Chapter 5

Florine Sylla, Governor of Caledon, looked up at the sky nervously. She had been on edge all month as the date of the Baron’s release approached.

She had arranged his transport from Prison back to Caledon, a lengthy process requiring her to contract a transport vessel to retrieve him from orbit and book the Baron a ticket on a passenger starship.

She cringed at the thought of a Noble forced to travel with a mass of commoners, especially one she reported to directly. Would he blame her for the current state of his Barony? The lack of resources, the poor state of its infrastructure and the high crime levels?

There was little she could do to fix things. Their planet is trapped in a centuries-long quagmire, sinking deeper into debt every year. The Empire had seized nearly everything of value as repayment for the Rebellion. The little they had remaining, the banks and other vultures had picked clean, feasting on the corpse of their once magnificent planet.

Turning, she ensured everything was perfect for his arrival. Well, it was as perfect as it could be with the few available resources. The government had no ships to send to transport the Baron home. She could barely scrape together the Imperial Credits to hire a vessel capable of reaching orbit.

The landing pad to receive the Baron was a simple, elevated flat surface at the rear of the Baron’s estate. The concrete platform was cracked-filled, old and desperately in need of repair.

‘Which left it in a similar state to everything else around here.’ Governor Sylla thought, letting out a deep sigh. The feeling of stress had her stomach tied in knots.

Looking behind her, she ran her eyes critically over the few aides she could afford. Each wore a uniform in the Caledonian colours, black and scarlet red. They were clean and tidy, although even their clothing showed its age, worn and threadbare, hand-me-downs from their predecessors after they had left.

Someone had found a pair of the Baron’s old banners, likely buried in some storage crate in the estate’s basement and aired them out. Matching their uniform’s colours, the symbol of Caledon was prominently displayed, a black Stag on a red shield, rearing back on its two legs, its head tilted skywards.

It was supposed to represent the virtues ‘grace’ and ‘elegance,’ but Sylla scoffed at the notion. She had seen the holovids. The old Duke, their current Baron’s Grandfather, may have had those kind and noble virtues, but the last Duke had led them deep into the gutter.

The coward had shot himself rather than join his people in their misery. Where were the ‘grace’ and ‘elegance’ in that act?

Nodding at her aides in approval of their tidy appearance, she watched the sky, knowing that she had done all she could. The Governor’s thoughts turned to the Baron.

She knew of the Baron’s appearance from the historical records before his imprisonment. The trial had been news throughout the Empire. It was the last judgment by the Emperor condemning a criminal of the Rebellion, with Kalen Caledon bearing the full brunt of the Emperor’s justice.

She was aware of his looks but not his personality. During the holo of the trial, he was quiet. His head held high as he accepted the verdict. He had been calm and in control, speaking with remorse and a desire to spare his people for his family’s mistakes, all things that endeared him to Sylla.

Going back further, she had combed the records of the old duke, Kalen Caledon’s Grandfather. The white-haired older man had been nearly a thousand years of age when he died, having had several children throughout his life, although only Kalen’s father survived to inherit the title.

A young boy would frequently accompany him in his later years, and Sylla watched Kalen grow as she went from one record to another. Quiet and observant, she could see right away that Kalen was an attentive student to the Duke.

Kalen attended court, toured the Duchy and met with their retainers, all things that his father had never done, being too busy travelling the Empire in search of every vice imaginable.

The Holos after the old duke’s death had been hard for Sylla to watch. Arrogant, conceited, and heedless, Kalen’s father had led their people down a path to ruination. Billions died through war, starvation, and disease. Even now, centuries later, people celebrate his death. It was even an unofficial holiday, one which Sylla herself commemorated.

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Governor Sylla finally spotted the transport on the horizon. It quickly grew in her vision, the roar of its landing thrusters shattering the silence and kicking up gusts of wind.

Brushing her hair out of her eyes, Sylla stepped forward as the door to the transport opened, offloading the Baron. Saying a silent prayer that this lord would be a saviour rather than a new form of evil descending upon them, she greeted him.

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The view from the transport window was depressing, even worse than the images he had seen on the Datapad before his arrival. The planet he had known was gone. In its place was a strange wasteland.

