Chapter 1

Caledon burned.

The fires from the orbital bombardment consumed its major cities. Their light reflected off the thick layer of clouds in the sky above, colouring the heavens a mixture of red and orange. It would have been beautiful if it didn't represent the end of ten thousand years of progress.

The Duchy of Caledon had covered thousands of solar systems and hundreds of billions of people, all living under his family’s once benevolent rule. A dynasty stretching through millennia ended in a mere decade.

Above, through the few gaps that remained in the cloud cover, hundreds of starships hovered just above the atmosphere.

Their cookie-cutter designs had remained unchanged throughout the Empire's history since Faster Than Light technology was first invented. Each Ship was precisely the same, their mass dictated by the Engine that propelled them through space and time, disappearing and reappearing in different locations almost simultaneously.

It was unfortunate that Starships could not be weaponized. They could have been made of glass for all their defensive properties. Their fragile systems were unable to handle any damage whatsoever. Even an errant piece of space debris was enough to pose a catastrophic threat.

Kal looked to the sky, watching trails of plasma burn through the atmosphere, the planetary defences attempting to stem the flow of invaders, a futile endeavour. For every drop pod that was shot down, a dozen more landed. Already, he could see Mechs fighting on the outskirts of the city, the few remaining House Guards holding fast, despite the odds against them.

"Milord." A voice sounded out from behind him. Not turning around, Kal continued to observe the fighting, the palace balcony providing an unparalleled view of his family's folly.

"Is he finally dead?" Kal asked, a silent prayer in his heart that his father had finally succumbed to his wounds.

Kal's Grandfather had left his father a thriving Duchy, and in ten years, the fool had destroyed it. His father's corruption and ineptitude had alienated their allies, weakened their economy, and pulled the fangs from the military.

His most significant act of incompetence had been fermenting Rebellion against the Emperor, resulting in the disaster unfolding before Kal's eyes.

Worse, rather than take accountability, to apologize to the Emperor and hopefully save his people, Kal's father ordered them to fight. As planet after planet fell, their once mighty Duchy was reduced to only their ancestral home.

His father had taken the coward's way out, shooting himself in the head once he realized the inevitable.

Even then, the man's stupidity had shone through, the fatal blow missing but doing enough damage to leave him lingering in a state of half-life.

The Duke's final order prevented anyone from calling a ceasefire or retreat. Kal had thought of finishing the job himself, but patricide would result in him forfeiting his claim as heir, even for a traitor of the Empire. So, they could only wait while his people fought and died.

Cities burned, the innocent suffered, and nothing could be done.

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"Yes, Milord. The Duke is dead." The old servant confirmed, his heart heavy as he knew the burden placed on the young man before him. Someone would need to apologize to the Emperor. A price must be paid.

Kal's father had neglected that responsibility by committing suicide, but Kal would not have that luxury. A fiefdom needed a lord, and honour demanded his accountability. Not for the first time, Kal felt like cursing his Grandfather, who instilled in him such virtue and morality.

He couldn't bring himself to hate the man who had made him what he was.

"Order our troops to disarm and stand down. Inform the Imperial Herald of our unconditional surrender. As Duke, I submit myself to the Emperor's mercy." Kal said, still not looking behind him. He had been against this from the start but was powerless to oppose his father.

Even as a boy, he could see it was madness, that the path his father was leading them down would end in disaster. Now, as an adult, the only living member of the Caledonian Dynasty, it was left to him to pick up the pieces.

He had done everything he could to stop it, to convince his father to see reason. He could only hope the Emperor agreed with him and granted him the mercy of a quick death.

Kal watched as the fighting ceased, the flash of laser fire and the explosions ending. Imperial Mechs, not the slow, lumbering machines that the House Guards were forced to use as their losses mounted, but fast-moving, heavily armed, humanoid Mobile Suits that only the most skilled and supreme of pilots could operate, entered the city.

The shield around the palace was lowered, the shimmering forcefield fading from existence, allowing the smoke to enter. He breathed it in deeply, letting the smell imprint on his memory. If he survived his meeting with the Emperor, he wanted to remember this moment for the rest of his life.

The price paid for ignorance and stupidity. Of making all the wrong choices. What would his Grandfather have thought, Kal wondered, of their end?

Behind him, he could hear the sound of marching boots, the distinctive whirling noise of Combat Exosuits in motion. The Imperial Guard was already in the palace, clearing it room by room.

Strangely, he was almost eager for them to arrive, for the damnable waiting to end. He would travel to Terra, humanity's ancestral home, to kneel in the presence of the Emperor himself and pay the cost for his family's sins.

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They brought him to Terra in chains.

He knelt on the Imperial Palace floor before a throne at the heart of an Empire that stretched across a galaxy. Kal almost laughed at the absurdity of it all.

Technology allowed them to travel to any point in the Empire nearly instantaneously. Hundred-foot-tall Mobile Suits wielded weapons that could vaporize a city, and they bound his arms and legs in cold iron.

Despite the humiliation, Kal kept his head high. His father may have been incompetent, but he was right about one thing. Appearances mattered. How one held themselves, even in defeat, affected the outcome. He knelt before humanity's chosen ruler and apologized for his family's actions.

He asked for mercy, not for himself, but for his people. He owed them more than he could ever repay for the debt of blood his father had accrued.

The trial was quick and perfunctory. In the end, the Emperor recognized that Kal wasn't to blame for the Rebellion and was here due to his father's cowardice. In a way, the Emperor respected his desire to atone and for having the courage to surrender.

However, examples must be made. The Nobility must understand the consequences of Rebellion.

Five hundred years in stasis.

It was a light punishment for a Noble whose genetics and biological enhancements allowed them to live for over a thousand years. Even the poorest commoner could potentially live for centuries. But it wasn't the loss of time that was Kal's true penance. The murmurs in the court from the assembled only grew as the rest of the decree was read.

He was to be stripped of everything but a single planet. To have his title reduced to a Baron, the lowest rank of Nobility. It was a shame that few nobles would endure. To Kal, it meant nothing. Titles were meaningless, although some part of him was glad his Grandfather was not alive to witness this.

He was marched into the detention center, his guards faceless behind their powered exoskeleton combat suits. They needn't have bothered. He went willingly, longing for the peace and solitude of the stasis chamber.

Enclosed in the pod, he could only hear the faint beeping as the mindless computer counted down.

Kal closed his eyes.

Five hundred years.

To sleep, to dream of halcyon days.