Baron

  Victor von Remiel was a shrewd man. He was of average build with a

  square face. The Imperial court was full of whispers of his

  manipulations and cunning. They said he was one of the smartest men in

  the Empire, the one who would bring his house to the top once again. No

  doubt the Emperor had heard these rumors, perhaps that is why he had

  sent his masked dog to subjugate him. Victor's hand trembled on the

  armrest of his chair. The masked dog of the Emperor — what right did he

  have to sit so high? What right did he have to command men of noble

  blood?

  Seated on the

  bridge of the Jin-Wa, he tapped his foot with an anxious rhythm, he had

  planned this meticulously, anyone would fall into this trap but Vyncent

  was known to be unpredictable. He himself had raised a hodgepodge fleet

  of 10500 and contracted one of those money hungry independent fleets,

  most had refused his call but the 'Spears of Olympus', a fleet of a

  thousand ships under their commander, Dez'l H'Lor. Victor did not trust

  the man, he and his soldiers spoke the ancient Q'Lach language, dead in

  most regions and banned in the rest. Each sentence he spoke concealed a

  motive, it was said if Dez'l H'Lor was in a room with two people, he

  could tell one to serve the other a drink and the other to kill the

  first with a single word. The Baron and his advisors met him in person

  to negotiate the terms, he asked for too much as all independent fleets

  do at first, but strangely lowered it learning of the circumstance. When

  Dez'l H'Lor smiled during the negotiations, it was the kind of smile

  that suggested he had already won. Victor had noticed — and dismissed it.

  His advisors thought Dez'l wanted the masked dog's blood, plausible,

  but it still felt off. The Spears of Olympus were due to arrive in 6

  hours, and the enemy fleet was calculated to be at least 12 hours away.

  Next

  to his chair stood his chief advisor, Faux-Daj Rakim. He had served

  three generations of the Remiel family, and it showed. His skin was much

  like leather, his eyes: grey within yellow. His garments, expensive,

  seemed to fit him worse every day yet his mind was still sharp as the

  day when he was sold to this family. He thought of Victor as a son,

  practically having raised the boy while his father spent his fortunes

  writing 'histories' and organising feasts. The old Baron was weak but

  prideful. He almost drove the great house to ruins and feuded with

  authorities who tried to put an end to his blasphemous writings. Seeing

  the failure of the father, Rakim ingrained values into the child early,

  and when the time to inherit came, he did not disappoint.

  "Baron,

  their probes have seen the Jin-Wa, the trap is set", Rakim said. His

  eyes betrayed a sense of pride as he saw the boy he once taught strategy

  to, led his side to victory.

  "An

  uneasiness siezes my bones Faux-Daj. This masked dog of the emperor is

  unpredictable, we know nothing of him. Did our spies at court reveal

  anything of the deployment?", Baron Remiel looked back at the old man.

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

  "Three names Baron: Yosef, D'Larson, von Konitz. Nothing else for fear of being exposed sire."

  "Those

  damnable invertebrates do seldom but save their own skins. Nothing of

  their numbers? Would two or three words have signed their death warrant?

  Still, this is useful. Von Konitz, I remember him. He is the kind of

  man who values his 'honour' but only because he possesses nothing else

  of virtue. Even if we could do something we do not know their formation"

  "Sire,

  if I may offer a suggestion, we must destroy their probes, they have

  served their purpose and as they are too far away to see our movements

  we can redistribute our forces still. We should deploy 150 fast moving

  destroyers between us and the enemy. They will conclude the enemy's

  deployments from a safe distance, and send a message back"

  The

  Baron weighed his advisors words carefully. Seeing no harm in it he

  gave the order. 150 destroyers were swiftly grouped with Rakim

  commanding aboard the Destroyer Hermes IV. As they left on their mission

  Victor stared at the trails left by their fusion engines. That damn

  Emperor, tainted with jealously had tried to force him into bankruptcy

  with his schemes and alliances, the Baron had to retaliate. He had

  rebuilt House Remiel's pride and prestige with great difficulty despite

  the state his father had left it in and hell would freeze over before

  someone would subjugate the Remiels again, much less a dog.

  "The

  King of Arcadia awoke to visions, God pointing the way to reunite

  humanity. In celebration of God's will being fulfilled, King Philip of

  Arcadia was appointed the first Emperor of Humanity"

  It

  was not long before the reconnaissance fleet obtained a visual of the

  Konitz' forces. An immediate radio transmission to the Jin-Wa followed.

  The radar beeped and alerts rang through the ship, something was going

  wrong, on the viewscreen he saw the number of active ships decrease

  rapidly. Rakim in this moment was made aware of four fundamental truths.

  Firstly,

  the enemy had detected the radio signal and had already pinpointed the

  source but they were too far away to see the destroyers.

  Secondly,

  Konitz would persue, even if it meant disobeying a direct command, but

  he would not have had the foresight to put a trap like this

  Thirdly, Destroyers were smaller weaker but much faster than battleships, if there were any in pursuit, they could be outrun.

  Lastly, Dez'l H'Lor should never have been trusted.

  A fracture in the dark. Then another.

  The

  warp rip opened — a jagged tear in space — and from it emerged the

  Spears of Olympus. First one, then a dozen, then two hundred ships,

  their hulls like obsidian, etched with symbols Rakim had never seen

  before.

  A single word echoed over the open channel in the dead tongue

  of Q'Lach. A command. The cannons ignited. The first blast shattered

  the Hermes IV's forward shields. Another followed, and then another.

  Heat

  and light filled Rakim's vision, searing through the bridge. Metal

  screamed as it twisted and ruptured under pressure Heat and noise filled

  the bridge as metal vaporized under the intense energy of laser fire.

  In

  his final moments, blinded by the explosion of fusion engines, Faux Daj

  Rakim remembered the mother who sold, the Master who took, and his

  daughter he fell for. He regretted never saying anything, he knew it was

  suicide but he was dying anyway. At least he had helped her son

  "Victor",

  he groaned. The shield and engines went out of phase suddenly creating a

  discordant howl. "Forgive me, sire", Rakim burnt. The flaming hull of

  the Hermes IV exploded with the light of a small sun and all screams

  were silenced by the infinite void that is space.