Chapter 3 - Heirs to The Stars

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Piper

Piper rested her chin on her fist, her eyes drifting between Margaret and Marcus as they sat in silence within the cozy booth of the restaurant. It was a quaint, yet inviting place—Pizza, Italian cuisine, and red cushions that offered a surprising level of comfort. It could have been the perfect spot for a date.

The sign outside read "Bianica’s."

Margaret's smile was frozen, a stiff expression she'd worn since Marcus returned. Marcus, on the other hand, appeared lost in a deep melancholy, his gaze fixed on the menu in front of him. Margaret's voice cut through the quiet, its pitch higher, louder, and oddly more cheerful than usual.

"They have so many options here," she said, her head resting on Marcus's shoulder.

Marcus didn’t respond. His eyes, half-open and half-closed, managed only a small nod in acknowledgment.

Piper took a sip of her water; she had already ordered her meal.

“They’ve got pizzas, pastas, chicken parm,” Margaret continued, her voice taking on a melodic hum as her brown eyes sparkled at Marcus. “What do you want? I’m paying, so it’s my treat.”

Marcus sighed heavily, setting the menu down with a resigned air. “Honestly, I’m not really up for it.”

“For food?” Margaret asked, a forced chuckle escaping her lips. “Silly, you’ve got to eat. The last time you ate was breakfast... yesterday.”

Marcus shrugged. “I guess... I just haven’t been hungry lately.”

Piper's eyes widened as she placed her cup back on the table. Marcus hadn’t glanced at her or Margaret once. The last time she’d heard him speak was when he talked to Henryk.

A woman approached the table—a petite figure, likely the owner or waitress of the small establishment. Her jet-black hair was cut short, brushing just past her neck, and her bright blue eyes contrasted sharply against her porcelain-pale skin, which bore the distinctive features of East Asian heritage.

“Sorry for the long wait,” Margaret apologized quickly. “We’re still deciding; someone’s been a bit picky lately.”

Bianica smiled, dismissing Margaret's concern with a wave of her hand. “It’s fine, take your time. However, just so you know, the pizza order might take a bit longer.”

Bianica's strained smile made Piper inwardly wince, realizing just how long they'd be waiting for their food.

Unlike Marcus, the last thing Piper had eaten was dinner yesterday afternoon. After the ceremony, she could hardly stomach anything, but now, she felt a tad bit better.

The faces of the dead haunted Piper's mind, filling the ranks of Mercury. She had known since her first year that people died on these missions, but Lucas—his face shone brighter than the rest.

“Our new cook has been struggling with the dough process,” Biancia admitted. “He’s young and eager to learn, but new things take time, you know.”

“Of course,” Margaret answered, while Piper’s lips parted. “Thank you for letting us take our time.”

Biancia nodded just as Marcus suddenly stood up.

“I’m going to use the bathroom,” Marcus announced.

“Oh, would you like some—” Margaret began.

Marcus sneered. “I don’t need your help to find the bathroom. I’m not a child.” He walked away, his glasses darting in different directions as he searched the room.

After he was gone, Margaret’s hands fell to her face, her back hunched as Piper stared at her.

“Wanna talk about it?” Piper asked.

Margaret shrugged and shook her head, but she still spoke. “I think he’s traumatized.”

“Aren’t we all,” Piper snickered, taking another sip of her drink.

Margaret shot her a look. “Pipes, I’m not joking around right now. There’s something seriously wrong with Marcus.”

“Margaret, he was just rescued from God knows where, and he found out that his best friend in the whole world—the whole universe—was brutally captured, tortured, and murdered,” Piper exclaimed, her own head reeling from the weight of her words.

Margaret stared at her, wide-eyed, as tears began to well up. “I-I… When he went on that mission, Zephyr assured me, Pipes. He assured me that Marcus was going to be okay.”

"Now, that’s your issue—you listen to Zephyr," Piper said, raising her cup and taking a sip from her straw, speaking from the corner of her mouth. "I stopped listening to him and his promises a very, very long time ago." Piper paused, realizing she might have gone too far. "D-did he tell you...?"

"No, not a single word," Margaret replied. "Heck, Zephyr has been demanding a briefing, but even in private, he isn’t saying a thing."

"What about Eric and Jeremiah?" Piper asked. They had returned with Marcus, battered and injured, but still both good pilots, with Eric being an excellent spotter.

