Chapter 9 - The Rubicon Tapes - Book 2

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House Pluto

The walls bore the muted grays of military precision, punctuated by the occasional banner of their house's insignia. Gerald sat at the head of the table, his sharp eyes surveying the group. Bracken, younger but with a temper honed like a blade, leaned against the far wall, arms crossed. Around them, the other members of their squad—Dane, Lachlan, and Fergus—jostled for space on the mismatched chairs, their camaraderie as frayed and patched as the furniture itself.

The room buzzed with the echoes of academy rumors. Gerald, always the anchor, leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. “So, let’s hear it. What’s the word on the duel?”

Lachlan, ever the joker, smirked. “The big news isn’t the duel, but the… ‘art installation’ on House Venus. Heard they’re calling it ‘Martian Modernism.’”

The room erupted in laughter. Bracken’s face remained stoic, but his lips twitched. “You mean the dicks and toilet paper?”

Fergus, choking on his drink, slapped the table. “Dicks, dicks everywhere! Even on their prized banner! Who does that?”

Gerald chuckled, shaking his head. “Juvenile, sure, but you have to admit it’s effective. Their reputation took a hit.”

Bracken's voice cut through the mirth, sharp and cold. “Juvenile? It’s idiotic. House Mars isn’t doing themselves any favors by pulling stunts like that. They’re a house teetering on the edge of disgrace, and this just gives the others more ammunition.”

Dane, leaning back, shrugged. “Still, it’s funny.”

Gerald turned his focus to Bracken. “You’re not wrong, but this isn’t about the prank. It’s about the perception of strength. The duel? That’s their way of showing they’re still a force to be reckoned with.”

Bracken’s frown deepened. “And Henryk? What do we know about him?”

The room fell silent, the earlier laughter dissipating like smoke. Gerald spoke, his tone measured. “Henryk’s… an anomaly. He’s unpolished, sure, but he’s got the grit. If we’re being honest, he’s probably a better fit for their house than most.”

Bracken scoffed. “A better fit? He’s reckless. You remember what happened in Oceana.”

Gerald nodded slowly. “I do. And I also remember that he didn’t flinch when things went sideways. That kind of resolve isn’t easy to come by.”

Lachlan leaned forward, his grin returning. “You know what they say, though. Desperation makes for some interesting bedfellows.”

As the group continued to debate, the ground beneath them rumbled, a faint tremor that passed almost unnoticed.

Fergus chuckled nervously. “Was that…? Nah, couldn’t be. Probably just the old boilers acting up again.”

Bracken’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s something else.”

The tension in the room grew palpable, the laughter fading into an uneasy silence.

Piper

“They’re not going to let me rescind the duel, and now they want to change the parameters?” Piper asked, leaning back in her chair, arms and legs crossed, her hands gesturing in disbelief. Marcus and Margaret sat beside her, their faces shifting between confusion and unease as Zephyr stared them down, his fingers laced together on the desk before him.

“Correct,” Zephyr replied, his tone tight. He hesitated briefly, then continued, “They’re proposing a mixed team battle. It won’t be just you and Atticus anymore.”

Piper shrugged dismissively. “That’s fine. We’ve got plenty of pilots—”

“You’re not listening,” Zephyr cut her off, his voice firm. “This is a mixed team battle. Your team has to be comprised of members from other houses. Only one pilot can be House Mercury stock.”

Piper froze. Her eyes widened as her head snapped toward Marcus and Margaret, the realization dawning on their faces, too. The room seemed to tense all at once. Before anyone could respond, the door swung open with a sharp creak.

“Ah, Anderson and Sarah,” Zephyr said, pasting on his signature false smile as the group turned toward the door.

Margaret greeted them with a polite nod, while Marcus’s brow furrowed in confusion. Piper, however, narrowed her eyes as she scanned the new arrivals. Sarah—a girl with nervous eyes and a cold sweat clinging to her brow—couldn’t meet Piper’s gaze. And Anderson... Piper recognized him as the first-year pilot who had recklessly thrown himself into the fray against a tank mech. He smiled a little too brightly, exuding an almost overeager energy that immediately set her teeth on edge.

“They look like first-years,” Piper muttered under her breath.

“Lieutenant Sarah,” Sarah introduced herself stiffly.

