Chapter 8 - The So Called Master Race of The House of The Blue Dragon

As Henryk strode through the bluish-tinted doors of House Neptune, led by Logan amidst their peers, an overlooked memory resurfaced. It was a dream he'd long left behind, the yearning to traverse the stars armed with sword and shield. To be counted among the emperor's elite, a bringer of honor and glory to his planet, his kin, his name. He was his father's son, and that shadow loomed large over Henryk's soul.

He pondered his father's journey—fighting amidst the fading light, triumphant in death, spoken of in hushed reverence even after his demise. Henryk wished to grasp his father's essence, to comprehend him as one might understand the pages of history. Yet, he didn't fathom how far he'd surpass that legacy, like Phillip to Alexander.

The entrance to Neptune exuded regality. Greek and Romanic artworks adorned the narrow walls, paintings and stone carvings casting a spell upon Henryk's gaze. His attention fixated on the allure surrounding them all, lost in their splendor.

"You know we control the sunroof?" Logan interrupted their stride, turning back to Henryk.

"Didn't have that luxury where I come from," Henryk replied. "Maybe for some fancy crops, but not in my colony's budget."

Logan chuckled. "If you align yourself with Neptune, you'll have such luxuries."

They continued, Henryk still entranced by the hall's artistry.

"You like art?" Logan queried.

Caught before a statue, Henryk reddened and shook his head.

"We at Neptune value the arts," Logan continued. "Venus might outclass us in that."

Henryk shrugged, but Logan persisted. "Do you create art?" he prodded.

Henryk hesitated, nodding and then shaking his head—a moment that nearly sent Logan into fits of laughter.

"Whoa," Logan exclaimed, slapping his knee. "Never seen someone both nod and shake their head at once. Looks odd."

Henryk sighed in fatigue. The eccentricity of the academy's affluent and enigmatic individuals puzzled him. Edward, a Martian defector; Logan, who seemed overly formal; and Piper, seething with frustration.

His thoughts flitted to others he'd encountered. Finally, he admitted, "Drawing and music," embarrassment tinging his words.

"Drawing and music?" Logan echoed, his tone carrying a hint of doubt. "Henryk, your dyslexic pencil scratches and your fiddling don't exactly qualify as skilled arts."

"What the hell did you just say?" Henryk responded, a quiet and cold anger simmering beneath his words. The tension was punctuated by Logan's wild laughter.

"Christ, Henryk," Logan managed between fits of laughter. "Don't you know when someone's yanking your chain?"

Banter. They'd been bantering with him, perhaps more than he'd realized. Henryk sighed, facepalming in response as he and Logan continued down the hallway.

The hallway soon came to an end, revealing the entrance's surprising sparsity. Henryk's assumption about the number of House Neptune members proved wrong. Stepping into the main entrance, he was utterly stunned.

The house's main entrance mirrored the hallway's sunroof, casting down natural light. As Henryk observed, the panels of the roof started to shift and contort.

"What's that?" Henryk asked, genuinely curious.

"Ah, a hick wouldn't know such things," Logan chuckled, clearly enjoying his own words. "You see that roof? Billions of dollars," he proudly stated.

"What's it do?" Henryk questioned, flashing a smug smile. "Billions for a roof seems a bit extravagant."

"Billions for a roof is cheap when you have trillions back home," Logan bragged.

Henryk shrugged, remembering the scarcity of meals back in the colony. To him, billions seemed like a distant dream. Now, surrounded by nobility, he was determined to make his name known.

Laughter erupted from the Neptune members, their uniforms adorned with the blue of their house. Henryk and Logan turned to see a reunion, introductions flowing in celebration. Henryk glanced around until his gaze was captured by a large room.

In front of him was a mural, spanning the entire wall that met his view at the entrance. Henryk took a few steps forward, captivated by the artwork. He heard Logan start to speak, but the mural held him in a silent reverie. The painted masterpiece stretched from floor to ceiling, capturing his attention with its aged brilliance.

"You can touch it," Logan remarked, breaking the spell.

Henryk raised his hand, but there was a momentary pause. Logan sighed, leaning against the mural, almost challenging Henryk's hesitation. "It was painted centuries ago during the..."

