On the Threen homeworld, a beautifully decorated, sleek and armored limo pulled into the courtyard of an old walled castle in the countryside.

The driver got out and opened the door.

An extravagantly dressed Threen got out, ran his polished, enameled claws decorated with intricate designs in gold leaf through his perfectly groomed fur, and approached the front door.

The guards looked at him dubiously.

“Boss,” one of the guards said uncertainly, “You ain’t supposed to be here.”

The flamboyant-looking Threen, as small as he was well dressed, looked up at the guard towering over him.

He idly examined his polished claws as the guards looked increasingly nervous.

“I disagree,” the small Threen said pleasantly as he bared his impossibly white fangs. “I say that I am indeed supposed to be here… Are you speaking over me?”

“N-no! No, Boss!… It’s just that… The Boss don’t want you here an’...”

“Then the Boss will be the one who will tell me to leave,” the garishly dressed runt said in a soft but menacing tone. “I repeat. Are you speaking over me?”

“No!” the guard replied, seeming to shrink even smaller than the runt.

“Then do your job and open the door,” the small Threen smiled. “I’m inclined to find any further delay… disrespectful.”

Their hands shaking slightly, the guards opened the doors and stepped aside.

“Oh, dis bad,” one of them whispered to the other. “What we do?”

“We call the Boss. That’s what we do!” the other one said as he pulled out his communicator.

***

Inside the castle, Vortruoon was all eyes as he followed his cousin through the halls of the compound.

It was amazing. It was so clean, and everyone looked so sharp!

It even smelled good!

And breakfast… Breakfast was fantastic!

There were grill cakes, real butter, fruit!… and sausages… and cur’leg slices…

..and he could eat as much as he wanted!

He couldn’t wait for lunch!

He looked down at his uniform. They even had uniforms… and they were clean!

He had dreamed of this his entire life! To wear the livery of the Zxxroahoa family… Just wearing that jacket got you respect…

...and the ladies!

His older cousin looked back at him and smiled fondly. He remembered his first day…

The day everything changed…

Nobody crossed the ‘Roahoas’… nobody.

And they were good to their people. There wasn’t a better family to work for.

“Who are they?” his cousin asked, staring at some very pretty Threenas in quite revealing clothing.

“Escorts,” his older cousin said sagely.

“Escorts?”

“Whores,” his older cousin replied, “But don’ call them that.”

“Can… can we...”

“If you can pay them enough, sure. But if one of them says they are ‘taken’ or ‘engaged,’ don’t press. They probably belong to a boss.”

“Ok.”

“Now you can eat from the wooden trays,” the older Threen said as he pulled a slightly overripe fruit from one and tossed it to his cousin, “but not the metal ones.”

“Really?!?”

“Sure,” his older cousin replied, “This stuff is ‘going off,’ so they give it to us.”

“(monch)… It doesn’t taste rotten!”

“It isn’t rotten to us,” his older cousin chuckled, “It’s rotten to them.”

“Ooo!” Vortruoon exclaimed, nudging his cousin as the bizarrely and richly dressed Threen appeared, “they even have prettyrunts! I’ve never fucked a run—”

His cousin shoved him against the wall covering his mouth, digging his claws into Vortuoon’s muzzle

”Shut up! Shutup shutup shutup shut… up...”

He froze… then slowly turned around.

Standing there was an extravagantly dressed runt with gold leaf on his lacquered talons.

“Hello...” the runt said pleasantly, his perfectly white fangs gleaming in the colored light streaming in from a beautiful stained-glass window…

***

“I’m sorry, Boss,” a smartly dressed Threen said as it squirmed nervously, “I told him that he couldn’t go in… I tried to stop him...”

A huge Threen, dressed in fine quilted cloth armor, paused and turned to face the squirming Threen.

“No, you didn’t,” he growled, “You whimpered something and then got the fuck out of his way.”

He smiled gently.

“And I’m very glad you did,” the huge Threen rumbled, “You would be missed. You did good,” he smiled, clapping the very relieved secretary on the shoulders.