“Lieutenant Anderson,” Anderson added, his voice cheerfully loud, almost as if he were oblivious to the tension in the room.

Piper, Marcus, and Margaret exchanged a glance, their expressions shifting between disbelief and incredulity. Marcus was the first to crack, a chuckle slipping out as he gestured toward the pair. “Zephyr, you’ve got to be kidding me. These are first-years—”

His words were cut off by a sharp chop to the arm from Piper, silencing him instantly. He shot her a glare, but she didn’t flinch.

Zephyr didn’t even blink at the exchange, his focus unbroken. “I know their age,” he said curtly. “But after what happened with Eric, Jeremiah, and the others...” He trailed off, his expression darkening. “After Lucas’s death and the state of the captured, who are only just now being recovered and relocated—”

Marcus flinched as if Zephyr had struck him. His lips parted, ready to fire back, but Margaret’s hand found his knee, squeezing it in warning. The subtle gesture didn’t go unnoticed by Zephyr, who continued without pause.

“Sarah and Anderson may be first-year midworlders, but they have demonstrated quality experience in handling Warcaskets,” Zephyr said, gesturing toward the pair as though he were introducing prized assets.

Piper swallowed her annoyance. She was already on thin ice with Zephyr, and while she didn’t particularly care for Sarah, her feelings toward Anderson were lukewarm at best. He seemed... fine, if a bit overeager. That smile of his was irritating, though.

“Please, sit down,” Zephyr said, his tone deceptively pleasant. “They’ve already been briefed on Piper’s blunder.”

Piper’s jaw tightened, her teeth grinding behind her lips. She forced herself to stay quiet, her fingers curling against her thighs. Marcus, however, bristled visibly at the comment, only to have Margaret’s hand clamp down on his arm again. The tension in the room was palpable.

Zephyr exhaled heavily, rubbing his temples as if the weight of the world were on his shoulders. “I apologize, Piper,” he said, though his tone lacked sincerity. “But this duel... it’s not going to be what you thought it was. You’ll need two more pilots from other houses. Friends, allies, whatever you can find. But be careful who you choose.”

Piper’s eyes widened, her confidence faltering for the first time. “Z-Zephyr, I—” she stammered.

“What?” Zephyr snapped, leaning forward. “You’re telling me you can’t get yourself out of this mess?”

Marcus finally had enough. “Listen, Zephyr, I get it. Piper mishandled the situation, but come on—she’s Pipes. You’ve known her for years. She’s been our ace, our go-to for any challenge thrown our way. You think the other houses are going to respond to our call like that?” His voice cracked slightly, frustration seeping through.

Zephyr hesitated, his usual confidence wavering for a moment. “I know,” he said softly. Sarah and Anderson shifted uncomfortably in their seats, clearly out of their depth, while Margaret’s sharp eyes caught the way Anderson’s fists tightened at every slight against Piper. A faint smirk tugged at her lips.

Zephyr continued, his tone clipped and businesslike. “Piper, this situation has spiraled out of my control. Your title—the Red Rocket—it’s only held by pilots on a winning streak. At the academy, you’ve been losing. Logan, countless others, and now Atticus. It’s becoming a pattern.”

Piper’s eyes snapped wide open, a mix of anger and disbelief flashing across her face. “And now you’re telling me this?” she snapped.

Zephyr chuckled, but the sound was dry, humorless. The room was heavy with tension as the others stared at him, their expressions ranging from frustration to disbelief. “You’ve known you’ve been on thin ice for a while now. Lose this duel, or fail to arrange the right team, and you lose your status and title as the Red Rocket.”

Silence settled over the room, sharp and suffocating. Marcus’s jaw clenched, his hands balled into fists, ready to unleash his fury, but before he could speak, Anderson, the first-year, broke the stillness.

“Zephyr,” Anderson said, his voice firm and steady, “Piper brought hellfire down on Oceana II. Let me tell you, that ‘losing streak’ doesn’t mean a damn thing out there.”

Zephyr’s eyes widened slightly, clearly not expecting a first-year to interject, let alone with such boldness. His composure wavered for a split second before he shook it off, refocusing his gaze on Anderson.

