Fahon was surprised at how decent the hospital food was. He heard other patients complain and the horror stories. How could he be ungrateful when they delivered three meals daily to his bedside? He only got similar treatment at Drakk Palace if he specifically requested meals.
He chomped into his faux ham and cheese sandwich, chewing as he watched tiny yellow birds flitting around the gardens outside his room's window. Divinity floated before the window, zipping back and forth, following the birds.
The meal also came with a cup of strawberry gelatin. The first time Fahon ate it was a few days ago, on the first day at the hospital. Initially skeptical of the strange bouncy red mass, he was glad he tried it. Now it was his favorite part of the mundane days of recovery.
If all went well, he would be discharged tomorrow. The wound on his side was well on the way to recovery. It pinched when he moved now. Better than setting his entire torso aflame with agony. The laceration on his chest had scabbed over. They would leave some gnarly scars. Few warriors escaped battle without them.
The silt from the recent events had settled in the river of his life, for now. A numbing resignation passed through him. Kormel was in prison and willing to testify against Crin for a chance at a shorter sentence. The man had years of rehabilitation before he would be allowed to rejoin society, if ever.
The assassination had been a deliberate way for a political extremist to assume power. It was the same moral decay plaguing humankind throughout the history of civilization. Killing Crin personally didn't bring Fahon any relief. Part of him wished the traitorous Knight Commander would have surrendered peacefully and faced justice.
Police Force investigators had recovered hundreds of documents outlining Crin's battle plans for invasions of neighboring nations like the Free States and Dascia. Crin would have dissolved the Forum, the path of peace his father worked his whole life to strengthen. They found indications in the plans of his collusion with House Scarl. For some reason, Crin accounted for their forces and resources in his battle strategy.
His father had been right. The rivalry among the Great Houses was a huge problem. The unsettling part was Crin had many secretive supporters within Ophan. Fahon didn't doubt some had whispered into his ear and encouraged the coup. None of the Rulers would admit treasonous thoughts of supplanting House Drakk. On the official record, every Ruler condemned Crin as soon as the news about his actions broke out. Crin was an easy scapegoat for a deeper problem. The notion of potential traitors in his midst kept Fahon awake at night. Ultimately, it was a problem to deal with later, despite his fears.
Despite joining the Warrior Sect, Fahon resolved to keep the peace and support those willing to change for the better. As Sovereign, he would retain the wise political scholars his father appointed as advisors and respect the man's legacy and wishes for the country.
Ophan would only see a better future if the three sects cooperated harmoniously. The disdain the Warrior Sect had for scholars and workers, thinking them weak and misguided, was what he hoped to rectify. Bringing people together, despite their differences, has always proved a difficult endeavor. It didn't mean the challenge wasn't worth it.
Ophani arrogance and sense of superiority would have dragged the moon into another horrifying world war. Fahon had once bestrode upon the other nations of Promise. It was arrogant to view other societies as inferior to his. After his time in Zele, the flimsy illusion drilled into him since childhood had shattered. Every country had a corruption of some form at the heart of their governments. Eliminating such cancerous behavior would be no easy task, even for a Sovereign.
Knuckles rapped at his door. Fahon knew immediately it was his mother. Two armed police officers outside searched and verified everyone. After being subjected to such a thorough search, none of the nurses, doctors, or reporters had bothered knocking. His mother had heavenly patience.
Fahon called his mother in.
Arla regarded him with a smile and adjusted her spectacles. She was dressed in a powder blue scholar robe and had a brown leather box tucked beneath one arm.
She padded across the room, robe flowing, and kissed the top of his head, settling in the chair beside his bed. Arla had been at his side every day since his hospitalization. Fahon didn't dream of trying to get her to stay away. They settled on a simple compromise, for her to go home in the evenings and get some well-needed rest.
His mother's heart was built of tougher stuff than Phasematter. Against the weight of grief for her husband's death and the wracking fear of Fahon's disappearance, she assumed some of the civic duties neglected by his father's passing.
"Tomorrow, when you get out, we've arranged a press conference in the morning to give a public statement about the recent events and Crin Haloran's death."
Fahon quivered. Speeches were his biggest gripe about being a member of a Great House and now a leader. He would rather wade neck deep into a battle with a warehouse of Syndicate agents or fight the best warriors on the planet.
