"I'm sorry, Henryk. You're a decent guy and talented enough, but you've got to grasp that those Venus boys ain't fond of you. The big cheese, Jace... I don't see eye to eye with him..."

Geral's words slithered through the cramped space of his presidential quarters, a room devoid of comfort or frills, just a spartan cot and a stark desk under the glare of a solitary window, its panes barricaded with bars, casting a harsh, sterile light.

Perched on the edge of the cot, Geral's gaze fixed on Henryk, whose eyes seemed lost in the worn wooden planks beneath his feet.

Henryk had ventured into House Pluto, a stronghold of orthodoxy and utilitarianism. Compared to other dorms, it felt more institutional, more militaristic—a stark contrast to the vibrancy he had hoped to find. Its corridors stretched like bleak arteries, windows ensnared in metal grids.

It unsettled him, this aversion to color, even his own drab uniform held more vitality than the monotonous surroundings.

Their attire, reminiscent of soldiers, lacked the flair of flight suits, adorned instead in deep green fatigues, each patch marking hierarchy. Doors remained sealed, denying him the customary glimpse into potential accommodations. It dawned on him how swiftly his fortunes had shifted.

Once courted, now shunned—a damning consequence of his own folly. Memories surged, of his clenched fist meeting Jace's jaw, the ensuing chaos a tempest in his mind.

Henryk's breaths came ragged, weariness etched in every line of his face. Geral's voice pierced the heavy air, drawing his attention.

"Listen, Henryk. You're a decent fella, but you gotta figure out your next move."

Geral's words hung, tentative. Henryk's narrowed gaze bore into him, a silent challenge. Geral sighed, a flicker of regret passing over his features. They could have had Henryk, before it all went to hell.

His mind flickered back to the footage, Henryk's prowess in the cockpit undeniable. He was an asset, but Jace's disdain loomed large.

Henryk's lip curled. "This about what went down between me and..." His hand gestured vaguely, and Geral nodded.

"Jace," he interjected, the name heavy on his tongue.

"Jace," Henryk murmured, the name heavy on his lips as he rested his hands on his knees. "I just don't see how I'm the one in the wrong here."

Geral let out a weary sigh, his gaze dropping to the floor. "Jace and Sirine... now, there's a tangled web," he muttered.

Henryk shook his head, frustration etched in his features. "Sirine mentioned something about her and Jace... something more."

"It's complicated," Geral interjected, his tone weighed down with uncertainty.

"I've got time," Henryk insisted, his determination unwavering.

Geral studied Henryk's face for a moment, a mixture of admiration and concern flickering in his eyes. "You sure don't give up easily," he remarked, clicking his teeth. "I don't know what you see in Sirine. Sure, she's a looker with that white hair, but there's a storm brewing beneath that pretty facade."

"What kind of trouble?" Henryk pressed, his curiosity piqued.

"Oh, you'll find out soon enough," Geral replied cryptically, shooting Henryk a meaningful glance. "Helen, that's the kind of trouble a girl like her brings."

Henryk fell silent, mulling over Geral's words.

Geral sighed heavily. "It's not official yet, but the Headmaster's on his deathbed," he revealed, watching Henryk's reaction closely.

Henryk's eyes widened in shock at the news.

"Someone's gotta take over the academy," Geral continued, his voice grave. "And word is, Jace's old man and Sirine's father are cooking up some marriage scheme."

Henryk's disbelief was evident. "How can they get away with that?"

Geral shrugged. "You head deeper into the system, you'll find folks with some mighty peculiar customs. Martian castles, tribal alliances... and tales of alien origins," he added with a hint of irony.

Henryk chuckled skeptically. "You really believe in all that?"

"Believe it," Geral retorted sharply. "I've seen things out there, Henryk. On guild missions. It's a dark, twisted universe. But you already knew that."

Geral pointed a finger at Henryk, who winced at the gesture. "How's the eye?" Geral inquired, his tone softening.

Henryk sighed, gingerly touching the bruised skin around his blackened eye. "Not from Jace," he growled, his resentment palpable.

"His lackeys," Geral surmised, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "You're talking to the president of House Pluto, Henryk. I've been around the block. I know things."

"So, it's common knowledge, then?" Henryk asked, a glimmer of realization dawning in his eyes.

Geral shook his head, his expression grave. "No, but having been in this position, I know how the game is played."

His words hung heavy in the air, and Henryk sensed the weight of them before he even spoke. Eyes still fixed on the floor, he ventured, "You know it wasn't me, right?"

