"Humans of Renatus! We gather on this day, the tenth anniversary of our descent onto your world, not only to mourn and remember those who tragically gave their lives for the greater good but to recognize and celebrate humanity's progress in its ascent toward true greatness. The road we have guided you along has not been without its perils. Yet you continue to endure and overcome. You have sweat, and you have bled, sacrificing so much to reach where you stand today. Your kind calls us your 'Saviors,' but I say that we have merely shown you the path. I say you have saved yourselves! Thus, I implore you, humans of Renatus, while you honor those who fell, celebrate what their sacrifice, what your sacrifice, has helped to achieve!"

Ishma Saul watched with piercing amber eyes as the audience below him erupted with cheers and applause. He stepped back from the podium on the stone balcony and looked on as the massive crowd slowly dispersed through the streets of Cross to partake in the day's festivities. A young nrac woman standing beside him wrapped her arm around his waist and leaned against his shoulder, a small smile playing across her lips. "Well spoken, my love," she whispered into his ear. "As always."

Lucrezia Valerian, his concubine, stood beside him, clad in an indigo-colored dress, smiling coyly as she played with her long platinum hair. Ishma turned his head slightly to brush his cheek against hers before returning his attention to the revelry far beneath them.

Humans. Creatures to be both admired and feared. A dangerous but powerful tool in the right hands. House Saul's hands.

"You look lovely tonight, Lucrezia," Ishma told her. "Are you prepared for our celebrations this evening?"

"Of course, your grace," she replied. "Although I must admit, I hoped for a more...private affair. Just the two of us, like the old days. These past few years have kept us busy, but we deserve a respite, do we not?"

"I'll make time for you later tonight, my love," Ishma replied. "I promise."

They had met ages ago when Ishma was barely a grown man. His father had brought him to the local slave market in search of a companion, a common tradition of royal houses in the Nrac Imperium to ensure the continuance of the noble line. Lucrezia was up for auction, a spoil of war from when her noble house fell to one of its rivals. She had, of course, caused no small amount of trouble thanks to her telepathic abilities and had endured many harsh punishments in her failed attempts to escape.

Ishma was smitten with her from the moment he saw her. Her captors presented her before a crowd bound in chains, broken and beaten, but she carried herself like a goddess, ever defiant and commanding power and presence that no mere slave ever could. And she fell for him utterly when his first act after ascending to the throne of House Saul was to destroy the fallen House Valerian's old rivals. Of course, they could never marry for political reasons, but their love for one another was absolute.

They walked hand in hand through the halls of Ishma's citadel within the port city of Cross. The structure was an unusual mishmash of human construction and nrac technology, a shell of worked stone retrofitted with modern amenities such as heat, power, and running water.

Ishma stopped abruptly as a commotion from below commanded his attention. He gazed out a nearby window, watching as a riot broke out in the streets below. There were dissidents every year protesting the rule of the nrac, the so-called Saviors of humanity. They would preach against the evils of the nrac occupation and beckon their fellow humans to take up arms and rebel. A team of Peacekeeper legionaries responded quickly and deployed less-lethal weaponry to disperse the rioters, neutralizing them before they could cause too much mayhem.

Ishma let out a sigh as he watched the scene unfold. "I fear we will need more time before the humans truly accept us as their masters," he muttered. "Humanity is capable of incredible things given the right circumstances. But the conflict with the terrans taught me that they can also make for a terrifying enemy. Sometimes, I wonder if claiming this world was the right decision."

Lucrezia wrapped her arm around his again and leaned in close, meeting his gaze with her gorgeous green eyes. "House Saul has always been a house of conquerors, my love," she replied softly, trying to calm him. "You stand at the helm of the mightiest military force in the entire galaxy. The humans should be grateful that you are offering them a chance to be a part of it. And even if they are not, we shall continue your work here. We will endure, as the humans have, even if it takes another decade. They will be yours to command, one way or another. Whatever the cost may be."