"Xeno wars," Henryk finished.

His eyes traced the rich blue and black hues of the artwork, frozen in time like a historical masterpiece. As his hand grazed the surface, he connected with a piece that had witnessed the flames of war, outliving even his grandparents. The power it held surpassed that of mere architectural significance; it resonated with a force that transcended both force and fire.

A lone 'WarCasket,' perhaps faded with time or artistic intent, took center stage. In the middle of a dark field, misty figures with tentacle-like limbs surrounded it. The evisceration weapon in its hands gleamed with gold as it rose.

"What's so special about this WarCasket?" Henryk inquired. "It seems to be the focal point, but it looks like an older mech pattern. Was it Neptune's ARC core?"

Logan shook his head. "No, this is basically our first champion, Rickert of The Chain. He wielded an evisceration blade when it was common and gained great prestige, fame, and honor. After the war, he even became an advisor to the king, back when we still had kings and queens."

"You know a lot," Henryk commented.

"Of course," Logan replied with a smile. "He's an ancestor of my family."

"Sure," Henryk retorted with an eye roll. "Lately, I've been hearing a lot about people with wealth and famous families. It's starting to get annoying."

Logan laughed. "I suppose someone like you usually talks to commoners and lowlifes of societies."

"For someone who claims not to be led by a king, you sure sound like a classist," Henryk observed.

"Maybe," Logan chuckled, starting to walk away. Henryk hesitated, contemplating his options. His gaze lingered on Logan, and though House Neptune seemed appealing, something about them felt off, a bit peculiar.

Older than him, they shared striking features—blond hair, deep blue to green eyes, and porcelain skin.

Henryk sported wavy black hair that cascaded in front of his features, a rebellious dance that only a quick brush could tame. His deep azure eyes reflected the stories etched in the ruins of Europe, blending with the rich Indi stock heritage from his father. Standing beside Logan, the contrast struck him—there wasn't much diversity in this place.

As they lingered in front of the mural, the air grew tense, and Henryk couldn't ignore the odd fixation on his presence. Reunions unfolded around him, but the whispers and glances seemed to orbit him, a gravitational pull of suspicion. Turning, he caught the gaze of a young man, slightly older, with a buzzed head. The hate in those narrowed eyes pierced through, leaving Henryk baffled.

"What in the world," he mumbled.

Logan, attuned to the shift in atmosphere, turned around. Their expressions dropped, and though the young man hesitated, he redirected his focus. Logan sensed Henryk's unease. "You okay?" he asked.

"No," Henryk retorted. He narrowed his eyes and spoke louder, calling out to the glaring figure. "That bald fucker over there has a problem with me."

All eyes turned toward the commotion, Logan feeling the weight of second-hand embarrassment. "Yo," snapped Henryk. "You got a fucking problem or something."

Logan intervened, gripping Henryk's shoulder and steering him away. They retreated in silence, the tension lingering. Henryk's mind replayed the encounter, recalling the echoes of his name mingling with annoyance. Rolling his eyes, he muttered, "What was that all about?"

"That prick was staring at me from across the room," Henryk explained.

"So what?" Logan retorted, waving his hand dismissively. "You can't just start problems with random people."

"…only if we can't feel their killing intent," Henryk murmured.

A memory surfaced, bloodstained fists against the backdrop of a crumbling spaceship in the gravity belt of an impending planet. Henryk remembered the visceral feeling of another's killing intent, now mirrored in this moment. A final backward glance revealed nothing conclusive, but a nagging thought lingered. No one could have known his secret, and as his mind churned, he shook away the intrusive notion. Piper, Logan, and even Ed might have had their suspicions, but only Henryk held the complete truth.

The corridor stretched ahead, laced with the strange and expectant glances that followed Henryk. His mind swirled with the possibilities and the doubts, contemplating the odd encounter with the young man sporting a buzzed head. A fleeting thought grazed his consciousness, a notion he quickly dismissed—the prestigious academy of Neptune couldn't house such prejudice. Or could it?

Logan halted at the dormitory, donning his trademark smirk, undoubtedly signaling the continuation of their tour. As they navigated the hallway and rode an elevator to the second floor, Henryk observed the curious stares that never seemed to cease.