Kal nearly wept at the vision from the transport. Caledon, once a jewel, was a broken gemstone, her cities on the brink of ruin. Slums overran her surface, and pollution choked her skies.

This strange land wasn’t his home. His home was a paradise, the pinnacle of human achievement, an Eden. This planet was a lie, and for a moment, Kal thought he was still in the stasis chamber, his mind playing tricks on him, constructing a nightmare to torment him.

But this was real. There would be no emerging from this nightmarish reality, no abrupt awakening to a life more aligned with his memories. Here before him was a crisis, a catastrophe of his family’s doing, a wrong he was responsible for correcting.

Finally, after an eternity of waiting, The Caledon Estate came into view. Like the rest of the planet, time had not been kind to his family’s home. Red bricks on the building’s facade had begun to crack. The white marble had yellowed and stained. The gold statues and highlights were gone, likely pillaged years before or sold by the administration to pay its debts.

A few poorly tended gardens remained, the vast lawns brown and spotty, and the paths riddled with weeds growing through the cracks of the stone. The palace, the centermost building that housed his family’s quarters and audience room, had evidence of a terrible fire.

Black soot covered large sections of the walls, and the round ceiling above had broken, with a massive hole in the very top where the audience hall ceiling should be.

The estate had dozens of buildings, all for different purposes. Excluding the palace, there were the servants’ quarters, the guard’s halls, and various administrative complexes. Kal could see that only two buildings were currently in use, and the rest were boarded up and closed off.

Only one sizeable administrative office building and a large, five-story residential structure were presently inhabited on the estate.

As the ship came to the landing pad, Kal could see only three people were waiting for him. Two were young, in their early twenties, and wearing Caledon Ducal uniforms.

‘Barony.’ Kal thought, correcting himself. They wore Caledon Barony uniforms, marking them as aides or servants. The older woman in the front, her hair whipping across her face from the transport’s landing, caught his attention.

She was much shorter than Kal, possibly five and a half feet, and slim. She was wearing a smart-looking uniform, a black jacket and skirt, with a pin on her lapel that bore his house symbol. Her long brown hair refused to settle until the wind caused by their landing died down, forcing her to tie it back into a rough bun quickly.

The ship landed, and the thrusters quieted. In moments, the door was opening, and Kal was standing on Caledon again after a five-hundred-year absence. Breathing in deeply, he stifled a cough as woodsmoke filled his nostrils.

Woodsmoke, on Caledon! As if they were some backwater outposts on the edges of humanity’s empire, eking out a living from the land.

Frowning, Kal ignored the smell and the desolation around him. Instead, he focused on the woman walking briskly toward him. From her face, he guessed she was middle-aged, likely in her early hundreds. But, although her brown hair showed traces of grey and creases around her eyes and mouth, she walked with sagging shoulders like she was carrying an immense burden.

Kal reassessed her age, placing her as much younger and prematurely aged by combination of stress and the lack of advanced medical care.

“Baron Caledon.” The Sylla greeted him, giving him a bow, tilting her head towards the ground while keeping one hand over her heart. “I am Governor Sylla, overseer of planet Caledon, on your grace’s behalf.”

“Sylla.” Kal said, speaking the name and trying to place it. His memory was excellent and had only improved after stasis. Being forced to relive his life on a loop kept things fresh in his mind.

“I had an aide with the surname Sylla. Would you be related?” Kal asked.

“My great Grandfather. He became Governor after your trial. It passed down through the line until coming to me.” Sylla said, standing upright and looking over the Baron.

He was dressed like a commoner, wearing a grey, long-sleeved shirt that fit poorly, bagging off his torso around the stomach and sides. Wearing black pants that were too long, she noticed that he was barefoot. Her eyes widened at the thought of a noble walking through a Starship, and his Barony, without shoes!

“Milord, if you would come with me, I’ll show you to your rooms, and I’ll prepare a change of clothes.” Sylla offered, gesturing to the stairs leading to the administration complex below.

Kal’s old quarters were gone, burned in a fire after being looted during a riot shortly after his imprisonment. They had converted an entire floor to his use on the top floor, with a view of the gardens.

“Later. I want to know the current state of Caledon, Governor. Tell me everything.” Kal said, his blue eyes cold and determined. Sylla shivered under that stare, nodding quickly and leading him downstairs to her office.