And Behold, I Saw A White Horse And It’s Rider

Soft golden light gently cut the softly perfumed air of the darkroom. Purple drapes hung from the twenty-foot-tall windows, with deep red and plush carpet covering the floor. The walls were lined with figurehead statues, monuments, portraits, and thousands of artifacts from many ancient and long-dead civilizations.

Women in purple shawls with gold edges were hovering about the room, burning incense, or chanting as they circled, heads bowed in prayer. Standing on a gold pedestal in the center of the room was Princess Zyhara, gazing into a large mirror. Rachel stood beside her.

The Princess had halted her exterior aging. The poor little girl who had lost everything, replaced by a young and beautiful woman nearly twenty years old. The innocent spark of youth was gone from her face, her piercing grey eyes studying herself.

Her dark, long hair was neatly tied in a bun behind her head, interwoven with gold lace. Her dark skin was complemented by thin gold eyeliner and several dots of gold highlighting her pronounced cheekbones and chin. The Princess’s arms were decorated by gold leaves that seemed like tattoos, deeply ingrained into the perfect midnight sky-colored skin, except they glowed and shimmered as she moved her body.

Her chest, waist, and legs were covered by shimmering gold armor, as advanced as Mistress Zion’s. Her exposed arms where decorated with thin gold chains and bracelets. She had no weapons on her person, but her body glowed with a distinct, purple aura.

Rachel studied her with amazement, her eyes wide, a deep sense of pride in her mind.

“I’m gonna have to stop calling you kiddo,” Rachel mused.

Zyhara smirked, pressing her thumbs together.

“I would prefer if you kept calling me that. The only sense of normalcy I have left, it would seem.”

“You doing great; we’re gonna be behind you every step of the way.”

Zyhara was silent, her eyes glistening, her lips pierced.

“I don’t feel like how I look.”

“We’ve all had to grow up overnight; you just happened to do it a bit literally.”

Zyhara scoffed. She looked at Rachel.

“Do you know why I chose to appear as a human?”

“Our knack for substance abuse and innate proclivity for violence?”

“I chose the human form because you people just accept things.”

Rachel raised an eyebrow.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Rachel chuckled.

Zyhara shook her head.

“I’m no philosopher.”

“Try me.”

“You stand before a being older than your past civilization, whose outer appearance matches her maturity, and you accept it. You see the pain and misery inflicted by an enemy that is so ridiculous to your preconceptions, unmeasurably malevolent, and you accept it. One can present the direst of circumstances to humans, you all just accept it and drive on.”

“Where are you going with this?”

“All my life, I was taught humans, really all non-ascended organic life, was beneath us. It was our duty to control and guide animals like you all. And yet, you are the first to stand by my side when my own kind betray me?”

Rachel sighed.

“That’s what we do. It’s our nature to be stubborn and claw against fate.”

“Unlike my kind, who would rather flee to the secure confines of our crafted worlds. My people rarely fight battles; we let lesser beings do that for us. We control and manipulate from the shadows,” Zyhara spat, looking at the floor.

Rachel drew closer to the Princess.

“So be better. Be the queen Zion needs. You are about to lead an army back home; you can shape your people’s future with courage and strength. I don’t care that you’re some old, crazy powerful alien. You are Zyhara! You’re the kindest, feistiest, smartest kid I know. I am honored to follow you back home.”

Zyhara grinned and stepped down from her pedestal. She gently grasped Rachels's hands as the Princess looked at her.

“A queen needs a champion, you know?”

Rachel chuckled.

“Lion or Nameless would be perfect. Both are great warriors and experienced in leading armies.”

“They will have their own places, but I had someone else in mind as my champion.”

Rachel’s eyes widened. The Princess wasn’t suggesting what Rachel thought she was.

“What are you saying?”

“Staff Sergeant Rachel Olivia Wilson, will you be my champion? The very first human champion of Zion?”

