> I should have been able to tell, then. I should have seen it in how my brothers reacted. I should have noticed the signs, but I was blind. Arrogant. We had been taught we were the apex Predators, second in might only to the vaunted Paladins of Terra themselves. We had been taught to hold pride in our supremacy. What fools we were. We had mistaken a lion for a lamb, and none of us had any idea what it was that we welcomed into our midst.

Twenty minutes later, after a process of introductions and explanation of circumstance which proceeded with surprising levels of cordiality; Arthur was led to an office possessed of only sparse decoration. The room was adorned across the middle with a large circular rug in the spartan crimson of the Ascendancy Royal Navy, while white walls hung with various banners denoting different subdivisions of the Navy framed the interior.

Photos sat upright upon the desk at the far end of the room, and a high-back executive chair took pride of place behind it. One which served as the makeshift throne for an irrefutably beautiful Graecian woman.

She was dressed in the uniform of the Ascendancy Royal Navy, with a crimson overcoat buttoned in gold on the right side of her body, black coloring over her shoulders and upper arms, and two golden stars of rank decorating each of those same dark patches on her uniform. The black material of her high collar, reaching midway up her throat, bore the same two stars in paired formation.

Her black hair was tied back into a professional bun, with streaks of silver rising from her temples toward the tied mass of midnight above. Her eyes were a stormy gray, and even at what Arthur estimated to be middle age—around one hundred or so years old—she had the look of a woman that both genders would walk into inanimate objects admiring.

The amount of duty tabs on her jacket, overshadowed only by the golden Graecian eagle above, was enough of a point of emphasis to warn Arthur into respectful silence.

A single black beauty spot sat on the left side of her face, above her full lips, and when she appraised him he was reminded of nothing so much as a she-wolf observing a potential conquest.

And not in a fun way.

“Have a seat, Kyrio Magellan.” the woman said in a tone that was one half invitation, and one half command.

Arthur took note of the formal use of address and filed it away while he complied with her order and settled into the provided chair opposite her. Endymion and Perseus, having accompanied him in the room, took up deceptively casual positions on either side of the door.

He appreciated the gesture, for all that it was purely that.

“I am Yponávarchos Cassandra Leos. Asfalís’ defense is my responsibility, in addition to the normal requirements of an Ascendancy Flag Officer.” the woman Perseus had called the ‘Lion Duchess’ said in accented English.

Somehow, even her voice managed to sound beautiful. A mix between a purr and caress.

‘Lion Duchess’ indeed.

Cassandra leaned forward when she spoke and braced her elbows on her desk, bridging her fingers together and narrowing her eyes at Arthur above them. “Which brings me to you, Kyrio Magellan. Based on the reports supplied by Kidemónes Chloros and Andino, paired with the travel receipts provided by the Enterprising Fortune; you are what you seem to be—and that is precisely where my interest lies.”

“You’re looking for an Eidolon pilot.” Arthur guessed with a shrewd assessment of the Rear Admiral. “One that isn’t a native.”

“Quite so.” Cassandra confirmed with approval. “You arrive on our proverbial doorstep, fully prepared with the skills and knowledge we need moving into this period of heightened tension within the cluster, and seemingly absent any complicating fealties or associations that would pose an impediment to our ability to hire you.”

“Which is a little too convenient.” Arthur guessed.

“Which is much too convenient.” Cassandra clarified. “There are only three possibilities here, Kyrio Magellan. Either you are exactly whom you say you are, in which case we of the Ascendancy would be thrilled to put you to work—something I intend to see done personally, if such is the case… or you are an agent, sleeper or otherwise, sent by Parthia to infiltrate and sabotage or frustrate our most critical military infrastructure. The final option… Well, I don’t wish to be rude, but…”

“You’re wondering if I’m a fugitive.” Arthur surmised.

“Or a runaway Lord.” Cassandra said with a discerning gaze.

Arthur opened his mouth to respond, and then winced. A small throb had spiked in his head abruptly, and he reached up to massage it.

“Is everything alright?” The Rear Admiral asked carefully.

“Yes. Sorry.” Arthur said politely. “Mild headache. I think it’s just the result of two months of deep sleep.”

“Ah. Not a fan of long travels?”

“Not really, no.” Arthur admitted without embarrassment.

“I can relate. I despise long journeys.”

Arthur took a breath and pushed on. “So what I’m hearing is that you need to, for your own sake, make sure I’m neither a liability nor a foreign asset.”

“That is correct.” Cassandra said.

