One Month Later

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"This is the place?" Joseph questioned, his voice heavy with skepticism.

Ed peered out from Joseph's car and slowly nodded, his expression unreadable.

Joseph sneered, leaning out the window as he gripped the steering wheel. "But it's just..."

Academy City sprawled before them, a maze of buildings, shops, and bustling activity that rivaled the energy of New York. It pulsed with life, even in the dead of night, where rumors of clandestine races and underground Warcasket duels whispered through the streets. Yet, when Ed mentioned finding someone to assist with their guild predicament, Joseph had envisioned something more grandiose.

"Are you sure it's not that nice building?" Joseph gestured towards a towering blue structure with pristine windows. "Now, that looks like a guild with some real clout."

Ed's laughter filled the car. "Well, Joe, if you can waltz in there and convince them to back traitors to the empire, be my guest."

Joseph let out a curt groan, frustration evident in his voice. "What a joke... centuries of service, and this is how we're treated."

Beneath Joseph's bitterness lay a grinding resentment. "What makes this place so different?"

Ed shrugged, his demeanor somber. "I did some research at the library..."

Joseph snickered. "A joke, having to rely on a library. The school should be footing the bill..."

Ed cut him off, his tone serious. "Usually, it's donations or a cut from the mission. But that wasn't a problem in the past. The King used to wire money each month, covering expenses, food, repairs..."

"Now, we've got no king, no planet," Joseph interjected, his voice tinged with worry. "If we don't secure a guild soon, how much longer can we keep this up?"

"What do you mean by that?" Ed's voice held a note of concern.

Joseph hurried to respond, his words tumbling out with urgency. "Ed, you're not blind. You see it in the squires and others. The House needs repair, both physically... and spiritually."

"Spiritually?" Ed arched an eyebrow, his tone tinged with amusement. "I didn't peg you for one to dabble in matters of the spirit like Isaac and Arthur."

Joseph's lip curled in disdain, his gaze shifting away from Ed. "Isaac's my best bud... Sure, all that military academy training might have given him a rough exterior, but deep down, he's alright. As for Arthur, being raised on a feudal world, it's only natural... But my tribe and I, we believe in the emotions and wellbeing of the group. We make sure that..."

"Woah, woah, woah," Ed interrupted, his voice cutting through Joseph's ramblings.

Joseph paused, collecting his thoughts. "Ed, I'm just suggesting that maybe we need to operate more like a unit, like a band of brothers... like in the days of Martian old."

A heavy silence settled between them.

"I shouldn't have..." Joseph trailed off, his tone remorseful.

Ed turned to him, his expression unreadable. "Now you choose tact?"

Joseph sighed heavily, a wry smirk playing at his lips. "Sometimes, I forget that you're different from all of..."

"I am not different, Joseph," Ed interjected sharply, his voice carrying a steely edge. Joseph, lost in his thoughts and facing the window, failed to notice the change in Ed's demeanor, the joviality replaced by an icy resolve.

Joseph rolled his eyes. "You can't tell me what you told me all that time ago and then act like things can be normal," he retorted, taking a deep breath. "I am loyal, Ed. Arthur, Isaac, heck, even Henryk."

Ed's smile softened at the mention of Henryk. "He'll make a mighty fine Executor."

Joseph's gaze bore into him. "You think he can handle it?"

Ed shrugged nonchalantly. "He has to, or he's as good as dead," he stated matter-of-factly. "Come on, Joe," Ed continued, his tone taking on a commanding air. "He's skilled and talented, a wizard as well. The others are fools; he's a great asset to any house. Perhaps one day, he'll bear the blessings of Mars upon his back."

Joseph chuckled darkly. "If he survives, that is... What kind of legacy will he inherit?"

Ed sighed heavily. "That depends on what Vinnie has in reserves. We all have backup spikes. Back on Mars, they would've just surgically removed them and implanted them into a potential Knight. But we don't have any orders... We're the last remnants of them all. Perhaps he'll join Arthur in 'The Hammer of Angels'; his spikes always created formidable warriors. Or maybe he'll join August's 'The True Sons'. Their legacy speaks for itself among the dozens of knight orders during Mars' heyday. None of them ever had the honor of their spikes being placed into a potential Executor."

"They won't even know, Ed," Joseph declared, his voice cutting through the tension in the car. Ed turned to face him, his expression guarded.

Joseph pressed on, the words tumbling out. "The True Sons and The Hammer of Angels orders are gone, wiped out when Mars fell. I was there, Ed, on that transport as..."

"I remember," Ed interrupted, his voice heavy with the weight of memories. The acrid stench of smoke, the panic as they fled Neptune invaders, the devastation of Mars by nuclear fire. The images played vividly in his mind, etched like scars on his soul.

His jaw clenched, knuckles white as he gripped the cushioned seat. Centuries of history, art, and lives lost in the flames. Mars was a world forged in hardship, where every breath carried the grit of survival. But it wasn't just a battleground; it was a home, a culture, a legacy.

For a fleeting moment, a profound silence enveloped them, heavy with unspoken grief.

"You okay?" Joseph's voice pierced the silence, pulling Ed back to the present.

Ed nodded slowly, his gaze distant. "Just thinking," he murmured. "About Henryk Brown. We keep pushing him towards knighthood."

Joseph nodded, his tone resigned. "That's his purpose here, Ed. The boy's got talent, rough edges and all. He's a fighter."

Ed stared out the window, lost in thought, as Joseph continued, his words blending into a steady drone.

"He's already proving himself, taking on squires, facing Kieren later. And he's holding his own in his studies, despite his new music major. As for Sirine..."

Ed rolled his eyes, a flicker of irritation crossing his features. "Sirine and that girl from Mercury," he muttered, shaking his head.

Joseph met his gaze. "Henryk's practically an adult, Ed. We can advise him, but we're just his mentors. Mars doesn't concern itself with alliances; we have them or we don't."

Ed's expression softened, a trace of resignation in his eyes. "Maybe you're right," he conceded, a weight lifting from his shoulders. "We'll guide him, but ultimately, his path is his own."

Ed shrugged, the movement hard and weighted with unspoken thoughts. "I'm not speaking to Henryk as a president, but as his friend," he said, his voice heavy with sincerity.

Joseph fell silent, the weight of Ed's words settling between them like a thick fog.

Sighing, Ed glanced at his watch. "Oh, shoot." His gaze flicked to the petite woman moving around inside the store.

"They're open," Joseph pointed out.

Ed nodded, his hand poised to open the door, but then he hesitated.

"Joseph," he called out, his tone tinged with gravity. "I appreciate your counsel."

A wide smirk spread across Joseph's face, his cheeks flushing with pride. "Thank you, S—"

Edward swiftly raised a hand, cutting him off mid-word. Joseph's eyes widened in understanding. "Sorry about that, Ed," he muttered. "Old habits die hard."