"Here are the dorms," Logan announced, pushing open a door. "WarCasket pilots get the luxury of a single room."

Stepping inside, Henryk was met with a space that resembled two combined janitorial closets. But surprise painted his face, forming an 'O' as Logan leaned against the door, grinning at Henryk's reaction.

Henryk explored the room, fingertips gliding over the desk, trailing the fabric of the chair, and finally resting upon the neatly made bed. The room's décor, in shades of blues and teals, resonated with a depth reminiscent of the ocean from his childhood.

"A decent dorm," Logan remarked. Henryk, fixated on the window, marveled at the view—a sprawling expanse that encapsulated not only the academy but also the distant river marking the boundary between the campus and the city.

"Such a breathtaking view," Henryk whispered, awestruck by the sight.

Logan chuckled, but Henryk swiftly tried to retract his words. "Sorry about that, that was a bit... you know," he muttered.

Logan burst into laughter. Yet, he composed himself and turned to Henryk. "There's no shame in appreciating a good view." He joined Henryk at the window, as the sun began its descent, painting the city and the horizon in hues of warmth and cold, merging into a breathtaking display.

"If admiring this is 'gay,' then call me a 'homo,'" Logan quipped.

Henryk shot him a look of surprise, to which Logan laughed, shaking his head. "You're a peculiar one, Logan," Henryk retorted. "This place is filled with a bunch of oddballs."

"Hey!" Logan recoiled playfully. "If we were on Neptune, I'd be the coolest person on the planet. And if you were on MidWorld, you'd be begging for my autograph."

Their banter echoed through the room, blending with the captivating vista outside, momentarily suspending the weight of the unfamiliarity that surrounded Henryk.

Henryk's laughter echoed through the dormitory, a release of tension in the face of Neptune's peculiarities. "Thank god for that," he quipped, "I'd take living on my backwater shit world than dealing with that crap."

Logan, initially bristling with frustration, let out a weary sigh, his blond hair falling over his features. A calm settled over him, leaving Henryk pondering why Logan invested so much time in his company.

The room had hushed now, both men gazing through the window at the mesmerizing sight outside. "Such a beautiful sight," Logan mused, throwing a glance at Henryk. "If Stella lets you in, you may wake up to me in here painting this stellar view."

Henryk, nonchalant, took a seat along the window's edge. "That's how you end up getting punched," he remarked.

Logan chuckled. "Oh, really? You assume you're quicker than me."

A smile graced Henryk's face. "I saved your life out there."

Logan's eyes widened briefly, annoyance flickering across his features. He shook his head, wounded pride evident for a moment. "You practice the arts?" Logan inquired.

Henryk hesitated, eyes drifting to his lap. "Music..."

"What was that?" Logan pressed.

"Music!" Henryk reiterated, initially red-faced. He sighed, realizing his volume had exceeded expectations. "Drawing... no, I am not a fancy painter. Illustrator, no, rather a drawer."

"Drawing and music," Logan repeated, pride emanating from him. He turned towards Henryk. "Why are you so upset, Henryk?"

Henryk remained silent, caught in a moment of introspection.

"Henryk, the greatest warriors tended the most beautiful gardens. There's no shame in having passions outside of warfare and destruction."

The words struck Henryk, finding a place within his mind's eye. They clung, threatening to plague his thoughts in the sleepless nights to come. Henryk sighed, acknowledging the lingering impact. But he turned to Logan. "Why did you bring me here?" he queried.

Logan shrugged with a smile. "Don't you understand why you're here?"

"I reckon you and Stella are interested in me joining the house," Henryk ventured.

Logan paused, a subtle smile playing on his lips as he nodded. "Then, you'll be correct," he admitted. "Me and Stella were impressed with how you acted, and likewise, we appreciate how you hid what happened out there to Piper and Ed."

Henryk's eyes widened, then narrowed back to normal. "I didn't do it for you and Stella to get into your house. Piper and Ed didn't need to know inside that damned shuttle that I saved you," he declared, arms crossed. "It was not the honorable thing to do."

"Honor?" Logan repeated, a smile stretching across his face. He liked that word. "What does a frontier hick know about honor?"

"You're speaking of my honor," said Henryk.

