Henryk

Henryk was dreaming again. His body—limp, weightless—floated among the bright array of stars. Blue, purple, and yellow lights gleamed and glistened in the infinite void, and there was no gravity to anchor him. His helmet was off, and as he ran his hands over his pilot suit, he could feel the coarse fabric beneath his fingers. Strangely, though he was helmetless, his mind felt expansive, as if it had grown to encompass the vastness of the universe itself.

The stars stretched out endlessly before him, but there was no fear. Not like when he was younger, when space had terrified him. Pirates haunted his colony, and uncounted asteroid attacks loomed like specters. He remembered the rare, but haunting disappearances—massive passenger ships vanishing, leaving behind nothing but fear and stories of tragedy.

Yet now, floating in the quiet of space, he felt an odd comfort. It was as if everything was connected. The stars, the distant planets, all bound by an invisible thread. Earth was humanity’s birthplace, but no matter the differences—creed, race, ideology—humanity had spread its touch across the stars. We were magnificent, and yet, we were brutal. We built colonies that became worlds of their own, and in that distance, we forgot. Divided by politics and war, we fought over power, forgetting that, at our core, we all came from the same place.

Out here, in the silence of the cosmos, Henryk saw it clearly. He saw the beauty in humanity's reach, the potential for peace in the vastness of space. If people could only see it too—this fragile beauty of existence—they might realize that a universe without war was possible.

But then, a sharp pain flared in his mind, cutting through the calm. His fingers twitched toward his face, his left eye fluttering uncontrollably as his hand brushed against it. The sensation was strange—warm, beckoning, but alien.

“W-what is this?” Henryk muttered, his voice trembling with confusion.

His tutors had never spoken of this. His whole life, he had been bound to planets, to the solid weight of gravity beneath his feet. But now, for the first time, he was constantly shifting between worlds. The unease of being untethered gnawed at him, leaving him feeling adrift, his mind expanded beyond comprehension. He could sense others—souls like candle flames flickering in the distance, their emotions rippling through him.

“F-fuck, it hurts!” Henryk cried out, gripping his head as a searing, red-hot pain tore through him. Sweat beaded along his brow as his breathing grew ragged. Despite the agony, his eyes remained fixed on the stars.

"Will it, Henryk. Bend it to your will... concentrate." The words came from deep within him, unbidden yet firm.

He knew the Sons of Mars had always warned against letting emotions rule. He had learned the cost of that lesson on Oceana II. But now, floating in this vast emptiness, emotions seemed inescapable—alive and overwhelming.

Henryk still felt the tremor in his chest, his breath unsteady, but he focused on the connection—like grasping another's hand in the dark. Slowly, the sensation grew stronger, and with that connection, he was pulled deeper into the void. He was there.

Amidst the cold expanse of the universe, he felt a pressure, like something drawing closer. Pushing himself upward, he found his feet connecting to no tangible surface, yet he walked. Stars shimmered in the distance as he moved within this ethereal plane, each step soundless, weightless. Ahead of him, a structure appeared.

It was a building, grey and utilitarian, with crumbled brick and shattered windows, as if blasted apart by an explosion. A warm, dull yellow light seeped from within, flickering through the destruction. Henryk approached, a familiar sensation washing over him—he had felt this before.

"S-Sirine?" he called out, the name slipping from his lips like a whisper.

From the plateau below, her image emerged, ethereal and haunting. Sirine—her silvery hair swaying in a phantom wind, her smile soft but distant, eyes gleaming with a lustful gaze that fixed on him. Memories surged in his mind—her in his room, bra undone, the curve of her body outlined in tight clothes, and the tension between them, palpable. He had saved her—saved her from death during her runaway attempt, saved her from Jace.

But another name tugged at his thoughts.

"Piper?"

Her laughter echoed, confident and bold, as she stepped past him on a bridge that seemed to appear out of nowhere. Piper—so different from Sirine—walked with that same ease and fire in her stride. Her grey and green eyes locked onto his, the intensity of her gaze piercing as her orange curls bounced around her face. She smiled, that mischievous smile, never breaking her focus on him even as she moved away.

