Several days later, Leroy returned to Stargate. This time he wore no beret, no light armor, none of the attire he usually donned as a councilman. He came in a simple green shirt, plain and comfortable.

  He did not come as a member of the council.

  He came as Starmist’s friend, and as a longtime companion of the family.

  Together with Starmist, he sat in Lord Star’s study. The room was quiet, filled with soft light and the faint scent of old paper and crystal ink. Their conversation unfolded without ceremony.

  Leroy produced a set of notes prepared by Elysius and handed them to Starmist. She read them carefully, then relayed only the essence to her brother.

  “Brother,” Starmist said gently, “I will return to the council soon.” She turned to Leroy at her side. “Tell them I will be back next week. Earlier than agreed.”

  Leroy did not answer at once. He met her gaze, steady and unjudging, though something in his eyes betrayed restraint.

  Lord Star returned to his seat and placed his glass on the desk.

  “If you return,” he said, “this will not end. Other houses will keep pressing. Any opening will be used to try to replace us.”

  “You were the one who brought many of them here,” Leroy replied calmly. “I am certain the council and the faction leaders understand that. If it comes to it, they will protect you.”

  Lord Star smiled faintly. “Thank you, Leroy. I am glad to hear that from the council’s leader.”

  Starmist said nothing, absently tending to her nails.

  Then Leroy chuckled. “They could not even buy the syndicate leader of my faction for this. One word from me and they would all fall in line.”

  Lord Star laughed, pressing a hand to his forehead. Starmist looked at Leroy without blinking, holding back a smile as a faint blue tint touched her cheeks.

  “You have become someone formidable, Leroy,” Lord Star said. “I believe you have surpassed even Black Stray in his time.”

  “He is a legend,” Leroy replied lightly. “I will need to finish this life first before I earn a place beside him.”

  Laughter filled the room again.

  Then it faded.

  Lord Star fell silent, tapping his glass once, twice, lost in thought, as the weight of what lay ahead settled quietly between them.

  “Brother,” Starmist said gently, “Leroy did not come all this way without reason.”

  She turned to him then, wearing that look. Innocent on the surface, sharp beneath. The kind of gaze that always unsettled him.

  “Is that not so?” she asked.

  Leroy smiled awkwardly. Lord Star looked from one of them to the other.

  “Is it true?” Lord Star said. “If it comes from you, I will listen.”

  “Not now, Lord Star,” Leroy replied, unable to meet Starmist’s eyes. “I believe it can wait.”

  The siblings did not press him. They exchanged a quiet nod and let the matter rest. The tone of the room lightened after that. Leroy steered the conversation away from council affairs and the shadow of Starfall. Servants entered with fresh drinks and light food.

  Leroy was used to the sweetness of their beverages, though he drank carefully, mindful of how sugar made him restless like a child. The food, by contrast, had been prepared for human taste.

  “Lord Star,” Leroy asked, “how fares House Quasar?”

  The Extraterrestrial faction leader leaned back, trying to appear at ease.

  “Since the death of his son,” Lord Star said, “Lord Quarg has grown paranoid.”

  “Is there anything I can do?” Leroy asked. “Knight Quasar was both my friend and my mentor.”

  “I have tried many times to speak with Lord Quarg,” Starmist said, dabbing her lips with a blue handkerchief. “More often than not, he refuses to see me.”

  “He only contacts me when trade is involved,” Lord Star added, lifting his cup. “Nothing more.”

  “Their race are strong,” he continued, “but they are drowning in a grief that has no end.”

  Lord Star went on. The younger sibling of Knight Quasar now lived in near isolation, not unlike House Venoria, far from civilization. Yet where Venoria had necessity, Quasar had choice. Lord Drogin and Druganda withdrew because their kind was poisonous by nature. House Quasar withdrew because they feared loss.

  The younger child, now the same age as Starslayer, was forbidden to leave. He was trained only to inherit the House, not to fight as his brother once had. Even among allied factions, he was rarely seen.

