Schism of Blood and Stone (The Starfield Theory Book 1) (46 page)

Lord Damien Sten

Duke of Hidelborg, Defender of the Border, The Gray Knight

Crimson Lady,
Goteborg, Magdeborg Commonwealth

______________

When the
Crimson
reemerged at the Goteborg nadir point, the Azuren immediately sent patrol vessels to intercept. Their pilots demanded the ship stop and allow boarding parties to conduct their investigations. They were quite insistent, but after several terse conversations between Damien, Conrad and Dietrich and the Goteborg legate, the patrol ships were called off and the
Crimson
continued on her way to Goteborg Prime.

Most of the Dominion fleet that had carried Pershing and his allies here had been dispersed across the solar system and unable to mount an effective defense. Two small Dominion frigates moved out of orbit around Goteborg and fled to rejoin the main fleet. Behind him came the remainder of the Goteborg Defense Fleet, enough firepower to decimate the Dominion and hold Goteborg's system long enough to do what he'd come for.

An hour ago, several drop ships had been dispatched from the
Crimson
and were a few minutes from landing. Two of them were loaded with the Sten House Guard, fully rearmed, repaired and prepared for a fight. However, Damien was not about to order them into combat. They were there only to assist the Goteborg survivors in evacuating by providing them adequate cover fire. Then they would conduct an orderly withdrawal from the planet utilizing the
Crimson
and the civilian ships Damien had bribed or coerced into service.

At least, that was the plan.

“Nothing ever goes exactly to plan,” Damien murmured to himself.

“What?” Conrad looked up.

Damien blinked, suddenly remembering that his uncle was in the room. Conrad sat on the other side of his shuttle on a couch that had seen better days. Damien would have preferred to take one of his own shuttles, but the arrival of the army's Lord General on board a Sten House Guard ship seemed so much more symbolic. Conrad was correct in that regard.

Dietrich Sørensen stood at the window, watching silently. Damien nearly warned the man that the burn through the planet's atmosphere would be treacherous, especially for one so advanced in years, but Dietrich seemed to have no trouble and he'd have angrily refused Damien's advice. He had a replacement cane, but declined to use it.
Stubborn bastard,
Damien thought.

“Nothing, I was just thinking aloud,” Damien said, then leaned back in the chair. “Just thinking about the welcoming we're going to receive.”

“Has Aaron been in touch with you about the defenses?” Conrad asked.

“No. He knows to keep radio silence. The danger that messages would be intercepted by the Dominion – or the Azuren – is too great. He will deliver that report in person.”

“If he's still alive,” Conrad said quietly.

Damien shot him a look. Of course, the possibility that Aaron had been killed had crossed his mind, but he refused to allow himself to ponder it. Even though he spent hours watching the jumping flames, his mind would not think of contingencies as if it didn't want to accept Aaron's mortality. He was, after all, the closest thing Damien had to an heir. Damien had grown fond of the young man and helped train him while he was away from his late family. His daughter, Rebecca, was still too young. As much as he wanted, even considering begging Conrad Sten, he could not go back for her. For Ithix's sake, Salena may have found her already and killed both her and Anna. For a moment, Damien felt dizzy and gripped the edge of the couch to stabilize himself. To lose any of Aaron, Anna or Rebecca would be devastating. To lose all of them would be unthinkable. He might end up like his sister-in-law, Ciara Sten, babbling to herself and moaning endlessly on the frigid wasteland that was Anarrk.

Damien pushed the thoughts from his mind. Now was not the time. “Yes. He is a good warrior and a capable captain. I'm sure he has left us something to work with.”

“The cities are burning, Damien,” Dietrich remarked quietly from his post at the window. “We were not able to avoid civilian casualties I fear.”

“Aaron probably mobilized the militias to supplement his forces,” Conrad said. “Even if he had all of the border troops at his command, he'd still be outnumbered. Even with the Guard and the few Sørensen warriors we have with us we'd be hard pressed to match Pershing in numbers,” Conrad sighed deeply. “I'm still amazed someone could coordinate his release and transport. Someone somewhere screwed up very badly.”

Damien nodded. The fact that Pershing had been sprung from a prison convoy was bad enough, but that someone had actually been able to get him across the border was even worse. Now here he was, leading troops against Damien once again. Capturing Pershing at was a major victory, one that should have knocked the Dominion out of the war. But Pershing's subordinates kept the army intact and now he was back at its head. He would be intrigued to see how Aaron fared against him. Aaron was no pushover, but Pershing was his better in every way. The report would not be good.