Both Sirine and Piper faded into stardust, dissolving before him.

"N-no, this isn't right… their emotions, their energy, it’s not the same," Henryk muttered to himself, shaking off the images. "Similar, but not this…"

He climbed a set of stairs that appeared beneath him, his feet finally finding solidity. The warmth of the light grew stronger as he reached a doorway. Pushing it open, he stepped inside.

The interior was as wrecked as the exterior. A once-living room, now torn apart by chaos. Figures huddled behind crumbling walls, gripping assault rifles—magazines hanging from their sides. Some wore gas masks, others bore more specialized gear, but there were no Warcaskets in sight.

The wind howled outside, growing fiercer as Henryk moved farther into the space. His steps were quiet, deliberate, as he climbed the final set of stairs. At the top stood a lone figure, draped in a cowl.

The figure was small, petite even, shorter than most. Her hands clung to the sides of a table scattered with papers. Henryk approached her cautiously, his every movement measured. Just as he reached her, she turned...

Her eyes widened as if she were struggling to comprehend what she was seeing. She shouldn’t have been able to—this was just a dream, a strange lucid dream, it had to be. And yet, she was staring at him with shock and surprise, her gaze piercing through the haze.

“Who are you?” she asked, her hands still gripping the edge of the table as though it were her only anchor.

Henryk was struck into silence, stunned by the sight of her. She threw off her hood, and his breath caught in his throat. She wasn’t… she wasn’t baseline human. Something had happened. Something had changed her. Maybe it was a genetic mutation, or perhaps it came from one of her parents. But now, her features emerged—her delicate, doe-like nose and sharp, piercing brown eyes coming into view.

Her skin—or rather, fur—was a soft, beigeish brown that seemed to shimmer under the dim light, covering her entire body. Henryk instinctively stepped back, but she continued to fade into sharper focus, revealing more of herself. Her tail swished beneath the folds of her robe, and as she pulled back the hood completely, floppy ears rested atop her head.

A mutant. Scorned throughout the galaxy, much like him. There was a connection between them that he could feel deep in his bones. Oddly, despite everything, she was beautiful in her own way. For a brief moment, Henryk caught himself wondering how soft and soothing it would feel to brush his hand along the fur of her face, but he stopped himself from lingering on the thought.

“I-I... my name is Henryk,” he finally managed to say, his voice shaky.

“Okay, Henryk… how the hell did you get in here?” she demanded, her eyes narrowing as her hands subtly moved to her sides, as if ready to defend herself.

Before he could answer, the world around them began to dissolve. “You… you were reaching out to me, and I—”

Her eyes widened again, this time with recognition. Light, blinding and fierce, erupted between them. It circled around them, swirling and coiling like living tendrils. Henryk grabbed his head in a futile attempt to steady himself, but the girl didn’t seem affected. The light intensified, wrapping around them both, thickening and twisting until it formed a cluster of glowing vines that bound them together. At the center of the spiraling light, a brilliant yellow orb pulsed with energy.

“W-what are you?” Henryk gasped, his voice strained. His head throbbed, and it felt like it was about to split open. “What’s happening to me…?”

She glanced at him, then back at the blazing light. Her expression softened with understanding. “We are… resonating,” she said quietly.

And in that instant, Henryk’s mind was flooded with memories that weren’t his own. He saw flashes of fire—blazing, consuming. The sensation of rough wood splintering against a face that wasn’t his. The sharp sounds of dogs barking, snarling, as small legs—her legs—desperately scrambled through thick mud. The roar of a crowd echoed in his ears. People were cheering, chanting her name. A fragile crown, made of gold and studded with rubies, was placed upon ears that were not human. The crowd, they were bowing, reverent, and they declared her…

Queen.

"You've been fighting since you were a little girl," Henryk said quietly, his voice wavering. "I—I don’t even know what to say."

"Conflict is conflict," Katlina replied, her tone hardened yet distant. "It made me strong."

Henryk swallowed, his thoughts racing. "You're very brave," he said, his voice soft. "I don’t know if I’d have the strength to do what you've done. Seeing it through your eyes, feeling your emotions... I—" His words caught in his throat.

