“Torvald? That sounds like a Commonwealth name.”
“It was until they were reheralded as Dominion nobility when they lost their homeworld. Traitors.”
“A satisfying victory then,” Reyna offered.
Aaron nodded. “It should have been. The Commonwealth troops wanted blood and no traitor deserves anything less than death as my mother said. It was a trap though. Pershing used the Torvalds to lure my brother into the canyons on the southern continent. His engineers had planted gas canisters in the sides of the mountain. When my brother's unit was in place, they triggered the explosives and released the Vertoxx all through the canyon.”
Aaron tapped his pen on his desk, recalling his research. “Vertoxx is heavy, almost like it's not a gas. It doesn't rise, but it will follow the wind and slowly spread over a target area. It will fall and settle like snow. It settled on the destriers, vehicles and troopers and started melting away the armor. Once there was any sort of breach, it killed fairly quickly. My brother was up front so he had no chance to escape the cloud.”
Aaron hung his head and closed his eyes. “We lost almost half of our strength in that one fight. The mercenaries started to desert. Apparently their lives were worth more than all the money my family could offer them. My father's own mercenaries jumped his bodyguard and killed him. No one should die like that.”
“I didn't know about the gas,” Reyna said. “There were rumors-”
“They're true,” Aaron interrupted quickly. “All of them. Pershing is a coward and a murderer and now he's been set loose again. That bastard smuggled him across the border! Now they will come for Goteborg and they will do to House Evers what they did to me.”
Aaron pounded a fist against his armchair and raged. “Tell me, Reyna! Tell me why I shouldn't kill Kristoffer and his entire crew!”
Reyna leaned back and breathed deeply, waiting for Aaron's wrath to subside. The Sten family was highly regarded as wise and powerful, but they could also possess their demons. Some could control their fury like Damien and his flames or release it in short bursts like Aaron. Others were consumed by it. Like Slader.
Reyna was silent for a long time as she watched Aaron struggle. Finally she asked, “Do you know what they say about you? The other nobles under your command?”
Aaron worked his mouth, his tongue flicking in and out trying to form words. What has that got to do with anything?
“They respect you Aaron. They will follow you into battle on Goteborg when the Dominion comes. They will follow you through Vertoxx if they are told to because they respect and honor your sense of duty. You are a good soldier, a good leader and if Damien says you are in command here then they will follow because they know you will do as Damien would. You won't kill either of the twins because you're not Slader. You will keep them safe here because Damien ordered you to do it.”
“And Slader's orders to-”
“Slader is a liar. You know this.”
Aaron stood up from his chair and moved to the window again. Outside, Goteborg hung in space, rotating slowly. On its surface, men and women prepared for war. Militias drilled in the streets. Civilians were stocking supplies of food and fuel. The knights were arming, armoring and practicing with their destriers. Tens of thousands of soldiers were ready to fight when the Dominion came. He would fight with them.
“I can't tell him,” Aaron said suddenly.
Reyna narrowed her brow in confusion.
“I thought about it, but I can't. I wanted to tell Kristoffer about his heritage, explain to him that he is the heir to his father's throne, an Archduke responsible for the lives of his subjects and then I wanted to make him watch them all die when Pershing slaughtered them with gas or with his knights. I wanted him to feel like the failure that he is. Then I wanted to shoot him right there in front of the Evers' palace. Traitors deserve nothing less than death. But I can't.”
“Why?”
“Because Damien said not to.”
Reyna smiled. “You have an excellent sense of duty. That is why you are so loved. Never stray from that. In fact, that is why I have heard Damien wishes to make you his heir.”
Aaron narrowed his brow. “His heir?”
“Yes. He told me so. Why do you think I'm here trying to help you make the right decision. Your own future is at stake here as well.”
