The council reconvened the following day.

  Only Starmist was absent. She had been granted leave to attend to her family matters, and Elysius was tasked with delivering the council transcripts to her personally. The remaining members sat in their respective seats, leafing through Cognisource and several local Silver Chair papers. Only Bjorn stood apart, leaning against the outer balcony, cigar smoldering between his fingers.

  Elysius had not prepared a heavy agenda. There was no need. They spoke only of what filled the papers. Though a week had passed, the destruction of Harbor District Six continued to dominate the headlines. Stability trembled, and House Star remained under the gaze of all All Realm.

  “Any word from Starmist about Starfall?” Leroy asked.

  “He remains under house confinement,” Amaterasu replied, idly examining her nails. “Nothing beyond that.”

  A red light ignited beside the chamber doors.

  Elysius noticed first. “Our guests have arrived.”

  “Let them in,” Leroy said, folding his newspaper.

  Bjorn stepped back inside. The council members set their papers aside, all except Cygnus, who continued reading as if the room had not changed. Elysius opened the doors. Moments later, he returned with three figures clad in the sigils of the Extraterrestrial faction.

  Leaders.

  Cygnus snapped his fingers.

  The round table expanded outward, the space between the council seats widening. The center of the table split open, and three chairs rose from below, perfectly aligned beneath the central light.

  Lord Umbrion of House Umbranova.

  Lord Necrit of House Necilor.

  Lady Pharsa of House Phorist.

  They took their seats.

  With a subtle gesture, Cygnus sealed every window in the chamber. Outside light vanished. Darkness swallowed the room, leaving only a single, intense overhead lamp illuminating the three lords. The council became silhouettes, watching from shadow.

  Leroy inclined his head slightly. “Please. Be seated.”

  Then, his voice cut cleanly through the gloom.

  “So,” he said, his face half-lit, half-lost to darkness, “what concern brings you here, my lords, my lady?”

  The three representatives offered formal thanks to the six council members for granting them audience at Caelumreach. Lord Umbrion spoke first. His tone was measured, respectful, and entirely prepared.

  Nothing he said surprised the council.

  He spoke of Harbor District Six. Of instability. Of losses. Of House Star. Every detail mirrored the newspapers, though framed through the lens of the Extraterrestrial faction.

  When he finished, he leaned forward slightly.

  “Honored council,” Lord Umbrion said, “with House Star currently unstable, we believe it prudent that another House temporarily assumes responsibility for trade operations.”

  Silence followed.

  Amaterasu leaned close to Leroy and whispered something unheard. Cygnus continued reading, unbothered. Bjorn sat back in shadow, cigar smoke coiling toward the ceiling. Lucretius stared sideways, refusing to meet the guests’ eyes. Elysius wrote without pause.

  Leroy clasped his hands beneath his chin.

  “So,” he said calmly, “you are volunteering yourselves?”

  Lord Umbrion inclined his head slightly.

  “Of course, Lord Leroy. As you know, my House stands as the most prosperous after House Star. The same is true for House Neclior and House Phorist. Our trade volumes have risen steadily over the past few years.”

  Bjorn’s voice emerged from the darkness, low and distant. He sat far from the table, little more than a silhouette.

  “And the other Houses? Are they know of this initiative?”

  “The situation is sudden, Professor Bjorn,” Lady Pharsa replied. “There was no time to gather everyone. Trade has already stalled.”

  “That is precisely why we chose to speak to the council first,” Lord Necrit added smoothly. “As the highest authority in All Realm.”

  Leroy’s gaze sharpened as it moved from one lord to the next.

  “And if we allow it,” he said evenly, “and the other Houses reject your claim to assume control?”

  Lord Necrit smiled again, the gesture practiced.

  “With respect, Lord Leroy, I see no reason they would question us. Especially if the mandate comes directly from the council.”

  “Then we merely wait,” Amaterasu said, lips curling into a sharp, unpleasant smile, “for the other Houses to arrive here and voice their objections.”

  The overhead light hummed faintly.

  “Reconstruction of the harbor will take time,” Leroy continued. “You’ve already diverted trade to other ports, haven’t you?”