Rachel stammered, her eyes wide. She slowly nodded. Zyhara giggled, dancing a bit. She turned her head towards the closed door.

“Guys! She said yes!”

Before Rachel could let out a single word, the door flew open. General Lion charged in with a massive grin, covered in his ornate armor. Anna, the mistress of Zion, followed closely behind, her silver armor glistening in the light. Thaddeus, Cirilla, and Sapphire bounced into the rooms, their silver hair glowing and their faces shimmering with joy. Behind them, Nameless silently drifted into the room, a crooked smirk on his sharp face.

“You fuckers!” Rachel spat.

“All hail the champion of Zion!” Lion roared, crushing Rachel in a bear hug.

“I am pleased to see you have found such a worthy replacement, your majesty,” Anna smiled.

“You shall remain Mistress of the Light Bearers, Anna,” Zyhara said warmly.

Mistress Anna deeply bowed.

“I am honored, your highness.”

“We proudly offer our services as your humble servants, your majesty,” Thaddeus bowed.

Nameless smiled, crossing his arms as Rachel was released from Lion’s embrace.

Rachel studied him; she still didn’t like him. But Seraph’s words clung to the back of Rachel’s mind. She grimaced, studying the new silver armor adorning the bounty hunter, with unique slots for magazines, his rifle slung over his back.

“I see the mighty Aryus managed to not get thrown into prison for his little stunt.”

Nameless chuckled.

“Yeah, technically, we’re the highest-ranking people on Armenium, so not much they can do.”

“Fuck Barsool; the guy isn’t even joining us on the warpath,” Lion spat.

“But he has graciously offered his legions to help us reclaim Zion,” Anna cocked her head.

They all looked at Zyhara, who was warmly looking at them all.

“What is it, Kiddo?”

“Just glad to be with friends before we do this,” Zyhara sighed.

“Just wish my people were here to help; I promise you I will fix them when this is over, your majesty,” Lion said grimly.

Zyhara chuckled.

“I have met many Laydren in my day, and from my experience, you are worth an army of your kind. Thank you for being here, General; I won’t forget this,” Zyhara smiled.

Lion blushed, bowing. Rachel scoffed.

“So, you damn near choke out the second most powerful man in the galaxy, and they just give you a sweet ass suit of armor?” Rachel spat.

Nameless grinned.

“They have yours downstairs.”

Rachel’s eyes widened.

“They what?”

“Did you really think we would arm all of the vagabonds and exclude you?” Mistress Anna grinned.

“The thought might have crossed my mind,” Rachel stammered.

Zyhara giggled and grabbed Rachel’s arm.

“I hope you like it; I commissioned your champion armor last night; the smiths just finished it. The wonders these people can achieve. C’mon!”

The Princess dragged Rachel through the room, the rest following. They emerged into the long hall and descended the long, brightly lit circular stairs. As they fell deeper and deeper into the building, Rachel grew dizzy. She was silent as the others chattered and quipped. Finally, they emerged out unto a massive open bay. Rachel’s eyes widened.

Standing before her was the entirety of the Knights of Talabor. Their shining armor, purple banners with a raven, and swords were drawn. They were all mounted on their Artue, each majestic stead massive and hulking, casting deep shadows unto the metal ground. In front of the formation Stood King Alexander grinning proudly.

Besides the King was a majestic shining black and silver suit of advanced Armenium Armor resting on a stand. Rachel speechlessly walked forward, gazing at the intricate and complex armor. As she got closer, she could see the metal was skinny and malleable, the material shimmering in the light from the overhead lights. Chain male-like links of thin rings protected the armpits and joints. A raven was delicately engrained into the front of the chest. The metal glowed and buzzed with an electric current as if it had a mind of its own.

Rachel gently ran her hand down the smooth surface of the armor, her mouth slightly open. The little girl inside her was shrieking and dancing, her very own suit of armor! She didn’t know what to say.

“This is really mine?”

Zyhara walked up beside her.

“This is my thanks for saving my life and mentoring me,” Zyhara said gently.