Geral remained silent for a beat, then sighed, lifting his mismatched gaze to meet Henryk's. "I don't know," he admitted.

"You don't know?" Henryk echoed, frustration seeping into his voice as he locked eyes with the president. "Why would I have any reason to mess with Jace's sister? I wasn't even near her. And a tournament? I've never wielded a sword in my life!"

"What do you want me to say?" Geral shot back, annoyance creeping into his tone. "It doesn't matter what I believe. It matters what the other houses believe, and..."

He trailed off, rubbing his brow with a weariness that seemed out of place on a man in his twenties, his features etched with stress.

"Christ, what a mess," he muttered, rising from his seat. Henryk watched him, a silent standoff of anger and frustration brewing between them. Henryk for being shut out of the house, and Geral, who seemed torn between wanting Henryk and the fallout from the previous night's events.

Geral sighed, regaining his composure. "Henryk, you have to be careful now. You've already drawn Venus's wrath, and they won't stop coming after you."

Henryk sneered, his lip curling in defiance. He examined his bruised knuckles, a reminder of the scuffle with the Venus boys outside the dining hall. Tough as nails, those core worlders, but he had held his own. Still, the pain lingered, a reminder of the futility of it all. It wasn't him, couldn't have been him. Yet a flicker of doubt danced in his mind.

He made to leave, his mind racing, replaying the chaos of the previous night.

Geral nodded solemnly. "Jace thinks you're the Antlered Knight. Funny, they call you that, you know?"

Henryk scoffed, dismissing the title with a roll of his eyes. "I couldn't care less about titles. Geral, I'm here for one reason—to provide for my mother and sisters. Neptune's too..."

"I'm not surprised," Geral interjected, his eyes narrowing. "Word travels fast. Heard about your exploits in space. Rescuing the headmaster's daughter and Logan of Neptune."

Henryk met his gaze evenly. "It was a team effort. Edward of Mars, Piper of Mercury... couldn't have done it alone."

As the words left his lips, a realization dawned on Henryk. He remembered his reckless charge into the WarCasket, his initial annoyance at Ed's interference. Now, he understood that without their help, he and Sirine would have perished in space.

Sirine... her big, sad gray eyes haunted his thoughts, her white locks like a beacon in the darkness. When had she become so prominent in his mind? And why?

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

But Geral's smirk hinted at a deeper understanding. "It was your WarCasket that carved a path through that asteroid," he remarked.

Henryk's words caught in his throat, choked by surprise. "How did you..."

Geral reached into his pocket, retrieving a phone. Bathed in the blue glow, he continued, "Neptune tried to bury it, but someone leaked the footage. Perhaps they saw it as a chance to claim you..."

Henryk's gaze fixed on the screen, his own exploits replaying before him. The grainy quality of the video did little to diminish the memory—the pounding of his heart as he and Logan cut through the asteroid field with sword and trident.

He watched, transfixed, as his battered WarCasket sprang to life, its makeshift weapon cleaving the colossal rock in two. Geral pocketed the phone as Henryk absorbed the gravity of his actions.

"You saved Neptune's spear," Geral affirmed, turning to face Henryk. "Have you approached them?"

A fleeting grin crossed Henryk's face. "Don't want me anymore?"

Geral waved off the jest with a smile of his own. "You're not half bad," he admitted, his eyes tracing Henryk's form. "You remind me of my brother. Maybe that's why I'm feeling generous today."

"What if I wasn't like your brother?" Henryk wondered aloud.

Geral chuckled. "Then we wouldn't be having this conversation," he confessed, rising from the bed. "You and my brother, both first-years, both with that same restless spirit."

"Restless?" Henryk echoed, searching Geral's face.

"Yeah, restless," Geral confirmed. "Henryk, you arrived at the academy during a tumultuous time. Neptune holds the cards in this game, and Logan, well, he's got his own brand of honor. If you went to Neptune, demanded a spot, they'd at least listen."

Henryk met Geral's gaze, a flicker of pain in his eyes. "I already did," he admitted.

Geral shrugged, the smirk fading from his lips as he settled back onto the bed. "Well, that's quite the story," he remarked.

"No kidding," Henryk replied dryly.

Geral chuckled, a wry twist to his lips. "So, you've managed to botch your chances with two houses. Neptune and Venus, Henryk. That's not exactly a glowing resume."

"You don't have to tell me twice," Henryk replied, weariness seeping into his voice.