“But I'm just a distant nephew not even from his branch of the family. Slader is more closely related-”
“Slader is a fool and Damien knows that. Maybe he's just angry his own status as heir to Magdeborg was forsaken by his father or maybe he knows that the heir to his estates on Hidelborg would be taken by Magnus Teton-Sten in the event of his death. He's already heir to the Danvers, Magdeborg Duchies and soon to be Aarhus as well. I think he has enough, don't you think?”
“So it's political.”
“I think it's personal. You're the closest thing he's had to a child. Ever. You are his closest living relative in terms of endearment. He would not have left you in charge here if he did not trust you completely.”
He felt his heart thudding in his chest like a racing autocannon. To have earned Damien's respect and his trust is no small thing. He's so cold and emotionless most of the time it's so difficult to get a read on his thinking.
“But it's not just to Hidelborg, Aaron. If we win the coming conflict, and we will, Damien will inherit Magdeborg and the entirely of the Commonwealth. You are the next Archduke once we do away with Kristoffer in due time. The Commonwealth will be yours one day.”
Aaron took a deep breath and paced, his energy and excitement making sitting still impossible. He stared out the window of his office quietly. He clasped his hands behind his back and rocked back and forth on his heels. “I wish Damien were here. I never thought this would be this difficult.”
“You can save Goteborg.”
“Protecting Goteborg I can do, but this is politics at a level I've never played before. He could be Salena's prisoner by now. What then? I leave the Goteborg March undefended and try to bust him out? You know I can't do that.”
Reyna lay down on the couch. She propped her head up on the arm and regarded Aaron carefully. “You won't go to free him?”
“No,” Aaron said quickly. “I can't strip the border of the defenses. The border houses alone do not have the strength to repel the Dominion if they come knocking. When they come knocking,” he corrected. “I can't abandon Goteborg and the remnants of my own house.”
“How noble,” she said. He wasn't sure if she was mocking him. Probably.
Aaron rolled his eyes. “You'd have done the same.” He paused suddenly as he turned away from the windows. Would she?
“Your duty is important to you Aaron, but with Damien in danger now, your inheritance is in jeopardy. You are the heir to House Mercer now that your brother is gone, but what will you inherit from your mother? Damien is offering you a bright future. Don't throw it away.”
“So you want me to try to save him if Salena takes him hostage?”
Reyna sighed. “I want you to make the best decision for yourself. What matters more to you? Your duty or your future?”
Aaron rubbed the thick plastic window thoughtfully. My life was all about duty. Duty to my family, my house, my world, my nation. I never expected to inherit much of anything from my mother when we had Haberton anyway. Franklin was the heir to the house so maybe I'd get a small fief somewhere to live comfortably if I lived long enough, but the entire Commonwealth?
“I don't know,” he said. “This isn't a decision I want to make.”
“It's one you might have to-”
“I know!” He snapped, whipping his head in her direction. “We'll cross that bridge when we get there, but, for now, I have to worry about protecting Goteborg from Pershing and Kristoffer from Slader and myself.”
“Today is Archduke Peter's funeral.”
“So?”
“Coronations occur on the day of the deceased Archduke's funeral. Technically today he would
become the Archduke so we can't throw him out of an airlock,” Reyna said.
“Well, we could. I think you meant to say 'we shouldn't,'” he said sardonically.
“See, you should keep some humor more often. You're not Damien.”
Aaron joined her on the couch and she rested her head on his shoulder. Damien always had great patience in considering plans and outcomes. He could spend hours in front of a fire, thinking and planning contingencies every step of the way. Aaron could mimic Damien's habit; he had an old petroleum based lighter in his office and had been tempted to try seeing what the Lord General saw though he never found the courage. Usually such devices were frowned upon on board ships. A burning planet-based structure could be evacuated, ships typically could not. The very necessary oxygen became the flashpoint that could incinerate a ship in a matter of minutes. But Damien was royalty and he could light as many fires as he pleased, literally and figuratively. He was well aware that Damien was a little off as some of the other nobles put it, but the man got results.