"Touche," Logan replied. He sighed after a pause. "Have you ever heard of the trident of Neptune?"

Henryk shook his head, but then a memory surfaced. "I've heard people call you the trident."

Logan raised his hand with a smile. "No, no, and no," he repeated with false sincerity, prompting a glare from Henryk. Logan, to Henryk, moved like a slimy eel, and it was becoming more apparent that there was something more here. "The Trident, it wasn't a name but rather an organization of three. These three were the greatest of Neptune, but the group has fallen through, and now we shoulder the name onto the champion."

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

"Why did it fall through?" Henryk asked.

"They died," Logan said, but Henryk caught the hesitation in his response.

"Yeah, years ago, but you would've..."

Logan's sigh and groan cut through the air, silencing Henryk. "This wasn't something that happened years ago, but possibly over ten years ago."

Henryk's eyes widened. "Woah," he said. "I thought it was something that was decades ago, not so recent," he admitted.

Logan nodded, a lingering sadness in his eyes that Henryk could feel—an unhealed wound from the past, a responsibility shouldered by an heir who was never meant to be.

Yet, Logan fixed his gaze on Henryk. "My ancestors were a champion of not only Neptune but of the emperor. I wish to restore the trident, but the trident must have two other members who are worthy enough to bear the mantle."

Henryk's eyes were wide now. "Are you asking me to..."

Logan remained silent, softly nodding. "If Stella allows you to join, me and our trainers will personally hone your skills to the max that is possible. The work will be tough, but the honor and glory will be..."

"Worth it," Henryk rose from the seat, nodding along. He extended his hand towards Logan, who looked at it with a mixture of shock and strangeness.

"I accept," Henryk declared. "I'll become a warrior of Neptune and..."

"Whoa, Henryk!" Logan interrupted with a surprised shout.

"Oh, damn," Henryk replied as he scratched his head. "Forgot about Stella."

"Yeah," nodded Logan, but Henryk felt Logan's hand on his shoulder. "So, let's go up and see her."

Henryk and Logan exited the room, shutting the door behind them, and took the elevator to the fifth floor of the building. This section was far sparser than before.

"This floor is usually utilized for our leadership, aces, and champions," Logan explained as they continued walking.

The hall was in pristine condition, and maybe...

"The first person that isn't pale is the one mopping," Henryk whispered.

A student of Neptune was seen cleaning the floor, with deep chestnut skin and wild tousled hair. Headphones played in both her ears as she continued her task. Others around her, however, all had pale skin and blue eyes. The floor felt even more devoid of those with differing features. Just differing strands of yellow.

As they walked, the pretense of a dorm hall started to fall away, and the place felt far more regal. There were fewer people, and the strange looks of superiority were aimed at Henryk. Maybe it was the coat, but that wasn't okay. His mama taught him to treat everyone equally, regardless of who, or rather what, they were.

Continuing their journey, Logan brought them to a stop in front of two massive wooden doors, throwing Henryk a final look. "Ready?"

"Yes, ready," Henryk responded.

"Remember, I'm on your side to let you into the house. Stella usually backs me up, but she has a way of surprising me at times," Logan explained.

Henryk nodded, but Logan still paused. He let go of the door and stared at Henryk for a moment. "Stella does not know what I am planning on doing, rebuilding the trident and all. You're a good bunch, Henryk. Can you keep this a secret between me and you?"

Henryk felt the weight of the request, but who cared? Being a part of the trident was a hell of a way to get noticed by Neptune. Citizenship for his family, if they wished to go through the emigration process for Neptune, and he would bring honor and funds to those back home. For a moment, he thought of the idea of growing into an advisor for his planet, but he was just some hick struggling to read correctly. He sighed.

"Of course," Henryk said.

"Atta guy," Logan said, swinging open the doors.

Stella was draped in a long, narrow room, the shock hitting Henryk hard as his gaze drifted upward. "Woah," escaped from his lips, eyes absorbing the mesmerizing dance of blue and green lights that surrounded him.

Stella sat there, her porcelain skin almost skeletal to the touch, eyes narrowed into black pits. Clad in a tight outfit, a crescent over a trident marked her status as the president of Neptune. The ceiling, taller than expected, held crystal blue waters with fish swimming above, to the sides, and underneath. Henryk was astonished, colors playing over his features while Logan smirked, taking it all in.