  As Lord Star spoke, his certainty faltered. A realization crept in, born of recent failure.

  “Perhaps Starfall saw too much of me as a warrior,” he said quietly. “Starslayer sees me as a council leader. And Starlax as an aging father who leads a faction.”

  Starmist answered with a quiet sigh. She reached for her brother’s hand and held it.

  “Brother,” she said softly.

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  “They all wish to become me,” Lord Star continued, his voice heavy with feeling. “Yet I never had the time to teach them how to be whole. Each of them learned only a fragment of who I am, and copied it as truth.”

  “Lord Star,” Leroy said gently, looking at the old man who had once been his mentor with open concern.

  Realizing how he was being seen, Lord Star straightened, gathering himself before their pity could settle too deeply.

  “Perhaps this is simply my trial,” he said with a faint, forced humor.

  Starmist and Leroy shared small smiles. Silence followed, unbroken for a time, until Leroy spoke again.

  “Lord Star, many within your faction are difficult to trust right now. If you wish, you may share your worries with me.”

  “I will not burden you with this,” Lord Star replied. “These are family matters.”

  “When I was young, I burdened you while you led the council,” Leroy said evenly, meeting his eyes. “How is this any different?”

  Lord Star laughed. Starmist laughed with him, leaving Leroy momentarily puzzled.

  “The role of council leader suits you well,” Lord Star said. “It always has.”

  A knock came at the door. Njall entered, apologizing for the interruption, greeting the two council members present. He asked for a moment of Lord Star’s time to discuss the reconstruction of the hanging gardens.

  Lord Star rose at once and excused himself, following Njall out and leaving Leroy and Starmist alone in the quiet of the study.

  When the door closed, Starmist spoke at once.

  “Do you think the other nobles will push this further?”

  “They won’t,” Leroy said without hesitation. “Trust me. Cygnus, Amaterasu, Bjorn, and Lucretius are united on this.”

  “But Leroy…” Starmist murmured. Doubt crept into her voice. Her hands clenched the fabric of her skirt, her head bowed.

  “I understand,” Leroy said lightly. “You don’t need to fear your own faction. They’re nowhere near as wild as mine, or Cogworks, or Abyss.”

  The joke drew a small smile from her.

  “What weighs on me now,” Leroy continued, eyes lifting toward the ceiling, “is a program I want to propose. I wanted his counsel on it.”

  Starmist studied him. “You’re certain Bjorn hasn’t rejected it? When he commits to something, he sees it through, although he rarely commit about many things.”

  “He says he needs time,” Leroy replied, resting his chin on his hand. “Time to speak with his faction.”

  Before Lord Star returned, Leroy spoke quietly of the cloning program. He made its limits clear. It would not replace them at the strategic level. Never that. It would exist only as an executor force, a patch for failures they could not resolve themselves.

  He spoke of Susanoo, untouchable because Amaterasu sat on the council. Of Starfall. Of the moment in the colosseum when Lucretius’s Adamsword had cut into Starmist by accident. Each incident pointed to the same truth. They could not be fully just where strong bonds existed. To punish a powerful figure risked war. Yet the commonfolk could not be endlessly deceived through the newspaper.

  Leroy understood this better than most. He had risen from the commonfolk himself. Before the age of superhuman rule, leaders had painted the world as safe and stable, until the League of Transcendent swept across All Realm and erased more than half of it. Now, some superhumans who knew only war could not function in peace without spilling blood.

  Starmist listened in silence. She leaned back against the chair, thinking.

  “I never wanted to walk this path,” Leroy said at last. “But this program feels like a dark solution that might lead to light.”

  “Cygnus and Amaterasu will test you mercilessly if this reaches the council,” Starmist warned.

  “That’s why I need your view,” Leroy said, leaning closer. “You’re the bridge between superhuman and commonfolk.”

  She bit her index finger, recalling the voices she heard during her work with the Sevenstar Foundation. Complaints. Fear. Quiet resentment. Leroy waited, patient, without interrupting.

