> They say words carry with them the weight of worlds, and that dynasties rise and fall from but a whisper. In the hangar before our bout, I saw the truth of that statement. He exposed us both. Drove home the reality of our investment. In his eyes, I saw the same need, the same hunger I saw in myself when looking at my reflection—and yet he so easily found a way to explain it away. To divest us of it. If only his words that day proved to be true. If only they had been enough to prevent what came in the months that followed.
Arthur stepped out of the elevator to the secured subterranean House Leos hangar with an appreciative look at its expansive interior.
Five towering cradles of scaffolding and cutting edge—for the mid-Rim—machinery built for Eidolons anywhere from the smallest fifteen meter models to the tallest twenty-five meter models stood waiting within, each occupied by what he recognized as the standard frame units produced for training and testing purposes.
All save the one in the middle, which instead held what Arthur immediately knew was Circe’s machine.
It stood at perhaps twenty meters high, with a pair of folded wings at its back and a relatively short xiphos on its right hip. Its head was crowned by a metallic band akin to a crown above its dormant, unlit green eyes and the inverted chevron of its featureless mouth so like a warrior’s mask.
A halo of steel was mounted on its back, with its highest point visible above the machine’s head. At first glance, it almost appeared as if it were a disc of light even while dormant. He could only imagine how it would blaze during battle.
What its purpose, though, Arthur could only guess at.
The Eidolon’s main body was a decidedly stark shade of white, with solid pink adornment across its chest, biceps, and thighs. Articulated mechanical joints showed its capacity for mobility, and the faint thickness of internal thrusters marked its feet, arms, shoulders, and wings as points of primary mobility.
A hoplon was mounted upon its left arm, and its surface was marked by a stylized pattern which Arthur recognized from his education as a medusa’s head. The entire machine held a faint femininity of form, and its ‘hips’ even appeared ever-so-slightly widened as if to indicate it was designed to imitate a more female identity.
He remembered Core Eidolons with aesthetic feminine builds—like breasts and similar hips—piloted by the nobility of the Imperium, but he hadn’t expected to see the same aesthetic pursuits as far out as the Rim given the far greater need for function over form.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“The Pallas Athena.” Menelaus said into the silence of Arthur’s observation, drawing his attention and giving him a moment of realization that everybody had been observing his reaction to the Eidolon.
“Your family’s unit?”
“Circe’s.” the Duke confirmed with a nod. “My own, the one which I inherited, was destroyed. The Pallas Athena was built from the remnants of the Ares Martialis.”
“I’m surprised you were able to secure two such meaningful names.”
“The perks of lineage, I suppose.” Menelaus said with a chuckle. “Many families laid claim to Olympian monikers when Eidolons were first brought to the fore of stellar warfare, but my ancestors were shrewd. They secured these two while most were still hotly seeking rights over the more prominent names.”
“You gave up on Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades in favor of equally known but less prestigious monikers.” Arthur observed with his approval evident in his voice.
“Precisely.” Menelaus agreed with a smile. “It is still a sore point for Athenian Houses that we claimed the name of their patron, but they have no legal means by which to challenge it outside of a duel, which they have historically declined to do. Though times being what they are…”
“That might change,” Arthur surmised, “unless you can show strength enough to make your enemies think twice.”
“Exactly so.” Menelaus affirmed with a nod.
“And the other units?”
“Training models taken from the Navy, and rebuilt with the last generation’s technology.” the Duke explained with a gesturing hand. “I doubt they will pass muster for someone from the Fringe, Ser Arthur, but they are as advanced as one can attain outside of a titled machine.”
“Ah.” Arthur said while moving forward to join Menelaus without thinking. “So named Eidolons have special privileges here as well.”
“Yes, that is part of the appeal.” Menelaus said with a companionable smile. “We are permitted to build and upgrade them to as advanced a specification as Graecian technology allows. It is part of the privilege of the Eupatridae families, and one that is hotly pursued by those without such prestige.”
“Which is why inter-house duels are so frequent.” Arthur extrapolated with an understanding nod. “The desire for the named models, or rather, the right to claim them.”
“Yes, and our claim to the Pallas Athena will expire in a year. Before your arrival, I was sure we would end up with no recourse but for my daughter to defend her title herself.”
“Well, that shouldn’t be a problem. Twelve months is a tight schedule, but if your automated fabrication facilities are up to the task, your grace—”
“They are as good as you will find, even compared to military facilities.” Menelaus stated with utter confidence.
“—then I believe I will be able to realize a machine that will quickly dissuade challenge for House Leos.”
“And convince those Parthian dogs to rethink their aggression, I wager.” Stephanos added enthusiastically. “After all, we cannot forget that even with the tensions among the Houses, war looms on the horizon still.”
“Yes.” Menelaus agreed with a nod to his Seneschal. “A fact we all would do well to remember.”
“What is House Leos’ expected contribution to the war, if it were to break out?” Arthur asked while running his eyes over the five filled Eidolon berths.
Training Models and a single Elite model.
The House really was in trouble.