"H-Henryk... I..." Katlina stuttered, her voice trembling. "I can’t see you. I can’t understand you." The emotions between them began to fragment, like a radio signal cutting out. The memories came in disjointed bursts—a family without a father, a young girl burdened with responsibilities beyond her years, and the horrors of war, fire, and blood. And the fear—the fear of what Henryk might become. Would he embrace the darkness or hold onto what made him... him?

The connection between them wavered, fading in and out.

"W-We can understand one another," Katlina urged, her voice softer now, almost pleading. "Let me in, let me understand who you are."

But Henryk’s fear gripped him, paralyzing. "Maybe one day, Katlina… but I—" He hesitated as their connection began to slip. "This connection is..."

"Ah, Henryk," she whispered, her voice growing faint as he floated further away, reality slowly pulling him back. "I—I see time…"

For a brief moment, Katlina glimpsed fragments of the future—storm-heavy skies streaked with lightning, an epic battle on the horizon. Machines adorned with fabrics of heraldry and identity descended through the thunderous clouds, raining destruction upon the enemy below.

"We’ll meet again, Henryk," Katlina said softly, her words lingering as Henryk felt the last thread of the connection snap. He gasped, his breath catching in his throat as his eyes snapped open, staring at the ceiling of his room.

He shot up from his bed, his body slick with sweat, his newly trained muscles tense from exertion. The walls around him were repaired, but inside, he felt as if he were still falling apart. With a sudden surge of frustration, he slammed his hand against the bed.

"D-Damn it!" he growled through clenched teeth. "Now I can’t even get proper sleep. I've got to deal with the stress of school, the anxiety of battle, the bullying... the trauma of Oceana II." His voice wavered, frustration turning into a bitter edge. "And I can’t catch a lick of sleep because of this... this ability!"

He collapsed back onto the bed, his face twisted in frustration, fists clenched at his sides. "What the hell is wrong with me?"

The weight of it all was getting heavier—harder and harder to shake off. Sleep was becoming elusive, the music that once flowed from him so naturally now seemed distant, unreachable. Keeping up with the Sons of Mars was exhausting, and the battle of Oceana II had awakened something within him, something dark. He knew he was a good pilot now, but there was a dangerous thrill in that realization. Being a Son of Mars meant wielding the sword that cut through history itself.

But that sword came at a price.

He had killed so many GrimGar in the sewers, a blood-soaked frenzy amidst the madness of the Sons of Pluto. He’d been good, yes—but good at what? At killing? The memory of that day haunted him. People had died—so many people. The thought of climbing into another mech, of risking his life again, filled him with dread. He had thought Piper had made him realize how fragile life truly was, but Oceana II had shown him something far worse. The sheer scale of death and destruction in that shattered city, the apocalyptic ruin of it all—it was more than he had ever imagined.

He needed to talk to Ed. Ed always gave more luxuries and responsibilities to the Knights of Mars, especially those with training. Meanwhile, Henryk felt trapped in the daily grind—going to classes, doing his music assignments, but none of it felt creative anymore. The last time he’d touched an instrument for fun, for himself, had been before the expedition.

They were pushing him too hard, and he couldn’t quit his job… heck, why had he even come here in the first place? To bring honor and glory to his planet and colony? But that dream, like so many of his other dreams, seemed to be shrinking with every passing moment, anxiety creeping into every corner of his mind.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a soft tapping sound. It took a moment for him to register that it was coming from his window. Pebbles. His eyes widened as he saw the small stones bouncing off the glass. Already dressed in sweatpants, Henryk grabbed his sweater and pulled it on before heading over to the window.

Pushing the curtains aside, he peered down, and his breath caught.

"Marcus?" Henryk called out, surprised.

Kieren

“We get caught in Venus territory, we’re gonna be so screwed,” Kieren muttered, his voice tense as he stomped ahead, leading the way through the forest. Wilbur, Mateo, and Franklin trailed behind him, their footsteps crackling over branches and dried leaves.

Wilbur adjusted the strap across his chest, gripping the duffel bag a little tighter. Franklin, on the other hand, couldn’t stop glancing around nervously, his wide eyes tracking every shadow and flicker of movement in the trees. The calls of unseen avian creatures echoed overhead, making him shudder.

