“Don’t be absurd, Octavian. Balerian would win, no matter how skilled Gillian is. It’s simply in the blood.” Cassandra’s voice was a soft melody, harmonic with its venomous tones. My friends watched each other, arguing as they frequently did.

“The day we decided that someone’s worth is proven by their blood is the day that our Impeirum lost its grandeur.” Octavian shook his head, his eyes glancing my way, as if I would involve myself in the conversation. “The First Knights Royal has five brave knights from the Common Class.”

“Five, out of nineteen,” Cassandra mocks, rolling her eyes as if it was all too easy. “Octavian, face it. We Nobles rule because we were born to. We are the best that the Universe has to offer. Men and women may rise from nothing, but the day I was born I had already risen far above all others.” Her eyes fall on me, and she offers me a caring smile. “After all, not anyone can protect our lovely Empress’s Champion, can they?”

“Careful, Cass.” Brandon lays a hand upon his wife’s elbow, giving me an apologetic nod. My eyes remain fixed on Cassandra until she nods as well.

“You’re right. Apologies, Your Highness.” She turns to our fourth companion. “Jascol, what are your thoughts?”

The First Sword of Roslim lies back, his hands clasped at his stomach. His eyes closed to the solar lights which act as a replacement to the natural stars.

“In the end, my opinion matters not, Cassy. I thought you’d know that by now. Neither does yours, actually. The only one here who can ever change a thing is our esteemed lord, Kaldratos Vixiua.” His jiggles his hands in a starry motion, a light smile playing upon his lips.

Octavian snorts, he turns to me and opens his mouth to speak.

He never gets a chance.

My eardrums thrum as I hear a thunderous roar behind me. I dive for the ground and roll, when I’m up, I’ve drawn my pulseblade. It shines crimson and black in the false light. I hear screams around me, half of the café that I was seated in has now been demolished, with smoking rubble and charred remains the only indication that there had once been anything.

My four companions surround me, pressing against me, shielding me with their bodies. I hear them all shouting, yelling into their comms for my guards. I drown out the sound, pushing past Octavian when I see through the smoke. I see, half a kilometre away, the smoke rising from another building.

I hear a cry beside me, and see a woman trapped underneath a fallen pillar. She is trying to crawl her way out, but her legs are shattered. I rush forward, yelling for my friends to help me. We heave and lift the thing off her, while Brandon pulls the poor women free. The pain that shoots through her body knocks her unconscious.

“Call for a medic.” I say, absentmindedly. My eyes turn back to the burning building around me. “Jascol, evacuate everyone from here, now. Get them away!” I turn to Cassandra, wanting a report.

“Praetorian Legionnaires are enroute to our position, Your Highness.” Cassandra speaks in my ear.

“Redirect half of them to Sector 7E. There has been a second bombing.” I look to Brandon. “Into your Frame, now. This is more than some failed assassination attempt. Go.” I look to Octavian. “Inform Jascol that he has command here until the people are safely evacuated, and the medics have seen to everyone. Then he is to follow us in his Frame and rendezvous at Sector 7E.” The two men salute, sprinting in different directions. Brandon leaps from the walkway. If he had not called his Frame, he would fall a hundred-kilometres to the surface of Capitallium.

I start off at a run, my jetboots kicking into gear as I leap from the edge and shoot forward. I don’t look behind me. I know Cassandra and Octavian will be following me. Somewhere close by, I hear the deep rumble of transport shuttles, and I know that the Praetorians are on my tail as well.

I can make out the rushing of the people. Many of them are Noble men, women or children. Most of them have never had to fight for their lives. They have lived a life of comfort and luxury, with servants and bodyguards to protect them and see to their needs. Even now, I see them huddling into little packs, like frightened dogs. Heads of families yelling at their retainers, or other family members, trying to find someone to blame. Some few start breaking down, realising that some of their family are still in the building.

When I land, the burning has stopped, but the air is no less menacing. The poisonous smell of burnt flesh and blood. I see bodies littering the ground. Some charred, and some few shot through with plasma boltors or gas-powered rifles. What happened here? Soldiers?

“This is much more than a bombing.” I turn to Cassandra, a worried look crosses her face for only a second as she takes in the horror of the scene.

A voice interrupts my thoughts.