Margaret shrugged. "I don’t know much about Jeremiah, but I know Zephyr signed vacation papers for Eric."

Piper’s eyes widened. "Huh, really?" she questioned. "Is Zephyr growing a golden heart?"

Margaret snickered. "Either he’s giving him a break after that shit show, or he’s leaving… for good," Margaret said, wrapping her arms around herself and leaning back in her seat. "Zephyr’s words, not mine."

A tense, curt silence settled between them. Piper and Margaret had been friends for years—talked about boys, hung out—a special friendship. But now... after everything...

"I-I just don’t understand what happened. Lucas, he was trained at a MilSchool before he came here. A good one at that. Usually, they live to see graduation," Margaret’s voice trembled.

Piper was about to speak, but her lips went dry. What was she meant to say? To tell them how Lucas had held back while she charged in, glory-hungry and desperate for the kill? She may have taken down their ship, but Lucas was captured and killed. She had left him behind... left her friend behind...

Now Lucas was dead, and she had picked up the slack. Her rank was definitely boosted... and that’s how she got her job. One of the greatest mistakes of her life, and a promotion?

The thought alone made her want to hurl and punch something...

"God fucking damn it!" someone screamed, followed by the clatter of pans. "This is impossible, impossible!"

Then a softer, more childish voice called out from the kitchen. “MOM… Henryk messed up again.” The voice was flat, almost monotone.

“Henryk?” Piper whispered.

Henryk was wearing a cooking apron. “Man, fuck this,” he bellowed, grabbing the chef's hat off his head and slamming it to the ground. There was so much flour on him that when the hat hit the floor, a puff of white powder rose into the air. He tried to wipe his eyes, only to make them sting. “Damn it, I can’t do anything right!” he shouted as he stormed out the door.

Piper started to rise from her chair, but Margaret gripped her hand firmly. “What are you doing?”

“Checking to make sure he’s all right,” Piper stated.

Margaret tightened her hold. “Pipes, come on, him.”

“What do you mean?” Piper snapped, pulling her arm free from Margaret’s grasp. “He’s a friend.”

“He maimed you,” Margaret said.

“It was an accident,” Piper replied, her tone edged with fury. “Everyone needs to stop telling me and getting involved in what happened between Henryk and me. It was an accident, and I should’ve worn a helmet.”

Piper’s eyes narrowed. “I am sick of hearing this. It wasn’t enough that Simon found him and wrongfully attacked him on my behalf.”

Margaret’s hand moved to her shoulder, rubbing it tentatively and awkwardly. “I-it’s just, Pipes, out of everyone... him? He’s a member of House Mars, their rumored Executor, for Christ's sake.”

“I fought by his side,” Piper retorted quickly. “Henryk is different… he’s kind, plays his instruments well, he’s creative, he’s…”

“So tall,” Margaret mocked in Piper’s tone. “That’s what you kept saying all last night. Piper, out of everyone at the academy—him? HIM?”

Bianca glanced around before retreating into the kitchen, the pair of girls oblivious to the conversation unfolding between mother and son. Bianca then opened the door to the back and made her way down the narrow steps of the alleyway, which was squeezed between the looming apartment buildings that sandwiched the restaurant.

Henryk continued walking, and she was about to call out to him, but he planted himself on the steps at the back of one of the apartment complexes. He was crying—or rather, he had forced himself to cry, using the tears to flush the flour from his eyes. Yet, as he wiped his eyes, he heard footsteps approaching... then, nothing.

Henryk raised his gaze, looking around the alleyway. His eyes traced the ends of the narrow passage, and he realized he was alone. He felt alone. There was no sound of the busy traffic, no flapping of pigeons’ wings—just silence, for the first time in a city occupied by millions.

He glanced downward, his eyes widening at the sight. He wiped them again, finding his footing on the stairs. As eager tears cleared away the flour, he began to see stars.

A rich cosmos unfurled beneath his feet. Whirling stars, dying in fire and being reborn in light, streaks of green and blue from shooting asteroids and comets, the rings of distant worlds, all bespeckled with random flashes of vivid, beautiful hues.

"I-I must be seeing things," Henryk mumbled to himself. "I have to be."