He opened the doors to his office and walked inside.

He chuckled.

Sitting in his chair behind his desk was the runt.

Shaking his head and smiling, he closed the doors behind him and walked over to a beautifully carved cabinet, opening it.

He pulled out a crystal flask filled with an assortment of herbs floating in a clear liquid and two exquisitely carved crystal glasses.

He then carefully filled both with a measure of the clear herb-infused liquid and then opened another carved door revealing a refrigerator in which there was a chilled pitcher of water.

He poured the water into both glasses, the clear liquid instantly turning cloudy as he did so. He then pulled out small vials and dropped in various clear and faintly colored extracts, finally stirring each glass with a crystal rod.

“You know, Brother,” the giant Threen rumbled, “you wouldn’t be mistaken for a whore so often if you didn’t dress like one.”

He strode over to his desk and offered the intruder a glass.

“What in the Twelve Hells are you wearing?” he asked.

“You like?” the runt asked as he rose to greet his gigantic brother, twirling as he did so, “It is a reproduction of clothing worn by the Terran King Louis Xiv, modified for my physiology, of course… except for the shoes… I couldn’t make those work. These are Terran ‘cowboy boots’ especially crafted to match the ensemble. I must say, King Xiv knew how to dress!”

He accepted the glass with a nod and a trill.

“Oh, Brother,” the runt sighed as he sipped the concoction, “you are wasted as a common thug.”

“Common thug?” his brother growl-chuckled, “I’m a most singular thug, thank you very much!”

The huge Threen sipped his glass and nodded approvingly.

“Good batch,” he smiled, “much better than that hooch I used to make.”

“This is… artistry…” his much smaller brother, no larger than a human, sighed, “In another time… another age...”

“Well, in this age and in this time,” his gigantic brother rumbled, “You know, where and when we are now? It’s just good hooch.”

The regally dressed runt made a pained noise.

“Please don’t call Angel’s Cloud ‘hooch’,” he said sadly, “This is an ancient tradition passed down from—“

“It’s a recipe from one of those books you are always saving,” the giant smiled, taking another sip. “… for good hooch,” he snickered as he elbowed his much smaller brother. “I heard you didn’t kill the new guy. You aren’t actually turning into a prettyrunt for real, are you?”

His brother chuckled.

“His cousin threw himself on top of the fool and begged for mercy,” he smirked, “I couldn’t get a good strike in without tearing through the guy, and I like… what’s his name again?”

“Coboon… good man,” His brother replied.

“Yeah, him,” the runt shrugged. “The point was made. I don’t have to murder someone every single time I show up… Besides, I didn’t want to soil my new outfit.”

“Yeah, it would be a shame if something made that get up any worse.”

“Hey! This was the height of Terran court fashion at the time!”

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“Let me guess,” his brother chuckled, “the same point in their development as we were when we were so cruelly destroyed by the evil Federation.”

“Actually, no,” the runt replied, “This was a bit further along, but I like it better.”

***

Shortly thereafter, the runt and his brother sat at a well-appointed table as six maids stood in their frilly robes along the walls.

All of them were rigid with fear. He was back.

They had dared to hope they would never see him again.

Wherever he went, death followed.

Daveorna, in particular, was barely keeping it together. Coboon, that lovable idiot, had dared to defy him.

He still breathed, but for how long? Any moment that monster could remove those fancy clothes and change into leathers…

...or simply nothing at all. It had happened before.

Her Coboon was as good as dead. Everybody knew it, even him.

He had made a point of saying goodbye just moments ago. She begged him to run and even promised to go with him, damn the risk.

He just gave her that little smile of his and said there was no point. If Evoron wanted him dead, running would just make it worse when he found him. He said that he would stand and fight if it came to that…

If it came to that…

The knife was heavy under her robes, its cool lethality chilling her skin.

Oh merciful God...

He was looking at her with those unnatural eyes, like a spider’s…

“I’m not going to kill Coboon,” he said to her as her blood froze in her veins. “He’s been a good retainer, served this family well, and offered no disrespect. His cousin, however… may not be as fortunate.”