“I don’t deserve this,” Rachel stammered.

“You have been a bastion of valor and virtue this entire adventure, my lady, do not utter such lies now,” King Alexander chuckled warmly.

Lion and Nameless softly approached, each smiling as they studied the armor.

Rachel looked at them all.

“Thank you,” She muttered.

Zyhara smirked, sharing a look with the King.

“There is one more thing,” Alexander said.

“What? No, c’mon! This is too much already, guys!” Rachel stammered.

Hoofbeats caught her attention. Rachel slowly turned and saw the ranks of the knight’s part like the sea. A young squire was leading a great, pale white Artue. The squire stopped a few paces before Rachel. As the squire led the stead out across the formation, Rachel saw the Artue adorned in the same material as her armor.

King Alexander and Professor Thaddeus stood beside Rachel.

“We are raised from birth to ride these magnificent animals, but I strongly feel this one will like you. She is called Theris, one of the last great war mounts sired by the warrior goddess’s Artue herself, Afyotlen. When a Knight of Talabor falls in battle, they are carried to the halls of the gods by warrior maidens riding these pale white Artue,” King Alexander said kindly.

Professor Thaddeus cleared his throat.

“And I saw and behold a white horse: and he that sat on him had a bow, and a crown was given unto him: and he went forth conquering, and to conquer. Revelation 6:2-8, King James Version.”

The Professor slowly turned his head, looking Rachel in the eye.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“And her name was death.”

Rachel’s heart dropped. Did he know? It was probably the worst kept secret at this point; people noticed Rachel returning far more powerful than she had before. But Rachel had told no one about the cave or the daughters of Death. Only Arcturios knew.

Princess Zyhara slowly came forward, holding a silver laurel.

“Each champion of Zion has their own unique and specific headset, signifying their role. I can’t just hand out crowns like your mythological Death, but I thought perhaps a laurel may suffice.”

Rachel held the laurel in her hands; it was surprisingly light. The laurel seemed to synchronize with her energy as the bright metal buzzed and arced from her fingertips. She didn’t know what to say; all of this was too much. She had never wanted Death’s mantle or the responsibility of leadership.

At that moment, Rachel slowly resolved herself. She was going to remain true to herself while using this newfound power and gifts to protect the Princess and the citizens of Talabor.

“What are you waiting for? Put it on,” Cirilla teased.

Rachel gulped. She slowly raised the silver laurel and placed it on her head. Nothing happened. She let go a sigh of great relief. Suddenly, sparks flew, her visions blurring. Rachel yelped, clutching her head. Her body glowed white, the air dancing with electricity and light. All drew back as Rachel began to hover a foot off the ground in the air. A popping sound grabbed Rachel’s attention, and she looked over and saw the armor was shaking on its own.

The armor flew off the stand, flying through the air, and clung to Rachel’s body within the blink of an eye. She spun in midair as the suit of armor took hold. She looked down in awe as her body was fully entombed in the light metal. Slowly, the radiant energy faded, and she landed on her feet again.

Rachel studied herself, the armor giving the odd sensation of a second skin. She threw a few punches and kicks, then hopped up and down. The armor didn’t hinder her movement at all; if anything, it felt like she had just drank several pots of coffee and was ready to run a Marathon in the silver armament. She grinned.

“Do you like it?” Zyhara smiled.

Rachel came forward and hugged the Princess in a tight embrace.

“It’s perfect,” Rachel choked, tears in her eye.

“Ah, but what is a champion without her mount?” Alexander boomed.

Rachel slowly turned, hesitation in her heart. She studied the pale Artue. The six-legged creature looked very similar to a horse from the Earth, except its skin was reptilian and glistened like a fish’s scales. The creature’s main and tail was long and coarse, not so much hair but very similar. Its bright blue, slitted eyes challenging hers, piercing Rachel’s soul. Unlike her brethren, Theris was not skittish or fidgeted. The great Artue stood proudly, almost as if it was challenging the human in bright silver and black armor.