Maybe Henryk was what they sought. Not of Neptune stock, but perhaps that was enough. Logan's eye twitched, his skill paramount, yet his other qualities needed consideration by others. His mind flickered to the boy staring at Henryk. Henryk's kind could be a bit... but an empire needed its men.

Stella typed aggressively on the computer, oblivious to their presence. Henryk watched a strand of her silky black hair dip along her chin, and his gaze traveled farther, discovering a dimple along her round breast.

Growing red-faced, he shook his head, redirecting his attention to her eyes. "Hello," she greeted with a smug smirk.

Henryk nearly jumped in surprise, growing even redder as Logan remained unaware. "Stella, this is Henryk, the guy that saved me from the cluster belt."

Logan clasped his hand against Henryk's shoulder, leaving him awkwardly in place. "He's from the frontier, from some backwater world along the deep frontier. I know, I know, we usually don't pick from his type of stock, but I've just got a good feeling about him."

Stella's expression shifted from smugness to blankness, a near disappointment. Henryk welcomed it; he aimed to transform that blankness into something more.

"This is the best you've got?" Stella mused, sighing.

"Best?" Henryk chuckled. "I saved him," he added with a thumb jerked toward Logan.

Logan breathed heavily for a moment but found his calm. He gestured between the two with raised hands. "Enough of this," he said, glancing at Stella. "Stop acting all coy and smug, Stella. Henryk is good, and I personally think he's a good fit for the house."

Silence hung in the room, and Henryk felt Stella's eyes narrowing as she scrutinized him. She shifted her gaze to Logan, who leaned against the desk. "Then have a seat," she instructed.

Henryk complied, drawn to the unique glass chairs. "Made in Neptune," Logan boasted, pointing with an outstretched finger. "Both, actually. We got the new furniture a couple of years ago. My family chipped in a good portion of the cost."

"Yes, we remember, Logan," Stella said, looking at Henryk, though her words were directed at Logan. "It's been a long while since we've had nice things for Neptune. Been a real long while."

"Yes, exactly," Logan chimed in, rising and gesturing upward with a smile. "We're doing amazing now, Henryk, as a planet, I mean. Sure, there was a dark time, but we've recovered from it."

"Mind if I ask about this dark time?" Henryk spoke, not particularly interested in the history or the rivalry. However, he felt prompted to ask a question.

"I'd expect you don't know about the conflict between Pluto and Neptune decades ago," Stella replied, looking at Henryk. "Logan mentioned you were from the deep frontier."

Henryk shrugged, and Logan took the opportunity to explain. "Years ago, Neptune and Pluto had a bad war. It was before any of our real times, but I was told the stories by my great grandfather," Logan's eyes had a glint, a sense of honor. "Pluto came upon our soil and fought against us for years. Even when we dropped bombs on their cities, they polluted our streets, claiming to rein in our government."

Stella sighed, her gaze turning toward Henryk with a tired expression. He found himself assessing who was okay with being treated unfairly and who wasn't. But those questions could wait; a greater revelation was on the horizon.

"Well, my grandmother was alive around that time too," Stella said. "I remember the brutality of Neptune, and I also remember the effects of what happened on both sides. Henryk, please don't listen to what this stone-headed boy has to say."

Henryk chuckled, and Logan rushed to his defense. "Hey, Stella," he spoke, "my grandfather resisted Pluto when they acted dishonorably without the emperor's approval." He spoke firmly.

Stella sighed and shook her head, turning to face Henryk. "Tell me about yourself, Henryk. Think of this as a job interview." She paused, a smug smile playing on her lips, and Henryk found himself gazing more at the pink of her lips. "Try not to disappoint me."

Her focus was intense, like a hawk honing in on its prey. "Where are you from?" Stella inquired.

"Frontier, a backwater world," Henryk replied honestly.

She chuckled. "I was asking for specifics."

Henryk regarded her with a plain look. "Not really worth naming something so backwater something specific."

The words brought a smile to her features. "Your accent is interesting," she spoke.

"Funny," Henryk rose. "Seems like you're more interested in me than what I can do."