“Oh, give it a rest,” his brother laughed, “Everyone knows that once your blood-boner goes soft, it’s too much effort for you to get it up again. You’ve probably already forgotten which one he is.”

Evoron laughed and raised his glass.

“You know me all too well,” he chuckled.

He turned to Daveorna.

“He’s right, you know,” he said in a friendly tone, “I have absolutely no idea which one he is. Tell Coboon that for me as well, would you?”

“Y-yes, Boss...”

“And you can put the knife in your stocking on the table over there if you don’t mind.”

She made a strangled gasp.

“Well?” Evoron asked as he idly examined his razor-sharp claws, “Either put it on the table or draw it and needlessly die trying to protect someone who is perfectly safe… from me anyway.”

Daveona rushed to the table and put the dagger on it before falling to her knees, gasping for breath and burying her face in her hands.

“Why don’t you go and tell Coboon the good news,” the runt smiled, “And respect unto you. What is your name, again?”

“D-Daveona… Boss...”

“Respect unto you, Daveona,” he smiled, “Making a move on a boss for the man you love? Not too shabby. Stupid… but magnificently so. I hope he knows what he has. I envy him.”

Shuddering with terror and relief, Daveona filled Evoron’s glass and fled.

“I like her,” Evoron said to his brother. “Please don’t punish her.”

“I am certainly not going to ‘talk over you’ on this matter,” his brother chuckled as he sipped the wine in his goblet, nodding approvingly. It was a magnificent batch if he did say so himself. “You spared her, so she’s spared.”

“Thank you, Brother,” Evoron replied as he reached for an oilfruit.

“While I am always happy to see you,” his brother said as he cut a thick steak with a sapphire inlaid electrum knife, “I can’t help but wonder why you are here. You know Father banished you and will not view your trespass with the same good humor that I have.”

“First things first, Brother,” Evoron purred, “This wine is sublime! You have outdone yourself yet again!”

“Eh,” his brother shrugged, “The vola vines do all the work. I just pick them, that’s all.”

”You picked them?”

“Who else can I trust?” his brother asked with a shrug and a sip. “Our laborers are just that, laborers. I tell them to pick, and they will return with bushel baskets of overripe and underripe volas. It’s more work to sort through the ruined produce than simply going out and selecting them myself. The same goes for the pressing. Oh, don’t get me started on the pressing!”

His brother made a little snort.

“Those oafs ruined an entire harvest once! If I was you, I would have killed them!” he exclaimed. “No. My wine is prepared by me and me alone. Let them crush and mangle the hooch for father’s table as if he would know the difference.”

“Dangerous words there, Brother,” Evoron chuckled as he took another appreciative sip.

His gigantic brother let out a quiet laugh.

“Father says as much himself,” he said, “A great man… but a terrible palate… As far as bosses go, if that is the worst I can say about him, I am truly blessed!”

“You forgot his absolute lack of a sense of humor...” Evoron smirked.

“Brother! What transpired was NOT funny! You almost started a war!” his brother exclaimed, “I am still surprised he didn’t have you killed.”

“I think he got tired of trying,” Evoron smiled as he cut into his steak. “Besides, I did everyone a favor, and he knew it. That little shit was in line for Overboss. Imagine if he survived. Besides, I broke no rules. Everything was done perfectly in accordance with our customs.”

“It was murder, and everyone knows it,” his brother chuckled, “That poor fool didn’t have a prayer. You slaughtered him like livestock.”

“Did you see the look on his face?” Evoron snickered.

His brother simply laughed and gestured to one of the servants who refilled his golden goblet.

“Do you ever tire of slaughter?”

“I’m always tired of it, Brother,” Evoron replied. “It’s tedious, dangerous, and most of all, messy. I would be infinitely happier if it wasn’t so often necessary.”

“Many would disagree with you where ‘necessary’ is concerned.”

“Many lack my vision.”

“Is that what you are calling it these days?” his brother smirked as he summoned a servant bearing a tray of glazed sweetbreads.