  “Yes,” Lady Pharsa answered. “But the transportation costs are heavy for several kingdoms.”

  “We are willing to subsidize those costs,” Lord Umbrion said promptly, “if the council appoints us as interim replacements.”

  Silence settled across the chamber.

  Amaterasu drew her chair closer to Leroy and leaned in, whispering behind her hand. Cygnus shifted his attention at last, his eyes lifting from the paper to Lucretius, who sat rigid, as if weighing whether to speak.

  The Fallen Knight turned his chair slightly, the scrape of metal quiet but deliberate.

  “Then what comes next?” Lucretius asked.

  The three of them turned slowly, their eyes drawn to where Lucretius sat.

  “What do you mean by after, General Lucretius?” Lord Umbrion asked, choosing his words with care.

  Bjorn answered for him, his voice drifting out of the shadows. “He means this. When House Star resolves its internal conflict and you step down as temporary stewards, what will you do then?”

  Silence.

  The three Extraterrestrial nobles exchanged brief glances. Each of them understood the danger of this moment. A careless answer could invite Amaterasu’s fire, Lucretius’s blade, or Cygnus’s magic.

  “At that point,” Lord Umbrion said at last, “we would discuss the transition directly with House Star.”

  Bjorn laughed softly. “Then why not bring this noble initiative to Lord Star in the first place, instead of walking straight into Caelumreach?”

  “As we said, Professor,” Lord Necrit replied, irritation flickering beneath his restraint, “time was not a luxury we possessed.”

  Leroy leaned forward slightly. “Let me ask it another way. If, in the coming months, you perform well, and other Houses begin to support you, would you still submit to House Star when the time comes?”

  Elysius stiffened.

  For a heartbeat, his yellow eyes glowed. He activated his foresight, peering ahead to catch the edge of what might be said next. When the vision ended, he quietly set aside his pen and paper, no longer writing, only watching. Whatever he had seen was not meant to be recorded.

  Lady Pharsa answered, her tone smooth. “We would still submit to House Star once they return. But… the future is never certain.”

  Amaterasu and Elysius exchanged a glance and smiled, the same thin smile from opposite sides of the table.

  Leroy jotted several notes and continued, voice calm. “And if those Houses chose to support one of you permanently?”

  “Then the outcome would speak for itself,” Lord Umbrion replied, spreading his hands. “Would it not, Lord Leroy?”

  The air shifted.

  Lucretius spoke from behind them, his voice low and close enough to raise the hair on their necks. “So this is an ambition.”

  Bjorn pointed toward the Fallen Knight, then toward the three nobles. “General is correct. This is your real intention. While acting as replacements, you intend to gather alliances. To rise while House Star is weakened.”

  Lady Pharsa drew a steady breath before speaking again.

  “Professor, honored members of the council. Our presence here is an act of goodwill. We seek to correct the imbalance that has fallen upon All Realm.”

  Lord Umbrion followed smoothly. “Lord Leroy, as the head of Unus Bank, you above all must understand the danger to All Realm if this crisis is not addressed swiftly.”

  “I understand it very well,” Leroy replied evenly. “But I must also know who would bear responsibility for the Extraterrestrial faction in the interim. Whether they intend to restore stability… or exploit this moment for personal gain.”

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  Bjorn shifted his chair closer to the table, the scrape of metal breaking the silence.

  “So let us be direct. If given the chance, this is what you desire, isn’t it? To lead the wealthiest faction in All Realm.”

  The three nobles fell silent.

  They steadied their breathing, thoughts racing. They could not confer. They could not hedge too long. The council waited, unmoving, patient in a way that felt predatory.

  Lucretius murmured, almost to himself, “Remarkable. A faction with the weakest combat force dares speak of ambition before us.”

  The words were meant for Cygnus and Elysius alone, seated at his sides. But Lady Pharsa caught enough of it to feel a chill crawl up her spine.

  Bjorn broke the pause.

  “Let us be clear, my lords, my lady. We know where you came from. It was Lord Star who brought you into this sphere of trade. He gave you not merely survival, but luxury. Do you now intend to bite the hand that fed you so generously?”