“Relax,” Mateo said, noticing Franklin’s unease. His voice was calm as he cast a quick glance toward Kieren, who was storming ahead. “I know you’re from an Innworld, but this forest is enclosed by the city. We’re not out in the wild.”

Franklin’s tense shoulders eased, but not by much. “That’s not what’s worrying me,” he whispered, though his tone lacked confidence. “Are we really sure this is a good idea?”

He thought he’d been quiet, but Kieren’s ears were sharp. The group came to an abrupt halt as Kieren spun around, eyes narrowing dangerously. “You wanna run back with your tail between your legs, Frank?” he snapped, his voice cutting through the air like a whip.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Frank hesitated, his gaze drifting to the side before he spoke. “Kieren, I don’t understand you.”

Kieren’s eyes widened, taken aback. “What did you just say?”

Frank went on, undeterred. “We’re all here because we couldn’t get into any other houses. We’re the rejects. Back in the day, House Mars would’ve spat on us for even trying to join…but I guess after losing so many of their members and resources…” His voice trailed off.

Kieren cut him off, his frustration rising. “Maybe, but I plan to rise through the ranks,” he snapped, glaring at the group. They all looked disinterested, almost melancholic, which only fueled his growing anger. “We’re supposed to be Executor candidates, and yet it’s Henryk who gets all the praise, all the attention!”

He stopped walking and faced the others, his hands outstretched as if trying to make them see sense. “Come on, I get it. He’s a mutant who can do his fancy tricks—like some circus monkey. But I’m technically in charge of the squires for training, and even you guys don’t seem to care.”

Mateo’s eyes narrowed. “Like Frank said, we’re only here because we didn’t have any other option,” he replied, glancing at the others. “House Mars used to be great. Who’s to say it can’t rise to prominence again?”

Wilbur nodded in agreement. “Kieren, your drive is commendable, but it’s risky. Besides, I don’t even think what they do to Henryk is favoritism.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kieren shot back, his tone sharp.

“He’s the only one who gets any attention,” Kieren continued, his voice bitter. “Even that little man earlier acted like we didn’t exist, like we weren’t even there…just Henryk and the knights, all for Sirine.”

Mateo snickered. “Didn’t realize you cared that much,” he teased.

Kieren shrugged, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Sirine’s a princess, royalty…and she’s gorgeous.”

Franklin’s eyes widened behind his glasses. “Wait…what?” he muttered, giving Kieren a look.

“What?” Kieren barked.

“Sirine…you mean the girl who’s always up in Henryk’s room?” Wilbur clarified, raising an eyebrow.

Kieren nodded, his smirk widening.

A dry chuckle came from Mateo. “So, you’re not just after Henryk’s position, but his woman too?” Wilbur remarked, uncrossing his arms and glancing at the others. “…We’re really going to follow this guy? Trust him?”

Kieren rolled his eyes. “I’m the only one here trying to achieve the real goal of this house.”

A cricket chirped in the silence.

“…And what exactly is this ‘end goal’?” Wilbur asked.

“Simple. Knighthood,” Kieren said without hesitation.

“You want to be a knight?” Mateo said, raising an eyebrow. “You do realize that even in training, some don’t make the cut. They end up as high-value serfs.”

“High-value serfs?” Franklin questioned, looking puzzled. “Where’d you hear that?”

“It’s called paying attention when the knights tell you to study your house’s history,” Mateo lectured, his tone sharp.

“Sorry,” Franklin mumbled, raising his hands defensively.

But Mateo wasn’t done. “There’s no excuse for a weak and uneducated mind, especially in this changing universe.”

Kieren rolled his eyes at the self-righteous declaration. “We’re cool space knights,” he said, raising a fist. “That’s what we’re training to be. One day we’ll have their spikes, their strength, and perception.”

“Strength and perception?” Franklin repeated. “What are you even talking about?”

“He’s rambling about the mutations on their backs,” Mateo cut in.

“Not mutations…implants,” Kieren corrected. “Arthur told me about them.”

“Ah, so someone does talk to you,” Mateo quipped, smirking.