As he felt a pressure on his shoulder, the dream—or vision, or apparition—began to recede. Slowly, calmly, and reassuringly, the ground beneath him reappeared, along with the sounds of the city. Sirens, the hum of cars, and even the distant echo of a train emerging from its tunnel returned.

Bianca’s warm but confused gaze met his. Her hand rested on his shoulder. "You alright, Henryk?" she asked.

Henryk took a deep breath, gazing back into her warm brown eyes before shaking his head and averting his gaze. He couldn’t tell her what he had seen—she’d think he was going crazy. Heck, with the way he already acted in front of his employer...

"I’m alright, Bianca," Henryk responded, his hand going to his face as his breath came out ragged, but steadier with each passing second. "I just..." He paused, a chuckle escaping his lips despite everything. "I really just can’t hack this pizza-making thing."

Bianca sighed deeply. "Yeah, but it’s only your second or third day trying and—"

"I keep messing up," Henryk interrupted. "It’s so unbelievably difficult. I look up videos on how to do it, I take notes, I pay attention to what you and your son tell me, and I still can’t hack it. There’s something wrong with me."

Bianca chuckled at that. “Henryk, this is your first time working in a kitchen. You can’t be so hard on yourself. I already knew what I was getting into when I hired a student with the resume you had.”

Henryk’s eyes widened, sorrow etching across his features. “I’m sorry.”

Bianca sighed deeply, wrapping her arms around herself. “Stop apologizing,” she lectured. “Like I said before, you’re just a student, a kid. You’ve got your studies and everything else going on. Running into this issue isn’t going to make me fire you. I see all the hard work you’re putting in and…”

She paused, but Henryk could feel the weight of her unspoken words. He’d been feeling a lot of things lately, ever since he went into space—not just after Oceana II, but before that as well.

Bianca sighed again. “You’re a talented young man, Henryk, with a good head on your shoulders, especially after what happened when you were under my watch. I—”

“That wasn’t your fault,” Henryk interrupted curtly. “They…”

“Henryk, I appreciate that, but I’m a mother, and you were in my care when I gave you that job.” She placed a hand on her forehead, the memory clearly weighing on her. “When that boy came holding you…”

“Ty,” Henryk said softly.

Bianca nodded. “When Ty came holding you in his arms, and you had that bad head wound, I thought you’d nearly died. The Academy is very prestigious, but there are a lot of open secrets that bleed through its halls and work their way into the world.”

Henryk’s fist tightened.

Bianca sighed again. “I’m willing to work with you and give you all the time you need to—”

“I hate being a burden on others,” Henryk said, averting his gaze.

“You are no burden, just someone who needs to learn… I won’t judge you because you struggle with learning.” She paused and took a knee so they’d be on the same level, though Henryk, even sitting, was still a bit taller. “Whether it takes days, weeks, or months, as long as you keep working hard and I see that, I know you’re going to do great things. You are not a burden, Henryk Brown.”

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Henryk paused at that, sighing. “I’m my father’s son. Everyone knows who he is on my colony. My stepfather passed away a long while ago, and for my sisters and my mom, I’ve always… I’ve always…”

Bianca’s eyes widened. “That sounds like a lot of pressure.”

“No kidding,” Henryk stated with a forced chuckle.

Bianca sighed at that. “You miss them?”

“Every day,” Henryk said. “The Sons of Mars are all right, but it’s like... the mission we did... I know I saved people, but I could’ve died. I would’ve died not knowing my full potential or seeing my family again. Can I really do that? Do this?”

Bianca knew what Henryk was referring to in that last sentence, but she also knew it wasn’t her place to speak on it. She understood that attending the academy was a high honor, even with its dangers. For a family like Henryk’s, who would never have experienced the luxuries of the Core Worlds, the academy represented a chance—a hypothetical rise from rags to riches if he were taken by Neptune.

The young and foolish, the eager and brave, willing to risk life and limb to handle the universe's problems and the war of the old and bitter, all for the sake of a better life for themselves or those they loved.

Yet, Bianca knew that Henryk was dealing with his own turmoil. She figured he wasn’t the type of young man to openly declare his feelings, and even then, that bridge into his personal life was all he was willing to give her at the moment. So, Bianca sighed. “I say we continue with work. You need to give yourself some praise…”

“Praise?” Henryk repeated questioningly.