“Oh, I do have a vision, dear brother,” Evoron smiled, “In fact, that is why I have come here. I would like to speak to Father. More precisely, I want you to smooth the way so I don’t have to kill his attendants and guards. I like this outfit.”

His brother burst into laughter.

“Now I know you are truly insane, my beloved sibling!” his brother bellowed. “There is absolutely no way he will ever speak to you again. You are lucky that a sniper or poisoner hasn’t been given your name, and it took everything your mother and I could manage to secure even that!”

“Well, that and I do come in handy every now and again,” Evoron smiled, “Even he cannot deny my results.”

“It’s those same results that have ‘resulted’ in your exile, you know.”

“And those same results ensure my well-being,” Evoron said as he took another sip.

After he paused to properly savor the wine, he continued.

“I’m a very useful demon that he can summon at will, just like the conjurers of old. My status allows me to challenge anyone… one way or another… and my track record is quite well-proven in that regard. Father can make a show of cursing me and banishing me from this hall to preserve appearances if he wishes, but he likes the fact that with a single word, he can make me reappear wherever and whenever he likes. The other houses are also bitterly aware that one of theirs could wind up facing me at any time. Father likes that as well. If you expended any real favors to save my life, you wasted them, dear brother. Father won’t do away with his trump card, especially an expendable one like myself.”

“I don’t know,” his brother replied, “He’s really angry this time. Do you know that he was trying to arrange a marriage between our family and the Overboss?”

Evonon smiled.

“Why do you think I did it in the first place?” he snickered, “I happen to like our sister.”

“Unbelievable,” his brother smiled as he raised his glass. “To throw away that marriage so Gvoka can marry who she wishes? Father is right. All those romantic notions from those books have rotten your brain after all.”

“Well, that,” Evonon said as he savored his brother’s amazing wine, “and it didn’t serve my interests.”

“Oh?” his brother asked as he leaned forward.

“I think we have all we need here,” he smiled, “Don’t you, Brother?”

“All of you, out!” his brother barked.

The maids fled.

“This I simply must hear,” his brother said, leaning back and swirling his goblet.

“Do you remember what we used to talk about, back when we still lived in our mother’s chambers, those crazy dreams we washed down with that truly awful stuff you used to brew in those clay pots out in the woods?”

“You mean what children, drunk off of rancid fruit and those stories out of your books, babbled about just before we puked?” his brother replied with a nostalgic smile. “Good times.”

“What would you say if I told you that I could make it happen,” Evonon said quietly, “all of it.”

“I would say that you finally had taken that final plunge into insanity,” his brother said as he took a bite of perfectly cooked and spiced meat. “That’s what I would say.”

He looked into his brother’s eyes.

“I would also say that you would be best served leading your little cult in that rotting cathedral of yours.”

“It’s not a cult,” Evonon chuckled, “I simply host a few like-minded individuals and allow them access to my library.”

“Well, whatever it is,” his brother replied, “stick to boning bored third and fourth daughters and disaffected spouses while reading them bad poetry. Things are how they are, Brother. Those days are long past, a painful memory best forgotten lest it turn you mad… as it clearly has.”

“Times are changing, Brother,” Evonon said as he rose to refill their goblets. “The Federation is reeling from blow after blow. The humans have taken up arms against the Federation in earnest, and a new political party is festering within the halls of Parliament itself that promises yet more turmoil. Now is the perfect time to move.”

He set down his goblet.

“We could actually change things, Brother. This… all of this… this isn’t how it should be. I should have been a priest renowned for my scholarship and research, and you… You should be a real noble ruling justly over your people… Instead, you are just another boss, and I...”

He smiled.

“I’m a monster, hated and feared, and rightfully so.”

He picked up his goblet.

“Tell me,” he said, looking into his brother’s eyes, “are you truly satisfied with how things are, how our people suffer?”

“Of course, I’m not,” his brother replied, “But this is how it is now. How are you going to change it?”

“By changing the face of organized crime across the entire Federation,” Evonon replied with a smile. “By generating so much wealth and power that I can elevate our family’s position and make you Overboss...”