"I guess they don't," Ed replied, his smirk matching Joseph's.

As Ed turned to leave, Joseph's door still open, his friend's voice stopped him. "What?" Joseph asked, puzzled. "It's getting cold in here, it's like mid-October and—"

"I just realized something, Joe," Ed interrupted, refusing to meet Joseph's gaze, the eyes of a friendship forged over years. "Henryk Brown... he's learning about our culture. Vaguely, but he's grasping it. He knows how much we value fighting..."

"Hah, we do love that," Jacob chimed in, unaware of the depth of Ed's words.

Ed pressed on, his voice tinged with a haunting realization. "He's learning violence from our history, from the Plutonians of Damien and our troubled past... He'll carry the burden of a dead world, embodying all its flaws."

With a heavy sigh, Ed turned and walked into the store, adjusting his suit with practiced precision. Joseph watched him go, a flicker of concern in his eyes.

For a moment, Joseph sighed and reached into his pocket, retrieving a cigarette which dangled between his lips as he spoke, words mingling with expelled smoke.

"Seems like another Damien," he muttered, before hastening down the street, leaving behind a trail of wispy memories and unspoken fears.

Within the vast confines of the academy, nestled behind the imposing manor of House Mars, the Sons of Mars stirred within their training grounds, their wearied bodies gripping weapons with a familiar, exhausted ease.

Henryk, clad in leather armor, drew heavy breaths beneath the weight of his gear. His fingers tightened around the hilt of his wooden sword, the open visor of his metal helmet obscuring his features.

"You all know the rules," Isaac's voice cut through the air with stark authority, drawing the attention of the assembled squires.

Kierien, his blond hair tousled from a previous duel, met Henryk's gaze with a lazy confidence, his sword resting casually on his shoulder. Without a word, Henryk lowered his visor and tightened his grip on his blade, his resolve evident.

Meanwhile, Arthur, Joseph, and August observed from various vantage points, each bearing the marks of their own battles. The chill of autumn hung in the air, a stark reminder of the changing seasons.

"Begin!" Isaac's command echoed across the training grounds, and Kierien and Henryk surged toward each other, their swords clashing in a flurry of blows.

They assumed basic stances, muscles coiled with tension as they engaged in their practiced dance of combat. Though they were still novice swordsmen, every training session marked their progress under the watchful eyes of the Sons of Mars.

"You're mine, druid!" Kierien taunted, a smirk playing on his lips as he launched his attack, his strikes raining down upon Henryk.

But Henryk held his ground, his focus unwavering as he deflected each blow. "You won't find me so easy to defeat," he retorted, landing a solid strike on Kierien's helmet.

"A point for the druid," Joseph declared, acknowledging Henryk's skill.

Isaac's gaze narrowed as he addressed Kierien sternly. "Save the banter for the tavern, Kierien. You're a Son of Mars, act like one."

Undeterred, Kierien shrugged off the blow. "A helmet like this wouldn't stand up to a real sword," he remarked, gesturing to the mark left by Henryk's strike.

Arthur chuckled at the exchange, his demeanor relaxed despite the tension in the air. "That's one way to look at it," he remarked, taking a step forward.

"Arthur," Edward interjected, a note of warning in his voice.

But Arthur paid no heed, his battle-scarred form a testament to the harsh realities of their world. As he stood, a living embodiment of Mars's legacy, Henryk and his fellow squires couldn't help but feel the weight of their shared history bearing down upon them.

Arthur brandished his sword, a simple yet formidable two-handed blade with a bronze guard. There was a fluid grace to his movements, a testament to his mastery of the weapon. "Care to wager on that, squire?" he challenged, his eyes gleaming with a mix of confidence and determination.

Kieren's laughter ceased at the sight of Arthur's poised stance, his expression shifting to one of wary respect.

With a steely gaze, Arthur began to recount a tale from his past. "Once, on the fields of my homeland, I witnessed a young soldier much like yourself. He fell to a true blade, the kind that cuts through iron as if it were parchment," Arthur recounted, his hand tracing the path of the fatal blow across his face.

Leaving Kieren with a sobering thought, Arthur retreated, leaving Henryk to rejoin the sparring circle.

"There's no punishment for the druid," Kieren remarked bitterly, his eyes fixed ahead as the others listened intently. "He gets away with everything."

Arthur's response was sharp. "Watch your tone, boy," he warned, but Joseph intervened before the tension could escalate further.

"Enough, Arthur," Joseph interjected firmly, gesturing for Arthur to return to the group, where August and Jacob awaited.

Arthur grumbled as he complied, puzzled by his colleague's sudden change in demeanor. "What's gotten into him?" he muttered.

"They're not true Martians," August stated bluntly, drawing Joseph and Arthur's attention.

Confusion flickered across their faces as August continued. "Henryk may have potential, but the others... they're not cut out for the role of Executor."

Joseph struggled to comprehend August's perspective. "But they have potential. With the right guidance, they could excel," he argued.

August's gaze remained fixed on the ongoing duel, where Henryk danced skillfully to evade Kieren's relentless onslaught.

In the throes of their duel, Henryk met Kieren's blows head-on, his movements decisive and sure. With a powerful slash, he struck true, sending Kieren sprawling to the ground amidst whoops and claps from the onlookers. As Kieren regripped his sword, the rain began to fall, adding a dramatic backdrop to their confrontation.

"Second point for Henryk," Isaac declared, his gaze shifting from the rain-dappled palm of his outstretched hand to the two combatants. "One more loss, and it's over."

Kieren's eyes narrowed, a sneer twisting his features as he approached Henryk, sword in hand. "Looks like this will be the last duel for today," Isaac remarked, glancing at the gathering rain. "You guys finished your classes and exercises?"

Both Henryk and Kieren nodded in confirmation. "Once you're done, that's it for the day. Oscar, Clyne, and Lan still busy with work or classes?" Isaac inquired.

Kieren shrugged dismissively. "Why does it matter, Veteran? This duel was all about leading the squires, and Henryk just wiped the floor with us."

Isaac interjected sternly. "No need to be bitter about Henryk's natural talent."

But Kieren persisted. "Let's not pretend Henryk wasn't going to be leader eventually, win or lose."

Isaac shot him a warning look. "We're trying to keep this fair, Kieren."

"How about you stop whining and actually fight me," Henryk retorted, his voice dripping with challenge.

All eyes turned to the exchange, tension crackling in the air. Henryk continued, his words laced with defiance. "Enough complaining. Show me what you've got."

Kieren chuckled darkly. "You don't know the meaning of fury, mutant."

The word "mutant" struck a nerve, igniting Henryk's rage. "What did you call me?" he roared, slamming down his visor with a resounding creak.