“Ugh…” Zephyr rubbed his temples, his irritation bleeding through. “She’s known throughout the sector as a beacon of strength. I don’t make these decisions. The higher-ups are forcing my hand on this one.”

“Really?” Margaret scoffed, crossing her arms as she leaned back, her sharp tone cutting through the room like a knife.

Zephyr turned his narrowed eyes on her, his voice dropping an octave. “For your information, I fought for leniency. I pleaded with them. But from their perspective, this is becoming an issue of perception. We’re already handling the fallout in the Oceana sector, dealing with planetary bloodlines, ancient rites, and local claims of loyalty. There’s talk that the planet will only follow a blood heir, and even the Emperor must honor that.”

He paused, drawing in a deep breath. “Piper’s recent losses have painted a target on her back. And this duel... this mess is just the straw that broke the camel’s back.”

With those words, the meeting ended. Zephyr dismissed them with a wave of his hand, and the group filed out, the door closing behind them.

“This is bullshit,” Marcus growled as soon as they were clear of the room.

“Marcus…” Margaret hissed, glancing over her shoulder. “The door’s not fully closed. He can still hear you.”

“Good,” Marcus snapped, his voice dripping with defiance. “I want him to hear me. Talking about reducing ranks when we barely have the personnel to fill them in the first place? It’s asinine.”

“Marcus, enough,” Piper said, her tone curt and biting as she stopped in her tracks, turning to face him.

“What, Pipes?” Marcus shot back, his frustration bubbling over. “We’ve got dozens of pilots scraping by in the basement, barely holding their own, and you’re the one they’re trying to take down? You’re their best—”

“Marcus,” Piper’s tone cut through the air like a blade. It was that tone—the one he rarely heard, reserved for moments when she wasn’t just speaking, but commanding. “Stand down. Now.”

Marcus felt the heat in his limbs drain, his fists unclenching as his arms fell limply to his sides. He didn’t reply, just stared at her, a mix of defiance and reluctance flickering in his eyes.

Piper exhaled heavily, her shoulders sagging. “Whatever your opinions about my situation, don’t drag Anderson or Sarah into this.” She turned, her gaze locking onto the pair lingering awkwardly near the corner, their discomfort palpable. Didn’t they realize they were lieutenants now? They didn’t need permission to act.

She sighed, running her hands down her face, pushing back the wave of tension threatening to break. “I don’t know why Earth House wants to turn this into some big show, but I’ll handle it. Anderson and Sarah are lieutenants, regardless of their experience. Marcus, you have to respect that.”

Marcus cast a quick, almost guilty glance at the two fresh lieutenants before shifting his weight uncomfortably. “I—I…” he hesitated, trying to find the right words. “Listen, I do, but it’s just…”

“We’re all reeling from a lot right now,” Piper interjected, her voice softer, more measured. She reached out, resting a reassuring hand on his shoulder, her lips curving into a gentle smile. “Let me handle this. I’m still the Red Rocket, and they’re going to have to kill me to take that title back.”

She chuckled, trying to ease the tension, but the others didn’t laugh. The heaviness lingered, unbroken.

Marcus and Margaret exchanged a brief look before taking their leave, leaving Piper alone with Anderson and Sarah. As they walked away, Sarah nudged Anderson sharply, bringing him to attention, though his eyes never left Piper.

Piper forced her best smile, planting her hands firmly on her hips as she addressed the two. “You two were stationed with me on Oceana II, but I don’t think I ever caught your names.”

She clapped her hands lightly, trying to shake off the awkwardness. “I’m sorry you had to hear all that, but I know we’re going to get along just fine.”

Anderson returned her smile, though it felt slightly stiff, like he was still processing everything. “Let’s,” he said simply, extending a hand. “And for what it’s worth, I don’t know what Zephyr’s going on about. Duels don’t mean shit when you’re in the thick of it.”

“Well, you tore shit up in that tank Warcasket,” Piper replied, starting to turn and motioning for them to follow. “I’ll give you that. Listen, I’m starving. How about we grab some food? You can tell me about your experiences, and I’ll walk you through your new roles in the House. Lunch is on me.”

Her smile stayed firmly in place, though every step away from the confrontation felt like a victory in itself.

Anderson grinned, his enthusiasm bubbling to the surface. “That sounds great, Lieutenant.”

