Vilantia prime, Estate of Lord A'kifab

The garden was full, with every family sworn to Lord A'kifab sending an individual to represent. The square was packed and Lord A'kifab paced, circling the crouched female who covered her child protectively.

"From the days of the Great Civilization, this clan has always been of one thought. Forward. Forward, to honor those who brought us here. Forward, that those who come after will see and do things we can only dream of. With that in our minds, we must now look to ourselves, and look to those who would keep us from that."

He turned, pointing to Grezzk. "This one. Given trust and faith. And what does she do, with her and her husband. Betrayal. They crafted a situation to benefit themselves. Kidnapping the Throne-heir and placing themselves in position to take advantage and be seen as heroes. And now I must do what is right at great cost." He paused. "Their name is to be forgotten. Never used, never uttered, let them be left behind. They are Nameless from this day unto the last, shunned by the gods and left in the twilight." He turned, marching into the house with the crowd slowly dispersing in the night, leaving Grezzk to take her childs' hand and waddle away from the manor house, trying to remember the whispered stories of those who had been exiled before. In the ancient times, they would travel to the setting sun and let the twilight guide them. Modern times were different - if one could get off-planet, you could manage work.

If.

She struggled to quell the rising panic, trying to remember the where in the galaxy Gryzzk had gone. She knew that he and Lord A'kifab had gone to hire mercenaries. As she and Grozel walked, she slowly started to remember. A place called Ricks. Bravo Bull Dogs. It was all she had. It would have to be enough.

___________

Teegarden B, Hurdop Treasure Cache Room

Gryzzk led the squad in and glanced around. His visor noted the Throne-heir as well as the counterpart to the Heir. There was a slight problem between him and the Heir, in the form of about twenty-five Hurdop. They looked like formal guards, but their armor and weapons were difficult to judge. Certainly not nearly as good as what he was wearing, but relative to what he'd seen of the Hurdop before, it wasn't certainly better. Gryzzk gripped the handle of the Learning Stick and felt its weight - whatever else was happening, he had that on his side. The defenders gathered in a protective knotwork around the two

Gryzzk toggled the channel to speak with Muranaga. "Lieutenant, I have an idea. If the Hurdop are a breakaway of Vilantia, it is possible that some ancient traditions have survived and are shared by both."

There was a chuff of sorts. "Single combat?"

"Yes."

"This is the part where I point out you're not exactly a pro, a seasoned amateur, or really even trained. The ones upstairs were sloppy and got caught offguard tactically. I don't know that any of these guys are going to be the same. You're supposed to be in back watching. As observers go, you're better than average. But still - you got things to think about outside of this room. You sure this is the route you're gonna drive?"

Gryzzk nodded. "With recent events being what they are, the Throne-heir may seek to mitigate whatever punishment awaits our return to Vilantia if I succeed. And if I fail – death is honor-redemptive, in these circumstances." There was a fatalistic shrug. "My family is redeemed in either event."

There was a long exhale from Muranaga. "I'll tell the squad. Just remember. Fight smart, not hard." There was a soft chirrup as Muranaga switched to squad-level communication. "Group, Observer Gryzzk has advised me that he has a very bad idea in the form of a duel. Assuming he wins, we get to walk out of here with that Throne-heir and we save money on the ammo budget. He loses, we kick ass and then bring the Throne-Heir home, but then I have to write a request for more ammo, cause uhm, we may have to use more on the way out. And then there's the third option where they don't duel and choose violence. You all better know what to do if that's the option. Channel's open if anyone wants to say anything now."

There was a rather solid chorus of encouragement, in their own style. Reilly threatened to reverse-haunt him in some way, Edwards advised him that the best way to deal with dying would be to "walk it off". Laroy mentioned that Grandmama Thibedeauxs' gris-gris would give protection against most forms of stupidity. Roberts simply punched him on the shoulder and told him to hit the other guy where he was going to be.

Their opponents had not been still during the squad discussion, but there was a scent of unease from them as Gryzzk lifted his visor and tried the specific forms that were required. History class seemed so very long ago.

"I am Gryzzk. Lead Servant to Lord A'kifab on Vilantia Prime. I seek honorable duel for the Throne-Heir, that they may return to guide us in the administration of Vilantia. May the dead gods take any who stand against me."

