you go tumbling off. And in human politics, there's no net to catch you.
As they moved further from the city, the checkpoints vanished. The city gave way to its extensive suburbs which had been spared the brunt of the fighting. Gradually the terrain became more rural. Farmhouses dotted the land, separated by huge fields. They would be just entering the planting season. There were times he wished for a simpler life, a chance to get away from the busy life and death nature of being important. He wondered if Anna would have given him that simpler life. They could settle down somewhere out here, or even Hidelborg, maybe even begin a family. Despite Damien's advancing years, he still figured he could give fatherhood a try.
There was a time, as a younger man, when that was all he wanted. Before the hostilities with the Dominion had begun, the border had been quiet and he's considered retiring, turning the reigns of responsibility over to another lord. He was on Magdeborg serving as Peter's special liaison during peace talks with the Dominion when he met Anna. She worked for House Mason, a close ally of House Sten as an adviser to their political attache. Of course, such roles were usually reserved for spies and Damien was no fool. But she was pretty and smart and of course she attracted a lot of attention from a lot of nobles. That was her intended job.
But there was something different about this one. Damien found himself calling on the Mason nobles more and more to discuss routine pieces of diplomatic matters. The Mason nobles eventually found such meetings tedious and Damien boring, so they began to send their advisers in their stead. Finally, he and Anna were alone. After a while, he had only to create faux reasons for meetings and she would appear. But she wasn't one of those ambitious fools who attached themselves to nobility to enhance their own prestige nor was she interested in being a concubine. Most nobles had at least one. She was different.
Gradually, it became more and more clear that she was like him, a Theorist, one who questioned the Azuren interpretation of the universe. She had an extensive network of other Theorists who kept tabs on the palace and the activities of the Stens. She was a spy, but not one that was any threat to him. Damien laughed at her silence when he told her he knew her secret. If the Theorists wanted to know what the royal family was doing they only had to ask him, he told her. That had sealed the deal and he started making regular visits to her apartments. He was sad now that she had given up the Theory. She was out of that business, she had made plenty clear. It was too dangerous. That much was true, he admitted.
He glanced over at Anna who seemed lost in her own thoughts. Of course she still thought about a life with him. That was obvious after their discussion this morning, but it was simply not how the system worked. In the rare nobility-commoner marriages, the commoner joined the ranks of the nobility and became a public figure. Never did a noble downgrade as it were. She knew that, but she seemed unwilling to accept it.
After an hour of silence, the huge brown and green mountains, capped with white, came into view. As the mountains rose up, he felt his concerns drain away. He drew power from their presence, strong, huge and timeless. The House Guard had moved into the region centuries ago, establishing a military base and conducting training operations in the tough terrain. It was a harsh place for harsh people. Conrad kept his warriors well trained. Damien could hardly remember a day when the Guard was not involved in some sort of maneuver. They were undoubtedly some of the best fighters in the Commonwealth, in the entire Human Core. But where were they when Salena invaded?
There were no signs that announced the beginnings of Conrad's territory, but the increase in security was obvious. The first Guard checkpoint loomed in front of them suddenly. Giant floodlights lit the ground like a sun while soldiers and vehicles were deployed as if to repel an attack. The Guard's soldiers seemed to be prepared for a war at any moment though it was unclear who they planned on fighting. The troops manning the gates were heavily armed and wearing full body armor. Two tanks were deployed on either side, their turrets tracking the car as it approached. Damien felt a stab of nervousness in his gut at the soldiers' alertness. If any of them had an itchy trigger finger this would all end very quickly. The troopers ordered both of them out of the car and checked their papers. They searched Anna then Damien, apologizing for the necessity, but not being lax in their duty. Damien could not recall the last time he'd ever been searched. He felt mildly violated, but they were efficient and professional as Damien expected them to be. Not even a Sten lord could pass through unchecked.
This was not an official visit. There would be no escort, no welcoming ceremony, no honor guard. Nor would there be any record that they had ever been here. How cloak and dagger, Damien thought.
They got back into the car, which had also been thoroughly searched by man, robot and beast. If Anna had been carrying any sensitive material she was wise to leave it at home. She drove up the mountain roads, passing gun emplacements and a few more vehicles. They'd been cleared to approach unmolested by the remaining checkpoints and none of the soldiers stopped them, but he noticed weapons follow them as they passed. Conrad's nervousness was reflected in his guards.