Ishma smiled and brushed a hand against his concubine's cheek before leaning in and giving her a gentle kiss. He pulled away, and her face reddened slightly as she gave an impish grin. "You always know just what to say," said Ishma, smiling. "Such faith in me... thank you."

Lucrezia giggled and returned his smile with equal affection. "I've had a lot of practice," she said, tapping a finger to the side of her head. "Even if I can't get into that head of yours."

For all her telepathic abilities, Lucrezia had never been able to pierce Ishma's formidable mental defenses. It was a welcome change after a lifetime of living in other people's heads. The mystery of what was going through his mind was intoxicating; how he thought, how he felt, and where he came from were mysteries she would never truly unravel. Knowing that made him more interesting than anyone else she had ever met.

Ishma knew this all too well. "But you love that about me," he told her. "Don't you?"

"Yes," she replied without hesitation. "I do love you."

They stood together for several moments longer. In the distance, they could hear the music playing from many stages throughout the city center as the revelry started in earnest. Ishma looked to his concubine. "I suppose we should see to our guests," he said. "We've kept them waiting long enough."

The pair continued down the hallway and entered one of the structure's many elevators. With the press of a button, they made their way toward the top floor of the citadel. The Great Hall had the more traditional hallmarks of nrac engineering, as it resided far above where the hybrid construction style ended and the full nrac began. The room was a wide-open space with large windows taking up most of its walls, giving its occupants an impressive view of the city and surrounding land beneath them.

Ishma and Lucrezia stepped forth from the elevator, and the three legates and their bodyguards sitting at the long table in the center of the room rose to their feet. The table's wine glasses were filled, and plates of fresh finger foods were already served. "Apologies for my tardiness," said Ishma, addressing the room. "Please, everyone, be seated. This is a day of celebration. You may dispense with the usual formalities."

The table's attendees collectively nodded and returned to their seats. One among them remained standing. Centurion Salan, a middle-aged human among a table full of nrac, waited patiently beside the head of the table for Ishma to take his seat. Ishma gave the man a polite nod as he approached. "Centurion Salan."

Salan had been with Ishma since the beginning of his time on Renatus. He was one of the first humans to surrender to the nrac, submit to their indoctrination process, and eventually serve as a member of House Saul's military. Now, he acts as Ishma's right-hand man, serving as a fine example of the heights even a human can rise to under the occupation.

"Did the ceremony go well, your grace?" Salan asked, helping Ishma into his seat.

"As well as it could have, I suppose," the nrac replied, thinking back to the rioting he had witnessed earlier. "And please, take a seat. We dine as equals today."

As the centurion nodded and sat beside his master, an audible scoff came from the opposite end of the table. Ishma's eyes narrowed on Legate Arlox Bahz, the acting ruler of the Boreal Isles far to the northeast. He was a herculean nrac who towered over everybody else, even seated. The pelts and furs of different creatures he had killed on hunts that adorned his form-fitting Nemesis suit only added to his already intimidating presence.

"Is there a problem, Legate Bahz?" Ishma asked.

Bahz chomped into a bread roll, smacking his lips as he chewed. "Nothing of note, your grace. I simply find it amusing that you would allow one of these lesser beings to sit among your kin," he said mockingly, crumbs spilling from his mouth as he spoke.

Ishma looked at Salan and raised an eyebrow. "Speaking freely, is there anything you would like to say to that, Centurion?"

Centurion Salan wiped his mouth with a napkin and held a calm composure. "This... lesser being, as you say," he began, "has fought long and hard to earn his place at the table. Unlike some of us, my station was not handed to me on a platter."

Legate Bahz rose to his feet, pointing a menacing finger toward Salan. "You would dare?!" he bellowed. "I've killed better men for lesser slights!"

Ishma raised a hand. "That's enough, Legate," he cut in, his voice silencing the room.

Bahz let out a quiet snarl before returning to his seat. A calm chuckle erupted from across the table. Legate Berelian Wren, acting ruler of the Broken Keys to the west, made little effort to hide how much Bahz's frustration amused her. He would not risk crossing Ishma again.