As Rachel slowly crept towards the stead, Theris stomped a hoof, the impact shaking the ground a bit. Rachel fought the urge to jump, instead extending a hand toward the great creature. Ever so carefully, she came to the Artue, placing a gloved hand on Theris’s snout.

The Artue was taller than Rachel, the saddle sitting at almost eye level for her. Theris shuttered as the creature sensed the human. Rachel had ridden a few horses back on Earth, but this creature was far more impressive and extensive than them. Slowly, Theris closed her eyes and leaned her great head forward. Rachel fought the urge to recoil as the beast’s head contacted her forehead. Energy zapped between them, and as Rachel closed her eyes, she could sense the great Artue’s being.

It was like reading a human’s facial expression, but she sensed the creature's pride and determination through Rachel's newfound power. She rubbed her thumb along the jaw of Theris as she read the beast. Rachel opened her eyes and walked around the stead. She grabbed the saddle bars, placed a booted foot in the stirrup, and hoisted herself upward. She nearly fell off the other side of the saddle and squeezed her legs together, gripping the saddle with bare white knuckles.

Theris protested, snorting loudly. Rachel could feel Artue’s muscles coursing through the saddle as she patted the stead.

“Easy girl,” Rachel softly whispered.

This was the most incredible moment of Rachel’s life. She was covered in perfect armor, mounted on a giant alien horse thing, in front of hundreds of knights who bore her call sign, and Zyhara was smiling the most Rachel had ever seen.

“Thank you all so fucking much,” Rachel choked.

Alexander giddily bowed, his brow nearly touching his thick hairline as he grinned. The Zion family gathered together, all studying her with glee; the vagabonds had come over and looked in amazement. As she studied them all, Rachel locked eyes with Nameless. He was smirking and gave a head nod.

“Damn shame I have to leave her here,” Rachel sighed as she climbed off Theris.

“What do you mean?” Thaddeus arched an eyebrow.

“You guys seriously don’t want me charging into Zion on an Artue?”

“We are,” King Alexander shrugged.

Rachel’s stomach dropped.

“No. You guys nearly got wiped out last time; I won’t let you,” Rachel stammered.

“The Knights of Talabor swore to aid the great Princess, and we are in your debt. We would follow you to the very gates of the underworld itself,” Alexander said firmly.

“These men did draw a substantial toll upon the Dark Axium on Talabor Rachel, not to mention it would be rude to turn down such a chivalrous helping hand,” Thaddeus nodded warmly.

“But, what happened on Talabor,” Rachel sighed.

“My men met worthy ends, one and all, swords in hand, and lance embedded into the chests of the dark cloaks. Do not deny us another chance to return the favor for our home world, my lady,” Alexander said.

“Surely you would understand such an initiative,” Thadeus said.

Rachel narrowed her eyes, pointing a finger.

“That’s low, even for you.”

“They will follow you, and you will protect me. Frankly, I feel much safer knowing these men are behind us when we enter Zion,” Zyhara smiled.

Rachel bit her lip.

“Fine, but no heroics Alex! You guys need to make it, so we can rebuild Talabor.”

Lion clapped his hands, whooping.

“This is so fucking badass! The Princess of Zion, returning at the head of human knights and legionaries. God damn, I hope the galaxy is watching; this battle will be so fucking awesome!” He cheered.

The vagabonds cheered as Zyhara and Rachel shared a look. Both grinned, Rachel full of optimism for the first time in a very long while. As the hubbub of clamoring voices and cheering rose, Rachel looked to the open-door bay. An Armenium soldier was sprinting towards them. As the runner drew closer, alarms started sounding from the bay ceiling. Each person drew silent; their grave faces might as well have been carved of stone as the runner came into the ranks. The heaving man whispered into Mistress Anna’s ear, and her face twisted with a grimace.