“Though, that assumes I even want to work for you.” Arthur said mildly. “Which, with all respect to you, I have no idea of yet. My only experience with you has been Endymion’s insistence on coming to see you.”

“Ah.” Cassandra said with a small smile. “He didn’t tell you about my family?”

“No.” Arthur said with a shake of the head, and another mild grimace at the lance of pain through his head that followed. “But the fact that Endymion, who I’ve learned in my short time with him is the most surly Kidemónas alive, wanted me to meet you says you’re someone important—not just to the Ascendancy, but to its people as well.”

“You’ve a mind touched by Athena herself.” Cassandra said wryly.

“It’s a simple deduction.” Arthur disagreed with a mild massaging of his temple.

“Not one for flattery, I take it?”

“No, your grace.” Arthur said with a shake of his head. “Not one for flattery.”

Cassandra grinned openly at his words.

“You really might be what I’m looking for, then.”

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“Assuming I’m not a spy, fugitive, or political refugee.” Arthur observed.

“Assuming so.” Cassandra agreed.

“And you need to be certain.” Arthur said with a sigh of annoyance at his head. “Beyond reasonable doubt.”

“I must.” Cassandra agreed with an intense look before turning to the Kidemónes. “Could one of you please retrieve a glass of water for Kyrio Magellan?”

“Yes, your grace.” Endymion said immediately and stepped out through the door.

“That’s not necessary.” Arthur said with a glance back in surprise at Endymion’s rapid obedience.

“You’re evidently in some small measure of pain. It’s the least I can offer.” Cassandra said simply.

Endymion returned a moment later with a tall glass of water, and set it smoothly into Arthur’s hand. He glanced at the Kidemónas in surprise again, but inclined his head in thanks. A paranoid part of him wanted to check for some sort of chemical in the water, but he doubted that was in Endymion’s character.

And if they really wanted to hurt him, they were wearing power armor.

With those facts in mind, Arthur took a grateful sip of the chilled liquid.

It helped. Somewhat.

“Better?” Cassandra asked with a smile.

Arthur simply nodded and set the glass onto a coaster on the desk.

“Thank you.” he said with his full focus back on the Rear Admiral.

“Do you have any questions regarding what I’ve said so far?” Cassandra asked when he set the glass down.

“No. I’m mostly just interested in getting the ‘potential spy’ part of the equation out of the way. I can’t imagine that is going to be good for my prospects, as far as employment in Graecia goes.”

Cassandra laughed warmly. “No, I can’t say it would. I am glad you understand that. It will make this much faster, and likely far less unpleasant. We have an easy way of qualifying your nature, in fact...”

While she spoke the doors to her office opened when she trailed off, and the sound of heavy footsteps followed their parting.

“To that end,” Cassandra resumed, “I took the liberty, after being informed of your coming here by Kidemónas Chloros, to request the services of someone uniquely suited to resolving this matter quickly.”

Arthur shifted in his chair to look to his right at the same moment as a new figure came into view, and his heartbeat sped up in response to what he saw. The new arrival wore armor of a similar design to Endymion and Perseus, but where theirs was silver and they bore thick cloaks of luxurious cobalt, the figure that entered was bedecked in plates of matte black.

A cloak of spartan crimson covered the warrior’s pauldrons and fell across their back like a river, trailing down upon the floor as they walked. Their right hip bore a Greek Xiphos with a hilt suitable for one or two-handed use, and a blade built to a larger scale than was tradition.

When the Myrmidón—for that was the only thing they could be—came to a halt and turned to face him properly, Arthur felt a small chill roll down his spine at the symbol proudly rising from the center of their chest: the Λ. Lambda.

The symbol for ancient Laconia.

The symbol for Sparta.

“Thank you for joining us, Lord Atreus.”

The Myrmidón reached up and removed his helmet without replying and set it on Cassandra’s desk, revealing the face of a man that looked to be in the prime of his life. A well-kept black beard lined his face, and onyx hair cropped with military precision covered his head. His eyes, which were a bronze that seemed to match well to his olive skin, remained fixed on Arthur even when he at last chose to respond.

His voice was like the rumble of a mountain.

“It is my honor to serve the interests of the Ascendancy, Yponávarchos. That said, I can scarcely believe so much pageantry and commotion has arisen from the arrival of a single young man.”

“You and I both, my lord.” Cassandra said with a twinkle in her eye that Arthur couldn’t quite parse. “Were it not for the insistence of the Kidemónes, I would not have believed the matter as important as it is.”

