- Ludwig Lot -

  Encedus had always been a notoriously difficult y to govern. Over the decades, it had ged hands dozens of times, its valuable resources and strategic position making it a coveted prize among the great powers of the empire. It wasn't until the House of Lot took responsibility for the y's development that Encedus began to stabilize. This decision became the pivotal moment for the rise of the Great House of Lot—propelling them into astronomical growth and expanding their ercial reach far beyond anything they had initially imagined.

  Deep beh the icy surface of Encedus, Ludwig sat alone in a dimly lit chamber, led dozens of levels below the bustling cities above. The room was shrouded in secreot even the Emperor was aware of its existence. Only three others knew of this pce: the two generals loyal to House Lot and Ludwig's heir.

  The vast hall was cavernous, its walls carved from the very bedrock of the moon. At its ter stood a grand, round table of polished obsidian. A simple yet imposing throne faced the table, its design unadorned but exuding authority. Along the walls hung dozens of portraits, each depig past rulers of the House of Lot. Their eyes seemed to follow Ludwig, the weight of their legacy pressing upon him. The liretched back geions, well before their aors had veo Encedus. Yet, the most promi painting was that of his father—the patriarch who elevated their family to the status of a Great House.

  Ludwig leaned forward, his fingers steepled beh his as he gazed ily at his father's portrait. The artist had captured him perfectly: the stern gaze, the unyielding posture, the aura of a man who bent the gaxy to his will. It was a stant reminder of the legacy Ludwig was expected to uphold.

  "Father, where did I g?" Ludwig whispered into the emptiness, his voice barely audible in the vast chamber. "I tried to embrace your ambition. We were so close. We could have had an emperor."

  He shook his head slowly, the weight of his failures pressing heavily upon him. Despite all his efforts, he couldn't fathom where his grand designs had unraveled.

  "We did what you set out to do. We soiled our hands to reshape the world," the old man murmured, his gaze drifting down to his calloused palms. Liched by time and deeds crisscrossed his skin, each a testament to the sacrifices made in the name of a greater good. "A, it still won't be enough."

  Ludwig turned away from the t portrait that dominated one wall of the chamber. With a heavy sigh, he settled into the modest thro the ter of the room, a stark trast to the opulenight expect of his station.

  Moments ter, the silence was shattered by the thunderous boom of heavy doors swinging open. The sheer force caused the chamber to tremble, dust drifting down from the unsees above. Ludwig's two generals entered without a word, their footsteps eg as they approached. Fnking them was Mordred, his presence as imposing as ever. Each general positiohemselves oher side of him, their faces unreadable.

  None of them wore armor. Instead, they were the simple, unadorned uniforms of House Lot—a dark, muted fabric devoid of insignia or decoration. In this secretive sanctum, even gaus were forbidden. No teology that could be traced, no ons that could be turned against them. The generals had ehe room's sanctity, allowing no potential threats to breach its fines.

  "Father!" Mordred shouted as he stormed toward the throne, his voice reverberating through the grand chamber. "How dare you?! How dare you leak information?!"

  Ludwig lifted his gaze to meet his son's fiery eyes. "Mordred, you know this isn't the right path," he replied calmly, though his heart weighed heavy.

  Oher side of Mordred, the two Generals stepped forward, each pg a firm hand on his shoulders—a silent warning that they would restrain him if necessary.

  "Are you insane?!" Mordred spat, struggling against their grip. "First, you did nothing when the Emperor decided to punish me. Now you go behind my back to destroy everything I've built over the years!" His voice dripped with betrayal and fury.

  "You have built nothing," Ludwig retorted, sorrow etg deep lines into his face. "You've only invited vipers into our midst and sold your soul to the devil."

  "No wonder you didn't i the family's powers," Mordred hissed through ched teeth. "You're an old coward, incapable of doing what's necessary."

  "Son, how you say such things?" Ludwig murmured, almost to himself.