Bianca smiled, raising a finger to the sky. “Yeah, some praise. Like, yeah, you can’t make proper pizza dough to save your life. But your pasta is really good, and that chicken parm...” She paused and kissed her fingertips. “Chef’s kiss, Henryk, chef’s kiss.”

Henryk felt his face flush at that.

Bianca continued, “Everyone has their differences, their uniqueness, and their skills. Everyone has a part to play, and like a pizza, something to bring to the pie. Our differences make us unique.”

“Our differences make us unique,” Henryk muttered to himself, his thoughts drifting to all the houses within the Solar System.

The knightly Mars, the democratic republic of Mercury, the Witches of Jupiter, the opulence of Venus, the proud people of Neptune, the united Saturn, the struggling but strong Pluto.

And Earth... while they were different, separated from that big blue ball, that was where they all came from.

“However, there is a sensitivity toward them, a connection they make to the Earth… no, the universe as a whole.” Professor Deeznea’s words echoed in his mind as he and Bianca began to walk once again.

Edward

They were at the old airfield of House Mars, on the outskirts, peering through binoculars at the two bipedal mechs. The cold had a reassuring chill, and the leaves of the trees were falling in orange hues around them.

“Bring that ass over here!” shouted Isaac as his beam blade clashed with Joseph’s. Their mechs were far apart as Joseph utilized his thrusters to create space.

Edward, Bea, and Adaline were some distance away. Adaline’s red-tinted skin glistened under the harsh volley of light coming toward them. Bea and Ed each held binoculars, their eyes filled with calculated focus.

“Damn, these mechs, for a mass-produced line, are…” Bea’s voice trailed off.

Adaline, wearing sunglasses, stared ahead, her scarf fluttering in the wind. “You should’ve seen them in actual combat. Heck, it was easy to learn from the manual Joseph, Axel, and Henryk provided.”

“Henryk?” Bea questioned, snorting as she turned her gaze back to the mech battle. “Now, that’s a real Martian name,” she commented sarcastically.

“He’s one of the Executor Candidates,” Ed stated.

Bea rolled her eyes. “Is that supposed to impress me?” she said.

Ed looked awkward for a moment, then turned his attention back to the robot fight between Joseph and Isaac. They watched as Isaac dipped his mech into a crouch, then slammed his clenched elbow into the chest of the other mech. Joseph’s beam saber immediately slipped from his hands as his mech crashed to the ground.

“S-see that?” Isaac said, throwing a glance toward the crowd behind him, utilizing his camera modification to zoom in on them. “I’m far better fighting on land than in space.”

Joseph tried to rise, but Isaac’s beam blade was held beneath his chin.

“They’re flexible too…” Adaline commented.

“Where did you get these things again?” Bea asked, lowering the binoculars to rest her hand on her hip.

Ed sighed. “We made contact with another Martian loyalist,” he said, pausing as both Bea and Adaline’s eyes widened. “He’s been secretly loyal to the throne, but we lost him on Oceana II. Right before that, though, he armed us with mechs, supplies, and equipment.”

“Governor Mathias?” Bea asked, her voice sharp with curiosity.

Ed’s eyes narrowed. “It wasn’t exactly a secret that he was loyal… but it’s a good thing you’ve got your mechs.”

His sigh was long and heavy. “We barely have enough pilots to make it work, but we’ve got a decent chunk of people. Arthur was trained as a knight by his father. Isaac’s got real military experience—grew up on a MilWorld. Joseph’s tribe had Martians training him as a knight. Shockingly, August’s from a MidWorld, and he’s turned out pretty solid. But Henryk? He’s the weakest link, even with his spikes.”

Adaline’s face twisted in confusion. “What are the spikes?”

Ed blinked at her. “Adaline, you know what the spikes are. Dad had them on his back.”

Adaline’s expression softened into sadness. “Y-yeah, I remember... but you know how Dad was. He never showed his scars.”

Bea snorted. “That was after the fall of Mars, when he lost his pride. Before that, he loved showing off how tough he was, like a big, strong warrior.”

Ed’s gaze hardened for a moment. He didn’t know much about Bea’s relationship with her father, but he’d heard of Sir William. The man had been important—crucial, even, to their cause. Thanks to him, they were able to arm themselves, at least a little.

But Ed sighed, knowing it wasn’t his place to comment. He shifted the conversation. “I’ve been wondering—what’s the situation on Oceana really like?”