  After several minutes, she spoke again. “I’ll read the room when you bring this to the council. My aim will be to calm those who might burn at the thought of it.”

  She met his eyes. “But remember this, Leroy. I have no certainty what they will say.”

  He smiled faintly. “But you’ll stand with me this time, won’t you?”

  “I’ve stood with you since the day you became a superhuman,” Starmist said with a soft laugh. “All the way to the council.”

  Leroy simply looked at her, unblinking, holding that smile longer than needed.

  After a few minutes, Lord Star came back into the room and before Leroy could speak, Starmist opened the conversation herself.

  “Brother,” she said, “when you led the council in the past, did you ever consider creating superhumans?”

  Leroy stiffened. He turned toward her at once, eyes wide in surprise.

  “Creating?” Lord Star echoed, puzzled. “Do you mean training them?”

  Starmist shook her head.

  “No,” she said. “Not training, more like duplicate them.”

  Lord Star thought for a moment. “No. I never did. To be honest, I never truly understood such a concept.”

  Then, without waiting to be asked, Starmist explained the cloning program to him. She used her own words, framing it through her understanding of what Leroy had shared. She softened some edges, sharpened others, but the core remained intact. Leroy stayed silent throughout, choosing not to interrupt. From the way Lord Star listened, his expression grave and focused, it was clear the meaning had landed as intended.

  The explanation took several minutes. This was still only an idea, not a decision. It lacked data, structure, and certainty. When Starmist finished, Leroy added only one thing. This was his proposal, and aside from Bjorn, they were the first to hear it.

  Lord Star nodded slowly.

  “In my time,” he said, “even Professor Chess never entertained such thoughts. That technology belonged to our enemies then. Do the Cogworks truly believe they can do this?”

  “I don’t know,” Leroy answered honestly. “I only want to know whether, given everything we face, this solution is at least a correct one.”

  Lord Star folded his hands. “This is extremely sensitive, Leroy. It could become the greatest upheaval the council has seen since the peace your generation built.”

  “I won’t deny that,” Leroy said. “I only wish to understand just how fragile this ground is.”

  Lord Star raised his brows slightly. “We made many dangerous decisions during the war as well. But then, our purpose was singular. To win.”

  He paused.

  “What concerns me now is that in times of peace, even if you are all close, I am not certain you share the same purpose.”

  Leroy and Starmist nodded. Neither argued.

  Hours later, Leroy took his leave. Starmist escorted him to the front gate herself.

  “When Bjorn has gathered the data,” Leroy said as he descended the steps, “I’ll look for the right moment to bring this before the council.”

  Starmist nodded, her hand still resting on the door’s handle. Before closing it, she called his name. The softness in her voice made Leroy turn back at once.

  “Did this program come into being because of my nephew?” she asked.

  “Let it go, Starmist,” Leroy replied lightly, as if brushing dust from his sleeve. “Sooner or later, I would have proposed it anyway.”

  “But if that truly is your reason,” she pressed, “then this becomes subjective. I know how much you owe my brother. If this is about helping him, be honest with me now.”

  A gentle wind passed between them. Leroy’s hand clenched at his side.

  “There are many reasons,” he said quietly. “More than clear judgment.”

  Starmist raised her pale brows, waiting.

  “We who sit on the council cannot afford to lose those closest to us,” Leroy continued. “I cannot afford to lose anyone else.”

  He met her gaze, sharp and unguarded.

  “Especially after I saw you struck by Lucretius in the colosseum.”

  “Leroy,” Starmist said, startled.

  “If it had been anyone else,” he went on, “they would not have survived. I knew you would. Even so, I could not bear to see you hurt.”

  He paused, the words weighing heavier than he intended.

  “Knight Quasar is already gone,” Leroy said. “I will not lose you too.”

  Before she could answer, he bowed his head once, turned away, and rose into the air, leaving in a swift arc of green light.

  Starmist remained by the door, watching until he vanished from sight, her hand still on the handle, the silence afterward deeper than before.