Kieren readied himself, but Henryk was already upon him, his movements fueled by adrenaline and anger. With wide, wild swings, he unleashed his fury, his enhanced muscle mass lending him newfound strength and agility.

"Ay, I didn’t say go yet!” Isaac's voice boomed across the training grounds, punctuating the air with authority.

Kieren swung, and Henryk's blade met his with a resounding crash that echoed through the tense silence. Arthur, Isaac, and August observed the exchange with keen interest, their eyes following the rapid movements of the combatants.

“Isaac, stop them!” August's voice cut through the air like a knife.

Isaac chuckled, his attention fixed on the duel. “Kieren's finally showing some spirit. Let's see how Henryk handles it.”

“Isaac, this isn’t a real duel now…” August's protest was met with a dismissive wave.

“Quiet, Fleeboy,” Isaac snapped, his focus unwavering. “Let's see what Kieren's made of when he's under pressure.”

Henryk lunged forward, his attacks relentless, while Kieren struggled to keep up, his breaths labored. “Why won’t you…” Henryk began, his frustration palpable.

Then, a tap on his chest brought him to a sudden halt. As Kieren lifted his visor, Henryk met his gaze, brown eyes locking with brown. “Seems like you lost this round, druid,” Kieren declared.

“One and one…” Isaac muttered, his tone a mixture of disappointment and concern. “Henryk, keep your head steady and…”

But Henryk's response was not in words. It was a primal roar, a surge of power that rippled through the air. Kieren had no time to react as he was thrown backward, tumbling across the grass in a bewildered daze.

“Henryk, what the hell is wrong with you!” Isaac's voice crackled with anger, his arms wrapped tightly around himself. “Magic—you weren’t authorized to use magic again…”

“Fuck this!” Henryk's voice rang out, filled with frustration and fury. He discarded his helmet, hurling it to the ground, then flung his wooden sword into the nearby river before storming off toward the house. The patio door slammed shut behind him, followed by the heavy thud of the front door.

“Woah,” August muttered, his eyes wide with shock. “Henryk really…”

“Fuming,” Isaac finished, rushing over to check on Kieren, who was slowly picking himself up from the ground.

Arthur shrugged, a wry smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Looks like things got a bit out of hand.”

August's gaze lingered on the closed door before he sighed and turned his attention skyward. “Everyone's on their last legs,” he mused, his voice heavy with resignation. “No Wi-Fi, no power, no plumbing. We've even had to halt repairs on the manor.”

Arthur shifted uncomfortably, his shoulders tensing under the weight of August's words. "August, you know how hard Ed’s been working on finding us a guild," he began, his voice tinged with frustration. "We can’t go on missions and actually make real and good money…”

August's sigh cut through the air like a blade. "Ed’s been saying that since we got here, and there has hardly been any change. We need to start thinking…before people start looking at other houses.”

Arthur's eyes widened in disbelief. "People are thinking of going turncloak?" he asked, a disgusted sneer twisting his features. "Even after all the bad that happened with the houses, they’ll forsake loyalties to Mars…”

"That is not what I mean," August interjected, his voice tinged with resignation. "I k-know…I am a coward."

Arthur fell silent, studying the young man before him. August's demeanor was meek, his hands buried in his pockets, his frame hunched with uncertainty. And behind him, the faint outline of the Martian spikes hinted at a legacy he couldn't escape.

August's next sigh was heavy with regret. "If things didn’t go wrong…in another life I would’ve been a Knight of Mars," he confessed, his foot tapping rhythmically in the dirt. "But…things change, and I ended up on a midworld with my momma and my aunt. It was a very good world, a republic. I never had to worry about meals or being homeless or even warfare.”

"I never got into fights growing up," he continued, his voice tinged with a hint of longing. "I played video games, went on my bike with my friends in high school, and I got into the academy due to my intelligence. Arthur, I was meant to be working tech.”

Arthur's expression softened as he listened, understanding dawning in his eyes. "That…that makes sense," he conceded, taking a moment to absorb August's revelations. "Then, why did you join House Mars?”

August fell silent, his features contorting with inner turmoil. "I…I…I just missed my father," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

A heavy silence settled between them, broken only by August's quiet words. "I can hardly remember him...but my mother told me stories of his triumphs, of his honors. I was taught of the True Sons legacy...the legacy contained in my back. These spikes were my father's, and his father's before him…a lineage that stretches even to the dark days of the Martian Civil War. And that great lineage…I ran away when Ty needed me the most.”

Arthur let out a long, slow sigh. "August, that is not your fault," he reassured, his voice softening with empathy. "You are the smallest of us…and that time at the party. Ty is a unit of a man, and even he lost to them. The strength of your spikes puts you at a higher tier, but Henryk’s training could still technically overpower you.”

August's gaze lingered on the river, the water flowing like time, carrying with it his fears and uncertainties. "I don’t want to be afraid anymore," he confessed softly, his voice barely audible over the gentle rush of the current. "I don’t want to be afraid to hurt people who are going to hurt my friends and comrades."

Arthur regarded him with a mixture of understanding and concern. "Henryk is talented, but he isn’t perfect, August," he reminded him gently. "We haven’t seen him in an actual mission. Talk is cheap, my friend. The true test comes on the battlefield."

"That’s if we get lucky with a guild," August muttered, his words heavy with doubt.

"Don’t lose faith in Edward," Arthur insisted. "He may not have a legion of advisors like Mercury, but he's doing his best with what he has. And remember, we don’t have an auxiliary except for the Executor Candidates."

August fell silent, but Arthur nudged him playfully, eliciting a faint smile from his lips.

"Cheer up, August," Arthur said, his tone laced with encouragement. "You have your own strengths, your own legacy to embrace. It's not too late to carve your path."

August's eyes widened at the unexpected encouragement, his hands clenching into fists as if to grasp hold of newfound resolve.

"But what if I can’t..." August began, his voice tinged with doubt.

"You keep talking about Henryk," Arthur interrupted gently, his gaze steady. "But let me tell you something about him. He may be as green as grass, but did you hear what Kieren called him?"

August shook his head, his curiosity piqued.

"He called Henryk a mutant," Arthur said with a smirk. "And did you see what happened next? Henryk unleashed magic against him. That's something, isn't it?"

"That was wrong of him to do," August declared bluntly, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife.

"I know," Arthur responded, his jaw clenched tight as he stared into the distance. "But Kieren won that match against Henryk. He rattled him with that word and got Henryk thinking all the wrong thoughts."

"Still, that’s not—" August began, but a look from him silenced the words on Arthur's lips.

"That's the difference between a midworlder and someone who's lived on a world defined by fire and iron," August continued, his tone heavy with wisdom earned through hard experience. "In a duel of iron, a true duel, they'll use whatever they can to throw you off balance. It’s happened to me more times than I can count. But you can’t lose focus, and you can’t lose yourself like Henryk did. You, Fleeboy, you keep your composure."

