Meno blocked two jabs, quickly ducked and then hoisted his arm up where he expected 6’s jawline, but 6 was faster, moving away from him and spinning beneath him. Meno felt a slight tap on his back by his left kidney, a subtle reminder that if this were real, He would be in serious trouble. He exhaled, feeling the sting in his forearms from the repeated blocks, and looked up at the towering Kryptea.

“You are sacrificing balance,” came 6’s calm, resonant voice. He wasn’t panting and didn’t even look winded. Meno, by contrast, was drenched in sweat, drops tracing their way down his forehead.

“I thought I saw an opening,” Meno said, hands on his knees, breathing deeply. He half-smiled, already anticipating 6’s response. ‘I let you believe there was an opening.’ It was a reminder he’d heard before. Training with 6 was as much a game of chess as it was combat. At first, Meno had thought of him as a straightforward fighter, but he’d come to realise that 6 approached combat as an art form, blending skill with razor-sharp tactical insight.

“You must have the intent”, 6 said, turning and walking back to his starting position. Meno wiped his brow and readied himself. He cast quick glance to the balustrades, spotting Angie and Liv watching him, with Efreet standing dutifully just behind them. Paba, meanwhile, had once again been called to check on the planet's systems. Meno was beginning to think Angie was right - they were probably getting her to look at the security systems. Whether Paba was aware of this or not, he couldn't say. He suspected that she was, but true to her nature she would act as if she wasn’t. She still had not been granted access to connect to the network, as they still wanted to be cautious. To Meno, this felt redundant, after getting to know Paba, he realised that she didn't need permission, she probably already had access to it.

They’d been watching over him for hours and their boredom was apparent. He had thought that he would be closer to the Kryptea’s level now, but each time he thought that his strength or speed could match him, the soldier outmanoeuvred him with effortless wit and experience. 6 wasn't even using his full abilities, and still Meno struggled to keep up. He needed to concentrate.

“Almost had him, Meno,” came Liv’s voice, utterly flat without even glancing at the fight. She just repeated what she’d said hours ago.

The Kryptea moved, and Meno, now able to pick his movements better, pushed himself backwards, still facing the oncoming soldier, forcing him to take an extra step. The trap was set. Meno surged forward at the Kryptea, his left arm raised to block the swinging arm of the red-skinned soldier, and turned, thrusting his shoulder into his chest. He did not let go of 6’s arm, and after the initial bump pulled him back, and threw his right hand into his stomach. It felt like hitting the very temple walls itself as it sent a dull pain through his forearm. 6 released his right arm, jabbing towards Meno’s head, but he ducked just in time and spun his leg out to try to take out 6’s legs, but the Kryptea jumped. Meno grinned knowing he had him. He grabbed one of the 6's legs, pushing it to the side, causing him to lose his balance midair, but the Kryptea was fast and kicked out with his other leg, which Meno blocked, sending a stinging jolt through his forearm and hit his own head in the defensive move. They stopped, two meters apart, and to Meno’s surprise, he saw something of pride wash across the Kryptea’s face.

He exhaled deeply, and looked up to the balustrade of the Traes training room, hoping for some sign of appreciation from the onlookers. Instead, he saw Liv and Angie speaking between themselves, barely paying him any mind.

“Really, the one fucking time I…” he muttered, panting as put his hands on his hips. “You still haven’t answered me, by the way,” he said to 6 who now that he wasn't fighting stood like a monolith, “Why haven't you taken a name?”, Meno knew that trying to make conversation with a Kryptea was unusual, he had received plenty questioning looks from everyone around him whenever he had asked for 6’s opinion on something, be it what he thought of Grasci, the Sun’s Rising Festival, or the Traes.

‘They don’t have opinions, Meno, they have that worked out of them, they just do what they are asked, without question, nothing more’ Angie had once explained, seemingly more concerned for him than irritated, he had to admit.