The shuttle slowed and veered in for a landing. They would set down in a military camp with a company of the Guard and send the remaining sections to other smaller units across the planet. The evacuation ships would land a few hours from now, after Damien had surveyed the situation. No doubt Pershing knew there were incoming ships, likely bringing reinforcements, but Damien hoped the empty evacuation ships would fool Pershing long enough and prevent him from making a last ditch push to annihilate the troops on the ground. It was a gamble that might just give them enough time to complete the evacuation.

The shuttle bumped as it landed on the uneven ground. Damien sighed and stood, feeling his vertebrae crack and pop. The pressures of atmospheric travel and high burn space travel were taking their toll. Damien didn't quite consider himself old, but he was not the young warrior he once was. The weight of the previous month's activities rested heavily on his shoulders and it was beginning to drag him down.

Damien led the two other nobles out of the ship onto the soft grass of Goteborg. The sun felt wonderful on Damien's face. Being cooped up in a star ship for so long was beginning to take its toll, but now Damien felt oddly at peace, despite being on a planet ravaged by war. He took a deep breath, thankful for something other than the recycled air he'd been breathing.

A few steps away were the officers in charge of the planet's defense who had gathered when they spotted the shuttle. Aaron stood at the center, Reyna on his right and Slader on his left. They all looked tired. Even Slader who at times appeared robotic in his demeanor, seemed to have had the wind taken from his sails. Aaron seemed to be purposefully ignoring both of them and Damien wondered what sort of confrontation had occurred between them. Even further from their group stood Lady Evers. Her back was to him and she looked across the plains at the other ships touching down and discharging destriers and other vehicles.

There were a few individuals noticeably missing.

“Where is Archduke Kristoffer? And the Princess Claire?” Dietrich asked, cutting directly to the point.

“Back at the base being kept under guard,” Aaron answered without much emotion.

Damien wondered if “under guard” meant “in custody.”

“We should see them as soon as possible. They don't know, yet,” Damien said.

Dietrich nodded. “Colonel, take me there immediately.”

Aaron looked at Damien for direction. He was now the ranking military officer on planet and Aaron once again deferred to his orders. “Have Reyna do it. I need a situation report.”

Reyna seemed disappointed that she had been assigned to babysit the Sørensen. Aaron waved her off and Dietrich followed her with a youthful cantor Damien had not seen in the man in years.

Aaron fell in step with Damien as he marched towards Lady Evers. Slader followed more slowly at a distance like a pet that knew it had done something wrong.

“Walk the Path, my Lady,” Damien said softly as he neared the Evers matriarch. He was uncomfortable with the religious greeting, but the Evers were a religious house. It rolled off the tongue now.

She turned to face the trio of Sten warriors. Tears had wet her face, but she still carried herself with grace. She seemed to be carrying the weight of the planet on her shoulders and they sagged visibly.

“You have arrived in time to save Goteborg, but not to save my family,” she said.

Damien took a breath. “You have my condolences. I arrived with all possible speed, but my sister's plans slowed us considerably. How bad are your losses?”

“Most of the professional sections have been broken and the militias are crushed. I don't think they even have a company of household troops left,” Slader cut in.

Aaron shot him a look of disgust at his abrupt interruption. Slader didn't bother to return the look.

“I am sorry, Lady. I am sure Amrah has taken your lost warriors into Paradise,” Damien said, invoking the Goddess he knew the Evers worshiped.

Lady Evers grunted. “Those words are empty coming from a Vagabond like you. We are finished and there is nothing left to save. Only Goteborg.”

Damien cleared his throat, awkwardly, ignoring the jab. “My Lady, I am very sorry to hear of your losses. I am sure we can help you rebuild-”

“Rebuild? Can you bring the dead back to life, my lord?” She asked, arms crossed.

Damien sniffed in indignation.

“My heir is dead. My daughter and over a hundred thousand others were murdered by Pershing's Vertoxx gas. Your own lieutenant,” she accused, pointing at Slader, “butchered an entire village of my people to prove a point.”

Damien raised his eyebrows in surprise. He looked over at Slader who didn't have the decency to appear ashamed.

“Is this true, Slader?” Damien asked him, though he already knew the answer.

“They harbored our enemies, my lord. They sealed their fate. We killed them and the Dominion warriors they protected,” Slader boasted.

Damien sighed inwardly. Aaron could not contain his cousin. His actions reflected on Damien and his army.
Slader has gone out of control. I'll have to think of a creative way to punish him at the appropriate time.

“My lady, I am very sad to hear of the loss of your children. They were valiant people. I promise you, Sir Slader will certainly pay for his indiscretion on the field and, I suspect, indiscretion elsewhere.”