  Lord Umbrion met his gaze. “We remember that debt, Professor. But you must also understand the internal state of House Star. Both sons are unstable.”

  “For the survival of our faction,” Lord Necrit added, “a future under stable leadership is our hope.”

  Lady Pharsa inclined her head. “How can our faction endure when the next heir of House Star shows no care for the legacy he was born into?”

  For a moment, the council fell into contemplative silence.

  Succession was a wound they all recognized. Even those who ruled by might eventually faced it. The concern was not foreign to them. But sympathy could not be allowed to surface now.

  Amaterasu spoke first. “Very well. If the council were to oversee this process directly, would you accept that condition?”

  Lord Umbrion frowned. “If you intend to deploy additional Vanguard, I fear the result may resemble what happened with Starfall, Lady Amaterasu.”

  Her eyes flashed. “We have twelve distinct Vanguard divisions. I will not send my brother, as you well know he is… problematic. Oversight will be fair and transparent.”

  “It would be preferable,” Lord Umbrion replied, carefully, “if we handled this ourselves. We would not wish to burden the council further.”

  Leroy’s voice cut in, calm but unyielding.

  “We have hands and eyes everywhere, my lord, my lady. There is no such thing as burdening the council.”

  Cygnus folded his newspaper and set it upon the table. He brought his palms together, fingers interlaced, and finally looked at the three of them fully. The shift was subtle, yet the pressure in the room changed at once.

  The three Extraterrestrial nobles turned toward him, their movements stiff, almost mechanical.

  “Despite the foolishness of his son,” Cygnus said coldly, “the council’s trust in House Star remains absolute.”

  Leroy and Elysius lifted their cups and drank, unhurried. Amaterasu and Bjorn leaned back in their chairs. Lucretius no longer watched the guests. His attention was fixed on Cygnus now, as was Elysius’s.

  “We understand, Master Spellbane,” the three said together, nodding faintly.

  Cygnus smiled and clapped his hands once, softly. “Good. Then thank you for your time. The council will deliberate and assign roles appropriate to your capacities regarding this matter.”

  He was about to snap his fingers and restore the light.

  “Wait,” Lord Necrit said.

  The word escaped him before he could restrain it. His voice was not angry, but it trembled just enough to halt the meeting.

  “We wish to know,” he continued, forcing steadiness into his tone, “is your faith in House Star rooted in… past debts?”

  Elysius pressed his temples with both hands. Amaterasu’s expression darkened at once. Bjorn leaned forward to speak, but Cygnus raised a single hand, silencing him.

  “My lords, my lady,” Cygnus asked calmly, “what do you believe was the purpose of inviting you here today?”

  “To negotiate the matter of interim stewardship of the Extraterrestrial faction,” Lord Umbrion replied, his voice tired but still searching.

  Cygnus sipped his tea.

  “Did you truly believe,” he said, setting the cup down, “that you were invited here to receive permission for one of you to become the new head of the Extraterrestrial faction?”

  The silence that followed was heavy.

  “We invited you,” Cygnus continued, his tone measured and precise, “to remind you of your boundaries. To ensure your faction does not attempt to depose House Star and further burden the council during an already fragile time.”

  The words struck cleanly.

  The three nobles sagged in their seats, color draining from their faces. Around them, the council remained still. No one interrupted. Cygnus’s voice was the last that needed to be heard.

  “Replacing House Star while they are unstable is not an option,” he said. “It is a necessity. But that necessity belongs to all Houses, not merely the three of you.”

  None of them replied.

  They could not.

  Bjorn cleared his throat. “I believe Lord Umbrion, Lord Necrit, and Lady Pharsa have conveyed their intentions clearly enough.”

  Cygnus snapped his fingers.

  Light flooded back into the chamber. The table reshaped itself, opening a clear path for the three guests to depart.

  Lucretius rose, one hand resting on Adamsword. He watched them pass with his head held high, eyes lowered just enough to be unmistakable.

  Elysius moved swiftly to open the doors.

  As the three nobles stepped toward the exit, Cygnus called their names.