“Piper,” she corrected, waving a hand dismissively. “First names are fine. No need to stand on ceremony.”

She descended the stairs ahead of them, her hand brushing the railing as her other hand briefly pressed to her face, smoothing out the exhaustion, anxiety, and guilt she kept hidden from the world. The moment her back was turned, the creases of her carefully constructed mask became visible.

Anderson watched her go, his grin widening as he muttered under his breath. “Lunch with the real Red Rocket,” he mused, almost to himself.

Sarah groaned, rolling her eyes. “Come on, Anderson. Really?”

“What?” Anderson shot back, a deep chuckle escaping him. “You’ve got to let a guy dream, especially when he’s been staring at her face on magazine covers for a year and a half.”

Shaking her head, Sarah smirked despite herself. “You’re impossible.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Anderson shrugged, still chuckling as he started after Piper. “You wouldn’t get it, Sarah. She’s a legend.”

“More like a headache waiting to happen,” Sarah quipped, following close behind. But even she couldn’t deny the strange, magnetic pull Piper seemed to have, not just on Anderson but on everyone who crossed her path.

Henryk

Henryk walked through the crowded streets of Academy City, his hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his worn-out jacket. The buzz of air trams overhead and the chatter of people around him felt distant, muffled, like he was underwater. His head wasn’t in the right place. Not after Oceana II. Not after everything he’d seen.

He passed by cafés filled with students, their laughter spilling out into the streets. He passed storefronts glowing with neon lights advertising everything from mechs to midterms. It all blurred together, just noise against the backdrop of his thoughts. He barely even noticed when his feet stopped at a bench near a group of people huddled in a circle, a faint haze of smoke rising above them.

The smell hit him first—sweet, earthy, sharp. Cannabis.

His mind flickered to Marcus, grinning as he lit up before the party...

Joseph’s voice echoed in his mind, too: “Everyone’s got their coping mechanism, Henryk. Mine just happens to smell like a pine forest.”

Even Isaac, usually with his militancy one, had once admitted, “It’s not bad, helps you think... or stop thinking, if you need it to.”

Henryk leaned back, sighing, his eyes drifting to a glowing green sign down the block. A cannabis dispensary.

“Maybe they were onto something,” he muttered, pushing himself off the bench. “Can’t hurt to try, right?”

Inside, the dispensary was sleek and modern, with a weirdly relaxing vibe. Soft ambient music played overhead, and shelves were lined with neatly packaged goods—jars of bud, pre-rolled joints, and even colorful gummies.

A woman behind the counter greeted him with a customer-service smile that felt just a little too enthusiastic. “Welcome to Green Haven! How can I help you today?”

Henryk cleared his throat, trying to look casual as he leaned on the counter. “Yeah, uh... I was thinking... maybe a pre-roll or two? Something, uh, mellow.”

The woman nodded, grabbing a menu. “Sure thing! We’ve got a great selection. Any preference? Sativa, indica, hybrid? Or are you more into edibles?”

“Uh... yes?” Henryk replied, clearly out of his depth. He glanced at the menu and froze. Why did everything sound like a gourmet dessert? Sunset Sherbet? Blue Dream? Cosmic Cookies?

The woman chuckled. “First-timer, huh? No worries, let me help you out.” She reached for a jar, twisting it open and wafting the scent toward him. “This one’s called Cloud Walker. Great for stress relief.”

Henryk nodded, trying to act like he knew what the hell he was doing. “Yeah, Cloud Walker. That sounds... chill.”

“Perfect!” she said. “I just need to see your ID.”

Henryk hesitated, then pulled out his Academy ID and slid it across the counter.

The woman froze, her smile fading. “Oh... honey, this isn’t gonna work. You have to be twenty-one. Academy City regulations.”

“What?” Henryk blinked. “I’m nineteen! That’s close enough.”

“Close doesn’t cut it, sweetie,” she said, sliding the ID back to him. “Rules are rules.”

“Come on,” Henryk protested. “You’re telling me I can pilot a Warcasket, but I can’t buy a joint?”

She gave him a sympathetic look. “I don’t make the rules. You want weed? Come back in two years.”

Henryk groaned, running a hand through his hair. “This is bullshit,” he muttered under his breath.