Wren was Bahz's antithesis, a bantam but muted nrac woman with short silver hair covering half of her face. While Bahz proudly wore furs and other hunting trophies, Wren's Nemesis suit was adorned with etchings and tally marks to track her kills in battle. Crude metal plates protected her vital areas, and she had several holsters containing plasma pistols, harmonic knives, and a host of other weaponry. It all looked like something she had assembled in a scrap yard.

Off to the side sat Legate Orin Nikola, acting ruler of the Andean Archipelago to the south, his face a stale expression of mild annoyance. Despite the indigo-colored cloak draped over his standard-issue Nemesis suit, he was a remarkably average and unassuming white-haired nrac. He did his best to ignore the bickering around him and enjoy the food before him. "Your grace, what are these here?" he asked, pointing at one of the plates.

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Ishma shrugged, but Centurion Salan answered. "I believe those are bacon-wrapped sausages, Legate."

"They're amazing," said Nikola, his mouth nearly filled. "What are they made from?"

"Both types of meat come from pigs," Salan explained. "The past season was good for livestock, so we've had some abundance."

Legate Nikola was perhaps more dumbfounded by this new information than he should have been. "Hold on, you're telling me that you humans take meat, wrap it in the same kind of meat, cook it, and end up with this greasy, delicious masterpiece?" Nikola turned his attention to Bahz. "You know, Legate, with all due respect, I think you've got the wrong idea about these humans."

"My thoughts exactly," Ishma chimed in.

The celebratory feast continued for about another half hour or so before the hum and hiss of the elevator overtook everyone's enjoyment of the food. The doors slid open, revealing an unexpected and uninvited guest, a lone nrac woman clad in the white uniform of the Emperor's house. All eyes fell upon her as she stepped forth, and time stopped. "Ishma Saul!" the woman shouted.

As his auxiliaries watched with horrified faces, Ishma gently wiped his face and rose to his feet to greet this visitor. "Tala Rauth," he calmly greeted with a flourish. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Tala approached with purposeful steps. She was all business, clad in a freshly pressed uniform with her long silver hair tied back into a tight braid. "I am here on official business as a Praetor of the Emperor," she coldly announced. "Your actions toward humankind have violated numerous clauses outlined in the Human Preservation Treaty. Several other royal houses have lobbied complaints against you, and I am to launch a formal investigation at the Emperor's behest."

Ishma chuckled softly. "It's good to see you too, Tala," he replied politely, but his voice dripped with venom. "So you're one of the old man's Praetors now?" He turned to face his entourage. "They grow up so fast, don't they?"

Tala growled under her breath. Despite her professional facade, seeing Ishma in person after so many years evoked complicated feelings she thought she had laid to rest long ago. Ishma Saul was everything a nrac should want in a companion: handsome, charismatic, and mighty in every sense of the word. And now, he was deliberately pushing her buttons. This was all a game to him, and it infuriated her.

"I am not here for pleasantries," she snarled. "I am here to determine the future of House Saul, so I implore you to take this matter seriously."

Ishma nodded and shot a glance toward Lucrezia. She sat with her arms crossed and was staring daggers at Tala. Tala felt the concubine's gaze on her and returned it with equal intensity, but no words were exchanged. Tala was a direct servant of the Emperor now; a mere concubine would not dare speak to her out of turn.

"Very well," said Ishma. "What would you ask of me?"

"I must speak with you in private," Tala replied. "My personal shuttle is parked on the roof of this facility. We can begin the inquiry there."

The guests at the table remained silent throughout the exchange. Nobody dared move or make a single sound while Tala and Ishma spoke. Even Centurion Salan kept quiet, although he watched intensely as the two nrac discussed something far more interesting than subpar wine or bacon-wrapped sausages.

"Will we be taking care of this now?" Ishma asked.

Tala glared at him. "Do I mean 'will I be taking you away from your feast?' Yes," the Praetor replied. "Yes, I will. Come with me, please."