“Uncle,” Slader began, his voice suddenly cowed.

“Enough. Get out of here,” Damien snapped at him.

Slader growled and whirled, his black and red cape fluttering angrily after him.

Slader's
done enough damage. What's the point of the people fearing Pershing if they fear us just as much.

“My lady, perhaps we should see to the defense of your world,” Damien said. Indicating the command tent. “Let's see what Sir Aaron has left us to work with.”

Sir Magnus Teton-Sten

Knight Scion of House Teton, The Iron-Handed

Sten Palace, Magdeborg, Magdeborg Commonwealth

______________

Years ago, Magnus had stumbled upon a book, an illegal one according to the Azuren, about the benefits of properly kept gardens. Magnus couldn't recall why the book had initially drawn his interest, he was a soldier, he shouldn't care about gardens. Maybe he had a secret green thumb or maybe the thought of defying the will of the Azuren just intrigued him. He thought for a moment and recalled the foreign word:
kaiyu-shiki
, a strolling garden. It was included in some sort of ages-old philosophy about spiritual well being. Paths and bridges made of stone took the observer on a trek through the gardens. Uneven surfaces prompted the observer to look down at specific points, while other paths were intended for the observer to look up at ornaments or trees. The entire purpose of the garden was the improvement of the observers' spirit. The book claimed the best warriors were able to achieve sound body and mind. Some warriors wrote poetry, others painted and some philosophized. Perhaps that's why the Azuren banned such things, they encouraged too much thinking.

One of these gardens had been built centuries earlier near the Sten palace, probably by some existential Sørensen, though Magnus had avoided it. According to Azuren law, it shouldn't have existed, but the Sten family had been known to snub their noses at the Azuren from time to time. Training regimens, military operations and other political duties had distracted his attention elsewhere for the last few weeks. But Kendra Mason had specifically requested that he meet her here. At first, Magnus hesitated, wondering what his soldiers would think if they knew he was traipsing around a garden, but then relented. He was still fostering his relationship with Kendra so if she wanted to meet him here then so be it.

He stepped onto the first of the stone blocks, indicating the beginning of the path. He tried to remember what the book had told him. The path was like a journey. He would begin in one place, end in another and, somewhere in the middle, experience an epiphany or a change in character. At least that's what the book claimed.
I wonder if that's what Kendra has in mind. Has she sensed my hesitation?

He walked along the path, passing brilliant plants and huge blooming flowers. The dirt around them had been carefully raked to represent waves or were they rays of sunlight? He passed koi ponds where huge fish swam lazily. He regarded them with a kind of detached interest. They regarded him not at all.

He walked across a stone bridge and saw her sitting in a small clearing on a stone bench. She was swirling a picked flower in her fingers, blinking softly and studying its contours and form. He remembered suddenly the last time they met when she said she spent much of her studies on Aarhus' gardens. Perhaps she simply felt comfortable here.

She wore a conservative purple dress and a black blouse, the colors of House Mason.
If mother gets her way, and she will, she'll be wearing gold and blue shortly.

Magnus paused on the bridge, one hand on the rail the other at his side. Normally it would have resting on the hilt of a sword or the grip of a side arm, but he thought carrying weapons here might defeat the purpose of the garden. He did, however, insist on the military uniform. It was as much a part of his persona as anything else. Like the garden, the military had rules, procedures and expectations and even practiced war as a sort of art.

He took a breath then walked towards her. The motion caught her eye an she looked up and smiled at him. “Good evening, Magnus,” she said sweetly.

“Evening,” he said awkwardly. It hadn't quiet reached that point where he felt she was a part of his inner circle. He scoffed at himself. Inner circles were for shadowy politicians and military officers. She was neither. But what was she exactly? What role did Salena intend for her to play?

“I haven't seen you in a while,” she said. “Have you been busy?”

Magnus nodded, then took a seat next to her. “We've been trying to root out the last of the Sørensens. I've been getting out to the field when I can, usually when mother is busy. They've been raiding supply lines, taking weapons and ammunition and generally being a nuisance. Casualties haven't been high, but they're noticeable. Thankfully they have not targeted the civilian population.”

“Oh,” she said, placing the flower in her lap. “That's good. Killing serves no purpose but that of Amrah's sins. At least that's what my teacher had me learn.”

“My mother is worried that it will get worse. She will let me go into the field again to track them down,” Magnus said showing a degree of warmth at Kendra's chill. She looked distracted.

Kendra shrugged, seemed uncomfortable with the subject, then promptly changed it. “I spoke with her the other day. We chatted.”