The mountain plateaued revealing the compound the Guards used as both a base and their homes. In all his years, Damien had never actually visited the facility, being never invited nor asking to see it. He had expected some sort of massive, high-tech series of structures with bristling guard towers, destrier and vehicle hang
ars and crawling with people and machines.
However, he was surprised to see a few buildings that seemed to be made of wood and stone in the same fashion as the Sten palace scattered around a largely open compound with grassy fields and what appeared to be some sort of large garden. The only modern looking structure was the destrier hangar. It was closed now, its huge doors emblazoned with the Sten emblem and locked and secured.
Anna rolled the car to a stop in a nearly vacant parking lot near the administration building. Damien unclicked his seat belt and opened the door, stepping out in the cold mountain air. He breathed deeply, feeling oddly refreshed. There was a quality to this place that reminded him of Hidelborg, his home. It was quiet, peaceful.
“Coming?” Anna called back to him. She was already headed towards the administration building. Damien hurried to catch up.
“When was the last time you saw him?” Anna asked.
“Ciara's funeral. They were there as Peter's honor guard of course. We didn't speak, but I saw him there in his armor. He was sad. It was hard to tell, but he was.”
Anna settled in half a step back and to Damien's right, a spot reserved for highly respected members of staffs. A knight met the two at the door, saluted Damien and regarded Anna curiously, unsure how to greet a civilian. Apparently convinced she wasn't a threat – security had allowed her this far – he led them into the building.
The outward appearance of the building belied with its interior. The wood floor was carpeted in a deep red burgundy. He felt at home when he noticed the candles flickering in chandeliers hung from above and from the torches hung along stone walls. The flames comforted him. They passed through long corridors then up a flight of stairs and through what appeared to be some sort of rooftop greenhouse. Huge plants, both native and foreign, draped across the walkways and lined the walls like decoration. The moonlight sparkled off the rooftop glass and the flowers on long vines began to close for the night. Damien wondered if Conrad had ordered his officer to take them on a mandatory tour first. The building was a complete anachronism, like something out of the history books, or what few Damien had ever seen. Conrad was a traditionalist, of course, most nobility were, but this seemed to totally contrary to the requirements of a modern military unit. Perhaps Conrad had some obscene fascination with the past or maybe the facility had existed this way since its inception and he was simply continuing the tradition. Damien had heard rumors of Salena's appeal to the Conclave and seen the record of it replete with armored guards and knights in the old style. He recalled one youngster refer to it as “totally old school.”
That kid hasn't seen anything, yet.
Finally, the knight stopped in front of a pair of heavy wood doors. He regarded his two charges with a look that suggested make yourselves presentable. Damien wore his House Sten dress uniform in an effort to show solidarity with his uncle. Anna wore her business suit. Damien hadn't expected this level of formality; perhaps Conrad was simply trying to keep himself entertained. It didn't appear as though they had many amenities up here and Conrad did not often receive guests.
Anna seemed to hesitate.
“Coming?” He echoed back to her.
She arced an eyebrow. “To play chess with the big boys?”
“Of course. You can be my-” he paused for a moment, “guest of honor.”
“I'll settle for that,” Anna said.
The knight threw open the doors and stepped inside, then with a loud voice: “Presenting Lord General Damien Sten, Duke of Hidelborg and Defender of the Border.”
The knight paused and Damien coughed gently. “And his guest of honor,” the knight added reluctantly.
Damien and Anna stepped into the room which was lit solely by candles. A great table had been set up with plates at each of the twenty or so available spaces. A row of men and women lined the walls, six on each side. They wore long blue cloaks, emblazoned with Sten and unit insignia Damien recognized as the Guard. Conrad's knights, Damien realized. Conrad Sten stood at the head of the table wearing his House Sten dress uniform so pressed that Damien could search the rest of his life and never find a wrinkle.
Conrad was a big man, easily twice Damien's weight, but so muscled that he made Slader look like a toddler. His hair was thinning, being as he was nearly eighty, well beyond middle age, but still energetic. His face was etched with lines, both from age and battle. His gaze was hard, but his eyes twinkled in the familiar Sten blue.
The knights saluted then dropped to an at-ease stance. Damien returned the salute and waited, awkwardly, for direction. The knight guide quickly led Damien to the end of the table, to the seat at Conrad's right. Anna had followed and sat next to him. At a clap of Conrad's big hands, the knights marched from the room and the attending knight closed the doors behind him. Carefully Conrad drew out the chair and sat.