Stella's mouth pursed for a moment, and Henryk found himself drawn to her mane of black hair, wondering how it would look free from its ponytail and preferably splayed along his bed.

"Logan spoke highly of your skills," Stella proclaimed.

"I was trained by a great many people," said Henryk with a smirk. "Pirates, mercenaries, and champions of the empire."

"Oh, a mighty fine roster," proclaimed Logan.

"There was a rampaging boulder heading straight towards your champion, and it was me and my eviscerator that cleaved it in two and rend it. I am Henryk, I pilot WarCaskets that are brutish and strong. You take me in, and I'll power through any of our enemies' defenses."

"What a mighty proclamation," spoke Stella with a smirk.

"I serve God, Emperor, and my family," Henryk added.

"...I bet you do, a good little soldier," said Stella.

Silence followed, Stella staring at him. Then she sighed, leaning against her chair, and both Henryk and Logan watched her.

"I wish we could, because you honestly seem like a great and skilled person. However, I have a good question. What would you be willing to give up to become a member of Neptune?"

Henryk was about to speak, feeling the change in the air—the room's intensity and banter drained. This was strictly business now.

"What are you asking of me?" questioned Henryk with a smirk. "I'm not going to say anything. Who knows what kind of bunch you are to be saying anything to," he regarded.

Logan stayed silent, and so did Stella.

Then, she spoke. "Your Evisceration Weapon," she said, her hands splayed along the glass of the table. She eyed him with coldness etched.

"What about it?" spoke Henryk, and Logan wished to facepalm.

"What are you doing, Stella?" questioned Logan, but Stella raised her hand.

Stella paid no attention to Logan, her eyes driving straight into Henryk. "Technically, that weapon is an artifact of Neptuneian culture. It was forged on Earth during the times of the alien wars, but now it's a relic that can never be replaced or salvaged. If you wish to join Neptune, you'll need to sign away your rights to the house heads."

Logan slammed his hand along the table. Henryk was too frozen to think, and his earlier thoughts of all the good things that could come from Neptune swiftly draped away like a curtain along a table, but snatched away.

Logan eyed Stella. “I rarely ever make suggestions in regards to who we recruit, and now you deny me this,” spat Logan.

Stella shook her head. “This was not on me; the house heads saw the video and saw Henryk slashing with that blade. It’s historical, and technically, your family is the most outright that lays claim onto it.”

Henryk’s eyes went wide and drew towards Logan.

“What the hell is going on,” proclaimed Henryk.

Stella sighed, and her expression quickly drove back towards exhaustion and stress. “Henryk, have you ever heard of the law dubbed, the accord of heroes?”

Henryk stared at her. However, he sighed and slowly shook his head. “Like, I’ve got an idea of it,” he confessed. “Property law or something?” he guessed.

Stella nodded. “Property law is a more simple estimation. Basically, within the realm if a great hero falls in battle and the weapon is dubbed lost, without certain restrictions, it will stay lost. However, if years pass and it makes its way towards the hand of someone… maybe, it was god that decided it.”

“God?” Henryk looked at her in question.

Logan chuckled at that. “Over here in the Deacon system, there's a bunch of pretty religious worlds. You see a lot of zealots, especially those that still praise Mars here.”

“Mars?” questioned Henryk.

“Tough manner of business that was,” Stella regarded, and she looked towards Logan. “Wasn’t the boy that helped you save Sirine, wasn’t he a Martian?”

Henryk watched the exchange. His eyes were wide, and now he was finally getting insight into how Edward has been doing.

Logan shrugged his shoulders. “Last I heard of him, he and a couple of other first years were actually of Martian stock.”

Stella’s eyes went wide at that. “Really, how much?” she asked.

“Twelve to fifteen from what I heard,” Logan spoke in a dismissive wave. “Funny, there disgraced shameful bastards, but they're pitiful to look at.”

“Twelve to fifteen,” repeated Stella, and she hummed the words again. “Mercury has a roster in the hundreds; compare that to Mars now it’s pitiful.”

“You’ve known even before that the Martians were too proud, and they rarely ever poached teammates,” Logan said.

"Only champions," Stella affirmed, mockingness etched within the gesture. "You still hear talk from Pluto in bated breaths of their disgraced prince."