Ishma nodded, then turned to his guests. "I'm not sure how long this will take, so you may continue to enjoy your meals without me," he told them. "I will return as soon as I am able."

His guests breathed a collective sigh of relief before he and Tala stepped into the elevator. The doors shut behind them with a soft whoosh, and the lift began its ascent toward the roof. "So it's 'Praetor Rauth' now, is it?" Ishma asked. "Congratulations on the promotion, Tala. You've come a long way since your father offered me your hand. Was nobody else willing to take him up on the offer?"

"Don't start," Tala shot back."My father saw you for what you were: a venomous serpent. You're too dangerous to sit on the Imperium's throne."

A smile formed along Ishma's lips as he looked at the Praetor. "You really have changed," he said. "The old Tala never would have spoken to me like that."

"The old Tala was just another conquest for House Saul," she snapped. "I thought I cared for you once, Ishma, but I know now that had we married, I would have known no love from you. Your precious concubine means too much."

"Please," Ishma replied. He shook his head and laughed softly. "There's more than enough of me to go around, my dear Praetor."

Tala snorted in contempt and waved her hand dismissively at him. "It doesn't matter anymore," she retorted. "And I would appreciate it if you would dispense with all this talk of the past. I am here to do a job that is complicated enough without reopening old wounds."

Ishma sighed. "Very well, Praetor," he conceded. "Strictly business then."

There was an audible ding as the elevator doors slid open, revealing a roof with several landing pads containing military aircraft and shuttles. Tala's shuttle stood out like a sore thumb, as a Praetor's shuttle should. House Saul's military craft favored function over aesthetics; the Praetor's shuttle was the opposite. It sat on a landing pad like a giant polished silver scarab, its armaments hidden within its silvery shell.

The shuttle's passenger doors slid open as the two approached, and they quickly stepped inside. The passenger compartment was furnished with leather seats and other amenities that made clear the ship was for diplomats and members of high society. Tala and Ishma took their seats and made themselves comfortable as the doors closed behind them.

"Now, dearest Tala," Ishma began, "shall we get this horrible affair behind us?"

Tala sighed and cleared her throat. "As I said earlier, your interactions with humans have violated the Human Preservation Treaty," she explained. "I must remind you that the Treaty prohibits any interactions between our species and humans, with the exception of passive observation. Your occupation of the world known as Renatus and the subsequent military actions against other human-controlled interests in the galaxy are flagrant violations of the Treaty. As a result, several of the great houses within the Imperium have lobbied formal complaints against House Saul and its holdings. As of yet, the Emperor has not decreed any punishments to be levied. However, I have been tasked with investigating your actions toward humanity, and the Emperor will use my report to determine how to handle the situation going forward."

Ishma scratched his chin. "So I'm on the old man's naughty list?" he asked condescendingly.

"Dammit, Ishma, this is serious!" Tala shot back. "What the hell were you thinking? Occupying a pre-spaceflight human world? Waging a bloody war against the ones that could fight back? Do you have any idea how many lives, how many human lives you have snuffed out? The Treaty was in place for thousands of years. Thousands of years of letting humans develop along their own path, all for naught because you decided you were above it all. Have you heard what your rival houses are calling for? At best, they want you to forfeit your holdings in the Imperium. At worst, they're calling for you to be tortured to death. Destroyed human lives aside, this could be a complete and utter disaster for you and anyone who has ever served under your banner. Do you understand?"

Ishma let out a sigh. "You're right. I apologize for making light of the situation. Please, continue."

Tala took a moment to compose herself and return to the matter. "This conversation is a preliminary inquiry," she explained. "I am officially notifying you that I am beginning my investigation into your activities regarding the Treaty. I have a ship in orbit that will serve my needs; however, you will be required to provide accommodations for my stay here on the surface. You will also grant me full access to your systems and free reign to question anyone I see fit at any time. This includes you. You are additionally required to acquiesce to any other demands I might have. Finally, a warning. As a Praetor, I answer to the Emperor directly and carry his authority wherever I go. Any actions taken against me by you or your subordinates will be viewed as an action against the Emperor himself and punished accordingly. Do you understand?"