"Damn," Geral muttered. "You really are a chip off the old block, Henryk. My brother's just like you—hot-headed, quick to throw a punch before using his brain."

Henryk's sneer deepened. "Are you seriously laying this at my feet?"

Geral fell silent, his gaze lingering on Henryk's worn form. A flicker of regret danced in his eyes, momentarily overshadowed by a sense of pity. He hadn't fully realized the toll Henryk had paid.

Henryk spoke, his voice tinged with exhaustion and frustration. His eyes, bloodshot and weary, told a story of sleepless nights and endless trials. His uniform, a drab canvas of gray, bore the marks of his struggles—stains, tears, and bruises.

"Every fight I've been in, it's been because of the screwed-up things happening here," Henryk confessed, his mind flashing to the chaos at Neptune, the recent debacle at the party. "You were right. I went to Neptune, hoping Logan would give me a chance."

"And did he?" Geral inquired, surprise evident in his voice as Henryk nodded.

"That's odd," Geral mused.

"How so?" Henryk prompted.

"Neptune, both here and on their planet, they're known as the blue-blooded house. They value independence, wealth, religion. But they're not too keen on outsiders," Geral explained.

"You mean beyond the core worlds?" Henryk clarified.

Geral shook his head. "Nope. Last I heard, they recruited someone from Mercury. But they've got a reputation for xenophobia. I've even heard rumors they don't get along with their own kind."

Henryk fell silent, mulling over Geral's words. Sensing his hesitation, Geral pressed on.

"So, you had a shot at citizenship for yourself and your family. Why didn't you take it?"

Henryk's lips were dry as he spoke. "They jumped someone..."

Geral scratched his head, a sigh escaping him. "Henryk, I know what the galaxy thinks of this place, but it's all a load of crap. This isn't your typical school, and if you..."

Henryk's sneer sliced through the tension like a knife. "You sure like to talk, don't you?" he snapped at Geral, jabbing a finger accusingly at the president of Pluto. "Those Neptune boys didn't lift a finger. It was me. I stood alone as those animals attacked him. And you want to know why, Geral? Because he was a mutant."

Geral, struck speechless, slumped against the wall behind his bed, exhaling heavily. Thirty seconds of silence hung in the air before he found his voice. "Henry, I know you mean well, but you can't go about it like this."

Henryk's sneer deepened, and he turned his head away, prompting an irritated scowl from Geral. "Stop playing dumb, Henryk," he chided, jabbing his finger once more. "There's a right way to do things and a wrong way. If you want to make it here, you've got to play by the rules."

"Make it?" Henryk nearly shouted, incredulous. "This is supposed to be a damn school, but all I've seen is assaults and racism. People getting attacked over the color of their clothes. Sticking to their own kind like it's some damn tribal ritual. We're all students here, and all that heraldry does is divide us."

"Wrong, abhorrent, pointless?" scoffed Geral, gesturing towards the window that overlooked the sprawling campus. "Those were my thoughts when I first arrived. Don't get me wrong, Henryk. The system here is messed up, but I've used my position to do what's right, to keep my men in line so they don't stoop to..."

"Logan and Jace?" Henryk interjected, wrapping his arms around himself, his gaze piercing.

"Goddamn right," Geral snapped back instantly, meeting Henryk's glare head-on. "I've heard things about Logan, but Jace? He's a real piece of work."

"Tell me about it," Henryk muttered.

Geral's sneer was palpable. "Venus and Pluto used to have a decent friendship," he reminisced.

"Really?" Henryk's interest piqued.

Geral nodded, a smirk tugging at his lips as he recalled brighter days. "Yeah. The last president was a stand-up guy. Tactical, honorable. He kept the Venusians in check. But now, with Jace in charge, his first order of business? Hurt and attack the boy who saved Sirine from his clutches."

Henryk's gaze dropped, a heaviness settling over him. Yet, Geral pressed on. "I was there at the party all night," he revealed.

"So, you saw everything," Henryk acknowledged.

Geral nodded solemnly. "Every damn bit. Jace catcalling Sirine, then drunkenly grabbing her and pinning her arms. I can still hear her scream for help..."

"...and not a soul moved," Henryk finished, his voice heavy with resignation.

Geral lifted his gaze, catching the stormy tone in the air, a perfect reflection of Henryk's anger. Lips sealed, eyes ablaze with a white-hot fury, Henryk had abandoned his seat, fists clenched in restraint.

"Not a single soul moved," Geral echoed, the weight of those words hanging in the room. The soldiers of Pluto, witches of Jupiter, knights of Mars, First Men of Earth, Spears of Neptune, Uranus's innworlders, and Mercury's pilots—all frozen in silence.