“Hey, I hear ya,” she said, smirking as she leaned on the counter. “But if it makes you feel better, we have CBD products that are totally legal for under twenty-ones.”

“Yeah, because a gummy that won’t get me high is exactly what I need,” Henryk snapped, rolling his eyes.

The woman didn’t respond, just gestured toward the door. “Have a nice day.”

Before he could argue further, a massive security guard appeared, arms crossed and glaring. “You heard her.”

“Alright, alright, I’m leaving!” Henryk raised his hands in surrender as he backed out of the store. As soon as he hit the sidewalk, he muttered, “Where the hell am I supposed to find weed now?”

A group of students passing by chuckled, one of them giving him a knowing look. “Try the park, man,” one of them said with a grin. “There’s always someone selling out there.”

Henryk sighed, shaking his head. “This city’s insane.”

And with that, he shoved his hands back in his pockets and started walking again.

Henryk strolled into the park, his boots crunching on the gravel pathway as the faint sound of children laughing mixed with the rustle of leaves in the late afternoon breeze. He scanned the area, looking for anyone who might be a little too laid-back, a little too sketchy. He wasn’t exactly sure how to approach this situation—how does one casually ask for weed in an open public space?

His gaze fell on a family sitting on a picnic blanket not too far off. A mother was handing sandwiches to her kids, their excited chatter rising above the murmur of the park. Henryk slowed, his steps faltering as he stared.

A pang hit him deep in his chest. His mind drifted to his mother, her warm smile as she called him in for dinner back home. His sisters, giggling as they begged him to play games or help them with school projects.

“I miss you guys,” he muttered under his breath, his voice shaky. “I just... I want to go home.”

The ache in his chest deepened as his mind betrayed him, dragging him back to the horrors of Oceana II. The screams of soldiers and civilians. The relentless, bone-chilling shrieks of the GrimGore. Blood splattered across his visor, his hands gripping his Warcasket’s controls with terrifying precision. His blades tearing through flesh like it was nothing, like he was made for it.

A flash of his own face entered his mind’s eye—distorted, wild, almost gleeful as he slaughtered creature after creature, the battlefield a haze of chaos and carnage.

“Why?” he whispered, his breath hitching. “Why am I so good at this?”

He stopped walking, staring at the ground as his fists clenched. “I’m just a kid from some backwater colony,” he murmured to himself. “I used to ride bikes, play video games after school... I kissed my sisters’ scraped knees and wiped away their tears. Mom didn’t even want me fighting. She’d lose her damn mind if she knew what I was doing.”

The thought of her made his chest tighten. “So why am I here?” he muttered. “Is this all I’m good for? Fighting? Killing?”

The thought made his stomach turn, but something snapped him out of it—a familiar figure sitting on a bench. Red skin. A school uniform. Adaline.

She sat with a sandwich in hand, taking small bites while her legs swung idly. Henryk approached, shoving the weight of his thoughts aside.

“Adaline?” he called out.

She looked up, her golden eyes lighting up when she recognized him. “Henryk!”

He managed a smile, sliding onto the bench beside her. “Didn’t expect to see you here. Skipping class, too?”

Adaline chuckled softly, adjusting her uniform. “Not skipping, just... taking a break. Needed some air after everything, you know?”

Henryk nodded, leaning back. “Yeah, I get that. You doing okay after, uh... everything with Kieren?”

Adaline’s gaze softened as she took another bite, chewing thoughtfully before speaking again. “Thanks, by the way.”

“For what?” Henryk asked, sitting down beside her.

“For saving me.” Her voice wavered slightly. “That day... with Kieren. I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my life.”

Henryk shifted uncomfortably. “You don’t have to thank me for that. Anyone would’ve done the same.”

“No,” she said firmly. “Not everyone would’ve. You didn’t even hesitate. You just... charged in.”

Henryk glanced at her, noting the tremble in her hands as she held the sandwich. “How are you holding up?”

Adaline took a deep breath, forcing a smile. “I’m okay. It was scary, sure, but I’m getting through it. I’m more scared of what happened after.”

Henryk raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“I overheard my sister,” Adaline said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “She went off on Ed. Like, really tore into him for letting Kieren escape and almost—” Her voice cracked, and she quickly wiped at her eyes. “For almost letting me get... you know.”