“An unannounced ship is attempting to enter our orbit. It registers as a stolen human merchant ship with no markings or identifying signatures. They refuse to answer our hails, repeating only one name.”

“Who’s name?” Nameless barked.

Mistress Anna looked at them all.

“General Lion.”

The room looked at the General; his hand was pressed against his chin as he squinted at the floor. His eyes widened, and he looked up.

“Let them land. I’ll greet them personally,” Lion said grimly.

“We got your back, man,” Nameless nodded.

“Damn right we do,” Rachel said.

“Everyone to the square; we will have these surprise visitors land there,” Anna called.

The room dispersed, the vagabonds all racing up the stairs. As Rachel ran, the armor seemed to invigorate her. She wanted to go faster; her skin felt like soft blankets had been pressed over it as she ran at full speed. The Vagabonds came up the stairs, going down the hallway, then another hallway, entering the great feasting hall. They clamored out the front, going down the stairs they had come up when they first arrived at Armenium. As they all gathered in the giant square, the ship descended into sight.

Rachel shielded her eyes from the sun let in between the gaps in the skyscrapers, squinting at the box-shaped vessel. The craft lumbered down to the ground; the engines blasted air like a hurricane. With a shutter, the cargo ship landed, the ship cracking the concrete from the crude and unadjusted landing gear. Whoever was flying that thing was not used to it.

The hydraulic locks to the ship’s cargo ramp hissed and released, the massive bay door falling like an unhinged door, slamming into the ground. The ground shook, the vibrations reverbing through the entire square. General Lion drew his sword, entering his combat stance. As the vagabonds all drew their weapons, Rachel igniting her bow, she could see faint movement in the dark mouth of the ship.

A war horn blew from inside the ship, and each person braised. Suddenly, a single creature emerged from the open cargo door, a sword in each hand, and charged down the ramp. As the being drew closer, Rachel ignited her energy slightly, her eyes glowing grey, her vision zooming in on the strange being.

It was a dwarf covered in a fur suit. No, it was a small, very small Laydren. No, there was something misshapen about this twisted creature. It had the skin of some kind of exotic animal wrapped around it’s muscled torso. It’s eyes where slitted, it’s brutish and rough skin like leather as it seemed more reptilian than mammal.

General Lion sighed. As the four-foot-tall creature charged forward, spit flying from its maw, its eyes wide and deranged, Rachel noticed it wasn’t a headdress but a massive afro-like main that stood a foot out in all directions from the being’s head. Its reptilian skin was bright blue, yellow, and some brown.

“What the hell is that thing?” Nameless chortled.

“Don’t let its size fool you; that’s a Spree. They are the embodiment of the word menace,” Lion groaned.

“What’s a Spree?” Mai asked.

“The bane of my people’s sanity. Do you guys know old Earth mythology? My people are elves; these fuckers are the goblins and gremlins.”

“Oh, joy, more aliens,” Julia scoffed.

“Fuck you,” Lion seethed.

As the Spree came close to the formation, the Armeniums and Vagabonds were ready and aimed at the creature. It halted, spat on the ground, stomped a few times, and then pointed both swords at General Lion.

“Zawa zawa! Icht aine nip zeeming ought noglen!!!” The Spree jeered in a surprisingly deep and base-filled voice.

“I think my translator is broken,” Aj murmured.

“Anyone else just hear straight gibberish?” Sammy asked.

“Yeah, I ain’t got a clue what it said,” Nameless sighed.

“Spree has no singular linguistic parallels; it changes far too frequently for other races to translate or transcribe effectively,” Cirilla sighed.

“Basically, the fuckers just make up words, and their body language and pheromones talk for them,” Lion growled.

“Zoot zoot! Zig ex mech anium moog bag bagoogen!!” The Spree roared.

“Yes, I am the fucking prince! What the fuck do you want, Spree?!” Lion shouted.

The Spree straightened his body, a physically impossible smile literally stretching from ear to ear as it grinned. A chill went down Rachel’s spine as she saw the crooked, shark-like teeth embedded in the Spree’s mouth. Laydren looked like humans with grey skin; this was an abomination if she had ever seen one.

