> Seeing him as I did, witnessing what he did, and what effect he had… not just on me, but on my very perspective on reality… Gods help me, what could I have done? Even in that moment I knew I was lost. This being, this mystery, this harbinger of doom—he had coiled us all around his orbit as surely as a Sun demanding the adherence of enslaved planets. He was gravity made manifest, and when he cast his gaze upon us, we were already lost. Had I known then what I know now, I might have run screaming instead of drowning in the depths of his gaze. What a fool I was. What a fool I still am.

“You said something about a first trigger, Inquisitor.” Arthur Zacaris said while staring out from his towering balcony, across the expansive vista of his land toward the near-distant floating spires of Camelot. Albion’s Capital was a beautiful blend of technology mixed with nature, and the main palace sat upon a levitated landmass with immense bridges connecting it to the far more expansive, out-spread megacity surrounding the floating central fortress-citadel.

“When you meet someone that resonates with you, it will happen.”

“What does that mean, exactly?” Arthur asked while turning to rest his back against the colonnaded balustrade of the balcony.

Nataliya looked at him from where she sat at the luxurious tea-table at the center of the balcony, her cup of Albionian Dry Leaf Tea in her hand. “Resonance is the connection between—”

“I know what resonance is, Inquisitor.” Arthur said impatiently. “I am not a fool. I am asking you, specifically, what you mean by that. I’ve resonated with several people in my life, and it has never been a cause for much interest.” He continued disdainfully. “It simply means our consciousnesses are compatible. It’s quite good for finding women to take to bed from among Eidolon pilots eager for some recognition, but I see little value beyond it.”

“You are a man hardened by pain and molded by suffering, my lord. Your value in the concept of companions outside of the physical pleasures associated with the word was eroded many, many years ago.” Nataliya’s voice was calm when she spoke, but a subtle chill raced down Arthur’s spine at the intensity of her blue eyes. “I am speaking not of what you think of resonance as, but what it should be seen as.”

“And what is that?” Arthur asked again, albeit with perhaps a touch more respect.

Not because he was afraid, of course.

Never that.

“It is the understanding of a potential ally. It is the recognition of someone that can stand by you, and aid you. It is the compounding realization that you are not alone, and that those you can trust to be at your side have made themselves known.”

Arthur’s expression twisted at that, and he narrowed his eyes.

“Trusting people to that extent only allows them a chance to betray you. The contravening stories are all hyperbole and naive optimism. If I had trusted any of the people that I resonated with outside of the women I’ve fucked, Inquisitor, I’d be dead with a knife in the back a dozen times over.”

“That is the sad reality of Pendragon, yes.” Nataliya said with an acceding nod. “But it is not the true reality of everything everywhere.”

“Elsewhere is not my concern, Inquisitor.”

“It will be when we move forward, my lord, and when it is you must remember this conversation. Resonance is not always to be feared. It is not always to be seen as a vulnerability. It is the key to finding allies that will be critical to your future.”

“So anyone without this resonance is not to be trusted?”

“Now you are leaping to the opposite extreme.” Nataliya said with a quiet sigh that set Arthur’s irritation spiking. She was looking at him like he was a pitiable child, and it rankled. “Not all people who resonate will be trustworthy, and not all people who are trustworthy will resonate. It is a potential bond, my lord, not one of predetermination. To your point, Pendragon has proven this true with remarkable cruelty.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes at that and drew in a steadying breath. “Perhaps, Inquisitor.” He said while wrestling down his temper. “That does not change the fact that resonance is just as much a key to finding your greatest adversary.”

“But also a key to finding your greatest allies.”

“And how am I to tell?”

“Simply be open to the idea.” Nataliya said with a smile. “The rest will fall into place.”

“And what of my other task? The one you said I must undertake with more immediacy?”

“The package?”

“Yes. You have spoken much of how I must find comrades, build a home, establish a belonging, curate an… an investment in this backwater technologically deprived armpit of a nation, and yet somehow you have studiously avoided what you seemed to think was one of the most imperative parts of this little adventure.”

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“I cannot tell you what it is, my lord, only its importance.”

“Then how am I to—?”

Arthur fell silent when Nataliya drew forth a simple black omni-comp, not unlike the black wristband already wrapped around his left forearm, and held it up.

“This is your charge.”

“An omni-comp?” He asked skeptically.

“A key, my lord.”

“A key to what?”

“The future.” Nataliya said with a fervent certainty.

“My future?” Arthur asked while moving forward to take the device carefully.

“Not just yours, my lord.” Nataliya said as he did. “Humanity’s as a whole.”

Arthur awoke to the sound of birds and the warm glow of sunlight on his features. A couple of slow blinks helped draw him further out of the vivid dream he’d been immersed in, and his gaze settled on the canopy of silk above him suspended by four imitation greek pillars attached to what his immediate mind told him was a very luxurious four-poster super-king sized bed.

