Valmoran Republic, Planet Kronai, Temple of the Seven

  Callum Torion, Representative Arbiter for the Valmoran Republic

  After a brief wait in the priority transport queue and a quick identity verification and security scan at the edge of the grounds of the First Temple, Callum was dropped off near the main gate and found himself plunged into a sea of people.

  The festive atmosphere was in full swing, the Temple grounds transformed into an overwhelming tapestry of color and life.

  Banners in the Valtrellin cobalt and silver rippled in the breeze. The air was thick with a miasma of scents—exotic delicacies, the heady scent of incense, the perfume of the expansive flower beds.

  The vivid pavilions and finery of the attendees, along with the cacophony of celebration and odors of festival food, would have been nearly overwhelming on their own. For Callum, adding the massive crowd’s heightened emotions made it an assault on his senses.

  At least the emotions that bombarded him were primarily positive, a small mercy.

  He waded through the throngs of people and priests, a veritable maze of pavilions, before joining a short line waiting to enter the Temple courtyard.

  Callum wished he had anticipated just how busy the grounds would be today. He’d never seen the Temple so overrun in all the time he’d worked with the Valtrellins.

  A group of lavishly dressed young Kronai females chattered in front of him, draped in the frippery and finery that was the fashion. Their blue hair was braided in complex styles that must have taken their servants all morning.

  Their laughter rang out, irritating and brash, as they speculated about the handsome Scion and his impending mating ceremony. Callum couldn’t help but overhear their conversation, as they seemed determined to ensure the entire crowd could listen in.

  Their age and the style of their clothing made it obvious that they belonged to the new generation. Callum’s generation, although he never felt like one of them. His half-cycle age difference felt like an unbridgeable chasm when faced with the young and frivolous.

  “Isn’t this exciting? I came to First Temple once and saw Matthai sitting behind his father. He’s very handsome.” the shortest young woman said to her companions.

  Callum felt her desperation to be accepted so acutely that he wanted to take a step away as the sensation oozed through him. He glanced around, trying and failing to ignore the women’s mindless chatter.

  Valmorans from all walks of life were in a jovial mood, enjoying food and drinks from the pavilions while Temple musicians played jaunty festival tunes. Everywhere he looked, priests in the blue and silver colors of the Valtrellins stood, smiling and offering assistance to the partygoers.

  “Oh, I know—that deep blue hair—”

  Callum couldn’t help but note the dense crowds and wonder if it was safe to cram so many people into the area. Then again, the place was also crawling with priests—each one trained in defensive combat.

  And from how their watchful eyes roamed the crowds, Callum was sure their Hix implants must have sophisticated surveillance overlays.

  Gods, they probably had color-coded threat assessments for every attendee, access to their identification, job history, homeworld, everything.

  Nosy bastards.

  “—and he looks like he will grow into his father’s powerful jaw—”

  Typically, the level of military sophistication exhibited by the Temple unnerved Callum. Still, crammed between thousands upon thousands of people, he had to admit that he felt safer knowing the priests were on top of security.

  “—but those lovely long ears ... just like his mother’s.”

  “I wonder who he will match with?”

  The women let out a chorus of sighs, and Callum barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He peered at the line and wondered if he should call ahead to High Priest Valtrellin to see if there was another entrance he could use. But then, the line started moving forward again, and he figured it was best to wait his turn.

  Despite his better judgment, he found himself listening to the girls’ insipid conversation.

  “Well, that won’t be for a while still—the Valtrellins always have the matching ceremony at the very height of mating season. No one can even go near Matthai before then—everyone knows that.” the tall one said, her voice dripping with superiority.

  Callum shuddered when he reflexively reached out to read her emotions—ego with a side order of cruelty towards her own companions. Gods, people were such assholes.

  “I heard they picked his potentials when he was still in his first phase.”

  “Oh, yeah—as soon as Kronai girls started showing as God-touched, their parents started putting in applications. The list was finalized ages ago. And now that he’s the heir, one of them will get to be High Priestess. Can you imagine?”

  “But what if he doesn’t match with anyone on the list?”