The Spree pivoted on his heels and blew his war horn. Inside the ship, cheering and roaring rung out. The growing sound of hundreds of feet pounding metal rung out as movement grew inside the dark cargo ship. Each vagabond shuttered and braced themselves as a tidal wave of hundreds of Spree poured out of the ship.

The Spree turned again as the horde charged out towards them, grinning at General Lion.

“We want fight, fight!” the Spree whistled through his teeth.

“Imma level with you hombres; I’d rather be fighting the Dark Axium than these fuckers,” Lion growled.

The horde clamored before them, halting a few paces from the first Spree. Each of them was different than the other in terms of appearance. The Spree where no taller than four feet, but all were different colors, wielded different weapons, and were adorned in various trophies cut off hopefully dead enemies. Their sound was deafening as each jeered and giggled, chattering and grinding blade edge on the blade edge, stomping the ground.

Behind the horde, Rachel saw a dozen human-sized beings descend down the ramp. As they walked forward, the horde parted, letting them through. As the new beings came closer, Rachel could not make out who or what they were, their bodies concealed in dark black cloaks, bright gold talismans hanging from their necks.

“Prepare to fire!” Anna roared.

“Hold your fire! That’s not the Dark Axium,” Lion called, sheathing his sword.

“Who are those guys?” Rachel asked.

“Either we just one hell of an upgrade to our army, or we’re about to have a huge fucking shitshow on our hands in a few seconds,” Lion snarled.

The dark-cloaked individuals slowly came before the vagabonds.

“Hello, old friend,” A woman’s voice sounded from the lead hooded person.

“I know that voice,” Lion murmured.

The woman took off her hood. Her pure black hair, cut in pixie hair, framing a pale white face, stark black makeup, and bright blue glowing slitted eyes glaring from her face. Her Asian features where perfect, easily one of the most beautiful yet intimidating women Rachel had laid eyes upon.

“I would certainly hope so, cousin,” The woman jeered.

“Sterin?!” Lion cackled.

“Who the hell else would it be?” The woman cackled.

The two sprang forward and embraced in a tight hug. Lion bounced around, his arm wrapped around the woman, a broad grin on his face.

“Everyone, this is my cousin Sterin! The craziest bitch the Laydren has ever produced!”

Behind them, the rest of the hooded individuals lowered their hoods, all Laydren in human form. Rachel noticed the two lead men were identical, both with very similar facial features to Sterin. Was Sterin and these men Triplets?

“Aine, Miken! By the Great Truth, it’s good to see you bastards, again!” Lion roared, running over, and embracing the twins. The other Laydren looked tough, their human forms scared, their faces gaunt and shallow.

Sterin gathered herself and faced the Vagabonds as Zyhara, and Thaddeus cautiously came forward.

“Sterin? As in Captain Sterin? The infamous pirate captain wanted by every known space fairing civilization?” Thaddeus asked grimly.

“Space pirates,” Aj murmured, his eyes wide.

Sterin and her triplet brothers nodded, each with a grin on their faces.

“Last time I was in the presence of Zion henchmen, there were sixty-four death warrants to my name. Though it is now one hundred and thirteen, I assure you that it is all simply a misunderstanding,” Sterin smiled, holding her gloved hands up.

“You have been a grave threat to the peace of the cosmos for hundreds of years!” Thaddeus gasped.

“Oh, thank the Great Truth I’ve been missed; I was worried you all would forget us when I went on a prolonged holiday,” Sterin mused.

“My father’s captains spent my entire life hunting people like you across the stars,” Zyhara murmured.

Sterin pursed his lips, her eyes narrowing.

“And now this snake has crawled before us, hoping to earn a royal pardon in exchange for spilling Dark Axium blood,” Cirilla spat.

Sterin let off a deep, belly-filled laugh.