“Excuse me, Sir. But, you need to leave. The Praetorians have ordered a perimeter to be secured, and no civilians are allowed within.” My gaze falls upon the man, and only then does he realise who I am.

I am Kaldratos Vixiua, Champion of Her Majesty Catherina. I outrank every man and woman aside from Catherina herself. I hold more power than anyone aside from Her Majesty and the members of the Royal Family.

His change is immediate. He falls to one knee, hand crossing over his chest. “Your Highness, my sincerest apologies, I was unaware it was you.” I nod past the pleasantries, grabbing the man and heaving him up.

“Who is your commander?” Years of discipline snap back into the man, and he salutes, and begins speaking at once.

“Sergeant Commandant Hellia Kingsley, Your Highness.” He turns on his heels and leads the way.

“I always love how the soldiers squirm when they realise who you are,” Cassandra drawls to me, a devilish smile on her face. Her sympathy evaporated in seconds to give way to wry amusement.

I ignore her, and follow the Praetorian. Behind me, I hear a low moan as Brandon arrives in his WAR-FRAME. The Nobles arguing with the Praetorians scatter like rabbits as they see the hulking military vehicles.

A pseudo-command-point had been set up in a transport shuttle. A dozen men and women are huddled inside, arguing and yelling at each other. There are no sentries as we stride through. No organisation or security. It’s a disgrace.

Silence dawns when I entered the shuttle. One by one they look up from their bickering and look to see me. Each and every one of them has heard of me. Most will have watched me from their holovids. They would have seen the romanticising of my battles, of my Triumphs. To them, I am a myth, a legend, and to see me in the flesh is something they will tell their children about.

“Status report?” I begin, I feel Cassandra roll her eyes at the lack of organization. The arguers scatter, all trying to get their reports and form some kind of coherent idea of the situation. All but one.

She salutes, “I am Sergeant Commandant Kingsley, Highness.” Her olive coloured lips reveal gleaming white teeth as she looks at me. “Thought you’d be taller.”

I allow a smile. She continues, leaving her advisors to fail to collect themselves.

“We originally thought the bombs were assassination attempts. Your Highness was targeted, as was Lord Calliar Cersey.” That takes me aback for a second. Cersey? He’s one of the few Nobles that wants better rights for the Commoners. Why would anyone associated with them target him? “Both you and he are prime targets for the Resistance, who we think are the man perpetrators behind this attack. However, our original assessment has been disproven. There are assailants holding the remaining survivors as hostages.”

She glances to the side. “There are a hundred and fifty-seven survivors. Thirty-one of those are of the Nobility, the rest are their attendants. There are forty-five armed hostiles, our analysis has determined that they are the Haegis Demons, an Executor unit.”

“An Executor unit? Here? Why the hell would an Executor unit be working with the Surface Dwellers?” Cassandra snorts. Kingsley opens her mouth, but is interrupted before she speaks.

“Kaldratos,” Octavian taps my shoulder. I turn, and look past him. What I see makes me flinch. I go to one knee, within a breath everyone else has followed suit.

“Your Majesty,” I speak, as I am the highest rank. “May I ask why Her Majesty’s own sister has come here?”

Why are you here?

“Kaldratos,” Her voice brings the promise of tears, and only then do I realise. Her son, he must be with the hostages.

“I’ll bring him back, Genna.” I whisper, so that only she can hear. She nods back at me, and then turns away, her husband is the only one who may see her tears.

“Please,” She whispers, and then more loudly. “Kaldratos Vixiua, as Champion of Her Majesty, my sister, it is your duty to eradicate these enemies of the Imperium. You speak in Her Majesty’s name, let all who disobey you know that they disobey my sister, and such an act means death.” She strides away. The two women are very different. Genna is softer, loving and kind. When one meets her, they are enamoured by her love for all. All think her kinder than Catherina, wrongly. Catherina is fire, furious and commanding. If it was one of her children captured, she’d personally lead the rescue team to free them.

I turn back to Hellia, swift in executing my orders. “Send a message to the Invictis. I want a hundred of my Deathtroopers here within an hour.”

I look to Octavian and pull him and Cassandra to the side. When they hear that Vespallian is a hostage, they both go pale.

Crown Prince Vespallian, only eight years old. I have barely begun to teach him how to use a pulseblade. He is a kind child, yet I know that it won’t last long in this world. He would someday rule an Empire, kindness was a flaw in one who had to control the lives of trillions.