  The girl with the upturned nose and the rotten soul snorted. “Don’t be stupid—just look at him—the Valtrellin bloodline is so pure, they always get a mate.”

  The short girl sounded wistful. “Must be nice. No one has been God-touched in my family for four generations. I’m not even sure if I want to have a matching party. What if I don’t match? I would just die.”

  Callum had to pull back from the sudden wave of despair he felt emanating from the girl.

  He clenched his jaw. This was precisely the sort of nonsense he wished their society could move past.

  Stolen story; please report.

  So what if you didn’t end up with a mate bond? It wasn’t like you couldn’t find another unmated person at the tail end of the season and decide to pair up for the next cycle.

  Most people never had a mate bond, and their lives turned out fine. And this girl would just die if she didn’t match? What in the world were Valmorans teaching their children?

  Eventually, they neared the gate, and Callum could see the reason for the hold-up. Security was much tighter than usual today. On a typical visit, he could walk up to one of a hundred wide-open archways, scan his Hix, and walk inside the inner courtyard.

  Today, however, most gates had been closed, and a veritable wall of priests stood in formation just inside this archway.

  Not in a threatening way—no, they were smiling and looked for all the world like they were thrilled to be part of the celebration—but Callum wasn’t fooled. Those smiles would vanish in a heartbeat if they sensed a threat.

  A glance upward revealed yet another hidden gem. He wondered what that nasty girl would think if she knew that the large, welcoming gateway she was standing under hid a thick metal door that could cut a person in two.

  The gleaming architecture of the Temple always revealed its secrets if you knew where to look.

  Nothing in the design was accidental.

  The entire citadel could lock down in mere heartbeats, and the seven gleaming towers that encircled the inner Temple also secretly housed the most advanced defensive laser array that money could buy.

  Callum’s mind could never figure out why the Temple required such extensive, advanced security. Sure, the Temple technically couldn’t depend on the Valmoran Republic for defense. But no Republic decision pool would ever fail to rise to the Temple’s aid.

  Even after years spent working on the politics of Temple and state, Callum found it surreal that the small tract of land that housed each of the Temples wasn’t part of the Republic but a sovereign theocracy unto itself, one distributed across hundreds of planets throughout the galaxy.

  It was suspicious, though, how the ancient priests had gone to the trouble of constructing a massive fortress to house every Obelisk in the galaxy.

  Every last one.

  Were they genuinely protecting and honoring the Obelisks, or were they hiding them?

  Perhaps his cynicism was harsh, a product of his mistrust of the Temple. After all, for countless Valmorans, the Obelisks represented a tangible connection to the divine, a source of guidance in a chaotic galaxy.

  After all, the Temple did allow pilgrims to request an audience with an Obelisk and even touch it to receive wisdom from the Gods. Callum had done it himself, in fact, and found the experience to be rather underwhelming.

  It was normal, mundane even, to want to protect your sacred artifacts. He might be spinning a conspiracy out of nothing.

  Raised voices and heated emotions drew his attention back to the girls in front of him, who appeared to be in some sort of dispute with the priest running identity checks.

  “But my mother is the Assistant Director of CommTech—I’m here to get footage of the ceremony.” the cruel one whined.

  The Temple guard’s voice was warm and neutral when he responded. “I’m sorry—I don’t have you on the approved media list. Your invitation is for the outer Temple grounds only.”

  “But we’ve been traveling all day!”

  Callum suppressed a groan of irritation. He really couldn’t stand people.

  Sure, he cared about ‘people’ in the abstract—about justice and fairness and the good of the people. But Callum had found that individual people were almost invariably intolerable. There was only so much spite, envy, and dishonesty Callum could stomach.

  Entire crowds of people were enough to make him want to hide in his Ansible chamber for days.

  “We appreciate your support for the Scion, but unfortunately, entrance into the Temple proper is by invitation only today. We apologize for the inconvenience and would be delighted to receive you again soon. If you please follow Priest Doren, he will escort you to one of the outer guest pavilions.”

  The spoiled young woman and her friends huffed and trailed after their guide. Apparently, being invited to one of the most exclusive events in the galaxy wasn’t good enough for her.