‘It’s just muscle in their heads, they don’t know how to think’ had been Paba’s response. But Meno thought differently, especially about 6. The other Kryptea had proven Angie and Paba right. They were stoic, ascetic, devoid of emotion, and simply did what they were told without question, without hesitation. But 6.. 6 was different. Meno had seen something different in this Kryptea, subtle hints, small cracks in the facade. He had seen him smile on the day of the attack, the way he watched over the children with a quiet fondness. And when Meno asked him to train, even if only under the orders of Liv, there had been a hidden excitement in him. He hadn't taken a name, and all of these things made Meno think that this Kryptea was different. His eyes drifted slightly away at Meno’s question, looking up around the balustrades. Meno suspected that he was looking for his own comrades, who no doubt would look down on him answering questions, or speaking at all for that matter.

“There is a name that I will take,” 6 said calmly, after seeing that nobody was watching. Meno was fascinated, this was something the Kryptea were said not to have, something that had been stripped from them. This was an ambition, something individual 6 was looking for. Meno tried to contain his intrigue but wanted to press on.

“Is that normal for a Kryptea, to choose the name?” he asked, stepping closer slowly to 6 to offer more cover, to continue the conversation. He wanted to ask something deeper, something more probing but sensed that this open-ended question might yield more.

“No,” 6 replied, his gaze fixed ahead, “but I am not a citizen yet, I am not Kryptea”. It was the second time Meno had heard him say this, and while logically it was true, he wasn't officially a citizen of Lacedon until he took a name, but it was the phrasing that struck Meno as odd. Why add the ‘I am not Kryptea’. Even in the slightest tone that Meno could pick up in his voice, there was something that sounded almost like… disdain.

“You follow their orders though?” Meno asked

“Yes,” replied 6, though there was a momentary hesitation, brief, but there.

“What would happen if you didn't…” Meno began, but stopped at the slightest of movements from 6 as he raised his fingers in a gesture that said ‘Enough’. Meno turned to see up on the balcony, where the female Kryptea had just walked in, her cold eyes falling on 6. Meno looked between the two of them. 6 now standing in front of him, with his back facing him. Meno looked over his shoulder to see the female Kryptea. Meno’s gaze fell on the scars on 6’s back, which he had noticed before on the glider when they were going to the library. He had now seen them on a total of three occasions before their training sessions. The lines were uniform and straight, and they were cut at different angles. Meno glanced back up, he caught the female Kryptea’s gaze now fixed on him. A question stirred within him—had she been the one to inflict this punishment?

“You’ve got to stop trying to talk with him, Meno,” said Angie as they made their way to the apartments after his session. His forearm was killing him, but he knew the tech patches stashed in the apartment from the attack would fix it within minutes. He stretched out his left shoulder, relieved to find only the faintest stiffness remained. The stuff really was a miracle.

“He’s different” Meno insisted, opening the door and holding it for Angie.

“Doesn't matter. All it takes is you saying one wrong thing, and you're done” she said with finality.

“Ah good, you're still alive,” said Paba, seated at the wooden table in the living room. She deeply disliked that Meno was training with 6, insisting he’d murder him at the first chance he got. Much like Angie, actually. Meno noticed her small pendant was once again out around her, she seemed to be wearing it more often lately. saw the small pendant around her neck out once more and it seemed that she had just put it back on. She seemed to have it out more now than she had previously. She was in a bubbly mood, holding her datapad, which was a permanent feature of her person nowadays.

“Yes, but he’s still trying to make friends with the machine,” said Angi, walking over to the window to do her routine perimeter check of the apartments.

“Yeah…that’s so…weird,” said Paba, dropping her gaze to the datapad, avoiding them. She cleared her throat, “What did Liv say?”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“She’ll get us some tech,” Angie said as she finished her check. “She spoke to her mother and got the green light. Apparently, we’ve proven ourselves as decent security for her daughter. It won’t be the best kit out there, but it's something”.

Paba nodded with an excited smile. They had all been feeling the same way since the attack and Worrec’s warning, and then there was the speech at the Prelude Gala. They’d felt underprepared, naked in front of a threat that was hanging over them. Meno had the tech that Worrec had given him, though he disliked using it, as it brought up symbols and writing that flickered in his vision, accompanied by faint ticking sounds whenever he received a notification. Paba had examined it again since they landed on Yeley and confirmed it was just comms tech—something Angie sorely wanted back after losing hers on Gol.