Bea and Adaline exchanged a glance. “What do you mean?” Adaline asked. “Haven’t you seen the news?”

Ed nodded. “Of course I’ve seen it, but you two have ties to smugglers. I know the Eunuch Emperor has his spies out there, hiding the truth.”

Bea and Adaline shared another look, before sighing in unison. “That’s going to cost you,” Bea said with a raised eyebrow.

“That’s fine by me,” Ed said. “That sector used to be loyal to House Mars. I’ve even heard rumors that many still fly the flags.”

“Well, they’ve been fighting Neptune and GrimGar under those flags again…” Adaline added.

“Adaline!” Bea snapped.

“What? He said he’d pay,” Adaline shrugged.

Ed rubbed his chin. “N-Neptune? House Neptune?” he asked. “What do they want with Oceana II?”

“It’s not just Oceana. It’s the whole sector,” Adaline explained, wrapping her arms around herself. “Listen, I saw what you guys did for those innocent people who needed rescuing.”

Ed’s eyes widened, and he scratched his arm nervously. “W-We just did what we had to.”

“You didn’t have to do anything,” Bea said. “It took guts, and I heard you saved quite a few lives that day.”

Ed nodded, but there was no pride in his expression. “It really was something. The whole city—no, the whole planet—was destroyed by those things. It was surreal, freaky. The last time I saw anything like that was when Mars burned from space.”

Bea and Adaline exchanged a glance, sensing the weight of his words.

“I need to keep everyone busy,” Ed continued, his voice steadying. “Get more people into the flow of things. Do you have any jobs or info? You know I’ll pay.”

Bea sighed. “There aren’t any big jobs coming in from the mainstream guild. Just small stuff. Out in the Earth Sphere, Jacen’s pirates have been hitting factories lately. Some of the bigger names are trying to get…”

Ed shook his head. “Nah, no human missions for a while. My team can’t handle taking lives right now. Some might be able to, but for others... it would break them.”

Bea’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve got people who are real sick from what they saw out there. They’re skilled, talented, but I can’t afford to lose them. Not after what happened on Oceana II. That kind of shit… it leaves a mark.”

Bea and Adaline both grew quiet.

“Then you won’t like the other missions,” Bea said after a moment. “Oceana II’s become a battleground. A free-for-all.”

“W-what?” Ed stammered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Why?”

“The corporations and Houses are making their move, trying to seize control of the sector. It looked like House Mercury was going to get it, but…” Bea trailed off.

“House Neptune showed up and started attacking them,” Adaline added. “People on the news are buzzing that it’s GrimGar still on the planet, killing them, but…”

“Hold on,” Bea interrupted. “There are a lot of GrimGar on that world too. A group of Martian loyalists have been fighting in the mountains across certain worlds in the sector. Between them, the GrimGar, and the corporations... it’s turned into a full-scale armed conflict.”

Ed’s eyes widened at the revelation, and Mathias’s final plea echoed in his mind.

“Who’s leading the Martian loyalists?” he asked, his voice tight.

Adaline looked down at her feet. “They call her a princess of Mars.”

Ed felt his breath catch. “I thought all traces of the royal family were gone.”

“She must have survived somehow,” Adaline replied. “I’ve heard she’s a warrior, another mutant like myself. Even though she’s a woman, she’s leading hundreds of thousands of guerrillas, trying to take back Oceana. They say by blood, she should be the one holding the three... no, the four Houses.”

“Missions from them are the only ones you’ll find for a while. The other GrimGar not in the sector have fled deep into the outer frontiers,” Bea said.

Ed’s eyes widened further. “People don’t know where they went?”

Bea nodded slowly. “As my sister said, there aren’t many jobs around. This conflict has the Emperor involved, so the other Houses can’t interfere. The guild is holding back jobs connected to it.”

“But you’re not like a regular guild,” Ed commented, a note of hope in his voice.

Bea and Adaline exchanged a glance before Bea sighed. “You said you’re not even looking for those types of jobs anyway.”

Ed sighed, knowing she was right. “We just need something big to work with. It doesn’t have to be money or anything like that.”

The sisters shared another look. Finally, Bea spoke. “Okay, that works. There are rumors in the next sector over from Oceana—about a ship bearing Martian colors. There might be a supply cache there.”

Ed smirked and nodded. “That sounds perfect. We could really use a win. I’ll send a few of my guys in the transport—it should be an easy find.”