August's eyes widened at the use of his nickname. "Are you saying that the nickname Axel gave me—"

"Mean-spirited as it was," Arthur interjected, his voice steady. "It's a strong name. It can be a title, and a title can be turned into words of power. Fleeboy."

Arthur chuckled softly, rolling the name around in his mouth as if tasting it. "Fleeboy," he repeated, the word carrying weight and promise. "It’s strange, intimidating, and new. That can most definitely be your callsign."

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August took a moment to absorb Arthur's words. "Arthur, I appreciate it, but there's a difference between Axel calling me Fleeboy because he's an asshole, and Kieren calling Henryk a racial slur."

Arthur nodded in understanding. "Yes, and Kieren and I are going to have a nice, long conversation about that," he said, his sigh heavy with frustration. "We can't afford anyone getting fragged by their own guys. Out there, on the battlefields of space, land, deserts, wastelands, you can only trust yourself and the brother who has your back. Without that, everything falls apart. As a knight, and as someone spiritual, we cannot let words define us. Henryk, yes, is a mutant—wrong as that word is, it's true. Now, Henryk must learn what to do with it. Is he going to lose control and act like a spoiled brat when some drunkard from Venus heckles him, or is he going to have the strength to be the bigger person and walk away? I'm not saying to let it go, but there are wars and battles to fight."

August nodded along, absorbing Arthur's words like parched earth soaking up rain. To him, it all made a twisted kind of sense. They were a fractured group, torn apart by internal strife and the looming specter of financial ruin.

Arthur continued, his voice a mixture of resignation and determination. "Make a name for yourself... or take one for yourself. Let your actions speak louder than the world's judgment. Even if they call you a monster, be the monster, but never let it define you. We've lost everything, been branded traitors, and our King—" He paused, a flicker of confusion crossing his face, too fleeting for August to grasp its meaning, but significant enough to prick his curiosity.

Arthur's smirk cut through the tension like a knife. "Ed has a plan... and one day, we'll reclaim the honor of Mars."

In the wake of his words, a heavy silence hung in the air, laden with the weight of their shared hopes and doubts. Isaac had helped Kieren to his feet, and they retreated into the manor, leaving August and Arthur alone in the gathering gloom.

August cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "What other weaknesses does Henryk have?"

Arthur shot him a pointed look. "Now you want to know?"

August chuckled nervously. "Well, like you said, he's talented... I just want to know where he might falter."

"He may be magically inclined," Arthur conceded, "but a Martian gun would still make short work of him. Despite his gifts, he's still flesh and blood, like the rest of us. But Henryk's true weakness... it's not as obvious as you might think."

"Go on," August urged.

Arthur hesitated, as if debating whether to reveal his thoughts. Eventually, he relented. "Sirine... and the women in Henryk's life. There's something about that girl he blinded—"

"Whoa!" August interjected, his voice sharp with disbelief. "Henryk didn't blind her; it was an accident. They're friends—"

"Friends," Arthur echoed, his tone laced with skepticism. "Joseph drives us to work now, after what happened with Ty and Henryk..."

A shiver of horror ran down August's spine at the reminder of past tragedies. He cast a glance toward where Henryk had stood moments before, his anger simmering beneath the surface like a dormant volcano, waiting to erupt.

"Sometimes we see good ol' Piper," Arthur remarked with a chuckle, his voice carrying a hint of mischief. "She always seems so happy to see him. Heck, I haven't even seen that one around lately. Is that ace still losing duels?"

August remained silent, hesitant to speak ill of Henryk.

"Whoa, how does she lose so much?" Arthur continued, his laughter punctuating the air. "That's what they get for putting a woman in a war casket. Mars always kept them in the kitchen. Don't know what Mercury is busy thinking."

"Dude..." August interjected, a note of disapproval in his voice.

"What?" Arthur chuckled, unfazed. He sighed, then pressed on. "The Ace of Mercury... and The Princess of The Academy. That's the attention Henryk has gained. He feels like Paris to their Troy."

August shot him a pointed look. "Like your accent... you are so dramatic," he quipped.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Come on, August. You know that good things don’t come from a man who can't make decisions. One day, he's going to have to make a choice. Hopefully, Henryk is strong enough to make a choice that he won't one day regret. And the ramifications of that choice... Hopefully, this princess is as sweet and kind as he says."

Meanwhile, Ed had just opened the door to a small shop. The entrance was modest, but as the door chimed, he stepped inside. Ed's appearance was impeccable, his hair meticulously styled, his suit crisp and professional. Yet, beneath his composed exterior, he was a bundle of nerves. His hands trembled slightly as he wiped them on his pants.

"Relax," he murmured to himself, his voice barely above a whisper. "Your father would be spinning in his grave to believe that someone who is going to inherit an actual planet is afraid."

"What do you want?" one of the girls in the room demanded, her tone brimming with annoyance. She appeared to be in her late twenties, with sun-kissed skin and tousled brown hair cascading past her shoulders. Her brown eyes bore into Ed's, unwavering.

"Bea, you can't be rude to him," the second girl interjected. She looked to be around their age, but Ed couldn't help but notice something unusual about her appearance. Academy City was diverse, but he had a distinct feeling he'd just encountered a new human species, or mutant, as the Neptunians would call it.

The girl turned to face him, her silhouette outlined by the faint glow of the room's light. Silky black hair cascaded down to her lower back in a swaying ponytail, and her eyes, shining like rubies, fixed on him. But it was her skin that held Ed's attention—it was a vivid crimson hue.

"Aerlene," Bea grumbled, her voice a low murmur of disapproval.

Ed noticed then that he wasn't the only one dressed in black. Both girls wore dark dresses, and as he approached them, he realized they were positioned behind a counter shaped like the letter E. Laptops adorned each side, and the room, though modest, exuded a homely warmth with its water machine, coffee maker, and two large bookshelves lining one wall. Despite its simplicity, there were couches and chairs scattered about, lending an air of comfort to the space. Vending machines stood sentinel, an unexpected addition to what appeared to be a small, self-run guild manned by...

"I am looking for William Breakburn," Ed spoke, his voice cutting through the room's stillness. "He may go by other names or titles—Sir William, or 'The Breaker.' Is he here?"

Both girls fell silent, their gazes fixed on him. Aerlene's awkwardness was palpable, while Bea's earlier annoyance had transformed into a piercing glare.

"Oh, I know who you are," Bea said, her head cocked to the side as she laughed.

Ed offered a tentative smile. "Well, I've been calling for a couple of days, and I figured that seeing you all in person would be..."

"Bea, wait!" Adeline's scream pierced the air. But before Ed could react, a large book flew off the shelf, narrowly missing him.