  "You made me this way!" Mordred roared, his voice eg off the chamber's vaulted ceilings. "You raised me to be the future of humanity, the heir of House Lot—the pinnacle of POWER!" As his rage intensified, the shadows at his feet began to writhe and twist, dang to the tumultuous rhythm of his emotions. The very air seemed to thi with the dark energy emanating from him.

  "Mordred, 't you uand?" Ludwig pleaded, taking a hesitant step forward. "Our house was fouo save humanity. Yrandfather joihe Great Houses to free us from the Grand Game—to achieve peace."

  "Yes, he was a great man for that," Mordred ceded, his gaze hardening. "But he was wrong. Saving all of humanity is impossible. Exiting the Grand Game be achieved in more than one way. You've been fixated, believing that all the information Grandfather gathered about the Sns was the only truth."

  He paused, a sly smile creeping onto his face. "There are other paths besides the Emperor. There are others who hear the voices of the Crystal."

  "Who are these people, Mordred? Why do you hide them?" Ludwig demanded, a stern edge slig into his tone.

  Mordred fell silent, his eyes flickering with a secret he wasn't ready to share.

  Ludwig sighed deeply. "I already know why you ceal them," he said softly. "I don't need your answer, my son." He looked at Mordred with a mix of disappoi and sorrow. "How many will you leave behind to secure this so-called peace?"

  "All who are not our allies," Mordred replied coldly, venom dripping from his words. "They had a choice, and they chose the wrong path."

  A heavy silenveloped the chamber, the weight of Mordred's decration hanging in the air like a dark cloud. The faces of their aors looked down from portraits lining the walls, their painted eyes witnessing the rift wideniween father and son.

  "You won't succeed—I won't allow it," Ludwig decred firmly, his voice eg through the grand chamber. "I've already informed the Empire about the base."

  Mordred stood across from him, a cold smile pying on his lips. "Do you really think you're the only oh informants ihe h Army?" he retorted. "They'll never reach it, and even if they do, I'll have already alerted our allies."

  A heavy siletled between father and son. Ludwig's gaze softened, a mixture of sorrow and disappoi clouding his eyes. "It seems there's nothing more to say to you, Mordred," he sighed. "Son... five me." He gestured subtly to the two generals fnking the chamber.

  The seds stretched as Ludwig posed himself. "Take him to the fi cells," he ordered quietly. "He will no longer be my heir."

  Mordred's eyes fshed with a dangerous light. "No, Father," he whispered, his tone icy. "It is you who must five me."

  The generals remained motionless as Mordred drew a sleek, antique pistol from beh his coat—a reli a bygone era, its model an unmistakable P38. He leveled the barrel at Ludwig's chest, his hand steady.

  "You will pass the torch to the geion," Mordred procimed. Without hesitation, he pulled the trigger repeatedly, the gunshots reverberating like thundercps in the enclosed space.

  Ludwig staggered backward, a shocked gasp esg his lips as the bullets tore into him. Crimson blooms spread across his tailored suit, the warm blood seeping through his fingers as he clutched his wounds. His eyes darted to the generals, standing impassively by Mordred's side. Betrayal twisted like a knife in his gut—not only his son but his trusted advisors had turned against him.

  ‘I was wrong,’ Ludwig thought bitterly, his vision starting to blur. ‘There are more traitors among us than I imagined.’ The weight of his failure pressed upon him, heavier than the mortal injuries he bore. He had hoped—prayed—that Mordred would find the right path, that his legacy would not herald destru.

  His legs gave way, and he sank to his khe arble floor met him as his strength ebbed away. Blood pooled beh him, the rich scarlet stark against the pristine white.

  "Inform our allies," Mordred anded sharply, turning to the generals. "Initiate the Assion Protocol. Prepare for war."

  Those were the st words Ludwig heard. His sciousness drifted as darkness edged into his vision. The pain dulled, repced by a numbhat crept through his body. Regret weighed heavily on his final thoughts—not for himself, but for the war that would follow.

  As his eyes fluttered closed, a loraced down his cheek.

  GCLopes