That caused a stir among them, glancing back to both of the older ones behind. There was an odd benediction gesture from the one who was not the Throne-heir, and a nod from one who looked like he had a lot of markings on his armor. He was also larger than Gryzzk, far grayer, and hefted a large and deadly-looking pole-arm.

"Pafreet, Servant to the Throne of Hurdop answers your challenge. I would have your Throne-heir stay with us. The living gods grant me life in this endeavor."

Part of Gryzzk actually relaxed hearing Pafreet. The traditions were still in force. Maybe he would die, but Grezzk and the children would be safe. He nodded once and got himself ready.

There wasn't a countdown or any final call, but Gryzzk flinched forward and Pafreet stabbed forward three times in rapid succession, forcing Gryzzk to backpedal and swipe at the weapon as it was coming in with marginal success. A new pain in his knee let him know he was not entirely successful with the parrying. A new series of strikes came from Pafreet, this time aiming higher toward Gryzzks' head. Gryzzk ducked, dodged, and blindly countered with the learning stick while staying out of reach. The beast in the cage stirred slightly, speaking soft words to Gryzzk that the old warrior was probing, testing for an opening. Eventually a weakness would be found and Gryzzk would reclaim his honor where the dead gods dwelled. He was going to have to fight like a Terran. Somehow. Which meant doing something unexpected and yet clever at the same time.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Gryzzk reached down onto his belt to feel for one of those hideous smoke-belching grenades and threw it directly at the chest of his opponent. It connected with a solid thump, but stubbornly refused to do anything afterward. He waited. His opponent waited. And then Gryzzks' heart sank when he realized he'd forgotten or hadn't seen a very important step as the grenade refused to emit anything resembling the choking noxious mess from the upper floors. The squad broke their silence with a chorus of involuntary groans.

Pafreet bared his teeth. Not a smile Gryzzk was pleased to see, as that smile carried the knowledge just how inexperienced Gryzzk was. It would be an easy victory. Gryzzk lowered his visor and swung blindly once, twice, and brought himself closer to the damned grenade that had done nothing. He swung the Learning Stick a final time, forcing the older warrior back a step and letting Gryzzks' weapon connect solidly with the grenade casing, causing a split and a thump.

Instantly the area was bathed in the noxious scent-destroying painful smoke that Gryzzk could feel even through his suit filters. Over the hiss, he heard his opponent crying for yield and a merciful death, as the rest of the guards did something similar. The Throne-heir and counterpart looked alarmed, but this was not the time for Gryzzk to hesitate. Having done one thing that was was going to make the gods roll through the heavens with laughter or strike him down on the spot, it was time for a second thing. He launched forward to grab the Throne-Heir and fling them over his shoulder like a sack of grain before running as rapidly as possible out of the clouded area and up to where fresh air awaited.

Gryzzk was pleased that he had met with success in his first duel - however he wasn't certain how pleased his comrades would be. He could only hope that what he was doing would be enough that the gods would favor him with his name and family. Those thoughts were set aside for the moment, as they still had to get off of Teegarden.

Everyone piled into the shuttlecraft, with Lieutenant Muranaga securing the Throne-heir next to Gryzzk and then heading for the pilots' chair. The shuttle made a high whine as it began tearing through the air; Reilly was already on the communication board requesting a rapid pickup from their air support as they did in fact have the Throne-Heir on board.

Gryzzk took his helmet off, and his nose wrinkled – there was still lingering noxious fumes from the grenades he and the squad had used in their assault. He looked up at the ceiling for a very long time before saying anything.

"Your nameplate says you are Gryzzk." The Throne-Heirs' voice was calm and almost passive even in the face of the excitement of recent events.

"Yes, my Throne-Heir." Gryzzk was sweating and this was not proper etiquette for a conversation, but at the same time he couldn't refuse conversation as it as offered.

"For this rescue, I have a boon to offer you and your team for this rescue. What would you ask." The Heir shifted, their thick robes whispering gently.

"I cannot speak for the Terrans. They were hired as mercenaries for this rescue."

"Speak for yourself, then."