His mother noticed his hesitation. "If you need a statement written, it's something to delegate to your press secretary."
"No, it's not about writing a speech for me." Fahon rubbed the back of his head. "I hated public speaking class…This is going to be awful."
Arla chuckled softly. "Your father shared the same weakness. He was nervous when he started teaching at the Academy."
"You've never told me that before. Father was such an excellent public speaker. I'm surprised."
"How did you get better as a warrior?"
"I trained every day."
"Then you know how to improve as a speaker. Simple, right."
She was right. It was always uncomfortable learning new skills. Those awkward hours of stumbling and bumbling along, grasping how to do things. Fahon hoped to have time to hone his speechcraft before becoming Sovereign. The reality was he had been procrastinating it. No better time than now, he supposed.
"Your father wanted me to give this to you." Arla offered the leather box to Fahon. "If he passed before you became Sovereign. It's a personal memoir of his rule, all the important decisions he had to make, and the process surrounding them. He said he wished his father had left him one like it."
This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
Wait, this isn't a box.
It was a book, an object he had never seen before in person. He had only seen images in the Repository of Old Terran relics. Print was an archaic way of sharing information, but now with a book in hand, he could see the allure. He could start his own little library. Flipping through hundreds of pages, he let his fingers run across the smooth paper. His ray eyes studied the blocks of dark text, marveling at the diversity of ideas left behind.
For the first time since his father's death, a tear splashed onto Fahon's cheek. Seeing his moment of vulnerability, Arla pulled him into an embrace.
"Thank you/" Fahon sniffled. "This means everything to me."
---
"Thanks for letting us take off from your private airship pad," Pom said. They crossed the roof of the Drakk Palace garage.
A blocky freighter airship sat on study landing claws at the opposite end.
Faceless crew members, wearing gleaming metal masks, stacked supplies from a cart into the cargo hold.
Fahon shook his head. "None of us want to return to the skyport after what happened. Almost dying is traumatic, even for the strongest warriors."
Divinity and Pom's Caster spiraled around each other in a helix pattern. She hadn't given Kormel's old Caster a name unless "Orb" counted.
"I've nearly died a few times," Pom said with a straight face. "That one hurt the most. I'd like to take a break from near-death experiences, but duty calls."
"Will you come back and visit me?" Fahon's eyes studied the hardtop, afraid to look into hers.
"I might."
The Twins blazed low in the east, like the two red eyes of a faraway god. Behind, the fading arc of Haven splashed golden flecks of light onto a drifting sea of clouds. The airship's rotor engines kicked on, four great blades whirling in the air. The wind rushed into them, causing Fahon's stark white Sovereign uniform to flutter. It was tradition for the Sovereign to wear white. He would miss wearing the dark one like every other warrior.
Pom's shoulder-length turquoise hair blew back, revealing a surprisingly soft face with a bright smile, A rare expression for a woman fueled by vengeance. He admired her tenacity and strength. She was a great leader, willing to admit her mistakes and learn from them.
Clad in a brand-new suit of ashen heavy combat armor, her trusty hand cannon hung at an angle from her gun belt and curved hips, a large knife tucked behind her lower back.
Fahon provided armor, weapons, drones, explosives, rations, and whatever the Faceless needed. Their casualties had been significant during the Syndicate raid. They were better equipped than ever to deal with powerful threats. Pom being a Bonded gave them a massive advantage in their war.
"They act like children." Pom motioned towards the intertwining Casters. "These aren't just cyberminds. They're something better."
"You have keen intuition," Fahon said. "After millennia of war and darkness, we're still only sifting around in the ashes of what was lost. Casters can probably do so much more."
"Thanks for all the tips. I wish I knew some of it before getting shot with Phasematter bolts."
"Don't get discouraged with the Phase-stepping. I'm working on it myself. After seeing how Crin and Vivana were moving through the air, I realized I have practice ahead of me too."
"I'll run around our new base like you did. Maybe everyone will place bets on me too."
It bummed Fahon. He couldn't return to Zele with Pom and help defeat the Syndicate. He was a team member, and after what they all went through, it harrowed him to step out of the fight.
Pom reassured him that his support, even politically, was all she could ask for. After taking out the Razzle production facility, the Syndicate fell into shambles. With a little push from a reinforced Faceless, he anticipated the moon's largest criminal organization to crumble within the year.