"Get the hell out of my father's shop!" Bea shouted, her voice filled with fury. "You're from the bank, right?"

But Bea's fury showed no signs of abating. Adeline's pleas echoed in the room as Bea launched half a dozen books in Ed's direction. "Beatrice, that's enough!" Adeline's tearful intervention finally seemed to reach her.

Breathless and reeling from dodging the barrage of books, Ed struggled to regain his composure. "C-can... you please let me speak?" he managed to gasp out between breaths.

Bea fell silent, the storm within her subsiding. Ed straightened his suit and dusted off his hands. "I am not from the bank... I am from the Academy."

Their eyes widened at that, reflecting a mixture of surprise and curiosity. "What are you doing here then?" questioned Beatrice, her tone sharp with skepticism. "We don’t have any missions if that’s what you're looking for. Heck, we were about to close up shop for the day."

"Listen, that's all fine and dandy, but where is Sir William?" Ed pressed, his voice edged with urgency.

Beatrice fell silent for a moment, her gaze flickering to Adeline. "Adeline, can you get Dad and show him to Ed?"

Adeline hesitated briefly, then walked to the opposite desk and rummaged in a cabinet. With a flourish, she produced a large pot and set it squarely between them. "Here's good ole Dad," Bea remarked, a mischievous smirk playing on her lips. "He's not really that talkative... Adeline and I just tossed him in the fires a couple of hours ago."

"Bea, please be respectful," Adeline reprimanded gently.

Rolling her eyes, Beatrice shifted in her seat as Ed approached their desk. He drew nearer, and they could see every detail about him, from his moss-green emerald eyes to the set of his jaw. A flicker of recognition danced through Beatrice's mind—where had she seen eyes so green before? Memories of her youth on Mars surfaced briefly, memories she preferred to leave buried. But the resemblance was striking, a reminder of a past she'd rather forget.

Ed's eyes lingered on the urn before him. "Sir William..." he began, his voice thick with emotion. "I wish we could've met when you were here. You were a great man."

Beatrice rolled her eyes at his sentimentality, but Ed shot her a look, his emotions warring within him. With a steadying breath, he continued, "Sir William was there the day Mars fell. He risked his life saving dozens, dare I say hundreds, of civilian ships. Without him, my mother and I would've been shot down. How long... and how, if you don't mind me asking?"

Beatrice's demeanor softened at his words. Despite her reservations about her father, she recognized the impact he had on others. His sacrifices had saved countless lives, yet he hadn't made time for his own family. Her mother had been left behind, consumed by flames, while he prioritized strangers.

Adeline spoke up, her voice tinged with sadness. "Our father died a week ago... cancer."

"Cancer," Ed repeated, his voice heavy with disbelief. "I thought that the spikes' healing factor would've..."

"The fool refused to listen and get proper help and treatment. He was old, but he believed that his time was done," Bea interjected bitterly. "He mentioned... that Mars was gone, and what was the point of a knight with a dead king? The stupidity, to believe that all he could ever be was just some space knight with a flashy sword. The imbecile." Bea's words trailed off angrily, her nails digging into her long black dress as she glared at the table before her.

"You mentioned before that you were there," Ed realized it was Adeline who had asked him that question. "You're a Martian too, right?"

Ed nodded solemnly. "I am a Martian. I inherited my father’s spikes and his father before him... Would you mind if I ask?"

"Father instructed us on what to do with his spikes," Bea spoke sharply. "Have no worry, Martian. The spikes you men love so much... our father put more tact into their care than into his own body."

Adeline shot Bea a warning glance, and Bea's anger subsided momentarily.

"What are you doing here?" Adeline inquired. "I know our father isn't here anymore, but he would've wanted us to help out any Martians we came across."

Bea groaned audibly in response.

"Is there a problem?" Ed asked respectfully.

Bea remained silent, so Ed redirected his attention to Adeline.

"What did you need our father's help for?" Adeline pressed.

Ed paused before responding. "To rebuild House Mars."

A heavy silence hung in the air at his words. Then, it was Bea who turned to him, her head resting in her hand as she regarded him with disbelief. "Are you insane?" she questioned. "Mars was nuked... All major cities were destroyed, the countryside was set alight, and even the radiation after over a decade has not tempered. It's a death world now, and I've heard of the horrors that walk the ruins. Knights that have forgotten the darkness of death, black poison lakes that birth demons that hunt any explorer or pirate that treads upon the ruined Mars. Heck, even prospectors steer clear from Mars. How could you rebuild something like that?"

Ed shrugged nonchalantly. "You speak of the planet... I speak of the house and the people," he stated bluntly.

Bea sneered, her words slicing through the air like a sharpened blade. “Tough luck with that. The thousands and thousands that fled are sprawled throughout the galaxy, they did this to not be found or hunted, the same reason why I would imagine the difficulties of finding allies.”

Ed absorbed her disdain with a heavy sigh. “This is a guild, do you have any idea why I am here?”

Adeline nodded solemnly. “We can guess.”

“We are going to reject,” Beatrice declared bluntly. “Listen, our old man was planning on selling the guild in the first place when he got a good chunk of money. This place for both me and my sister has been a home since the fall.”

Ed's eyes narrowed with determination. “Your father was a knight who made pledges and oaths to the King.”

Bea sneered once more. “The king is dead, Mars lays in ruins, and the golden prince was lost to the void. I saw his ship get blown out of orbit too. Thirty minutes right after the king died, the king that never was.”

A flicker of complex emotion crossed Ed’s eyes before Bea’s gaze pinned him down. She couldn't shake the feeling that she had met Ed before, but where?

Bea sighed, dismissing the thought. “Oaths have no meaning when your planet is destroyed… Listen, why don’t you go to that big fancy guild at the academy? I bet they’d love to sponsor the Martians again.”

Adeline turned to Ed, who scratched the back of his head nervously. “Well, that’s kind of funny… because they banned House Mars from participating in the School’s main guild for missions. So, we need to reach out to a private guild to get us contract missions.”

Bea's eyes widened in surprise, but Ed pressed on before she could interrupt. “All I would need for you two to do is just to aid us in finding things. Whether it be missions, parts, or weaponry. Having a guild on your back is a powerful thing, and honestly, I’d prefer to stay close to home in regards to the people I am working with.”

Adeline turned to her sister, who had her arms wrapped tightly around herself. Bea's fingers tapped along her skin as she glared at Ed. “No,” she stated firmly once again. “Me and my sister are going to let the bank reassess it, and then we’re going to head into the stars to find a new life for ourselves.”

Adeline's eyes widened at Bea's resolute tone, and then a tremor passed through her, followed by tears. It seemed that one of them didn't want to leave after all.