Kieren let out a dark chuckle. “You’re a real funny guy, Mateo. Real funny.”

Before Mateo could retort, Wilbur spoke, his voice shaky, and everyone noticed the tremor in his tone before he even said a word. “I don’t know why any of you want to be part of this.”

All eyes turned to him, widening in surprise. Wilbur shot a glance at Kieren. “A knight?” he muttered, then looked at Mateo. “A high-value serf?” His sneer deepened as he stared at the ground. “The real question we should be asking is… are we going to live long enough to see any of these so-called rewards?”

The silence that followed was thick, broken only by the faint creak of insects in the underbrush.

Wilbur pressed on, his voice firm. “Kieren, you’re obsessed with Henryk.”

Kieren sneered, his eyes narrowing. “Like hell I am. That mutant freak… I should sock you for saying that!” He took a threatening step forward, but the other two boys quickly stepped in, keeping them apart.

Wilbur didn’t back down. “Then how can you look at everything going on—on social media, the news—and still want to walk the same path?” Silence fell over the group as Wilbur continued. “That planet in the Oceana Sector? It’s being called the worst GrimGar infestation in history. The photos, the videos—it’s a living hell out there. Scorched and breaking apart.”

His hands trembled, and he glanced down, trying to steady them. “How can you see what Henryk, House Mars, and the others—House Pluto, House Mercury—went through, and still want to emulate them?”

Kieren’s sneer deepened. “For honor. For glory. That’s why we’re at this academy,” he said, pausing, his eyes gleaming with ambition. “Honestly, I have a dream of holding a leadership position in the Sons of Mars.”

Mateo and the others exchanged looks, their expressions a mix of disbelief and weariness, but Kieren met their gazes head-on. “It’s the truth,” he added, his voice resolute.

The others sighed, groaned, and grimaced. Kieren, undeterred, pressed on. “Listen, who knows what House Mars will be like in a few years? We could hold serious positions if we become knights. If we survive, and if we honor the traditions of Mars…”

“If we live long enough,” Wilbur muttered under his breath.

The snap of a twig broke the tension, the sound sharp and unsettling in the stillness of the forest. It echoed through the trees, reminding them they weren’t alone.

“We’re wasting time,” Kieren snapped, turning sharply on his heel. “We’re dragging this out longer than we should. We mess with them, get it done, and get out. Heck, if we stick to the plan, we’ll be back in our beds in less than an hour.”

Edward

It was raining outside the window behind Ed’s desk, the rhythmic tap of water against glass the only sound, save for the quiet hum of a lone desk lamp. Its warm orange glow bathed the room, casting soft shadows on Arthur, August, and Joeseph’s faces. Arthur’s confident smirk was unmistakable, his arms crossed, eyes gleaming with that familiar hunger for battle. Ed’s gaze flicked momentarily to the metallic glint of Arthur’s mechanical fingers—replacements for the ones lost. A necessary investment Ed had made from the treasury, though the cost had been more than just money.

“So, what’s this all about, Ed?” Joeseph asked, his tone clipped and wary. “Why call us here?”

Ed nodded slowly, gathering his thoughts. “I’ve got a mission for you two,” he said, gesturing to Arthur and August. “When you're done, I’ll be speaking to Joeseph separately. But he's got clearance to hear this.”

“Clearance?” Joeseph repeated, raising an eyebrow.

Ed leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the desk. The sound of rain against the window seemed to sync with the movement, filling the brief silence. He turned his gaze to Arthur. “You’ve been itching for a good fight, Arthur. I’ve got something that'll meet your expectations. But,” Ed paused, shifting his attention to August, “August here needs to be reminded of the Martian way of things.” His fist clenched as he finished the sentence, the words heavy with implication.

Arthur’s surprise was brief, quickly replaced by a knowing grin. “Ah, I see,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “You want me to show Fleeboy how we handle things our way—up close and personal.”

August’s face paled, sweat gathering on his brow. Ed chuckled dryly, but Joeseph’s expression remained hard as stone, his eyes locked on the exchange.

“You’ll have access to the transport for a bit,” Ed continued, his voice steady. “It’s been repaired since Oceana. Arthur, you can take your mech, and August, we’ll issue you one.”