Her next battle was against the corrupt politicians of the Free States. To help there, Fahon would push hard against the Free States in the Forum. Ophan swung with a heavy hammer in the Forum. His father's tactful approach helped foster trade and peace in the era after the Unification Wars.
Fahon had a different fight ahead of him. Aiming for the reform of foreign governments required a heavy hand and firm resolve. It wouldn't be pretty. He would push hard for world reform against corruption.
He had opened the Argent Knights to any Bonded who swore to their ideals and would champion the cause. Pom wouldn't join. She vowed to help if ever needed as a compromise. It did surprise him when many of Scarleon's Crimson Guard defected to rejoin the Knights.
After a few moments of awkward silence, Pom nodded and punched Fahon in the shoulder playfully.
"Fine, I'll come back. I promise. Will that make you stop moping?"
Fahon grinned like a fool and pulled her into a hug. She flinched at first and settled into it. When they finally pulled away, Pom slipped her Faceless mask on to hide her rosy cheeks.
The subtle humming of a nearby Bond-link drew Fahon's attention. He turned in time to see Vivana glide onto the garage roof with flickers of magenta Phasematter. Her chrome-shelled Caster, glinting with red sunlight, flew past to join the other two in their spiraling shenanigans. The shoulder wound she received during the battle with Crin had healed nicely, and she was back in action.
"Your Excellency," Vivana said, giving Fahon a short bow.
"Knight Commander." Fahon bowed in return. They both shared considerable power.
Giving Vivana the position of Knight Commander was the easiest decision. She was a statue of valor with intense amber eyes, a seamless charcoal uniform, and curly hair clipped to one side. The Argents Knights were an organization of Bonded. It only was sensible for them to be led by the best fighter he'd ever seen. She kept pace with Crin, for most of the entire fight, despite his Caster's Bond-sense specialization, a considerable advantage. He was certain Crin would have lost in a fair match.
Traditionally, the Knight Commander was also the Sovereign. Fahon had enough on his plate as it was. Leading the Argent Knights would only be a distraction from essential duties. The first lesson his father wished he had learned before becoming Sovereign was how to properly delegate. Fahon would remain a simple Knight to be called upon when needed. Vivana would handle her new role just fine.
The Faceless finished loading the airship, and Arik strode down the cargo ramp, a ray of sunshine with red hair and sharp blue eyes. He wore a lime green shirt with a swirling pink pattern and brown slacks. His black boots were a grade shinier than even Fahon's.
"All loaded up. The cybermind passed the pre-flight navigation check. Time to get a move on," Arik said. He noticed Vivana and bowed. "My lady."
The two stepped aside to say their goodbyes. Pom stood with her hands on her hips, studying the full cargo hold, and sighed, stomping up the ramp. Her Caster broke from the triple helix formation, chirping as it buzzed after her.
Arik planted a soft kiss on the back of Vivana's hand. She smiled and laughed. Returning to Fahon, Arik pulled him into a brotherly hug. Afterward, he slapped Fahon on the shoulder.
"Don't get assassinated again. I don't know if my heart could take it."
Fahon snorted. "Are you certain you don't want Crin's Caster for protection?"
Arik waved a hand dismissively. "I don't want anything to do with superpowers. I'll focus on what I'm good at."
"I hope it doesn't involve gambling."
"I decided to channel my charm into getting new recruits for the Faceless. Once people see the firepower we're packing, they'll be lined up around the block."
"And you don't get yourself shot again."
Arik lifted his shirt, revealing a tight shirt of body armor covering his torso. "Lesson learned."
"Look at you, style and function all wrapped in one."
"You Warrior Sect stiffs could learn a thing or two." Arik ascended the ramp back into the ship.
The ramp lifted and closed with a sealing hiss. Fahon and Vivana stepped back as the airship lifted off, veering into the sky. It climbed in altitude before switching engines, roaring thrusters leaving behind a fire trail as it sped off into the distance.
"Care for a spar?" Vivana asked.
"I have a mountain of documents to review and sign." Fahon yawned and stretched. "I'll be at it all day."
"Meet me at the Hall of Valor at noon. It's an order, Knight." She smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. She dropped off the roof of the garage and disappeared below.
Fahon smiled. Sparring sounded like an excellent idea.
THE END
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