Ed turned to Bea, his eyes filled with determination. “If this is a money issue… we just need a mission, let me prove to you how good we…”

Bea met his gaze squarely. “No,” she spoke more sternly and louder this time. “This isn’t a money issue. Martians are traitors to the throne… we’re scorned for who we are on the majority of Imperial worlds, and I don’t want…”

Ed laid the briefcase on the table, its weight a palpable presence in the room. With a swift motion, he popped it open, revealing a wad of paper. It was intricately inked, bearing the royal seal.

Handing it to Bea, Ed's voice was blunt. “Look at it.”

Bea's glare intensified, her initial instinct urging her to reject it outright. Yet, Adeline's silent plea softened her resolve as they locked eyes. “Please,” her sister practically begged. “See what it is at the very least.”

“Fine,” Bea snapped, her grip tightening around the paper as she snatched it. She scanned it quickly, then glanced back at Ed before returning to the document, now scrutinizing every word.

She shot a skeptical glance at him. “Is this real?”

Ed nodded, meeting Adeline's gaze. “Martian Hierarchy was scattered to the wind… and the only real Imperial Authority now for Martians goes to… me. If you aid me and my brothers, I will give you whatever you want and more. I will make you noble lords again, give you worlds to control, your family name will resonate through the eons.”

Bea absorbed the weight of his words, her eyes flickering over the document. “The stamp makes it authentic and secure,” she retorted, tearing through the paper and locking eyes with him. “There is no point to this. Mars is dead and gone… what sort of lands could you even afford me or my sister? Also, I don’t believe you… I remember how Martians treated women.”

Ed's eyes widened, but he remained silent, his anger simmering beneath the surface.

Bea sneered. “Arranged marriages, women couldn't own land without their husband, and the lack of rights was appalling,” she glared at him. “You are asking me to aid you in bringing back a monarchy built on death, destruction, and conquest.”

Ed's gaze bore into hers, the anger seeping past his calm facade. “Then you know nothing of the honors and glories of Mars. You are right, but I promise you that the Mars I build will be a place better than the last. Yes, it may stay a feudal world to create stronger units, but I’ll work on fixing the inequality that…”

“When is all this going to be?” Adeline's voice cut through the tension, her gaze probing Ed for answers. “You’re speaking like this is going to happen soon.”

Ed fell silent, his thoughts tangled in the web of uncertainty. “I can’t go into dates or specifics… you forget that while I am president, I have my own higher-ups that I have to report to.”

“Maybe you can ask the higher-ups to aid you in finding a guild,” Bea suggested, her tone laced with skepticism. “Because honestly, this was a waste of time… it’s pleasant to see another survivor from the fall, but Edward of House Mars, you will not have luck recruiting me and my sister into your crusade.”

Ed raised his hand to object, but Bea cut him off.

“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out, Martian,” she dismissed him, disappearing beneath the counters with a rustle of movement. Edward felt his shoulders slump, the weight of their rejection heavy on his chest.

As he turned to leave, the voices of the sisters reached him from behind.

“Bea, that was so mean. I get it that dad is gone now, but you can’t get angry like that at a stranger just asking for help.”

Bea sneered. “He’s asking us to get involved in his crappy crusade. Just like dad, they never stop fighting, even if it kills them in the end.”

Edward paused at the threshold, his nerves prickling with uncertainty. Why was he feeling so nervous? Was it because he could vaguely remember Bea? Sweat beaded on his brow as he grappled with the thought; she didn’t know, she had believed all those years ago that he was lost in the cluster of ships.

He would have to tell them… the great President Edward of House Mars, coming to confess to his brothers and comrades that he had failed them again in finding a guild that would sponsor them. They needed missions and actual experience… his father would’ve been disappointed in him. His mind wandered back to that time on the ship.

He remembered how he had told Henryk how his father would’ve liked him. Heck, if his father could see him now, leading their people… he’d be a disgrace.

What would Henryk do?

The words echoed in his mind, stoking a fire of anger and self-loathing. But it wasn’t the crushing despair of failure, it was a controlled rage, a flame he could harness. He needed to be calculated, he needed to secure an alliance. As he turned back to face them, he realized something.

Henryk's bravery and resilience shone through in every trial he faced. While others stood idly by, he took action to save Sirine, not once but twice, showing the mettle of a true knight. Despite his humble origins, his dyslexia, and the absence of a father figure, Henryk proved himself more noble than the sons of illustrious knights and heroes.

Edward paused, his hand gripping the door handle tightly. "Hello...!" Bea's voice drew out, tinged with irritation. "Seriously, if you aren’t going to leave, we are going to call the cops."

Adeline shot her sister a reproachful look. "Bea, that’s enough. Let him have a moment."

Bea snickered. "He comes into our house and bothers us. It’s harassment, and if I want him to leave the store, he will leave..."

"Did Sir William keep his possessions with him after the fall of Mars... you said before that he kept on fighting," Ed interjected.

Bea paused, folding her arms defensively. "I don’t see how that has any relevance to our conversation."

Ed shrugged, his demeanor calm. "Sir William saved me and my family's life... he saved my mother and fought alongside my father. I was under the impression that he died alongside the sphere of the planet, with the king and the ARC. I wonder if he fought with his personal arms."

Bea rolled her eyes. "I am not going to give you my father’s personal arms if that is what you think this is. I may not have had the best relationship with my old man…but THAT would tarnish his memory."

Ed approached her again, his tone gentle. "I am not interested in his possessions... just whether he fought valiantly with them. Did he still use the plasma pistol? I heard rumors that he acquired it from a Captain from Saturn, a true sun pistol."

Bea narrowed her eyes, but she reluctantly nodded, failing to grasp his intentions.

"That's very interesting," Ed continued. "Losing such great weapons with such history and power is a waste. Is it true that your father was a Techno Knight? I've heard from my father that he was so obsessed with plasma and warcasket plasma that he was able to create potent blends of powerful purple lasers and beams. Heck, us Martians never cared for lasers... but your father changed that. There is honor in that, pride."

"What are you getting at?" Bea retorted, her tone growing hostile.

Adeline observed the exchange, sensing a shift in the dynamic between the two.

Ed advanced, his words laden with weight. "I’ve heard tales of your father's affinity for machines... and I reckon that love for innovation hasn’t waned. Now, owning plasma weaponry might be kosher, but tinkering with them, making improvements, crafting new models—that’s a whole different tune, stubmakers."

Bea's eyes widened, her reaction visceral. "What exactly are you insinuating?"

"I've had a friend keeping tabs on you for some time now," Ed continued, his voice unwavering. "But I held off on roping you, your sister, and your father into the fray again. Not until the need grew dire. Seems you've carved out a cozy niche for yourselves, but the winds of change are blowing, and we need to act swiftly. If you don't sponsor us as a guild, I'll have no choice but to inform the Academy City Police. A decade or more behind bars seems like a hefty price, wouldn't you say?"