Hellia draws close, a question upon her lips. I shake my head, “Classified information, Sergeant. Once my soldiers arrive you and your Praetorians will need to vacate the area.” She raises an eyebrow at that, but does not question it.

I leave the shuttle, my retainers behind me. The rest of my Knights were assigned to Invictis, overseeing my fleet while it held within the orbit of Capitallium. Everywhere I looked, an air of tension and fear was held by the Praetorians. They were used to dealing with bombs, with hostage situations and criminals. They were not used to seeing a First Knight Royal.

“I wonder what they want,” Octavian mused. Cassandra makes a dismissive noise. But I don’t miss her gip tightening on her pulseblade. For all her air of hardness, she cares for the Crown Prince as much as the rest of us.

“They cannot know it is him,” I whisper to her. She nods, but her eyes dart towards the building. Like a fearful deer waiting for the predator to come out of the woods.

I walk towards the captain of the perimeter. Hundreds of Praetorians line the formation. Rifles aimed at the building. Strategical analysts argue the best approach of breach: where they should send their troops, approximate casualty rates of their soldiers, civilians. Everything. All oblivious to the knowledge that they are now playing in a game far superior to them.

“I wonder who orchestrated this, because it sure as hell wasn’t the Resistance.” Lord Calliar Cersey’s voice carries over the guardsmen. None of them acknowledge our conversation. It is a topic that they had no business in, and so they turned themselves off to it.

I pull Cersey to the side, dragging him to where Brandon and Jascol wait with their Frames. He glances at me, showing a worried smile. He is not a handsome man, age has taken that from him. But his sharp face still looks menacing and predatory to all who look at it. It suits him fantastically, as he’s a man who breaks families as others break sticks.

I have Brandon scan for any bugs or cameras. Only when I’m satisfied do I speak. “We both know that the Resistance can’t get this far. The Haegis Demons, aren’t even supposed to be alive. They all died in the Atmospheric Invasion of Uraeli.” I told him this, because I know he is loyal. Because he is not my enemy, not today. He mused for a minute, making a show of it, fingers stroking his chin.

“Records can be changed, so can names. Deaths can be faked. It isn’t uncommon for Executor units to go rogue and try to make money for themselves, selling themselves as mercenaries. Hell, it’s how most of the lowbloods protect themselves, by hiring deserter Executors.” He turns away, looking at the building. Brandon bristles at the derogatory term for the Lower Nobility, but I ease his anger with a pat of the arm.

He looks at me with a playful smile. “The question, Kaldratos, is who knew that the Crown Prince was inside that building?” Almost immediately my retainers have their pulseblades drawn. Cersey smiles, loving the theatrics of it all.

“Oh please, I am Lord Sovereign of Heraea. I am of the gens Cersey. Of course, I know. Though, today, I’m not your enemy. Today I am as much a victim as you, and our dear Crown Prince.” His smile dies on his lips.

“The next few weeks will be bloody. You know what this means. A Purge. Nobody’s supposed to know the exact location of any of our Royal family, which means thousands will die. Some guilty, most not.” He wrinkles his nose in what I think is disgust. “So inefficient.” He looks up as we hear a rumble.

A single shuttle comes through the atmospheric shield of the city. It bears the circle of nineteen swords with a crown in the center. The sigil of House Vixiua, my soldiers have arrived.

Cersey sighs, leaning against Brandon’s limegreen Frame. “One must wonder whether killing more people is going to solve all this death.” He gives me a pointed look, and then walks away, tapping his ear and speaking to someone on the other side.

“Bastard. Wouldn’t shock me for a second if he did this.” Cassandra fumes. I am already moving towards the shuttle that just landed.

The ramp slides down, and a hundred of the most heavily armoured and best trained soldiers in the universe march off. Each one is armed with a pulserifle, a plasma boltor, micro-rockets on their wrists and a durasteel blade for close quarters. A select few of them carry Obliterator rifles, which work similarly to the Frame that is their namesake. They would fire small explosive rounds; dozens of them per shot, fantastic at destroying walls, or formations of enemies. They are armed in red and black Shockforce Gear, some of the best armour that the Imperium had to offer.

And today they are going to earn their name.