Yet, before they spoke, Henryk interrupted them. "About my sword, are you saying that if I give it up…that you will sponsor me and turn me into a member of the house?"

Stella had paused, and a smile graced upon her face. She slowly and softly turned to face Henryk. "Yes, that is exactly what I am trying to say to you. Give us the sword, and I guarantee you that this blade will find its hands in a champion of Neptune."

For a moment, Henryk thought about it, honestly. Secretly, deep down, he wanted this more than anything he ever wanted and more. A dream to fly amongst the stars, to grow, to become a great man just like how his father was.

Like Edward, he understood; they could never escape their father’s shadow. For Henryk’s father’s shadow stems from a shadow along the back of a WarCasket, a lone warrior that faced a horde of slavers. He killed them, and within his death, his son, his family, his people found a home and freedom.

He bore that blade, and alike to that of his name, he stared upon them all and looked at them simply…

"No," he said.

They looked at him; there was not a peep or a sound for a moment, but then Stella stared at him. "No," she repeated, and she stared at him. "Listen, if you hadn’t come with that sword, my higher-ups wouldn’t have cared about me letting you into the house. However, they're using this as an excuse to strong-arm you. Henryk, this is a once-in-a-lifetime offer."

"There are other houses," Henryk stated plainly.

Stella chuckled at that. She stared at him blankly, and there was an unsettlingness to it. "None of the houses are perfect," she regarded. "Mercury is a cesspool of people; I’ve heard that boys and girls from Venus find their vices at the end of a bottle or the tip of a rod, and House Mars's secrecy is still even apparent now. Do not throw away something like a weapon that could be replaced, with the lives and future of your family."

Now, Stella was starting to slightly annoy Henryk. He narrowed his gaze at her. "Excuse me," he spoke as he rose out of his chair. "Do not tell me what you think me and my family need," he threw his gaze towards Stella, who merely stared up at him, and then towards Logan. "I do not know anything truly about that sword; all I know is the name and how many times it has saved me from the brink of death. I’ve fought countless enemies on my colony with it, and my father wielded it in his same hands. This sword is mine; it’s practically an extension of myself like my name, and no man should ever barter their own damn name."

Stella’s eyes widened at that. "A man should never barter his own name," Stella repeated in her own words. She eyed Henryk. "That’s a pretty poetic thing to say."

"It’s real," Henryk announced. "Bad things come from men bartering things that can never come back. That is why that sword was his, and now it is mine. I won’t ever part with it."

Stella sighed loudly. “Well then, Henryk. I am sorry to tell you this, but you are going to have to find a different house.” She rose from her seat and stuck out her hand to face him; he looked at it and felt a pillar of shame course through him. He was greedy earlier, thinking it was going to be that easy. Now, he was faced with the reality of it all.

Henryk sighed, and he rose out of the chair and took her hand. “I hope for the best,” Henryk said.

Stella’s eyes widened for a moment, but then she sighed and scorned him now like he was a disappointment, but the earlier charm had now faded. Stella shook her head. “If you are not expelled or killed and actually join a different house that opposes Neptune, do not expect me or Logan to show you any candor. This ends now.”

“Kill?” Henryk repeated, and his mind churned at why she had gone that way. This was a school and…and…

Henryk shook his head. They were salty due to the fact that he wasn’t going to give them a priceless family heirloom. Fuck Logan’s distant ancestor; his father died with it in his hands; it was his birthright to bear.

Henryk turned to leave and started walking away. “Stella, wait, Henryk…come back!” Logan yelled, and Henryk’s mind whirled towards what Logan had talked to him about earlier. Looks like his earlier talk of reforming the trident was not going the way he wanted it to.

There was quick dialogue between Stella and Logan, more alike to Logan trying to convince Stella to just let it slide and just lie. However, she dissuaded this. Henryk was already going down the stairs as he heard Logan holler his name.

“Henryk!” Logan called out.

Henryk paused within the white staircase. It was afternoon now, and…no, it wasn’t. Henryk watched as the dying light of the sun dipped over the horizon. In the distance, on the artificial plating of the campus, he could see the lights shine of students' photos blaring upon the false atmosphere. The pride and joy of the frontier, good enough to get realized into the legions of the houses to potentially bring honor and glory.

