> Showing our newest recruit the King Alexander had seemed like a simple and relatively unimportant, but well-repaying act. If we impressed upon him the power of our nation’s military, surely it would awe even a man of the Fringe’s great star nations. Looking back on it now, I wish I had never ordered my brothers to grant such a view. How idiotic we must have seemed to him, lauding our triumph as if it were not but a gnat before the gaze of an apex predator. He may as well have been a nascent god in that moment, and we the ignorant primitives exclaiming with wonder at our discovery of fire.

Arthur settled into his seat aboard the small interplanetary shuttle with practiced ease, and leaned back while the automatic safety belts snaked across his torso in a criss-crossing X formation to brace him within the comfortable leather.

The shuttle was a small craft, no more than twenty meters from nose to engines, and equipped with only six passenger seats behind the cockpit—divided into two sets of three with a spacious walkway between them. An on-board lavatory was at the back of the shuttle, and what Arthur assumed to be supply lockers were built into the walls framing the currently unsealed pilot’s access.

The only passengers aboard were himself, Atreus, Endymion, and Perseus; with the last of the three serving as the ship’s pilot. Endymion was seated in the co-pilot’s chair casually, while Atreus stood behind them both with his feet firmly planted and arms folded over his power-armored chest.

Arthur had not balked at being told to strap in and take a seat, and it wasn’t as if the armored Kidemónes needed to be away from him to hide conversation. The hermetic seals of their combat helmets did that easily enough.

Besides, the distance between the passenger area and cockpit was a matter of feet.

Instead of watching the trio of companions he’d ostensibly fall in with, Arthur turned instead to look out of his window. It was a small luxury that few spacecraft enjoyed, given the obvious concerns around the vulnerability of what was essentially a missing piece of hull armor; but in the case of the shuttles used by the Vasilikós Kidemónes, it was not an overly large worry.

Primarily because only the extremely brave or stupid would even think to take a shot at them.

The view outside the shuttle was no longer of the wide-open and beautiful vista of the city-interior of Port Asfalís, but instead the cold steel and curated cylindric interior of a restricted docking bay within the bowels of the station proper.

Few to no maintenance workers had been visible while his escorts had led him down carefully veiled elevators and through meticulously clean and eerily vacant corridors painted in sterile white. When they had emerged from the blast doors within a zero gravity docking bay, Arthur had been thankful they’d also kitted him out in a basic shipsuit and retractable helmet.

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“It’s normally several hours from Asfalís to Hellas due to approach procedures, Arthur, but we should be able to skip most of the traffic control measures that enforce that time delay.” Perseus said from the cockpit.

“That’s a long time.” Arthur said while turning toward the cockpit door. “Aren’t we at the closest of Hellas’ lagrange points?”

“We are.” Atreus confirmed in Perseus’ place while turning to look at Arthur. “But normally the home fleet will check and verify every spacecraft on approach to Hellas, and clear them for entry to the shield Iris. With our credentials, however, we’ll bypass that need. It is prudent to explain, however, that you may not enjoy such a swift approach each time.”

“Given I’m supposed to be under your careful eye for the foreseeable future, I doubt I’ll have to worry about that any time soon.” Arthur said with good humor.

Atreus grunted in what sounded like amusement, and turned back to observe the silver-armored pair manning the controls.

Arthur counted the interaction as a win.

Perseus and Endymion were largely known elements to Arthur by that point, insofar as how his mind categorized them, and neither of the Kidemónes were particularly surprising any longer when it came to their interactions. He could rely on Endymion to surly, blunt, and grouchy—while also being honest even when he shouldn’t be. In much the same way, he could rely on Perseus to be cheerful, optimistic, and more eloquent in how he explained things—though like Endymion, he would not shirk at being honest even if it was an uncomfortable truth.

While Arthur knew that ‘friends’ might have been too strong a word by then, especially given that all of them were now irrevocably aware of the fact that their initial unification had been in large part thanks to Arthur’s impressive psion density and the supernatural charisma it enforced; they were certainly at least friendly.

Atreus, meanwhile, was a study in enigmatic indifference coupled with leonine intensity. What little Arthur had managed to glean from the trio—mostly Perseus—combined with his pre-existing knowledge of the Vasilikós Kidemónes, from his study prior to arriving in Graecia; informed on a sense of distinct capability difference between the three.

The ‘regular’ Kidemónes like Endymion and Perseus normally operated in teams of six, called ‘Shield Squads’ or ‘Hexarons’, and had a doctrine not unlike a pack of wolves. They used coordination, skill, and borderline religiously drilled cohesion to take down foes of the Ascendancy and defend their areas of responsibility with ruthless capability.

The Myrmidónes, conversely, appeared to be far more lonesome.

If the regular Kidemónes were wolves, the Myrmidónes were lions.

One Myrmidón was considered the equivalent of a full Hexaron of Kidemónes or more, depending on their veterancy and power, and were almost exclusively tasked with the most dangerous and most deep-reaching investigations throughout Ascendancy space. They operated somewhat akin to the Inquisitors of the Grand Imperium, from what little he could recall through the fractured kaleidoscope of his memory; and specialized in the hunting and ‘handling’ of threats considered beyond the capabilities of ‘regular people’.

When asked about the relationship between Paladins and Myrmidónes during their transit to the shuttle, Atreus had simply said that it was an agreement of mutual respect and left it at that. Any further attempts to glean information had been fruitless, and when not given taciturn refusals for elaboration; had been met with outright silence from the towering spartan.

It was a puzzle that Arthur’s dogged mind had only grown more interested in solving.