Ishma nodded. "Of course," he replied. "I'll have a room set aside for you in the citadel and get you credentials to access our systems. Was there anything else?"

Tala sat back in her seat and shook her head slowly from side to side. "That's all for now, but if I think of anything further, I won't hesitate to bring it up."

"Well, thank you for making this quick," said Ishma. "I do have a celebration to return to, which, actually, you should join us. It'd be a perfect opportunity for you to see what we're really doing here."

"I'm afraid I can't attend your little soiree," Tala stated flatly. "I have a report to file. Now, please, leave me to my work."

With a push of a button, the shuttle's door opened, and Ishma quietly rose to his feet. He offered the Praetor one last smile before exiting the passenger compartment, then disappeared as the shuttle's door closed behind him. Tala quickly stood up and moved to the shuttle's cockpit, which lacked the high society atmosphere of the passenger compartment. The Praetor sighed as she plopped down in the pilot's seat. she thought.

She tapped several buttons on the console, and a large screen opened up in front of her as she opened a communications channel with her ship, the Cygnus. "Cygnus, this is Praetor Rauth," she spoke. "I need you to patch me through to the Emperor and encrypt this channel. Maximum security."

"Right away, ma'am," a voice replied over the radio. "Establishing long-range comms."

A few moments later, an elderly nrac man clad in his regal white raiments appeared on the screen. "Your majesty," said Tala. "Praetor Rauth reporting in. I have an update on the House Saul situation."

The Emperor gave a solemn nod. "It's good to hear from you. I assume you made contact with the Duke?"

"Yes," Tala replied. "I informed him of the nature of this investigation and conducted our preliminary inquiry. He appears cooperative for now, though I suspect he will not remain that way long."

"And the humans?"

Tala shrugged. "I can't say for certain one way or the other," she said. "He seems to be acting in accordance with Imperial Wartime Law and treats them as his spoils of war. This world is effectively yet another annexation to House Saul's ever-expanding territory. My gut tells me it's deeper than that, especially given this recent obsession with the humans."

The Emperor furrowed his brow as he thought. "Hmm. Continue your inquiry and send your reports," he ordered. "If you come upon anything that suggests he may be planning to act against the Imperium directly, contact me as soon as possible."

Tala cocked her head to the side. "Your majesty, what does that have to do with his Treaty violations?"

"I... suspect that he may be plotting to use the humans as a weapon against us," the Emperor explained. "Especially after the terrans managed to repel him. He must see some hidden strength within them. Something our passive observations missed."

"I'll approach my investigations from that angle as well, then," said Tala.

The Emperor nodded. "Excellent. Keep up the good work."

Tala took in a deep breath. "If I may, Your Majesty," she said, "I have one concern I'd like to speak with you about before you sign off."

The Emperor waited patiently while the Praetor took a moment to gather her thoughts. Even as one of his daughters, it was difficult for her to speak frankly with him. "While I honor your decision to send me completely, your Majesty," Tala began. "I do not feel I was the best choice for this assignment, given my history with Ishma."

"Nonsense," said the Emperor, shaking his head. "Your history is precisely why I chose you for this. His familiarity with you will throw him off and cause him to lower his guard. He will grow complacent around you. You can use that to your advantage." The nrac smiled warmly at the young woman on the other end of the screen. "I am confident that everything will be fine. You are stronger than you think, Tala. Remember that."

He was right. Tala was making excuses to avoid facing her past. House Saul may be the strongest in the Imperium, but House Rauth rules over it for many reasons beyond military might. "Thank you, Your Majesty," Tala said, holding back a proud smile.

The Emperor nodded and terminated the connection shortly afterward. Static filled the screen briefly before it shut off and closed. Tala leaned back in the pilot's seat and took a deep breath. "You heard the old man," she said to herself. "You can do this, Tala."