  Callum approached the priest with the security scanner, which he used to scan his Hix ID.

  “Welcome to the First Temple.” The man smiled warmly, then moved his eyes, reading something projected via his Hix device. “Representative Arbiter Torion, we’re honored you could join us today. I see that you have been formally invited to attend the investiture ceremony.”

  “Yes, that’s correct.”

  “Scion Valtrellin has requested that we escort you to the Second Tower when you arrive. If you will, please follow Priest Jexil.” Then, a young priest stepped forward and gestured for Callum to follow.

  After a short walk through the less crowded ornate Temple courtyards, his escort ushered Callum through a security door, down a short hallway, and into an opulent sitting room. Matthai Valtrellin was already seated on a luxurious chair, an expensive-looking tea set on a low table before him.

  Matthai stood when Callum entered. The young man’s emotions were a maelstrom, and Callum had to take a moment to adjust to the sensation.

  The tumultuous swirl of feelings emanating from Matthai caught Callum off guard. It was a potent mix of anticipation, trepidation, excitement, fear, and guilt—more emotions than Callum could keep up with.

  A stark contrast to the composed, almost serene exterior the young Scion presented.

  The Scion was probably just worried about whether he would look pretty enough when they broadcast his face all over the galaxy. It was always the same with these elites.

  Callum stepped into the room and heard the door slide shut behind him. He kept his distance—he knew better than to get too close to Matthai, since his family had taken the ‘no touching’ rule to unprecedented levels of absurdity. Such hypocrisy.

  “Scion Valtrellin, it is an honor to finally meet you,” Callum said, maintaining a respectable distance.

  Matthai’s complex emotions calmed, and he graced Callum with a generous smile. “Please, just call me Matthai. I must confess I am a huge fan of your work, Representative Torion. It’s great to finally meet you.” His emotions showed his sincerity and his warm welcome felt like a psychic hug.

  Huh. This was not what Callum had expected from the future High Priest of the First Temple.

  “Just Callum is fine.”

  Matthai gestured to the chair across from his own. “Please, sit. My father has been wearing himself out attending foreign dignitaries, so I told him I’d be thrilled to receive you on my own today. I hope you didn’t have anything critical to discuss with him.”

  “No, I believe the agenda for today was for the two of us to become acquainted—we can manage that on our own.”

  Callum was surprised to find that the smile he tried to summon was already on his face, without his permission. They took their seats, and Callum smoothed out his slacks while he puzzled over his positive reaction to the young priest.

  “Can I fix you a cup of tea?” Matthai offered, gesturing to the etched silver tea service.

  Callum couldn’t help comparing Matthai’s hospitality to that of the bigoted OccEd director he had met in the morning. It could not have been more different.

  “Yes, thank you,” Callum responded, unsure of where to take the conversation next.

  This wasn’t at all how he had expected this meeting to go, and he realized he was utterly unprepared. He had expected to make awkward pleasantries with High Priest Valtrellin and his son—maybe feel out Matthai’s true feelings about equality.

  He had expected this entire day to be nothing but a tedious obligation necessary to maintain his partnership with the Valtrellins.

  Matthai Valtrellin, by all rights, ought to be full of himself and consider himself as extraordinary as everyone else did. But so far, the young priest had been inexplicably kind and humble.

  As Callum watched Matthai gracefully prepare two cups of tea, the pleasant silence gave him time to notice something … refreshing about the young Scion’s emotions.

  He wasn’t a ray of sunshine or anything like that. In fact, a deep undercurrent of sadness hummed beneath him like a low drone.

  That alone gave Callum pause—no one carried that level of grief without enduring terrible hardship. He wondered what could have caused such heartache in Matthai’s pampered life.

  Matthai set a cup of tea on the table before Callum, then sat back in his seat, feeling ... resolved.

  The Scion seemed to have his own agenda for the day, and Callum was surprised to find himself intrigued to hear it.

  As he reached forward to accept Matthai’s offering of tea, Callum heard the young priest’s voice tear through the silence, calm and patient, yet almost painfully direct.

  “Representative Torion, are you a man of your word?”