Henryk frowned but managed a small laugh. “Yeah, sounds like Ed got an earful. Probably deserved it.”

Adaline looked at him, her lips twitching into a small smile despite her watery eyes. “You laugh about everything, don’t you?”

“Gotta laugh to keep from crying,” Henryk said with a shrug, leaning back on the bench. “Besides, you’re okay now, right? That’s what matters.”

Adaline nodded, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. “You remind me of my sister sometimes. Always trying to act like nothing gets to her.”

Henryk smirked. “Guess that makes sense. You kind of remind me of my sisters, too.”

“Really?” Adaline’s eyes lit up.

“Yeah.” Henryk hesitated, then added, “They’re younger than me. I used to kiss their scrapes better, carry them on my shoulders... stuff like that. Maybe that’s why I couldn’t just stand there when Kieren—well, you know.”

Adaline stared at him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then she smiled, a real one this time. “They’re lucky to have a brother like you.”

Henryk rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a rare flush of embarrassment. “Yeah, well, don’t let it go to your head, okay? I’m not exactly perfect.”

“Who is?” Adaline said with a shrug, taking another bite of her sandwich.

They sat in companionable silence for a moment, the park bustling around them. For the first time in what felt like forever, Henryk’s chest felt a little lighter.

“…also my father to,” Adaline offhandly spoke.

Henryk blinked, caught off guard by Adaline’s sudden shift in demeanor. “Your father, Sir William?” he repeated, the name unfamiliar yet carrying a weight he couldn’t quite place.

Adaline nodded, her gaze dropping to her lap as she fiddled with the edge of her uniform. “Bea has her... issues with him. Rightfully so, honestly. But he was different with me. Maybe because I was younger, maybe because I didn’t question him as much.” She hesitated, her voice softening. “He told me stories. Tales of quests, battles... victories. Thousands of people—maybe even tens of thousands—owe their lives to my father.”

Henryk tilted his head, his curiosity piqued. “He sounds like... quite the guy.”

Adaline’s lips curved into a small, bittersweet smile. “He was. He wasn’t perfect—far from it. But the Knights of Mars... they were something once. Not innocent, not by a long shot, but their deeds were true. They fought for people, for colonies like yours. But now?” She trailed off, her voice growing quieter. “Their dishonor is all the galaxy sees. The fleeing of their citizens. The death of their king. Their legacy is stained.”

Henryk leaned back on the bench, soaking in her words. “Yeah, I’ve heard a bit about that. But not much. My colony was far off. We didn’t get much news unless it came through the occasional trader. And even then, it was mostly rumors.”

Adaline looked up at him, her expression softening. “That’s why I see hope in you, Henryk. You’re different. Arthur’s different. You guys... you could be the start of something good. A new generation of Knights. Knights of Mars.”

Her words settled over him, warm and heavy, like a mantle he wasn’t sure he was ready to wear. He stared at her, his chest tightening as the implications of her words sank in. The start of something good. A new generation. Could they be that? Could he be that?

“That’s... a lot to take in,” Henryk admitted, running a hand through his hair. “I mean, being a hero, a Knight... It’s what you dream about as a kid. But this? It’s real. It’s bloody, and it’s messy, and people die. Sometimes, I wonder if—” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “Never mind.”

Adaline tilted her head, her eyes narrowing slightly. “If what?”

Henryk hesitated, but her gaze was unrelenting. “If... that’s all I’m good for. Fighting. Killing. I’ve never been the smartest guy, or the fastest, or the most creative. But put me in a cockpit or give me a weapon, and I just... know what to do. Like it’s instinct. Sometimes, it scares me.”

Adaline was silent for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then, softly, she said, “You’re not just a weapon, Henryk. You’re more than that.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but her sudden change in tone stopped him. Her eyes had widened slightly, and there was a strange tension in her posture.

“Henryk,” she said carefully, her voice barely above a whisper. “Do you know about the darkness of Mars?”

Henryk blinked, thrown by the question. “The what?”

Adaline leaned closer, her voice urgent. “The darkness. The truth about Mars. Do you know?”

“No.” Henryk shook his head, confused and uneasy. “My colony was isolated. We didn’t get much news, and since I’ve been here, I haven’t had access to the internet or anything like that. I came here with practically nothing. Just the clothes on my back.”