“Be careful with that, Edward,” Bea warned. “Some of these illicit guild jobs can get dangerous fast. That piece of intel hasn’t even reached the Houses yet, and remember, the last mission we got you led you straight into another House’s territory.”

Ed winced at the reminder. Bea wasn’t done. “And those ships are often crawling with insect infestations.”

Ed nodded, the danger becoming more apparent. “Okay, I’ll transfer the money for the job and info. But also…” He paused, digging into his pocket and pulling out a wad of rolled-up paper.

“What’s that?” Adaline asked, her tone cautious.

Ed nodded toward Bea. “Well, part of the deal with your sister involved repairs and mechanics. We were fighting in a whole new breed of machine, and no one really understood what they had. I had the guys jot down their requests for their personal mechs. You do colors too, right?”

Bea took the paper with both hands, nodding. “We’re going to be so rich,” Adaline said with a smile.

As Bea skimmed the words and diagrams, Ed’s voice carried on. “Henryk says he likes the weight of the design, but he thinks it could use more mobility. He’s asking for better speed. Isaac wants more firepower—explosives, bazookas, the works. Joseph wants his armor stripped down, even his backup gatling guns, and he’s asking for a beam weapon or a laser rifle. The others don’t have many specific requests, aside from colors and paint schemes.”

“Colors and schemes?” Adaline asked, raising an eyebrow. “What do you need that for in a combat situation?”

“Old habits die hard, Adaline,” Ed said with a grin. “In combat, colors, schemes, and heraldry can make a name for us. There’s honor in a symbol, and sometimes it’s enough to make the enemy freeze in their tracks.”

“What a load of Martian history nonsense,” Bea muttered, half to herself, as she tucked the paper into the back of her pants. “Well, I know what I need to do.”

“Excellent,” Ed said, smiling. “I’m glad to call you both friends.”

Desmond

Des knocked on the door in a sequence of five to ten taps, pausing after each set. He stepped back, glancing around as he waited for someone to answer.

“What are you doing here, half-man?” Arthur’s voice called from inside the house. “Do you need something, friend?”

Des shot the large young man a sharp look, but there was no hostility in Arthur’s eyes—only kindness, accompanied by a warm smile.

“I’m here to speak with Henryk Brown,” Des said, starting to climb the steps. “Is he around?”

Arthur glanced over his shoulder before shaking his head. “He’s busy with work or studies today.”

Des nodded, though his gaze flicked toward Kieren, who was standing at the window, staring out with an expression full of hate, jealousy, and annoyance.

“Is there something in particular you need to talk to him about?” Arthur asked.

“I’m the professor attached to House Mars for the race,” Des explained. “I wanted to meet with Henryk. I wish for him to be my champion.”

Kieren punched the wall beside him, his knuckles cracking against the wood, while Arthur laughed. “All this for a young princess’s hand?”

“This world may be old-fashioned, but Henryk has a good chance of claiming it for himself,” Desmond said, his eyes narrowing. “And imagine the power it would bring to House Mars if it happened. Especially since it seems the lad favors the girl—and she him.”

Arthur’s eyes widened, his heart skipping a beat as he instinctively turned to look behind him. “I’ll tell Edward that at once.”

“That’s good,” Des said, reaching into his pocket and handing a slip of paper to Arthur. Arthur’s new bionic fingers brushed coldly against Des’s hand. “That’s my number. Make sure Henryk gets it.”

Arthur smirked and nodded, closing the door behind him. Des began descending the steps when he heard the door creak open again. Slowly turning, he half-expected to see the dark-skinned youth, but instead, he was met with a face speckled with freckles beneath reddish-brown hair.

“Why do you want to speak with Henryk?” Kieren asked, his voice edged with tension.

Des glanced around awkwardly, his eyes wide. “B-because I need to speak to him,” he stammered.

“This is about the race... Sirine,” Kieren said, then pointed a thumb at himself. “I’m the leading Squire Commander. Technically, Henryk’s under my command.”

Des remained silent, studying him.

“We’re all Executor candidates,” Kieren continued with a sigh. “I don’t get why everyone acts like Henryk’s so special. Is it because he can do magic? He’s just a freakin’ mutant.”