But what if Damien did not return? What if he was imprisoned or executed on Magdeborg? Aaron took a deep breath. He trusted Damien of course. He was no fool. But could Salena outsmart him? She had already taken Magdeborg in a coup, crushed the Sørensens and imprisoned them. Could she do the same to Damien?
Aaron could not face doing all this alone. If Damien were dead, would the other border houses swear their fealty to him as they had to Damien? Could he keep them in line or would the entire border defense army collapse? His heart began to pound in his chest as he considered it. A cold sweat broke out on his brow as he realized his answer.
He couldn't do it. He couldn't even control Slader.
Damien needed to live.
The door buzzed again and Reyna sat up to least try to look professional now. Aaron rolled his eyes. “Yeah,” he called out.
It was the female knight again.
Aaron looked up angrily. “Look, I don't care if Kristoffer wants another meeting. I don't have the time to deal with him.”
“Sir,” the knight started. She was shaking. “The stargate activated. A fleet is on its way in. The Dominion is here.”
Lord Damien Sten
Duke of Hidelborg, Defender of the Border, The Gray Knight
9 March, 23,423
Sten Mausoleum, Magdeborg, Magdeborg Commonwealth
______________
Damien clapped the data pad shut again and looked out the window of his limousine. Anna still was not answering his calls and he'd heard no word from the team sent to retrieve her. She and Rebecca were supposed to be picked up twenty minutes ago and he'd been trying to get in contact with someone ever since. He let out a deep breath and closed his eyes. She's a big girl, she can take care of herself, he tried to console himself.
He'd left her apartment early in the morning and returned to the palace as easily as he'd escaped the day before. He checked his room, including the trap he left at the door and found it undisturbed.
As he prepared for the funeral, he thought of the young girl Anna introduced as his daughter. She seemed like a sweet girl, and she played quietly while Damien and Anna talked. She ignored him in her awkward innocence. He'd never really been around children before and he found himself studying her curiously. She had the unmistakable Sten blue eyes and her mother's hair. She almost looked like Salena when she was a child, he realized with some consternation.
Damien never raised a child. He'd trained his fair share of soldiers and taught Aaron all he knew about war, politics and life as a nobleman, but there was a considerable difference between training and raising. He remembered Dietrich Sørensen did quite a bit of the raising of him and his siblings. Haakon was often busy with his various duties of state and had little time for the upbringing of his children. His mother had died shortly after Salena's birth and had spent much of the latter years of her life sick. His actual upbringing had been overseen by a small army of guards, officials, advisers, nobles and those Damien sought out himself.
Soon, he'd have to figure it out. They agreed Anna and Rebecca would be safest with him on Hidelborg, protected by his army and the sect of Starfield Theorists there. She'd spend the morning packing then take a car with two of Conrad's security personnel to the starport for safe loading onto his personal shuttle to rendezvous with the Crimson Lady. He'd honor his promise to her. They would never be separated again.
Rebecca created several interesting political predicaments. She was a bastard, technically not entitled to inherit any of his property or territory. She would have to be legitimized before she could be considered his daughter and given political consideration. Until now, he'd considered Aaron the closest thing he had to a son and an heir. With Aaron's brother dead, he was the scion to House Mercer and its remaining territory. He would also inherit the Hidelborg Duchy as soon as Damien made the announcement. Currently, Magnus Teton-Sten was the heir to his fief, which he found delightfully laughable. But who would inherit now, his bastard daughter or the son he wished he had?
Too many possibilities. He felt overwhelmed for the first time in decades, as if age had finally caught up to him and the number of possible outcomes outnumbered his solutions to them.
He tried to contact Anna again and failed. Trust Conrad and his men. They will come through for us. They have to. Though it was possible that he had contacted Salena and informed her of the meeting. Could Conrad have lied and created this ruse to occupy him while Salena maneuvered into position?
When he felt his heart rate return to normal he opened his eyes, realizing the car had stopped. A security officer opened the car's door and waited patiently for him to step out. Damien straightened his uniform and tucked his sword close to his body so it would not bang against the car. Exiting a vehicle with weapons strapped to your hip could be immensely awkward. Damien had learned early how manage such situations. One never knew who was watching.
