Inside a suite at the far end of the royal palace, six men were plotting the murder of a queen and the invasion of a world. Lazarus Lendrick and Wervil Darwin were the only flesh and blood members of the cadre, standing in front of the remaining four figures, their features outlined in a dull white as they flickered in and out of existence. The quartet mirrored each other as they positioned themselves across from the two diplomats. In the middle, two men sat in similar ornate chairs, the other two, subservient to the ones in the middle, took their places behind them, each standing behind the outer shoulder of their chosen leader.
“You’re late, Lendrick.” The man on center left spoke first, his voice a deep thundering growl. It was easy to tell he came from money and prestige. He was a large man, broad shouldered and fit. He was also massive, as evidenced by the way the throne underneath him looked almost toy-like as it held his weight. His skin was dark, and the parts of it that showed underneath an ornate flowing robe were wrapped tightly around a mass of muscle. His slanted eyes and shaggy hair styled in a comb-over shared the same bone white color and when he spoke, the glint of gold plated canines imparted a sinister warning of danger and strength.
Lendrick didn’t answer right away. Instead, he dropped to a knee and bowed his head, averting his gaze, as he dared not look upon the white-haired behemoth. When he finally opened his mouth to speak, his usual snotty and prideful tone was gone, replaced by a cautious, whispered reverence.
“My apologies, Prince Caustos. My presence was requested for a debriefing. There were… complications during the combat assessment.” Lendrick said, feeling a hole being burned into the top of his head where he knew the prince was glaring intently. Seprith didn’t like excuses. It was a fact Lendrick knew all too well. Excuses were the reason for his sudden ascension to Ambassador after his predecessor had given one too many. His torture had been hard to watch. It became even harder when the prince ordered him to join in.
“What exactly do you mean by complications?” A second voice chimed in. The growling timbre of the voice, and the wheeze cough of a lifelong smoker told Lendrick the owner without having to look up. He did anyway, meeting the gaze of General Aylim. Lendrick fought to keep his hands from balling into fists as he stared into the glassy gray eyes of a man he both respected, and despised.
“Captain Merril and Sergeant Kurz are dead. The Pellyn boy was more formidable than expected. They got overconfident, and he dispatched them with extreme prejudice.” He said, causing a silence to fall over the room.
“And the boy?” General Aylim asked, “What of his status?”
“Alive and well… unfortunately,” Lendrick said gravely.
“I see…” Aylim said slowly, drawing out the words. “Just so we’re clear, the plan that you suggested not only failed in bringing forth the death of a prince that has never seen true combat before, but in fact resulted in the deaths of two of our most decorated veteran pilots?”
Lendrick swallowed slowly and nodded, thinking of an acceptable response. “Yes General, an unfortunate circumstance due to poor execution of all involved parties."
“Don’t shift the blame you poor excuse for a man,” Aylim growled out causing Lendrick to flinch. “There were a litany of other ways to be rid of the Seneschal that wouldn’t have cost the lives of two good soldiers. Not only are you an idiot, but a coward for not dispatching him yourself.”
“Need I remind you, general,” Lendrick began, speaking through gritted teeth, trying and failing to keep his anger in check, “That myself and Darwin were supposed to be playing the roles of supportive and friendly dignitaries? I can’t exactly do that, if I’m not around to build a rapport with the target.”
“Excuses.” Aylim shot back, his image flickering further as he walked around Prince Caustos to stand, towering over a still kneeling Lendrick. He was almost as massive as Seprith was, nearly two meters tall and built bulky like the Squire units he commanded. His skin was a blackish gray mass of muscle and scar tissue, which he displayed proudly through his sleeveless tactical uniform. Iron divots dotted the length of his arms, marking him as a threaded pilot, a fact that made Lendrick hate the man even more. Two threaded pilots called the planet of Amreith home, and they were both staring daggers into his very soul.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
“It’s not an excuse, General,” Lendrick said, nearly spitting out the man’s rank. “It is just, what had occurred.”
“Of course it’s an excuse Lendrick…” Aylim retorted, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose as he sighed, the sound crackling out over the speakers of the Frame Caster he was projecting through. “But I don’t blame you, not fully anyway. I blame myself. We should have never let a civilian take on this responsibility. It’s in your very nature to fail.”
Lendrick felt his anger boiling over, his body tightening with fury underneath his flabby frame as he stepped forward, looking up at the general and meeting his gaze as an equal. “Listen here you glorified cannon fodder, I will not be talked to like -“
“Enough” The prince’s voice boomed out like crackling thunder, and Lendrick could swear he felt a slight tremble coming from the ground, though that could have been an involuntary response from his own body. Both he and Aylim stopped and turned to face their ruler, their heads bowing in respectful silence as he spoke again.
“You dare to embarrass me with such child-like squabbling in front of our allies?” He asked, nodding his head toward the second pair of virtual companions. A young, pale-skinned man with dark purple bangs that hung down in front of his face was smirking as he watched the display. He wore a simple gray toga, his frail frame on full display as he watched on in amusement from a throne similar to Sepriths. The second man behind him was similar in appearance to the first, matching the young man in facial structure, skin tone, and hair color. The only difference being where the young man was alarmingly frail in frame, the man behind him possessed a build of aged muscle, a slight paunch forming underneath his own military uniform. Prince Timas Lo’Dain and his uncle, General Gramma were watching the scene unfold with a keen, amused interest.
“Don’t mind us,” Timas said, his voice a nasally, breathy tone, barely audible when compared to the commanding presence Seprith exuded. “This is your show after all, cousin. Ma’Kir is just bankrolling the operation. Besides… I have always been a sucker for melodrama.”
Seprith sucked his teeth before nodding and turning his attention back to his men. “Aylim, get back behind the throne and know your place.”
“Yes my prince,” Aylim responded immediately in a hushed tone, walking back to his position behind the throne in an instant, before Caustos turned his gaze towards Lendrick.
“You will give your report and nothing more, Lendrick. Speak out of turn to myself of the General again, and I will flay you alive and use the skin to craft a new battle standard. Am… I… Understood?” He enunciated the last three words slowly for emphasis and Lendrick felt his knees weaken and buckle with every syllable.
“Y-Yes my lord. Understood. My report begins with the introduction of Prince Cameron, and a new variable in the operation… Logan Rake.”
Lendrick ran through his report quickly and succinctly, noting the pair of Logan and Cameron, as well as their adventures the last few weeks. He broke down the combat assessment request and the assessment itself, as well as the aftermath. When he had finally finished, both Aylim and Caustos looked slightly more appeased than they had originally been.
“Rakes planet side then?” Aylim asked, his gaze shifting slowly towards Prince Caustos, before going back to Lendrick. “That certainly puts a different perspective on things. He was formidable back during the days as a Squire pilot. I can only imagine the trouble he’d bring for us in an actual A.R.M.S. unit.”
“Indeed,” Caustos acknowledged with a nod. “Though I haven’t seen him in action myself, I heard stories of the exploits of a certain Ketrisite Captain some years past. I can only assume this was him. We must be cautious in how we proceed. Subterfuge and subtlety will get us further than brute force. But keep in mind, the port of Ketris is a veritable gold mine in both physical wealth and trade. I want it, and I grow impatient. I trust you will not fail me in this endeavor again to destabilize the Pellyn family Lendrick. Your life depends on it.”
Lendrick could only not rapidly, looking for an ounce of confidence that had long left him. “Y-Yes my lord. I will endeavor to accomplish this goal on behalf of you as well as the planet Amreith. I will not fail you again.”
“See that you don’t.”