“Today is just not my day,” Henryk thought. His mind churned with the days, but this was the first real day. He knew he was skilled; he knew that he had this, but his own mind was so confident that Neptune was going to be it, but it wasn’t, and that scared him for what led into the future.

“Henryk, what the fuck was that!” Snapped Logan.

Henryk shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know what you want from me, man,” said Henryk. “I am not going to give away my father’s sword.”

“You mean my family's sword,” Spoke Logan in an aura of importance, and that aura caused Henryk to sneer and stare at him.

“My father’s sword, Stella spoke of it in imperial law,” Henryk thrown back into his face.

Logan wrapped his arms around himself and stared at Henryk. “If you give it up, you will have a great place by my side. Think of the luxuries of Neptune, think of what you can bring home with us backing you.”

“Why do you want me so much?” Henryk asked, speaking with pure honesty.

Logan sighed. “You know that I wish to reform the trident, and I need people like you. The way you speak of honor, and the way that you maneuver your ‘WarCasket’,” He paused and stared at Henryk, flashing him a teeth-filled grin. “All we need to do is a combat module and show Stella and the rest of the house how good you are. They’ll let you in in no time.”

Henryk paused, momentarily intoxicated by Logan’s enthusiasm. He felt swallowed by it, finding it akin to the charm of a politician or a lord. However, something caught his attention on the side.

“Gee, they’re still wailing on him,” Logan remarked.

Henryk was staring, mouth partly agape, eyes fixed through the glass. Logan was taken aback. “Are you okay?” he questioned.

“Am I okay?” Henryk echoed.

He whirled towards Logan, pointing out the window. Tyson, his body splayed along the alleyway between two buildings. Henryk could only glimpse the scene from the window as he lashed out at Logan. “You’re watching him get his ass kicked, and your smile is getting really freaking irritating, man,” Henryk said.

Logan brought his gaze up. “Are you speaking of the mutant?”

“They wear the blue of Neptune,” Henryk said, malice etched deep into his voice. “What the hell did Tyson do to get beat up like this?”

Logan merely brought both hands up. “Existing,” he stated.

“Existing,” Henryk repeated, staring at him.

“I do not understand why you feel sympathy for the mutant. You do realize that these abominations merely plague our emperor’s empire. Imagine a perfect being, a being that will unite us all in a…”

“A master race, I’ve heard the same spiel from cultists within deep frontier bars,” spat Henryk, his voice dripping with disdain. “What a disgusting racist lot you are.”

“Racist you…”

“Shut up, Logan,” said Henryk. “I know how you people looked at me, and the only real people you have working here of notice are students that are colored. What were you planning on doing, huh? You wanted to toss me into a closet, right?”

Logan merely stared in silence, then in anger. “My great-grandfather,” he proclaimed a moment later, “he was a mutant hunter, when it was legal, of course. He purged the unclean filth from the rat nest they called homes. He snapped their babies' necks like twigs and gutted the mothers like hogs. He took the men and wrested their rods from their bodies so they’d never spread the unclean. I come from that long line, Henryk.”

Henryk was frozen, letting the words reel in. In that moment, he was angry and disgusted by Logan, but even more disgusted by the idea that he had allowed Logan in and actually admired him slightly. His mind drifted towards Ed, but he shook it away as Logan continued.

“I’ve seen the sorcerer burn at the stake, and let me tell you, Henryk, it makes me feel pretty damn proud to be a part of God’s master race amongst the stars. Purging the wicked is in my blood.”

Henryk stared at him, then looked towards Tyson. He sneered and took a step forward with a clenched fist. Staring at Logan at eye level, he finally spoke.

“You are disgusting. I am ashamed to have even stood by your side.”

Henryk turned around, walked down the steps, whirled open the door, and broke into a sprint. Before, Henryk might have thought twice, but he was fuming over what Logan had said, and his senses had lost him. As he rushed to aid Tyson with a clenched fist, he realized just how abnormal the school was.

In the heat of the fight, as Henryk's fist slammed into a bully's face and Tyson rose to stare upon him with a bruised face, Logan, the spear of Neptune, watched on in a strange contemplative silence.