"My..." Gryzzk faltered for a moment. "Lord A'kifab placed information on my person implicating me in your kidnapping and made it seem as if this was all my doing. What I crave is that you know the truth. I do not know with certainty who created this, but I know that I did not. I am a Lead Servant, doing my Lords' will at his bidding. Please, take this information and do as the Clan-way allows. Also, there is a...a foundling, I believe. She has been branded with the scars of the Nameless. I would take this foundling and raise her if it is allowed."

"If that is your request, then so be it. There is a thing I must ask of you in return."

"The Throne-Heirs' will is my action."

"You may recall carrying me out. You are sworn to silence regarding the particulars of that act." The Heir seemed uncomfortable mentioning it.

"Your will is done, my Heir." Gryzzk was far too eager to forget treating the heir to all of Vilantia as if they were a side of herdbeef.

"Then we are as equals in this. I would speak with the mercenary leaders as soon as it is convenient."

The rest of the trip to the Voided Warranty was made with minimal discussion, the rest of the squad tending to their duties until the docking was completed. The docking hatch opened and Gryzzk guided the Throne-Heir out as best he could with his eyes looking elsewhere.

Major Williams was there to greet the Throne-Heir personally as they all exited, and waited until the entire squad was present before speaking.

"Secured, Lieutenant?"

"Yessir." Muranaga was all business dismissing the squad and double-timing forward to his quarters.

"Excellent. Dismiss the squad, we'll be debriefing in R-space shortly. Observer Gryzzk, you and the Heir follow me, if you would, please." The Major turned and indicated with a hand where they should go.

Gryzzk swallowed nervously, as he still carried the scent of combat on him and would very much have liked an opportunity to make himself presentable. He made do by keeping himself well behind the Throne-Heir and the Major.

Once on the bridge they moved directly to a smaller alcove of sorts.

The Major began as soon as they entered. "Observer Gryzzk, I'm afraid I have bad news. We received a communication from Lord A'Kifab stating that you, along with your wife and children, have been exiled and made to be Nameless." The Major then turned to the Throne-Heir. "With respect, if there is anything that can be done to counter this, the Bulldogs would contract favorably in the future."

The Throne-heir shook their head. "At this time, no. The Clan-way is strict in matters of what must be done for a Restoration. For me to perform such a thing requires that future acts must be done. Not merely the current ones, as the edict makes him Nameless through the very acts that brought him here. With that said, Major. The Vilantians and Hurdop have been at war for many years. In discussing with my counterpart after being kidnapped, I believe there may be a way to craft a permanent peace. After my return, I should like to personally hire the Bulldogs. Specifically your lawyers, with the sole purpose of crafting a treaty that is neutral to both governments."

"I will have to consult with Legal on this, as the Armistice forbids us from being hired directly by governments." Major Williams was a bit wary.

"I am not hiring you to make war on another. I am hiring you to be a neutral third party to craft an agreement that can end a war. The Vilantians and Hurdop are both nearly bankrupted by this latest war in a series of wars that has been unending since The Great Civilization. Your team can attest - the greatest treasures and most secured items in the Hurdop lands are food, basic medicines, and simple material. In Vilantia it is similar. We sent joint communication to the Collective requesting negotiators, but their timeline is many many years from now." The Throne-heir stood, lifting their hood to expose their face and looked up. "Pride has taken us to this road, Vilantia and Hurdop have no desire to rule over ashes where green scent once was."

Major Williams considered for a time. "Alright. I'm going to consult with Legal. Now, here's the rub. We're mercenaries. We do the job, and then we get paid. As you've mentioned, both Vilantia and Hurdop are to put politely, insolvent. I have an idea to correct this, but I do have other things to attend to. Observer Gryzzk. Sorry we can't do better for you right now, but if you would return to your quarters, we'll get the wheels moving as soon as we drop out of R-space."

Gryzzk nodded and managed to get off the bridge and halfway to his quarters before tears began to flow. His wife and child, the twins not yet born. No position, no home, nothing to return to. He barely noticed the squad falling in one at at time to bracket him until he tried to open the door and found it already opened by Muranaga.

Muranaga nodded toward the shower. "Get clean, Gryz. We got stuff to talk about."

Gryzzk noted that Nhoot was happily munching on something with one hand while Rhipl'i was secured in her other. That was a start, at least. He closed the curtain and divested himself of his armor, feeling all the aches and pains from fighting rush in to take the place of all his other worries and concerns. How these Terrans were able to do this without complaint was a seeming miracle.