“Royal pardon? Sweetie, I didn’t come here to lick the man’s boot. I came here because my boys need a good fight, and you all need security in space,” Sterin cackled.

“We have a navy,” Anna growled.

“Your silver-plated tubs are barely a navy gorgeous. Besides, Armenium warships need pay, fuel, and maintenance. Now privateers, we don’t need any of that; we source that ourselves. We keep the plunder; you get hassle-free, secure trade routes and star ways.”

“Don’t let this monster fool you, your majesty! She has committed numerous war crimes; she held planets for ransom! She is the very kind of fiend Zion was formed against!” Thaddeus pleaded.

“Watch it, old man, I’ve never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve hurting. I may be morally ambiguous, but I’m better than those terrorist fucks crashing your pad,” Sterin growled.

“Remind me, what’s the difference between you and a terrorist?” Cirilla snarled.

“Ask my cousin.”

All looked at Lion, and he sighed.

“Guess I never told you guys why I was volunteered to be a monk. When I was prince, I was given an army and tasked with hunting her down. She had killed some planet governor, an important big guy in our court. Well, we catch up, and I find out why. The asshole was running a sex trafficking ring and had kidnapped Sterin’s niece. So Sterin skinned him alive, then put his head on the bow of her flagship.

“I tried arguing with my father that it was justified and all that. Well, your heir to the throne sparing a pirate and refusing orders; that isn’t a great look. So, I was strongly encouraged to become a monk, and she got dragged by every government in the stars. Now here we are.

“She’s terrible, yeah. I’ve seen her do some pretty heinous shit, but she has always done it to bad people. She’s the best friend and worst enemy you can have.”

“And now I’m here, with my fleet and a merry band of fuckwits, to help you return the favor to the assholes who stole your home. My people told you to go fuck yourself, but we’re here. You need some bloodthirsty bastards and fast ships to cut down the Axium. Take it or leave it, Princess, I don’t beg.”

Zyhara was silent; she looked at Rachel. Rachel didn’t know what to say; on the one hand, she loved the confidence and attitude of these people; on the other hand, being assisted by pirates to form a new kingdom for and by the people may not be such a great start.

“Wasn’t it Anna who said there’s no moral high ground in cosmic war?” Nameless asked.

“My boy, this is hardly the same!” Thaddeus grunted.

“Is it? We’re Martian Mercenaries, literal terrorists raised and armed by exterior forces to overthrow our government. You can’t tell me King Alexander hasn’t put some heads on pikes. Rachel has definitely done some pretty bad things to worse people. And let’s not forget Armenium, Zion’s bloody be-good club,” Nameless shrugged.

“He has a point. What we’re about to go do won’t be pretty. The line between good and bad will be severely blurred in the coming days,” Sapphire shrugged.

“Sapphire,” Cirilla gasped.

Zyhara nodded. She looked Captain Sterin in the eye.

“The Kingdom of Zion accepts your offer, so long as you honor the rules of war and upkeep our laws.”

“Law-abiding pirates? You’re joking, right?” Cirilla groaned.

Sterin smiled, spat on her palm, and extended her hand.

“I sincerely promise we will dish out fitting treatment to the deserving people and keep you rich silver-plated darlings nice and safe in your little bubbles,” Sterin grinned.

“That’s the closest you’re gonna get to an “I’ll be good” from her,” Lion chuckled.

Zyhara grimaced but shook the Pirate Captain’s hand, the spit smooshing. Sterin grinned, raising her arms.

“We brought tokens of goodwill, by the way; roll 'em out, boys!”

The Spree horde cheered and ran up and into the ship. A few moments later, large wooden barrels of alcohol were being rolled down the cargo ramp. Besides the long beer line, large metal cages on wheels were being pushed down the ramp, inside were badly beaten prisoners in Dark Axium uniforms.

“Dear lord,” Thaddeus gasped, his eyes wide.

“This is the beginning of a wonderful friendship, your majesty,” Sterin cackled.