  “One more thing,” Cygnus added, his voice carrying just far enough to follow them. “If you insist on pursuing what has already been forbidden, Vanguard units will be dispatched to each of your mansion.”

  The three nobles answered only with stiff nods and shallow bows.

  Elysius watched their faces as they turned away, each expression different, yet united by a single truth. These are the faces of the dead, he thought. Men already slain, long before a blade is drawn.

  “We thank you for your time, my lords, my lady,” Elysius said aloud.

  They replied with thin, bitter smiles and departed. Elysius closed the door behind them and leaned back against it, exhaling slowly.

  “Did it really have to go that far?” he asked.

  Cygnus reopened his newspaper. “They came with thoughts of a coup. If we do not extinguish the fire now, it will become a wildfire.”

  “They have no honor,” Amaterasu added sharply. “Given wealth and power by Lord Star, yet they still reach higher. They deserved exactly what they received.”

  Reconstruction began at Harbor District Six.

  Commonfolk workers cleared rubble, sealed fractures in stone and steel, repaired the hulls of surviving ships, and searched the debris for anything salvageable. Relics. Cryon batteries. Anything that might still be recovered. Weapon Masters, Cogworks engineers, and Sorcerers stood watch, overseeing the labor. Work continued from dawn until nightfall, urgency driving every motion.

  A portal of pale light bloomed at the harbor’s main gate.

  Cygnus stepped through first, followed by Amaterasu. The fire goddess inhaled sharply, the scent of scorched metal still thick in the air. Leroy emerged next, then Elysius, Bjorn, and finally Lucretius. The portal remained open behind them.

  The workers froze.

  Tools fell silent. Every eye turned toward the council, awe and fear mingling openly on their faces.

  Amaterasu glanced at Leroy. “If we rebuild it exactly as it was, how long?”

  “Six months,” Leroy answered after surveying the damage. “Assuming no further complications.”

  Bjorn lit his cigar. “Why rebuild the same ruin when we can make something better?”

  “Lord Star and Lord Umbrion once intended to do exactly that,” Leroy said.

  “Yes,” Amaterasu laughed dryly, “though after today, I doubt that vision.”

  “I have seen enough,” Cygnus said. He turned and walked back through the portal toward Caelumreach. “Those of you overseeing this, do not involve yourselves too deeply. Let the factions handle their own mess.”

  Amaterasu planted her hands on her hips, grinning. “Yes, yes. No need to repeat it. We’re not deaf.”

  Cygnus nodded. “Bjorn, when you’re finished, I’ll close the portal.”

  Bjorn turned to follow, then grabbed Elysius by the back of his collar, dragging him toward the gate.

  “Hey,” Elysius protested. “What are you doing?”

  “You have other work,” Bjorn snapped. “We don’t have time for sightseeing.”

  “Handle Cognisource first,” Elysius shot back, eyes blazing. “I can get there in an instant.”

  Bjorn’s hands clenched into fists. Irritation flared openly as he glared down at the younger man. “You are infuriatingly slow to learn. I swear, I’ll keep teaching you until the day I die.”

  “Bjorn. Elysius.” Cygnus’s voice cut through the air from within the portal. “Do not argue in public.”

  Lucretius and Leroy stood side by side, arms folded, watching the argument between the two Cognisource overseers unfold. Neither spoke. Amaterasu, by contrast, seemed uninterested. Her gaze lingered on the scorched steel, the half-melted beams, the skeleton of a harbor still bleeding smoke.

  Nearby, several commonfolk workers exchanged uneasy glances.

  “Why are they arguing?” one welder whispered.

  “No idea,” the foreman muttered back. “Better not stare.”

  Leroy eventually broke the tension, reminding Elysius that he was expected at the Stargate to deliver the council records to Starmist. Elysius hesitated, clearly wanting to stay longer, but Bjorn seized him by the arm and dragged him toward the portal. Cygnus closed it behind them.

  Amaterasu walked ahead without looking back. Leroy and Lucretius followed, moving deeper into the harbor toward the heart of the destruction.

  Even with Leroy present, the workers could not hide their fear. The presence of Amaterasu and Lucretius heat up also chilled the air at the same time. Hands shook. Focus slipped. Tools slowed.