Damien was confused by the protocol and wondered if Anna had insisted on such formality when she was setting up this meeting. It seemed unlikely since she was unfazed by the grandiose displays of the nobility and certainly never used any indication of status when they were alone. She knew decades of fighting on the border had left Damien caring little for titles and arrogant nobles. It must have been Conrad's work then. He was still a player in the political games on Magdeborg.
“Lord Colonel Conrad, we thank you for taking us in at such short notice,” Damien said playing his hunch.
Conrad blinked and waved an arm in dismissal. “No bother at all. You are my only nephew now and it is my honor to host you this evening. Walk with Amrah,” he said in the traditional greeting.
“And you,” Damien replied automatically.
Damien shot a glance at Anna a glanced while Conrad turned his attention to a servant, apparently issuing some sort of silent order. During the distraction, Anna returned a wasn't my idea look then immediately became interested in the center piece, a design crafted in rare metals that seemed a stylized version of the Sten sigil.
“It has been some time since I saw you last. If I recall correctly, it was ten years ago and only briefly at Ciara's funeral. We really must stop only meeting under these sorts of circumstances. How have you been, nephew?”
“Busy, as you can imagine,” Damien said awkwardly, unsure how comfortable he should be with him. Though Damien had superior military rank, familial rules still ordered Conrad as his better due to his age. He had honored status and his service record had been impeccable as it should have been for the commander of the house guard. “Lord Pershing is ambitious as well as dangerous. We have lost several worlds already and Goteborg is hanging by a thread. The border is still dangerous and, as always, I need more knights to defend it.”
“I think you misunderstood me,” Conrad said, raising his eyebrows. “How are you?”
Damien blinked. It was a personal question, not a professional one. Damien tried again. “I've had few restful nights. Even though I haven't seen him in years, Peter was a my brother. We shared a long and friendly relationship over the years. There are times I have expected to see him in the palace in the last few days. I can't help but feel as though I've let him down with the war going as it is. It has been painful,” he said truthfully. He was surprised to find he meant it.
He'd gotten used to death on the battlefields of the border worlds. Loyal knights and advisers who had attended him for years, even decades, would suddenly be taken away, killed in one battle or another. The worst were the ones who were too critically wounded to continue as warriors. They would go home, broken in mind and body. But Peter was his brother, his blood. Even if he was younger and even though Haakon stripped Damien of his rightful place as heir and put Peter in his stead, there was a hollow feeling Damien had done his best to ignore. He buried himself in reports, dealt with the matter of the twins and enemy intelligence more than he had in the past. The void was filled with work.
“He was my responsibility,” Conrad said, flexing his hands into and out of fists. “It was not you who failed him, but I. I was not careful enoug
h.”
“How did he die?” Damien asked before he could stop himself. Anna glanced over, noticing his lapse in character.
Conrad looked down at his empty plate. “He was assassinated at night. While he was sleeping he was administered a poison via nano-needle though we know not how. Someone slipped in and out, avoiding the cameras and the security staff and-” he hesitated, “my own knights. It might bring you some comfort to know that he did not suffer.”
“It was assassination,” Damien said. “Can he identify the poison?”
“Peter's personal physician was Sir Karl Sørensen. He is dead, probably before he was able to run appropriate tests. He opposed Salena and was done away with, as were many others,” Conrad explained solemnly.
“Do you believe her? Were the Sørensens responsible?”
“There are many possible suspects, including yourself,” Conrad cautioned. “But, no.”
Damien pushed ahead regardless. “What do you think of Salena?”
Conrad eyed Damien carefully. “A moment,” he said raising his index finger. He motioned to a door off to his left that had opened a crack. Suddenly, several sharply dressed men and women entered carrying trays of food. They placed the plates gingerly in front of the three and withdrew from the room with not so much as a tinkle of silverware. Conrad placed his index and middle fingers against his forehead and murmured a short prayer to Amrah.
The plates were filled with steamed meats and vegetables and an array of exotic fruits and breads were stacked into rough pyramids. Damien took only a few seconds to admire the presentation then turned to await Conrad's reply. Perhaps the Guard colonel had used it as a distraction while he collected his thoughts.
“I wish to caution you, Damien,” Conrad began slowly helping himself to a steak. “I have no intention of picking sides in a confrontation between you and Salena. You both had equal claim to the throne and the Sørensens are required to confirm the heir the Archduke chooses or to select one if the Archduke has not done so. My duty is to protect the Archduke and his bloodline as declared by the Sørensens, not to start a civil war.”
Schism of Blood and Stone (The Starfield Theory Book 1) Page 26