Des rolled his eyes and turned to walk toward his car. “Like I said, I’m not here to talk to you. I want to speak to Henryk.” He paused, his eye twitching as Kieren’s words—mutant—echoed in his mind. Des turned back. “Where were you when Oceana and the neighboring planets were burning?”

Kieren shrugged. “I was here, watching it all happen...” His eyes widened as the realization hit him.

“Oh really? So while there were videos of Henryk and the Knights of Mars out there fighting, saving hundreds—thousands—you were here,” Des said, shaking his head. “And you want me to pick you over Henryk?”

He opened the car door, ready to leave.

Kieren, seething with rage, spat out, “I-I would’ve gone if I could! But they asked for Henryk, not me.”

Des paused, turning the key in the ignition. “So Henryk gets to fight with the knights while you’re stuck here with the squires? And you wonder why I’m choosing Henryk?” He slammed the door shut, the engine roaring to life as he drove off down the road.

Kieren stood frozen for a moment, fists clenched in anger. “W-well... fuck you!” he shouted, but Des was already too far away, the sound of tires on gravel drowning out his voice.

Still fuming, Kieren stormed back into the manor. Thanks to the money they’d received, the repairs were finally coming together. The old building, once decaying, was slowly being restored to its former glory. The walls had been padded, and many of the more obvious damages had been replaced. The floors had been stripped and fitted with new wood. They now had power, plumbing, hot water—Arthur no longer had to cook in the fireplace. Wi-Fi, internet, the whole nine yards. Sure, there were still things to fix, but it didn’t look half-bad anymore.

Maybe that was what was bothering Kieren. He had won against Henryk, yet this was how they repaid him. Did they just prefer Henryk’s company over his and the other squires’? Fuck that, he thought. He wouldn’t be the one history forgot.

Outside, the other squires—Franklin, Mateo, and Wilbur—were gathered. Franklin was tall with buck teeth, a brown bowl cut, and a slightly chubby frame. Mateo wore a beanie, with tired eyes and tanned skin. Wilbur, the shortest of the group, had long black hair, pale skin, and a muscular build.

“You won’t believe this shit,” Kieren said, storming over to them.

The trio looked up, surprised by his sudden outburst.

“What’s up?” Mateo asked, his voice flat.

Kieren scoffed. “That coach the headmaster mentioned? He came to talk to Henryk.”

Wilbur shrugged. “Well, that’s fine… I heard Henryk’s got a thing for Sirine.”

Kieren rolled his eyes. “Good for him, bad for us. I’m the one leading this squire group, and we’re all Executor candidates too.” Franklin lazily picked at his nose, casting a bored glance at the conversation. “Who decided Henryk should get the spotlight? Just because he got a little fame for what happened on Oceana? If we’d been there, we’d have gotten twice the recognition—over some mutant.”

Franklin burst out laughing, but the others weren’t as amused. “I-it’s because the Martians respect strength,” Franklin said between chuckles. “Henryk’s just had more chances to prove himself. With all the stuff going on around Venus and Neptune, he’s been in the thick of it.”

Kieren was about to tear into Franklin’s logic, but then a light bulb flickered in his mind. “You’ve got a point, Franklin. If we do something to showcase our strength, we can prove we’re on the same level as Henryk.”

Mateo nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, but what could we do?”

Kieren’s eyes narrowed as an idea took shape. Slowly, he raised a finger. “We fuck with one of the Houses.”

The others’ eyes widened in shock. “Seriously? You’ve gotta be kidding,” Wilbur said, shaking his head. “We’re just gonna start a fight for no reason?”

“Look at what House Neptune did to Henryk and Tyson,” Mateo commented. “We’d just be swinging the stick right back.”

“The shit stick, more like it,” Wilbur muttered, crossing his arms. “When that storm comes back around, it’s gonna bite you. Who would you even go after?”

“Neptune’s too big,” Kieren said thoughtfully. “Messing with them outside their house would just get us jumped.”

Mateo snapped his fingers. “House Venus. They’ve got serious beef with Henryk. How about we mess with them? They’re rich, preppy—we can handle that.”

Kieren grinned. “I like it. Let’s fuck with House Venus.”

“How?” Franklin asked, tilting his head.

Kieren smirked, chuckling under his breath. “Nothing too crazy. Maybe grab some spray cans and toilet paper…” He paused, letting the moment hang. “…and then we’ll get creative.”