  Lucretius walked straight ahead, only occasionally flicking his gaze left or right. Each time he did, the commonfolk who met his eyes looked away at once. He drew a slow breath.

  “So,” he said evenly, “what does the Abyss sell here?”

  “Mining output,” Leroy replied beside him. “You know that, right?”

  Amaterasu glanced back over her shoulder. “Lucretius, you really shouldn’t know only war.”

  Lucretius did not answer. Neither did Leroy.

  They stopped before a large warehouse used as a temporary rest area. Lucretius pushed the doors open with both hands.

  Inside, the reaction was immediate.

  Workers jumped to their feet. Some froze. Others fled outright, scrambling past crates and benches to escape. Amaterasu and Leroy entered behind him.

  “Hey,” Leroy barked, irritation cutting through his calm. “What is wrong with all of you? We’re just visiting.”

  The supervisor rushed forward and threw himself to the floor, bowing deeply before the three council members. He begged forgiveness, convinced that some failure in the reconstruction had summoned them here.

  Amaterasu scowled. “Stand up,” she ordered. “Don’t kneel without reason.”

  The man rose shakily.

  Leroy glanced at the name stitched on the man’s pocket. “Fred. That’s your name, correct?”

  Fred nodded.

  “General Lucretius is here to speak with eyewitnesses,” Leroy continued. “He wants to hear about Starfall’s actions.”

  “I’m sorry, Lord Leroy,” Fred said quickly, lowering his head again. “They’re not ready. To meet the General.”

  Lucretius’s patience snapped.

  His hand rose to the hilt at his hip. He strode forward, forcing his way inside as workers scattered before him.

  “I’ll be waiting for your witnesses,” he said coldly. “In the rear room. Thirty minutes.”

  Amaterasu followed without hesitation. Leroy paused only long enough to clap a steadying hand on Fred’s shoulder before joining them.

  In the back room, Lucretius took the center seat, his right hand resting on Adamsword. Amaterasu sat to his left. Leroy leaned against the doorway, arms crossed.

  “I don’t understand you,” Amaterasu said at last. “What exactly do you tell your Vanguard?”

  “The same as always,” Lucretius replied calmly. “Understand the mission. Complete the task. Return alive.”

  Amaterasu’s eyes flared red. “You’re joking. What kind of order is that!”

  “Lower your voice,” Leroy said quietly. “The witnesses have arrived.”

  Four witnesses entered with Fred. Some of them still bore burn marks, others walked stiffly from injuries left by the harbor incident. They sat before Lucretius, transfixed and terrified by the sight of Adamsword, its polished black surface resting directly in front of them.

  “Speak,” Lucretius said.

  The four trembled. Their eyes remained locked on the blade. They whispered among themselves, arguing over who should speak first. Lucretius’s brow darkened.

  Amaterasu, resting her chin on her hand, exhaled sharply. “Move the sword away from their faces. You’re frightening them.”

  “If you refuse to speak,” Lucretius replied coldly, “the sword will speak next.”

  Both Amaterasu and Leroy pressed their palms to their foreheads at once.

  “General, please have mercy,” one of the men begged, his voice cracking.

  “You do not need to fear Starfall’s retaliation for telling the truth,” Leroy said firmly, stepping in. “Before you stand Lucretius, Amaterasu, and myself. You are protected.”

  The commonfolk apologized repeatedly, then began to speak. Once the first words escaped them, the rest poured out in a rush. Each witness told their part of the story, the accounts weaving together into a single, coherent chain of events.

  The three council members listened in silence.

  Occasionally Leroy or Amaterasu asked simple questions, clarifying details. Lucretius said nothing at all. The Fallen Knight stared ahead, unmoving, his expression distant, as if he were somewhere else entirely.

  It took no more than fifteen minutes.

  Without warning, Lucretius stood. He nodded once to the four witnesses in acknowledgment and turned toward the door.

  “Where are you going?” Leroy asked, hurrying after him into the corridor.

  “I know what must be done,” Lucretius said.

  His voice echoed down the hall, heavy with certainty.