Meno was intrigued by the tech. Paba and Angie both told him that it could enhance his physical abilities, which is what they wanted for him. He knew it was stupid, but somehow, using tech like that didn't sit right with him. It felt… lazy.

‘Just like Lor’ Angie said with a smile, shaking her head, ‘But even he used tech, Meno’.

Angie and Paba had been brainstorming ways so they could better prepare themselves, from getting some tech, to mapping the Temple. They even tried to develop hand signals, though Meno and Paba were both terrible at it, and Angie had quickly dropped the idea after seeing their hopeless attempts.

Angie mentioned a trick that they’d used during the war. She’d never had much affinity for tech and was not able to use it very well even then, but with all of the tech flying around during the war, they’d had stockpiles of the stuff, and without the ability to use it effectively, they created new tactics, mainly, tech grenades. What was required was a power source for the tech that could be used to ignite the small devices meant to be inserted subdermally, once they were thrown. Paba, upon hearing this immediately said that this was something that she could do, and had been working on some designs, refining the idea.

“That’s perfect. I’ve also been thinking more about what Worrec must have,” Paba added, continuing the conversation that she and Angie had been having before Meno left for training, “He must have some stealth tech, otherwise we would have seen him in the room, Meno said he was there as the door shut, that there was barely a moment before us leaving and him arriving.”

“Could be, could he also have shifter abilities?” Angie began, her too acting like this conversation hadn’t stopped, “He could have shifted right in front of Meno without him realising it”

“Right here,” Meno interjected, raising his hand with futility as they carried on.

“Shifting through this?” Paba said, pointing her thumb over her shoulder. She was indicating to the faint glow of symbols and words lining the temple’s barrier wall. Meno had seen the insignia everywhere in the temple and now knew that it was tech itself, older but very tough to get through. Powered by massive generators, and even though it was simple and perhaps outdated, it had enough power running through it that it would stop almost anything that was thrown at it.

“They keep out what they know,” said Angie knowingly. “He could have some high-grade tech built to bypass it, he could have fiddled with the wards or, worst case scenario, he could have just overpowered it. It’s possible,” she assured Paba, revisiting a discussion they’d had before.

“Don’t see that happening, these wards are pulling mad power, and there’s no sign they’ve been tampered with” Paba countered. So she was in their network already, Meno thought, wondering if the people she was working with knew that.

“How much tech do you think he’s got?” Meno asked, wondering if they would even hear him, “Surely there is a limit?” he said a bit louder to make sure that they heard him.

“Depends on your affinity for it. If the tech works for you, the less energy it pulls from the cells in your body. So the generators don’t need to work as hard, which leaves more energy available for other tech use. But if you have a bad match, you end up pulling most of the energy just to power the one piece of tech”.

“Basically, he could have a bunch if he’s got good tech, and he’s good at using it,” said Paba, “And trust me I hate to say this, but I think he’s pretty damn good with it”

“What if he’s a primer?” Meno asked, making Angie pause and think for a moment, it had been something that Meno knew that they had discussed previously, leaving it as something they needed to discuss more, but hadn't,

“Primers only have one ability, or rather it only presents as one thing,” She replied. “They can layer tech on top of it, but I don’t see how a primer ability would give him a way to move from ship to ship like on Gol, slip into a room with you unnoticed, bypass wards undetected to get into your hospital room, and potentially even copy himself if we’re right about that. It’s just too much,” she said, her tone seeming to make this decision as she spoke, “I’d say it has to be tech”.

Meno recalled their last conversation on this, starting to wonder if it even mattered what Worrec had. It was clear he wasn’t going to join them on the ground, preferring instead to keep to his clandestine style—popping in, leaving cryptic instructions, and disappearing again. Or, like that first time… dying, but not dying.

"I’m a bit more complicated than that," Worrec had said to Meno when he’d questioned the tall, blonde stranger about not being dead. Who knew what was happening with that guy. Meno figured it was safer to keep him out of their plans.

"I’ve been grabbing gravity cells from around the hangar," Paba announced, completely sidestepping the ongoing conversation as if delivering the best news possible. Angie shot her a worried look, to which Paba responded with a quick, amused laugh. Angie had already voiced her concerns about Paba’s lack of discretion and warned her against making risky moves. But she knew, too, that Paba would argue her way out of anything. So, she let it be.