They stared at him, Adeline's demeanor shifting from passive to incensed.

Bea interjected firmly, "You have no evidence."

Ed shrugged nonchalantly. "Perhaps not. But the Academy City Police won't ignore your dual Martian heritage. They'll come knocking with a warrant, and then the real question becomes: do you want to take that risk, or do you want to reign over a world and more?"

Drawing nearer to the sisters, Ed pressed on, "I'll bestow nobility upon you for your aid..."

It was Adeline's turn to sneer. "More like boss us around and hold us ransom. We don’t even need..."

But Bea shot her a withering look, then turned her gaze sharply to Ed. The atmosphere tightened, and the room seemed to shrink around them. "We don’t have a choice," she admitted, her voice tinged with resignation. "And I reckon Ed here already knows it..."

Ed met her gaze evenly. "Your father, ever since he packed up shop, had a rough go of it post-Mars's fall. He had more than a few run-ins with the Academy City Police... a bounty hunter they kept a close eye on. But that's all in the files."

Bea snapped, "How do you know all this?"

"Let's just say I have a friend in high places," Ed replied cryptically. "She's been aiding me for years, and like me, she aims to restore the glory of the House of The Red Moon." He paused, locking eyes with them. "Listen, I won't sugarcoat it. It'll be a rough ride, but with your help, maybe we can reunite our people, restore our legacy... and fulfill our greatest dream."

"And what, pray tell, is our greatest dream?" Adeline inquired.

And Ed fixed his gaze upon them, his emerald eyes smoldering with restrained fury. "Revenge," he declared, the word hanging heavy in the air.

A tense silence followed his proclamation.

With narrowed eyes, Ed pressed on. "Revenge... for the innocent babes consumed by flames, for the brave sons who fell defending their kin, and for the fallen King of Mars." His gaze shifted from Bea to Adeline. "I know your kinship. Bea's mother perished, and your crimson skin, touched by the very essence of Mars. Red, the color of purity, bestowed by a different mother... one who now rests among the ruins of a forsaken city."

Bea and Adeline exchanged stunned glances. "How in God's name do you know all this about us?" Adeline demanded.

Ed remained silent. "A friend provided me with the details..."

"... and who is this friend, and why do they know so much about us?" Bea's voice dripped with suspicion as she retrieved a concealed pistol from her pocket, aiming it squarely at Ed. "Listen here, you fool. You might have amused my sister and me, but if you don't clear out now, I swear I'll blow your head off!" Her finger tensed on the trigger, the gun leveled at Ed's chest.

"Bea!" Adeline's voice rose in protest, her hands raised in a futile attempt to defuse the situation. "Please, there's no need for..."

"Adeline, let me handle this," Bea cut her off, her tone resolute.

Though Bea trembled, Ed remained steady, meeting her defiant stare head-on. "You think a gun aimed at me is enough to rattle my nerves? I've stared death in the face more times than I can count, and I've come out the other side every time."

"You're quite confident for a man staring down the barrel of a gun," Bea retorted, her grip on the weapon unwavering.

But Ed didn't flinch. "Your thirst for revenge is evident."

"I don't give a damn about Mars!" Bea snapped.

Ed shook his head. "I'm not referring to the planet... but its people." He paused, his gaze shifting between the two sisters. "The Eunuch Emperor owes a debt. Despite your different mothers, she was a mother to both of you. Isn't that why Sir William fought until his last breath?"

Bea hesitated, her eyes widening as she lowered her gun to her side and ran a hand through her tousled hair.

Abruptly, she spun on her heel, her demeanor shifting. "Who are you working for?" she demanded, her voice laced with determination.

Ed met her gaze with unwavering resolve, offering no answers.

"You're right. My father fought for both our mothers' honor after the fall of Mars... but he kept fighting for the memory of the planet. My father was selfish," Bea concluded, her words heavy with unresolved emotion. Adeline turned away, her expression unreadable.

Ed sighed, sensing the weight of the sisters' history. Bea continued, her tone more determined. "If I work with you, I'll secure guild contracts for missions. I suppose your friend in high places already briefed you on what we do here."

"Show me everything," Ed said with a grin. "Sir William was a genius, my father always said. Techno Knights, renowned for their intellect and mastery of machines. The things he was cooking up down there will be invaluable."

Bea raised her hand, halting Ed's enthusiasm. "Hold on, mister. Before we proceed, I want guarantees for Martian nobility and the best rewards possible."

"Now you're interested?" Ed chuckled.

Bea rolled her eyes. "It's not that simple. If I'm going to help you, I want to ensure we get the most out of the deal."

Ed nodded, considering her request. "How much do you want for the missions?"

Adeline tapped the desk confidently. "Now, that's where you'll need to consult with me," she interjected, beaming with pride.

Ed shot her a curious look. "You handle the finances too?"

"Ever since she was seven," Bea remarked, a hint of pride in her voice. "I followed our father's love for machines, but Adeline inherited his mathematical genius. She attends one of the top schools for girls in the city."

Ed nodded, impressed by Adeline's capabilities. He noticed Bea's rare smile as she praised her sister, a flicker of warmth in her eyes. A bittersweet pang tugged at his chest.

Adeline continued, outlining their proposal. "I suggest we start with a base percentage for the missions. Working with an academy house offers different ranges depending on the task."

"That sounds reasonable," Ed agreed, nodding. He extended his hand towards Bea. "So, are we in business?"

Bea hesitated, glancing at her sister for reassurance. Adeline's smile conveyed a silent message: "Just accept it. We can keep the shop, do missions, and it's exciting." Bea sighed inwardly, feeling a reluctant smile tug at her lips.

Adeline seemed to be going giddy the moment Ed and Bea’s hand clasped.

“What’s your name?” Bea questioned.

“Edward,” Ed stated. But he shrugged his shoulders. “But everyone just calls me Ed.”

Bea’s eyes widened, and a horrifying glance settled upon her. “Sorry…,” She responded. “I just, I had a friend when I was younger…he had that name, and he…”

Her mind flashed to being young. Within her arms was a crying six year old Adeline who was fighting within her. People pressed against each other in peasent clothing as she watched her father fight off five Neptune mechs, the blue mechs were made even bluier as her father ripped through there cockpits with blue bolts of plasma.

They were protecting the crown prince of Mars…the heir to the throne and the inheritor of the ARC core. And she watched, as her father’s mech was blanketed by fire and smoke, as the crown princes ship was ripped in half. She screamed along with the hundreds of thousands that escaped and wept for the golden prince.