August, visibly trembling, raised a hand hesitantly. “E-Ed, I’ve never really… shot anything before,” he stammered.

Arthur let out a harsh sneer and slapped August hard on the back, nearly knocking him forward. “None of that,” Arthur growled. “I can feel the spikes along your spine! You carry the weight of your lineage, August. The blood of warriors flows through you, whether you realize it or not.”

Ed and Joeseph watched in silence, their expressions unreadable, as Arthur balled his fist in solidarity.

“You have the glory and responsibility of your lineage on your back,” Arthur pressed. “Your father’s or—”

“Gene banks,” August interrupted, his voice soft, almost detached. He cast his eyes downward, unable to meet Arthur’s gaze. “My father died from the atomics.”

A heavy silence fell over the room, the rain outside seeming to grow louder in the absence of conversation. The spikes that connected them across generations, that bestowed the ancient gifts of their people, were a burden as much as a blessing. But there were secrets yet to be uncovered, even for those like Henryk and the others—secrets the older generations guarded fiercely.

The moment passed, the weight of their history hanging thick in the air, unspoken but ever-present.

“Speaking of the gene-banks,” Ed began, drawing all eyes toward him, his voice sharp and commanding. “Your mission is in a couple of days, so if you need anything specific, let me know beforehand. I’ve been talking to Vin, and he says they’re up and running.”

A ripple of surprise passed through the room.

“Where are they going to be stored?” August asked, his voice tight with curiosity.

Arthur snorted, trying to hide a smirk behind his hand.

“What?” August snapped, his gaze narrowing.

“Nothing…” Arthur dragged out, suppressing a chuckle that never quite vanished from his lips.

“Anyway,” Ed continued, his tone curt and cutting through the tension. “I don’t know about you lot, but my spikes have been attached since the fall of Mars. I know you guys got your extras. How many?”

August raised his hand. “I’ve got my five.”

Ed nodded, flicking open his laptop. “Good… good. I’m going to draft up the Knight Orders we’ve got in circulation and tally how many spikes we have. ‘The True Sons,’ that’s a noble order to come from. That’s five.”

Joeseph tilted his head slightly, his voice a low rumble. “I’ve had mine trimmed—only kept my command spike.”

Ed nodded again, this time more thoughtfully, then turned his attention to Arthur. “Tonight, before you go, I want you to go through the Rubicon.”

Silence followed, thick and heavy with hesitation, hanging between them like a weight.

Arthur, after a moment, stepped forward. “I accept the burden,” he declared solemnly, resting his hand over his chest in a gesture of oath.

August’s eyes widened in shock, and even Joeseph, ever composed, looked startled. “Edward, isn’t this a bit too fast? He’ll need time to recover before the mission, and—"

Ed cut him off with a sneer. “Joeseph, a true Knight of Mars would shrug off that exhaustion. We don’t have the luxury of time anymore.” He leaned back in his chair, the sound of the rain outside filling the brief lull. “Listen, we’ve got a good thing going. The house is slowly being repaired, people are settling into Academy life, and the new recruits are advancing steadily.”

Arthur chuckled, a rough, sardonic sound. “Advancing steadily?” He repeated. “More like Henryk and Kieren are doing well. The others, though?” He paused, throwing his hands up in an exaggerated gesture. “I’m still on board to boot them.”

“Arthur!” August snapped unexpectedly, his usual calm demeanor breaking for just a moment. “We can’t just throw them out! If we kick them, who else is going to take them?”

“Exactly,” Arthur said, his smirk returning, cold and sharp. “No one else wants them. But we’re the ones stuck with them.”

Ed gazed at Arthur as the latter parted his lips to speak. “Lord Ed,” Arthur began, and Ed chuckled at the title. “I’ve seen Henryk and Kieren make leaps and bounds in their training. Hell, if it wasn’t for Joeseph saying Kieren wasn’t ready, I would’ve taken him along with Henryk. They both would’ve tasted blood that day.”