Adaline stared at him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, quietly, she asked, “Have you ever heard of the Rubicon Tapes?”

Henryk frowned, the name unfamiliar and yet deeply unsettling. “No. What are they?”

Adaline hesitated, her gaze darting around as if she feared they were being watched. “They’re... they’re recordings. Proof of what Mars really was. What the Knights really did.”

“What do you mean?” Henryk pressed, his unease growing.

Adaline shifted on the bench, her gaze narrowing slightly as she tilted her head toward Henryk. “Henryk,” she said bluntly, “why haven’t you ever heard anything real about Mars or the Knights?”

Henryk blinked, caught off guard by her directness. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been living with them for how long now? Months?” Adaline pressed, leaning forward. “And yet you don’t know about their history, their methods, the real truth about them. Why is that?”

Henryk sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Because they’re a secretive bunch, okay? Even living with them, they won’t tell us squires certain things. It’s like they’ve got these locked doors, and no matter how hard you knock, they won’t open them.”

Adaline’s lips pressed into a thin line. “That’s because Ed—and people like him—keep that knowledge for the true bloods.”

Henryk frowned, his brow furrowing. “True bloods?”

Adaline nodded. “Yeah. Those born into Martian nobility, raised on Mars or in its colonies. You? You’re an outsider to them, Henryk. No matter how good you are, no matter how hard you try, they’ll always see you as someone who doesn’t belong.” Her tone softened slightly, a touch of sympathy creeping in. “It’s not fair, but that’s how they think.”

Henryk looked away, the weight of her words sinking in. “That explains a lot,” he muttered. “But it doesn’t make it any less... infuriating.”

Adaline hesitated before speaking again. “There’s more, though. Martian Military Supremacy was a heavily guarded secret. From what my father told me, even the Emperor himself might not have known the full extent of their power. And he feared them for it.”

Henryk’s head snapped toward her. “Feared them? The Emperor?”

Adaline nodded. “The Knights of Mars were the Imperial Family’s hound dogs for centuries. Their loyalty was unquestionable—or at least, that’s what everyone thought. But their power? That was something else entirely.”

She paused, her gaze growing distant. “There was this Saturn General... I can’t recall his name. But he witnessed something that shook him to his core. A Knight of Mars of high seniority—a High Lord, second only to the King himself—was seen with his... Battle Maiden.”

“Battle Maiden?” Henryk repeated, the unfamiliar term hanging in the air.

Adaline nodded again. “Yes. Battle Maidens were usually the second or third daughters of Martian noble households. The Knights were predominantly male, but there were women whose battle zeal matched the Knights’. For those girls, becoming a Battle Maiden was their only path.”

Henryk’s expression darkened. “So... they sent girls into battle? Just like that?”

“It wasn’t just ‘like that,’ Henryk,” Adaline replied, her voice steady but tinged with bitterness. “It was tradition. It was expected. And if Mars hadn’t been destroyed, it’s highly likely my father would’ve pushed me toward that fate.”

Henryk clenched his fists, his knuckles whitening. “That’s... that’s disgusting. How could they be okay with something like that? With sending girls to the frontlines like that?”

Adaline hesitated, her gaze dropping to her lap. “Because it’s what they believed in. The Martians were cruel, Henryk. They valued strength above all else.”

His anger bubbled over, his voice rising. “When? When would they start this? Training these... these girls to become killers?”

Adaline hesitated again, the weight of her answer evident in her expression. “Thirteen,” she said quietly. “Sometimes fourteen.”

Henryk recoiled as if she’d slapped him. “Thirteen? Thirteen?” he repeated, his voice filled with disbelief and anger. “And Ed and the others—Arthur, Bea—they all knew about this? They kept this from us?”

“They didn’t keep it from you,” Adaline said softly. “You just weren’t told. There’s a difference.”

Henryk’s mind raced, flashes of his own past and his younger self flickering before his eyes. The thought of someone taking a thirteen-year-old—someone like his own sisters—and forcing them into a life of violence made his stomach churn.

“They were kids,” he muttered, more to himself than to Adaline. “Just kids.”

Adaline nodded, her expression somber. “The Martians didn’t see it that way. They saw potential. They saw soldiers.”