They’d spent the past few days planning every detail they could while holed up in the apartments. Whenever they were out, they watched Olivia like hawks, tracking every movement around her. Meno suspected that Liv had noticed their vigilance but hadn’t said anything, he had a feeling she appreciated it. The attack had rattled her, even if she masked it well, so the added protection was likely a comfort. She was no longer the naive Liv who repeated lines fed by her parents and Harold. Now, she was taking everything seriously. After all, she had taken a public shot at Grasci during her speech, effectively cornering him—and she knew he would retaliate.

With two days until the Sun’s Rising Festival, tension hung thick in the air. The news had been buzzing about Liv’s speech, which had been broadcast planet-wide. Normally, it would air intergalactically on obscure channels, but this time, it was shown exclusively on Yeley, under the excuse of rights or ownership issues. The debates among the newscasters had been intense, with particular segments of Liv’s speech sparking fierce scrutiny and discussion.

‘...there was no plan, no direction, just that we must, what…stand firm?’

‘To be honest, I am still trying to figure out why they would invite Grasci, and perhaps more pertinent, why he would go’

‘I think it was a good move by him, put yourself in his shoes, keep your enemies close, right? And yes, yes, Huwe, they are his enemy, we must not forget. He has positioned himself as opposition, it is as simple as that'

‘Well, all I can say is that if you were not looking forward to his speech at the Sun’s Rising Festival, I bet you are now’

The chatter wasn’t just on the news. It echoed in whispers through the corridors of the Temple of Det’er, shared among those who worked with the Traes or had attended the Gala.

‘You see, it wasn’t The Front, I told you long ago, this was Jinn. Tam saw him’

‘Saw Jinn? Be serious Reg. From what I hear, it’s the Houses. Apparently, the Autarch has wanted Yeley, since the days of Det’er’

‘Doesn't matter who it is, the fact is, that it’s happening’

The chatter had been relentless since the speech. But in the moments they shared with Liv, she showed no interest in the whirlwind of opinions swirling around her. She’d become focused, aware, ready. Publicly, she had grown far more visible within her family and had now become the focal point of the discussion around Yeley. Meno couldn’t tell if this was part of a calculated political strategy, but he knew it had stirred questions in his own mind—questions about the Traes themselves. Why had they allowed the situation to escalate to this point? Would it have been wiser to stamp out The Front before it had a chance to grow? Was this truly about listening to the people and letting their voices be heard, even at the cost of their position as planetary heads? That seemed foolish to him… or was it? He couldn’t decide what the “right” decision would be.

These questions had polluted Meno’s thoughts since the Gala. He didn’t know who was right, but he knew he didn’t care for Professor Grasci’s smug demeanour when they met. The man’s smirk and condescending tone grated on him as if he paraded himself as the inevitable victor. And perhaps what unsettled him more was the subtle, almost resigned acceptance he sensed from the Traes. Instead of standing strong themselves, they had put Olivia forward as the pillar of strength for the family. Why weren’t they taking the lead? Why hadn’t they shown more of their own resolve? They should be standing taller, asserting their authority. But then the thought crept in: to what extent? Would it take oppression to guarantee safety? The question left Meno uneasy, stirring a conflict within him he couldn’t easily resolve.

“Ahh, I’m going to go train again” Meno said, jumping up from the sofa. He received questioning looks from the other two, with Paba rolling her eyes, because he had just got back from training, but they also knew better than to say anything. He was filled with anxiety over everything, and training was the only thing that helped him manage it. They each had their own ways of coping, and this was his.

With only today and tomorrow left to prepare for the Festival, he couldn’t do much to help with the bomb-making. Training was the only thing that eased the hollow feeling gnawing at his stomach. He recalled what Worrec had said the night he’d appeared in Meno’s hospital room.

"Everyone has their reason. Nobody is evil, kid. It’s all about different motivations. It won’t change anything, though. Yeley will fall."

Those words echoed in his mind on a relentless loop. He took a deep breath as he stepped into the corridor, making his way toward the training room. It didn’t matter what was coming; he needed to be ready, to be strong on his own terms. In two days, Yeley would face a political crisis—and they would be caught right in the centre of it.