He paused to savor the wine. His brother was a fucking genius.

“the last Overboss… and the first Emperor of the Second Holy Empire.”

“You are truly insane,” his brother chuckled, “but you are an insane genius. What do you have in mind?”

“Well, it would be simplest to have you assume leadership of our family in a timely manner,” Evonon replied, “but I know you won’t agree to an ‘expedited succession’...”

“You are goddamned right about that!” his brother said firmly, “I am not killing Father!”

“I expected as much,” Evonon said, “So we need have him get me an audience with the Overboss… or speak to him on my behalf.”

Evonon took a measured sip of wine. The fruits of his brother’s craft were so delicious that it was easy to overindulge, something that he could not allow this time.

“I have a solution to the Harkeen problem,” Evonon smiled. “And that solution is the first step in reclaiming our people’s destiny.”

“How so?” his brother asked as he polished off his steak.

“I want to take over the Harkeen’s territory personally,” Evonon replied, “From that position, I can generate more wealth and power than you can imagine. With those, I will put you in as Overboss. He is lacking an heir after all,” he added with a smirk.

“Is that why you killed him?”

“Yes,” Evonon replied, “and I know for a fact that you and the Overboss's daughter are… fond?… of each other?”

His brother’s eyes widened.

“Help me ‘solve’ the Harkeen problem, and I will make it my personal mission to help you arrange that pairing.”

His brother looked at his deranged insane runt of a sibling thoughtfully.

“Threnka should be the next Overboss,” Evonon continued, “but our culture will not allow it. You, backed by her, will make an unstoppable team… and I know for a fact she isn’t opposed to the idea.”

“Am I going to finally find out which one of us would win, dear brother?” his giant sibling said with a very dangerous tone of voice, “What have you been playing at?”

“Oh, nothing much,” Evonon replied, “It’s just that the dear Threnka has a fondness for books and wine. My library and your nectar may have yielded a frank discussion or two. Of all the potential suitors, you are the one she prefers by no small measure.”

“She does?!?”

“From what she has confided in me, you should already know that,” Evonon smiled. “She isn’t one to throw herself around lightly. The only thing we need to make what she already wants a reality is more wealth and power, things I will easily obtain once I replace the Harkeen.”

“And there’s the coarse hairs,” his brother growled, “Just what makes you think that the Overboss, who is still mourning his son, will do anything other than plunge a dagger into your heart when you present yourself.”

“Business is business, dear brother,” Evonon replied. “And from what I understand, even he realizes that I performed a necessary evil. His son was loathsome, and there was no way he would be able to hold the families together. Besides, I am going to offer him an upgrade… you. I will also address the Harkeen issue and reestablish our reputation abroad.”

“And just how are you going to do that?” his brother scoffed, “The Harkeen have unsealed the Black Tomb out there. That goddamn frog has the fires of the Twelve Hells at her beck and call.”

“I will deal with the frog,” Evonon smiled

“Oh?”

“I chose my words very carefully, Brother,” Evonon said with a little smirk, “and that’s exactly what I will tell Father and the Overboss.”

“I still believe you have gone insane.”

“Perhaps,” Evonon said as he finished his second goblet, “however, there is virtually no exposure to you, Father… or the Overboss for that matter. If I succeed, I leave this planet forever. If I fail, then I die at the hands of the frog and will be unable to enter Heaven. Either way, they will be pleased.”

“I would not be pleased either way,” his brother replied. “The only way I will assist you is if I think you will succeed. How will you do that?”

“I will succeed,” Evonon said with a mysterious smile, “because I have finally found my muse. When I heard her angelic voice, everything fell into place. God sent her to me, and nothing can stand against the will of God.”

His brother arose and served Evonon a second thick portion of meat before refilling his own plate.

“I’m going to need just a little more than that, dear brother...”

***

Across the galaxy, Sheloran sat in a dimly lit supply locker, clutching her knees.

She shuddered.

Her eyes briefly glazed and unglazed.

“Well, that’s not good,” she said to nobody in particular.