Magnus frowned. Salena didn't just chit chat, especially not with her future daughter-in-law. She was shaping her for something.

“What did you two talk about?” He asked, fishing for information. Some instinct of his immediately wondered if Salena had carefully instructed, or just implied, that Kendra should share the contents of their conversation. Or maybe she knew she would anyway.

“Lots of things,” she began, looking at him with those beautiful eyes. “You were right. She wants to push up the wedding.”

“Two weeks is too soon,” Magnus muttered then blushed. “I didn't mean-”

“I know. It's okay to be afraid, Magnus,” she said. “I am.”

“Of what?”

She took a deep breath. “Ever since I was a girl, it was drilled into my head that I was to marry a prince. This was my purpose one day and now that day is coming sooner than I ever believed. What will happen to me afterward? Will I have served my purpose and let out to pasture? What if I can't do what's expected of me? What if I fail? What if, I don't know, what if one of us is killed? You're the next Archduke of the Commonwealth and that means I'm the next Archduchess. Back on Aarhus it was hard to think about that; it seemed so far away, you know? But now that I'm here in the palace, in the gardens, it's suddenly hit home. And I'm afraid,” she said.

Magnus felt a pang of regret in his gut. She wasn't here to make a statement, to challenge him or House Sten. She did not have a political agenda, she was afraid like any other sane person might be. She looked into the future, which might have been frightening enough in itself, but all she saw was fog. Maybe Archduke Peter's funeral was still fresh in her mind. She was here looking for a friend, someone with whom she could share her fears. Normally she might have gone to Cassandra, but she choose instead to find him.

Magnus slowly put an arm around her shoulders and she sank into him. Her head rested on his chest.

Magnus debated what to say. Was she looking for sympathy or honesty? Did she need his help, or just someone to vent at? Magnus opened and closed his mouth several times, then, finally: “I know this is new to you. It's new to me as well. Once we are married things will settle down. You will be the Archduchess and whatever you do will be solid gold. That's how it works. The people will love their duchess.”

“But what then? What if they don't? What if they hate me, what will I do?”

“You will be expected to show complete loyalty to the house and to the Commonwealth. You will appear by my side at state dinners, Conclave assemblies and the like. I guarantee that you will not simply be used as a factory to churn out heirs, though I guess that will be expected, too. You, like me, were groomed for this position for the last twenty-five years. You might have been intended as a gift for Arthur Sten and that family, but they're long gone. You won't be tossed aside like Ciara Sten was. Things will be different now. I can promise you that.”

Kendra sighed, but ceased shuddering. “What if I screw this up?”

“I won't let that happen. You come from one of the most powerful families in the Commonwealth. You have the best education money can buy, and, what's more, you have a good head on your shoulders. You won't commit the same mistakes made by those of lesser character,” Magnus said. “You'll be just fine.”

“I hope so,” Kendra said recovering. She sat up, composed herself and sighed. “Walk with me?”

She stood and offered her hand. Magnus smiled and took it gently. They strolled through the gardens for a few moments silently. She felt safe here. They passed through the warm night, arm in arm. Magnus watched her curiously.

Before Magnus could stop himself, he asked, “What do you want for yourself?”

Kendra blinked. She'd never been asked that question before.

She looked away, embarrassed. “I wanted to make my parents happy.”

“But what do
you
want?”

She sighed deeply, thinking. “I think-” She paused and shook her head. “It's stupid.”

“No,” Magnus insisted. “What?”

She hesitated. “I just wanted to make it on my own. I've lived off my parents for years, totally reliant on them. And I think they want me to be totally reliant on you. I feel trapped and I don't like it. How am I supposed to be myself?”

Magnus nodded. “I think I know what you mean.”

“Do you? A great general, a warrior, a true nobleman?”

Magnus cleared his throat. “I didn't choose all that voluntarily. I am what I am because I was born into this culture. It wasn't merit, but blood. If it weren't for that I'd be nothing.”

“Then what are we supposed to do if our entire lives are based on the orders of others?” She asked.

Magnus was silent for a while as they walked across another bridge and around a bend in the path.
Neither of us got to where we are because of our own individual merits. She's afraid she's not worthy of the position she inherited,
Magnus realized.
And so am I.

“I don't know. I think we just have to do the best we can to be worthy of who we are.”

Kendra pulled him closer and nodded. “I think I can do that. I want to be a part of your family and I want to make the Commonwealth great as it once was.”

“That's all we can ever ask of you,” Magnus said. “One day, it will be our turn to rule. We can shape ourselves and our Commonwealth into anything we want.”