Joeseph’s eyes widened. “Hey!” he interrupted, his voice sharp. “Kieren wasn’t ready!” He paused, turning to Ed with a serious expression. “I’ve seen the way Henryk and Kieren interact. They’re either fighting, arguing, cursing each other out, or outright avoiding one another. We’re a small group, and the others feel it too.”

Arthur rolled his eyes, crossing his arms with a smirk. “Rivalries among the Sons of Mars!” he scoffed sarcastically.

Joeseph’s fingers clenched into fists, the movement catching Arthur’s eye. Arthur’s expression shifted, his face hardening as the servos in his bionic fingers whirred ominously.

“Kieren is a disrespectful little shit,” Joeseph continued through gritted teeth. “He’s talented, sure, but at least Henryk tries to learn what makes a Knight of Mars a true knight. Kieren skips all my lessons, except for Arthur’s combat training, and he revels in bossing the squires around.”

“This is tradition,” Arthur shot back, addressing Ed. “Henryk got pissy and lost the position. Kieren has free reign to run the training as he sees fit.”

Joeseph’s eyes narrowed. “I wonder, Arthur, if you’re just an idiot because you were raised on a feudal world, or if you’re inherently fucking stupid.”

Arthur’s fists rose, ready to fight, but Ed stepped forward quickly. “Enough!” Ed’s voice boomed, halting Arthur in his tracks. “That’s enough!” he repeated firmly.

Taking a deep breath, Ed continued. “We cannot have division within our ranks.” He turned to Arthur, his voice measured but resolute. “Arthur, you’re right about tradition, but I will not let Kieren abuse the squires. And I’m not getting rid of any of them. They may not be the best, but we molded Kieren and Henryk into warriors. The others may just need time.”

Arthur bristled, his arms still crossed, his jaw clenched.

Joeseph shook his head, incredulous. “Kieren and Henryk—warriors?” He repeated, his voice laced with disbelief. “Do any of you hear yourselves? Fine, call Kieren whatever you want, but Henryk?” He turned to Ed, his voice dropping. “Edward, he doesn’t belong here. He’s the last kind of guy who should be here.”

Ed's eyes widened at Joeseph’s outburst, but he sighed deeply. “Listen, Joeseph, Henryk is here by choice. He came to us…”

“He was saved by me,” Arthur interjected curtly, fixing a deep glare on Joeseph.

Joeseph’s patience snapped. “Okay, what’s your fucking problem?”

Arthur smirked. “You just have a problem with everything I do. Henryk brought honor to himself, his family, and he bore the armor of House Mars. He was a warrior that day, and here you are… denying him that very right.”

“I don’t denounce Henryk as a warrior. I heard from the guys in House Pluto about what Henryk was like down there. The magic he wielded, they said it invigorated them, gave them the strength to fight through exhaustion,” Joeseph retorted.

Silence hung in the air for a moment. Arthur took a heavy breath. “A knight. A wizard. A Druid Knight. A Druid Knight Executor.” His tone was reverent.

Joeseph shook his head. “Henryk is just a normal guy with talent, Arthur. Back in the day, those stories were…”

“They were not myths,” Arthur interrupted with a sneer, pointing at Ed. “He’s proof of that. The tale of Executors, the tale of a king,” Arthur continued, eyes burning with conviction as he gestured toward Ed. “In our darkest time, our darkest hour, both a Golden Prince and an Executor arose. The Galaxy will feel the wrath of our dead fathers once again.”

August stared at the exchange, stunned and lost. Joeseph and Arthur had been arguing, and now Ed was merely watching, his expression unreadable.

“Enough with Henryk!” Ed slammed his hand hard on the desk, his voice cutting through the room. “Is this what you all want to do? Talk, talk, talk—argue, argue, argue? We finally have a chance to do something good, and all I hear is talk of kicking out key members or complaints about abuse in the ranks!” His voice ground to a halt, followed by a deep sigh.

Joeseph leaned against the wall, his face tight with anger. “It’s because you’ve hardly held anyone accountable... because we’re hardly a unit anymore. We saw something different on Oceana.”

“What the hell do you expect from me then?” Ed shot back.