“Can I see where Sir William stored the weapons and armor?” He questioned. “We are going to be working together and we are going to need all the help we can get. I imagine that a man of his reputation would have…”

She sighed. “The old man knew his things, but Martian metals are gone and he…,”

Ed interrupted. “It’s not the machines that matter…but the techniques and the lessons of the past. I am asking if your father has suits, arnaments, and Warcasket parts or even full Warcaskets?”

Bea turned towards her sister, and a moment passed.

Bea spoke. “What do you think Adeline?” She prodded. “Should he see dad’s collection?”

Adeline nodded her head. “Yeah, he’s a martian…and if we’re helping House Mars now there going to need all the help they can get.”

“That’s right,” Nodded along Ed. “Remember, the longer I live…the better your payout.”

Adeline cocked her head towards Bea. “Bea get the lights and I’ll trigger the mechanism.”

Bea nodded and went to the blinds. Closing the door blinds and the store blinds and everything around them was completely surrounded by deep darkness. However, he could pierce Adeline’s figure near the bookshelfs and she drew upon a book. There was a creaking in the floor and a snapping hiss as Ed backed up and a large elevator appeared blanketing them in soft blue light.

"Holy crap," Ed chuckled, eyes wide. "Sir William does not disappoint."

Ed and the sisters stepped into the elevator and descended. It wasn't a deep descent, just one level down, but what awaited them below left Ed in shock.

"How did Sir William get all this done?" he marveled aloud. The room stretched before them, adorned with Christmas lights that cast a festive glow over the area. Desks, tables, and bags cluttered the space.

His gaze fell upon a stack of money leaking from bags in the corner, while tables were adorned with an array of guns, plasma, and laser weaponry. Across from them lay...

"Holy crap, are those Warcasket parts?" he exclaimed.

Rushing to the end of the room, Ed found a platform Sir William must have constructed. Three stub arms protruded from the floor and ceiling, suspending a bazooka with a simmering blue coral glow along its back.

"What is this?" Ed inquired.

Bea snorted. "One of Dad's old tricks. He finished it right before he died, but the damned thing looks like it's ready to go off. I'd be damned to fire that thing, God knows what it's capable of."

Ed shrugged, his attention drawn to the long tables adorned with armaments.

"You aren't just a guild," he observed bluntly. "You and your father were some serious gun runners."

Bea smirked proudly. "Well, I feel great pride in continuing the family business," she replied sarcastically.

Ed ignored her and instead focused on the array before him.

"Whoa," he breathed. "This is an Executor Rifle."

Bea's eyes widened. She shook her head slowly. "Good old Dad had a knack for these things."

"Are any of them new?" Ed inquired.

Bea met his gaze. "The plasma weaponry, some of them are new, but he never sold it. He always believed that Martian firepower should stay out of the reach of mortal men. But the Executor rifles and pistols were weaponry he recovered from old outposts or ruined Martian crafts."

Ed's features hardened at the thought. There weren't many weapons here, but the ones they had were Mars-made. Their weapons surpassed those of the other houses in the solar system.

"Mortal men's souls get corrupted easily," Ed declared. "It is our duty to protect the realm. Imagine giving the Neptuneans access to our technology; they'd conquer and enslave the solar system..."

"...and are the Martians no better?" Bea interjected.

Ed shot her a look, then turned away, focusing on the rifle before him. He aimed through the iron sights.

The Executor Rifle Mark... Ed wanted to say II. Memories of his royal tutors teaching him about Martian armaments flooded back, though they felt like a lifetime ago.

He examined the rifle, noting its block-like design, rectangular ammo clip, and lack of a stock. Martian Power Armor helped manage recoil.

Placing the rifle down, Ed's gaze shifted to the deactivated plasma guns. He whistled at their sight, picking one up with a grin. "Now, this is what I'm talking about, Sir William," he said, leveling the gun in both hands.

"No one's got better plasma than House Mars," Ed asserted.

While other houses experimented with plasma or kept it outlawed, House Mars had the edge. Martian Plasma Guns were superior, albeit more dangerous to the wearer.

Bea rolled her eyes at Ed's boast, while Adeline observed quietly from one of the seats, surrounded by tables of armaments. Bea spoke up, "The old man tried his best to not make these into Stub Makers. They're better than the black market stuff."

"How so?" Ed inquired, eyeing the weapon in his hands.

Plasma weaponry varied in shape and size, and even the houses acknowledged their power, especially in the hands of a Warcasket. This one, stockless like the Executor Rifles, brought back memories for Ed. "I had to utilize plasma weaponry in a work camp... saw someone get both their arms blown off one time," he reflected grimly.

But the Plasma Rifle in his hands had a certain degree of sleekness to it, retaining the Martian bulk and blocky simplistic design. Its coils lay deactivated and turned down. Ed was surprised by the weight of the weapon, his hands exploring the cooling barrel. He found residual burns along it, evidence of Sir William's fondness for testing his creations. Ed smiled at the memory.

Bea's eyes widened, and even Adeline could sense the shift in her sister's demeanor. "Well, you see... that's what separates me and my Pa's weapons from some black market smuggler," she explained, pointing at the side of the gun. Ed observed rectangular blocks with a thermometer on both sides.

"When you're shooting your plasma or overcharging the gun, it will gain heat. Me and my father discovered that there isn't any real way to get around the issue, and putting caps on the weapon's heat to automatically shut down destroys the purpose of having an overcharged shot..." Bea paused, her tone knowledgeable.

Ed nodded along. "You and Sir William worked on these together?"

"Me and my father did," Bea corrected him.

Ed sighed, but Bea persisted. "We utilize a stronger blend of plasma that is more concentrated and stable. It melts through anything you point it at, whether it be wood, metal, or even the reinforced metal of a Warcasket. Heck, you aim this at a normal person and they'd..."

"They'd be reduced to a molten slag of flesh," Adeline interjected.

Bea nodded. "The substance burns so hot... it's plasma of all things. Get even a whiff of this stuff on your clothes, and you'll be rendered into cinders. It sticks and clings to everything..."

"That's why it's banned on certain worlds," Ed remarked. "It melts anything... like tallow."

Ed eyed the weapon in his hands. It wasn't illegal for his House to utilize such weapons, but selling them posed real trouble. Yet, his thoughts drifted to Henryk and the other squires. While he and the other true sons had actual military experience in different ranges, what of Henryk and the others?

They would be dropped into hot zones of varying quality... and they needed overwhelming force to even the odds. Ed placed the gun back on the table, his decision made.

"Good," Ed stated, his moss-like eyes peering into each of them.

"What were you planning on doing with all this?" Ed inquired, his hand gravitating toward the array of weapons.

Bea shrugged casually. "The plasma... we've been dealing our 'above average' weaponry to the Houses at the Academy."

Ed chuckled, a hint of amusement in his tone. "Well, that ends today," he declared, flashing them a smirk. "You'll be working for me now."