Geral's beard softened into a semblance of sorrow as he continued, "My brother and I are descendants of the old kings of Pluto." The shock etched on Henryk's face was undeniable.

"At that party, sons and daughters of kings, emperors, sultans, presidents, ambassadors, conquerors, raiders, slavers—the elite of lineage. Yet, when faced with the challenge, it was only you who stood your ground, acted honorably and fearlessly against Jace. The rest of us just stood there in silence."

Henryk's fist unclenched, taking a step back. "I didn't act honorably," he countered. "There was a girl in trouble, and Ma raised me to help those in need. So, I helped."

Geral smirked and chuckled, his response laced with cynicism. "Simple ethics, Henryk. They'll get complicated as the years go by in a place like this. There are other academies, different institutions where it's nothing like this. You don't have to stay."

Silence hung between them, and then Henryk's eyes met Geral's. "Then why are you still here?" he challenged, narrowing his gaze. "Why bring your own damned brother? You know damn well this is the only option, and I'll be damned if I don't take this opportunity."

Geral sighed, rising from his bed. "Okay, obviously, you can't join our house, but you can bathe, eat, and I'll get someone to tidy up your clothes."

Henryk paused, realizing he had avoided the dining hall, wary of the Venusians still hunting him. He had to tread carefully.

"Do you know where you're going after this?" Geral asked, a heavy sigh accompanying the question. "Today's the last day."

"I know. What happens if I don't have a house?" Henryk inquired.

Geral sneered. "They'll send their own guys to find and recover you, send you back home. Some have fled to the countryside, avoiding the real crappy positions."

"The country?" Henryk repeated.

"Oh, yeah," Geral affirmed with a smile, sweeping his hand to emphasize his point. "The Academy's nice, but sometimes it's too much. If you can get a house before the day ends, tour the grounds. There's a massive city rivaling old New York, and the countryside is drop-dead gorgeous. The women, too, prefer Academy boys and are not part of this pesky pissing contest."

Henryk remained silent, his gaze lifting to meet Geral's. "Thank you," he said softly.

Geral shrugged, dismissing the gratitude. "It's nothing, really. You seem like a good lad. But where to now?" he inquired.

Henryk shrugged in response. "I've visited or spoken to the presidents of most houses. Some extended invitations, but others had their own strange agendas. Now, it's just Mercury and Mars left."

Geral sighed knowingly. "You'll encounter plenty of that, Henryk. The house you choose will entangle you in its politics. Whether it's Earth or Venus, you'll be drawn into their schemes. It's the way of life here."

Henryk sighed in resignation, but Geral raised a cautionary finger. "...and don't think about switching houses."

Henryk's eyes widened in surprise. "What?" he questioned. "I've heard switching houses isn't that big a deal."

Geral shook his head adamantly. "Listen, there are few things all houses agree on. Deserters and flip-floppers are universally despised. You've heard of that traitor Simon from Mercury, right? Now, imagine if someone of my rank wanted to switch from Pluto to, say, Earth. You may not grasp the full consequences now, but my position gives me access to critical information."

"You'd be a security risk," Henryk concluded, his understanding dawning.

Geral nodded approvingly. "Quick learner," he remarked. "That's a strength in itself. Adaptability—the ability to blend into any environment or role. Many don't survive beyond their familiar surroundings. But you, you've been through battles and scars. When was the last time you slept?"

Henryk fell silent. Geral chuckled softly. "You're a feisty one, Henryk of..."

"Henryk Brown," Henryk supplied.

"Henryk Brown," Geral repeated, his fingers combing through his beard. "An old Earth name. You don't hear much of those anymore. What does it mean?"

Henryk shrugged. "It's my father's family name. He said it was a name feared by slavers, conquerors, and even emperors."

Geral studied the boy before him, catching a glimpse within Henryk's eyes—the present locked in one, the future in the other. A berserker's gaze, a hint of madness that left Geral wondering if this was the first time he'd witnessed it.

"Well, Henryk Brown," Geral said, rising from his seat. Henryk extended his hand, meeting Geral's grasp firmly. "I am Geral of Pluto. Take care of yourself. Today's the last day. Get yourself dolled up enough so those damn Mercurians can take you. With someone like you, I feel you'll do some good."

"You think so?" Henryk chuckled, his tone tinged with humor.

Geral wrapped both arms around himself, a smirk playing on his lips. "I know so."