His arms shifted at his sides and he immediately realized two things.

First, he was lying on and under what felt like pure silk or velvet.

Second, he was utterly and completely naked.

A moment of panic gripped him and he reached down to feel for the omni-comp at his wrist, and only relaxed when his fingers made contact with it.

“Nataliya Verchenko.” He muttered to himself in remembrance of the woman in his mind, and the meeting that until then had been utterly absent from his memory. His arms came up beside him and he pushed himself upright on the bed, and pressed his back against the ornate headboard—made of some fine and likely expensive varnished wood—with a frown.

Why had he remembered the conversation now? Had he resonated with someone?

Arthur’s left hand rose and he examined the inconspicuous black device banded around his wrist thoughtfully, his attention focused on it with a look of frustrated lack of comprehension. What was it about the device that was so special? For all that the conversation with the Inquisitor had come back to him, he felt—and knew thanks to the snippets of memory—that he was still missing potentially massive chunks of detail.

“Layers…” He murmured while rubbing his right hand over the metal band in contemplation. “The memories will come back like pieces of a scattered puzzle. Great.”

Speaking out loud might have seemed odd to others, but Arthur had always found it a fine means of contemplation in the past. Something about the act of vocalizing his inner thoughts allowed him to better comprehend and parse them, and in doing so to process whatsoever was going through his mind as a result.

At that moment, it was mostly the question of why.

Why had Nataliya Verchenko chosen him?

Who was it that had triggered his latest recollection?

Why had it been Graecia he was sent to?

And most importantly; why was he naked in a luxurious bed?

The final question was the one that finally spurred Arthur into decisive action. His legs swung right and he pulled himself from under the covers to the rightmost edge of the bed, braced against the heavenly soft mattress and pushed himself to his feet while sweeping his eyes across the room.

The interior of the bedroom was a perfect complement to the bed itself, of course; with a spacious interior that must have been nearly fifteen meters long and ten wide. A fireplace and a pair of luxurious reclining chairs sat at the far end of the room from the bed, along with what appeared to be a small drinking table between them and before the fireplace.

The design of the entire room fit a Greek aesthetic, with marble and stone painstakingly carved across the breadth, width, and height of the interior. Behind him on either side of the bed were inlaid two large, partially opaque floor-to-ceiling windows which he recognized as having smart-glass which could be set to either a complete blackout or to total transparency.

Useful on a planet with a 48 standard hour day and night cycle.

The cold marble under Arthur’s foot was a soothing comfort while he padded away from the bed and toward the distant, welcoming archway to what he gleaned to be a private and rather well-made bathroom.

A steady stride took him across the length of the room, and over the smooth and comfortable pelt of some great cat that looked remarkably like a Lion mixed with an Elk, and then he stepped through the archway into the bathroom to see to his ablutions and the call of nature.

Thirty minutes and a pleasantly scalding shower later, Arthur took a moment to examine his features in the expansive smart-mirror above the classical-style basin, complete with taps and bronze faucet.

Rich blond hair cut in wavy strands fell down to frame the face that looked back at him, with the edges of each golden strand of hair curling upwards slightly at the bottoms. His jaw was strong and squared, with high cheekbones and a pair of bright azure eyes that he’d been told were mischievous, charming, discerning, or ruthless depending on who he’d been speaking to.

A light shadow of growth adorned his symmetrical features in a perfect distribution across his jaw’s surface area, all of which he knew was the result of generations of painstaking genetic tailoring and selective breeding on his homeworld.

His shoulders were broad and defined, and his frame—at just shy of six and a half feet—was well-chiseled and naturally combined natural athleticism with a genetically bulky musculature that he knew was neither coincidental nor difficult to maintain.

Arthur’s natural metabolism and physiology made maintaining his physique barely an effort.

His hand reached up to feel the smooth stubble shadowing his jaw and he clicked his tongue in annoyance at its presence. “I need a shave or I’ll end up looking like a drop trooper at this rate.”

A quick glance around the vanity guided him to a waiting drawer, and Arthur grinned in victory at finding a las-shaver.

Two minutes and a few passes of targeted lasers later, and Arthur was able to run his hands over smoothly shaven flesh once more.

He was only thirty-five, after all. He’d save the beard to celebrate his first century.

It seemed better suited for a ‘middle aged’ thing, anyway.

“Right. Welcome back, Arthur.” he said to his reflection. “Time to find some clothes.”

Arthur wrapped his towel around his waist out of habit, and a pivot on his heel took him out of the spacious bathroom once more. Arthur set his sights on the large closet he’d walked past upon stepping down from the bed.

If there were clothes to be found, they’d be in there.

It was a perfect plan, right up until he stepped out of the bathroom and very nearly lost his head.