The Confederacy is not what it once was. Oh, they claim the same ideals, but to claim something and to own it have never been the same thing. Instead of using the power of burners for good, they repress them. Instead of uniting the galaxy, they exploit its division. Instead of trying to find the Endowed, they use the Testing to keep their power.

The church is no longer a gap between evil and light. It is now dark, in and of itself.

-Rion Krot, circa 1,253 Post Imprisonment

Fendor Creed pursed his lips, watching as hands went up in the air. There were too many to count on his own, but the overall vote was clear: they would hear out the Talar diplomat. It was the first step toward opening trade with their old enemy. Toward resuming commerce with a nation so corrupt it made Fendor sick.

“I want to stop this,” he muttered. “I have to stop this.”

“There is nothing you can do,” said Li. A short, thin man, he was Fendor’s advisor. Fendor still wasn’t sure why he even had an advisor, but at least Li wasn’t the worst of the politicians here. Though he wasn’t the best, either. “And I warn against doing anything, young Creed. Your brother’s patience is already thin.”

“My brother can burn in Torment,” Fendor muttered. “This is his fault.”

“That attitude,” Li sighed, “is exactly why he is angry with you, young master.”

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Fendor snorted, leaning back. “Well, good. If that’s his logic, then I don’t have to apologize.”

Li sighed again, but was otherwise silent. Fendor tapped his foot against the floor violently, trying to restrain his objections as servants recorded the votes. Was it just him or were they taking forever counting? With so many hands in the air, and so very few still withheld, it was just a formality to number them. He let out a long breath, rolling his eyes as the time continued to drag on. Beside him, Li cleared his throat.

“If you are truly concerned, this might be a good time to note the Assemblymen who voted against.”

Fendor hesitated, trying to come up with an excuse not to do that. He couldn’t; as usual, Li was right. Okron, the man was infuriating sometimes. Grumbling, he leaned forward, sweeping his eyes over the crowd. It seemed more of the Northern Province members had decided not to support the proposal than any other sector, including, notably, Jerin Rostro, who had fought beside Daridin Ryth, back when Artensia had been actively fighting the Talar’s expansion. He had a look of fiery defiance on his face as he stood, arms folded, sweeping his gaze over the other Assemblymen, many of whom wilted beneath his stare. Well, at least someone was still willing to be brave.

“Peace may not be such a bad thing, Master Creed,” Li said beside him. “Our rivalry with the Talar has been long and bloody. It may be time to set that aside.”

Fendor’s hand tightened into a fist, and he forced himself not to respond. He doubted he could contain an outburst if he did. The Talar were savages. Void-cursed savages. And now they threatened to spread that savagery all across the galaxy. It was almost as bad as a Khazath invasion, and instead of standing up, his brother was trying to open up the searing trade routes.

Well, Eldinar might be a fool, but Fendor wasn’t. He stood himself, folding his arms, glaring at the idiots who held their hands in the air. Beside him, Li put his head in his hands. It seemed the servant wasn’t just playing Oblivion’s advocate; he actually believed Eldinar was doing the right thing. Well, Fendor would have to fire him.

There was no room for cowards when the galaxy faced this.