The crowds around the funeral site were subdued and quiet, as was to be expected. There were a few dozen craning their necks for a glimpse of the dead Archduke's brother. He was surprised at the lack of a welcoming party, considering Salena's vain attempts at his landing several days ago. A single man waited a short distance away apparently waiting to direct Damien to his proper location.
The temperature was warming quickly as the sun reached higher in the sky. There were only a few clouds in the distance and the sky was blue and clear. Damien took comfort in the good weather, partly because he missed the feeling of a warm sun on his skin and also because it would be good fighting weather. The Sten House Guard would need it.
The mausoleum was outside the city and several kilometers south of Lord Conrad's mountain fief. The plateaued hill on which it rested had no name officially, but was considered a sacred place. The grounds were surrounded by parks and gardens where the commoners and even nobles would stroll or meet. Winding through the park and leading to the mouth of the mausoleum was a gilded path lined with statues, representations of Amrah's false gods that lived in the wilderness. If he stepped off the path he would be in the territory of the sins and sinners. It was a literal representation of the Faith. Damien walked the Path past Avarice, then Murder and Hatred, then Pride and Despair and the last one, Infidelity. He eyed it curiously as it had changed since the last time he'd seen it. Before, it had been a shattered heart, intended to tell the commoners not to break their marital vows, but now it was a raindrop.
Why had it changed? Obviously it is Salena's work, but why the change? What did rain represent?
It took Damien only another dozen paces before its meaning became clear. It was not a raindrop, it was a drop of blood. Be faithful with your blood family, Damien realized. It was a carefully tailored message to him that Salena knew he would see. Dear sister, I am always faithful to my blood.
Circling the mausoleum was a moat dug out of the mountain. It represented Ixith, the damned river that captured lost souls in its endless current, doomed to see Paradise on the shores, but never t
o reach it. The ground the mausoleum rested on was Paradise, of course, completing the metaphor. All the dukes and duchesses laid to rest there were blessed by Amrah having walked the Path and crossed Ixith without any trouble.
What silly nonsense, Damien snorted.
This was not his first visit to the Sten family mausoleum. He'd been here over a decade prior for the funeral of Ciara Sten and twenty-seven years prior for the death of Arthur Sten. The building itself was massive and designed in an ancient Gothic style architecture with thick gray stones and turrets and ramparts making it appear as a sort of anachronistic castle quite similar to Conrad's mountain fief. The Stens had a habit of building such structures and Magdeborg was littered with them.
The building itself was divided into two sections. In the above ground levels, a museum reached ten stories over his head, and contained hundreds of thousands of books, portraits, artifacts and other pieces detailing the history of House Sten and the Magdeborg Commonwealth. Damien often found solace there as a young man, taking comfort in his family's strengths and power reflected in the work left behind by ancient scholars.
Below that, accessible only to members of Houses Sten and Sørensen, were the crypts where dead dukes, duchesses and their families were finally laid to rest. The crypts terrified him as a child. They seemed like endless dark hallways filled with the dead calling to him to join them one day. The space between graves was lit only by torches spaced every ten meters. They cast a small circle of light, of safety, like beacons of protection against the dead. When brought there for the funerals of ancient aunts and uncles he dreaded the dark spaces between torches, lingering in the light as the family descended deeper before racing ahead to safety of the next torch.
Damien crossed over the moat via an ornate covered bridge of white marble and turned to regard the crowds. The people easily numbered in the tens of thousands, held back by restraining tape and armed guards. The tone of the crowd was appropriately somber, but watchful. They understood the political situation was complicated and Lord Damien's reaction would be scrutinized by the media, likely fueled by Salena's agents. As long as everything went according to plan, they would certainly have something to talk about. Then again, if it failed, they'd still have something to talk about. Either way they won't be disappointed.
Schism of Blood and Stone (The Starfield Theory Book 1) Page 30