Henryk stared at her, his anger simmering beneath the surface. “They were monsters,” he said quietly. “If this is what they were, then they weren’t knights. They weren’t heroes. They were just... monsters.”

Adaline looked at him, her eyes filled with a mix of sadness and understanding. “That’s why we have to be different, Henryk. You, me, Arthur... we have to make sure that what comes next is better. Otherwise, it’s not worth saving.”

Henryk’s fists clenched at his sides, his jaw tight as he paced the park’s path. His mind reeled from what Adaline had told him, anger radiating off him like heat from a furnace. “Thirteen,” he muttered under his breath. “They were training kids... girls... at thirteen.” His voice rose with each word, shaking with fury. “This whole time—this whole time—I thought the Knights were supposed to be better. But no, they’re just a bunch of liars and cowards, hiding behind secrets and bullshit traditions.”

Adaline reached out, trying to steady him. “Henryk, calm down. I get it. I do. But—”

“No, you don’t,” he snapped, jerking away from her touch. “You don’t get it. You grew up with all this. You’re part of it. The rest of us? The squires? We bleed for them. I’ve drawn blood for them, and what do I get in return? Lies. Secrets. Not even the decency of the truth!”

Adaline’s face tightened, her hands balling into fists at her sides. “I’m telling you the truth now because someone has to. Because Ed—”

“Don’t bring Ed into this!” Henryk shouted, whirling on her. “He’s not my friend. None of them are. You think Arthur’s my buddy? That Bea sees me as an equal? Hell no. They’re just like everyone else here. Keeping their stupid secrets and looking down on us because we’re not ‘true bloods.’”

Adaline opened her mouth to respond, but Henryk steamrolled over her. “And the academy? Don’t even get me started on this shitshow. It’s a glorified meat grinder, churning out people just good enough to die for their cause. They talk about honor and duty, but it’s all bullshit. They don’t care about us.”

“Henryk,” Adaline said firmly, stepping in front of him. “You’re angry, and you have every right to be. But Ed is trying to change things. He wants to do better. That’s why I’m telling you this—so you understand that things can be different.”

Henryk barked a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Different? Oh, yeah, sure. That’s why he keeps me and the others in the dark, right? Real stand-up guy, that Ed.”

Before Adaline could respond, her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen and held up a hand. “Hold on, Henryk. It’s Bea.”

“Of course it is,” he muttered, crossing his arms and glaring at the ground as she answered.

Adaline stepped a few paces away, her voice soft as she spoke into the phone. “Bea? What’s going on?”

Henryk tuned out the words, his mind too wrapped up in his anger. He stared at a patch of grass, his vision blurring as flashes of Oceana II, the GrimGore, and Kieren’s mangled form swirled in his head.

Adaline’s voice pulled him back to the present. “Okay, that’s a relief,” she said, glancing at Henryk. “Thanks for letting me know, Bea. I’ll tell him.” She ended the call and turned back to him, her expression a mix of relief and hesitation. “Kieren’s out of the worrying stage. He’s stable now. He just needs to sleep it off.”

Henryk chuckled darkly, shaking his head. “Great. Maybe he’ll do us all a favor and just... not wake up.”

“Henryk!” Adaline’s voice was sharp, disapproving. “That’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny,” he shot back, a mocking grin on his face. “Come on, Adaline. The guy ate Arthur’s ear.”

She crossed her arms, her disapproving glare boring into him. “That’s not the point, and you know it.”

Henryk sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Fine, sorry.” He gestured vaguely. “So, what now? You gonna tell me more about these lovely Martian traditions?”

Adaline hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line before she nodded. “If you want to know, I’ll tell you. You do deserve the truth.”

Henryk smirked, though there was little humor in it. “Damn right I do. So, let’s hear it. Enough of this lying and secrecy crap.”

Adaline’s gaze softened, a small, sad smile crossing her face. “Alright, Henryk. But this isn’t going to be easy to hear.”

He shrugged, a bitter edge to his voice. “Nothing about this place ever is.”

The two of them sat back down on the bench, the weight of the conversation settling over them like a heavy blanket. Henryk leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, as Adaline began to speak, her voice low and steady.

The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the park as the chapter of secrets began to unravel.