“That is assuming this Freelancer speaks the truth,” Atreus said coolly, “and does indeed possess the skills he claimed.”

“That—” Cassandra said decisively “—and his intentions and allegiance, if any, are what I am hoping you will be able to discern.”

“Then let us not waste any more time.” Atreus decreed.

Arthur looked from the chiseled features of the tall Myrmidón to Cassandra’s beautiful, and decidedly iron-willed features, and then steeled himself mentally. “May I ask a question?”

Cassandra raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow, and then nodded for him to proceed.

“Once this is done, will there be any lingering side effects? As an Eidolon pilot, my mind is my most important asset.” He looked between them critically. “I’m not educated beyond rumor and supposition on what Lord Atreus intends on doing, but I am concerned about endangering my only marketable skill in the process. The fact I’m here at all is only thanks to my trust in the Kidemónes behind me, and that’s only going to extend so far.”

“You think you can just leave?” Atreus asked with what Arthur thought was genuine interest.

“I think I haven’t done anything that warrants a mental probe without my consent.” Arthur said with a steadier voice than his pounding heart might have permitted normally. “And while I will consent in order to get this suspicion dealt with, I want to know I’m not ruining myself in the process—or risking that happening.”

Atreus raised an eyebrow and let out a low rumble of thought, but said nothing.

Cassandra, meanwhile, gave him a long and unreadable look before nodding.

“The concern is valid. My interest in you would be for naught, as well, if your worries came to pass.” she turned to the tall Myrmidón and smiled. “Perhaps our Myrmidón can shed some light?”

Atreus grunted in response, but spoke after sending a very pointed look at Cassandra and then turning back to Arthur with a narrowing of his eyes. “It is a baseless concern, but forgiven due to your ignorance. The only risk lies in whether or not you attempt to fight my investigation. Should you do that, I cannot speak to the results.”

He shrugged his massive shoulders and then continued.

“If you cooperate? The most you will feel is a mild headache, and even that is unlikely. Your implied certainty in being found truthful does you credit, too. It should mean a lack of resistance, which would—as stated—make the entire process smoother.”

“I see.” Arthur said with a careful look at the Myrmidón’s expression, and a steadying sip of water. He was nervous, of course, but not because of the probe per se. He simply wanted to get it all over and done with. He hadn’t left his home cluster in search of answers just to lose his skills to the admittedly understandable paranoia of a mid-Rim star nation.

“Mm. You’re not scared. That’s a good start.” Atreus said unabashedly. “You also seem to have made a good impression on both my Kidemónes brothers, if their mild anxiety on your behalf is anything to go by.” he glanced at Endymion and Perseus, and then back to Arthur. “I will be extra cautious, Knight-Errant, for the mere fact that you have so easily earned their affection.” Atreus smiled mirthlessly. “It is a rare feat indeed to have such a quick impact.”

“I aim to please.” Arthur said with a flicker of amusement before the smile he managed to summon faded once more. “And I am also ready, Lord Atreus.” he took a breath and sighed. “Or as ready as I’ll ever be for this sort of thing.”

“Very well.” Atreus said with what Arthur almost thought was veiled amusement, before he stepped forward and extended his right hand. “This will be over quickly. For you.”

Arthur’s brow furrowed in momentary wonder at the man’s words, though before he could put a voice to his thoughts, he felt something akin to pressure surrounding his skull. Seeping past the surface. Digging toward his mind. His consciousness.

His instinct, initially, was to fight. In fact he started to do exactly that, until a hand on his shoulder drew his attention back to Atreus’ face, now far closer.

The grip, Arthur thought idly, was quite powerful.

“Let me in.” the Myrmidón instructed in a surprisingly soothing voice. “If you are no foe, Arthur Magellan, then you have nothing to fear. Let me in.”

Arthur hesitated despite the man’s words and his own resolve to do exactly that, fighting against some instinct or deeply rooted part of himself that urged—no, demanded he deny such a pervasive intrusion. It was a primal urge that implored him to fight. To rail against the submission requested of him.

With an act of will, Arthur forced that internal resistance away. He suppressed it. He pushed down his need to defend himself and, in what he could only describe as a deeply unsettling act, he exposed his mind to Atreus.

The Myrmidón’s power entered his mind like an opened sieve.

Arthur’s eyes lost focus. His muscles spasmed.

He felt a strong hand take hold of his head, and then everything faded.

Darkness offered him its embrace, and Arthur fell into it gladly.