Joeseph sneered. “I didn’t sign up for this shit!” he shouted. “I work for the resistance. I didn’t sign up to watch you ruin some guy’s life just because he’s talented, or because some people believe in a fucking prophecy!”

All eyes turned toward Joeseph, the weight of his proclamation hanging heavy in the room.

“Huh?” Arthur exclaimed, staring at Joeseph in disbelief. “R-resistance?” he repeated, narrowing his eyes.

August, too, froze, his breath catching in his throat, his pulse quickening. “No way…”

Joeseph took a step toward Ed’s desk, his tone hard. “Henryk isn’t okay. He’s quieter than he’s ever been, and I keep seeing him just… lingering alone. I can feel it—something’s off. And all I hear is how good he did… but he didn’t have to go through what he did with House Mars. This all could’ve been avoided!”

Ed’s eyes widened in warning. “Joeseph…” He stretched out his comrade’s name slowly, the tension in his voice palpable. “Be very careful about what you’re about to say.”

Joeseph didn’t back down, his gaze unwavering. “We are Knights of Mars, and we chose this path. Henryk didn’t have to. That night at the party changed everything, didn’t it, Edward?” A faint smirk crossed Joeseph’s lips, and Ed felt a bead of sweat trickle down his brow.

“I-I don’t get what you mean by it could’ve been avoided,” August stammered, drawing all eyes toward him. “T-the House Neptune situation… they had a problem with him first, and they sent that lynch mob after him…”

Joeseph sneered, and the atmosphere in the room seemed to darken, as though the very air was closing in on Ed, choking him. Arthur and August exchanged uneasy glances, sensing the suffocating tension. Joeseph had backed Ed into a corner, and now, the weight of the secret he’d been keeping threatened to unravel.

“No, that all came after,” Joeseph corrected, fixing his glare on Ed. “Henryk was scouted by nearly every House. Hell, he saved Logan of Neptune—everyone knows how famous Logan and his older brother are. Poster boys. Even after Henryk rejected Neptune and saved Ty from a beatdown, they didn’t care enough to come after him. It wasn’t worth their time. Logan probably didn’t even care.”

He paused, the words heavy on his tongue. “But then… the night of the party happened. And everything changed.”

“That was the night…” August began, but his voice faltered.

Joeseph sighed and continued. “Yeah. That was the night Hannah—the princess of Venus herself—accused Henryk of trying to rape her.”

A heavy silence fell over the room, the weight of Joeseph’s words crashing down like a tidal wave.

Arthur sneered, breaking the stillness. “I don’t fucking buy it,” he declared, voice hard with disbelief.

Joeseph pressed on, undeterred. “It doesn’t matter what you believe, Arthur. It doesn’t matter what I believe. What matters is what everyone else believed. And after that night, Henryk’s options for Houses dried up. Even the crappy Houses, like House Pluto, turned him away. And that’s when House Neptune and House Venus banded together. They sent out hunting parties to find him. You were there, Arthur. You saw the state they were in.”

Arthur stood silent, his mind drifting back to the weight of his great sword as he held it in both hands. He could still recall seeing the girl in the distance, standing in the enclave of the open forest. Sunlight beamed through the treeline, casting golden shafts across the clearing. She was short, even for a girl, with twinkling blue eyes and twin blonde pigtails. In that light, she seemed almost angelic—but she was the one holding the noose. How could Henryk ever forget that moment? How could any of them forget?

Joeseph’s voice broke through the haze. "Now Henryk’s far from home, obviously tweaking the hell out after Oceana II, and stuck in a place full of people who despise him, bully him, and want to either hurt him or worse… kill him!" His breath was labored, anger simmering beneath his words. He threw his head back, gaze shifting toward Arthur and August. “You lot better be careful with what kind of missions you accept from Ed. Royal blood or not, this one’s a liar,” Joeseph declared, his finger jabbing in Ed’s direction.

“J-Joe…” August stuttered, but Joeseph cut him off, his hand still aimed squarely at Ed.

"Go on, Ed," Joeseph urged, his voice cold. “Tell them what you told me. Before, I thought we were going to trade Henryk away, but it’s clear now what this really means. He should know—before he risks life and limb, before he can never see his family again—tell him how you ruined his life.”