Alec followed in suit, stepping onto the wooden floors, to be walking on wood! And walked down a long corridor with doors and stairs leading to the many rooms of the mansion. Faces of Teretha servants met him, cleaning floors and carrying drinks or laundry to and from rooms. The business of it made Alec think of a brothel. The way the male soldiers and the wealthy of this town leared at the women and challenged Alec with their eyes drove that feeling home.

  They all seemed to give Madam Zelsim a wide berth. She continued talking in a businesslike tone as she went through the house. "The Von Sinclairs are among the nine founding families of the original baronhood. This estate was brought over piece by piece from Earth Prime. They founded the first Aamaranth mines. Something you are well-versed in."

  She glanced at the vial in Alec's arm with a raised eyebrow and continued on. "The family has always extended a hand to the original peoples of this planet. And we do recognize that it was their land we now sit on. It is why the baronhood graciously employs the Teretha people and provides shelter in a community unto themselves. We protect their culture that way and prevent their extinction through… interbreeding." The last was said with dripping disdain.

  Alec could see she truly believed this bullshit. There was no indication the acknowledgement meant anything to her or the people it claimed to cover. They turned the corner and headed up a large sweeping staircase. The sounds of music and boisterous men's laughter grew louder, drowning out the last of the words Madam Zelsim was stating. As Alec entered the room, the music silenced and all turned to look at him. In the silence, the last of the madam's words could be heard. "And that is why you stand in the presence of greatness. It is my pleasure to introduce you to our lord, Baron Von Sinclair."

  She flourished her hand forward, and a man broke away from a conversation with a rough and drunken-looking group. The man himself was in the middle stages of manhood. He was dressed in a crimson shirt that buttoned on the left. His tan pants had a military high waist, and the sash-style belt worn by old barons in painted portraits. He had a long moustache in a grey blonde colour that matched his long hair, and his eyes were piercingly green. He walked the small set of stairs toward Alec with a battle-ready grace.

  "Well, my, my, my. What do these eyes of mine behold? A man, and yet not a man." He was performing to all those in attendance as he walked around Alec as one would around an object they intend to own. "A work of art and an ancient one at that. In another world, I'd add you to my collection." The couple of dozen wealthy elite in attendance tittered in laughter at that.

  "Not bloody likely," Alec thought it, but didn't dare speak it. At least not yet, he was still putting the puzzle pieces together on how he was going to get out of this clusterfuck.

  "No need to worry!" The Baron continued on in his sing-song mocking way.

  Alec wasn't worried yet.

  "I mean it," the crowd laughed again at the performance. "You'll serve me much better moving about with that fancy little peashooter. Come. Walk with me." He took Alec's arm in the crook like someone walking an elderly person across a busy street. They walked towards a projected map in the centre of the floor. Above it was a box shrouded in shadow.

  "You see, Alec, I have a little problem, I'm sure we are all well aware of. He goes by the name of Tusong." The image of a Teretha man, noble with braided hair and a scar on his left cheek, showed up, projected above the map. "This man is not happy with my charity and has become a thorn in my side. I thought doing away with his father would be enough of a deterrent. And yet Tusong comes." The crowd of nobles around the Baron, fully engrossed in his performance, booed along with him at the teretha man. "I sent Bracus to bring me his head; he failed me, and so I took Bracus's head in place."

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  A light was dramatically turned on, revealing a severed head of a mechanized baronhood soldier in an ornate display case. Alec did not like where this was going. Von Sinclair continued, "And that is why you are here. I want this finished and fast."

  The Baron paused, the projection map buzzed in the silence, and the large, shadowed space stood ominously in front of Alec. As the silence stretched, Alec realized this was the time for his part in this performance. He fell into his natural rhythm: contract, clarify, resolve, leave. "You brought me here, so I'm guessing you have the dossier on what I do. In order to bring a perfected level of revenge against this," Alec paused, he hated himself for using this word to describe the teretha man, "rebel, I need to understand what he's done."

  "What has he done? What he's done, you say?" The Baron smiled, enjoying the chance to perform even more. The room leaned into his charisma. "The man has interrupted mining, he has murdered my guards, destroyed priceless equipment. My people fear. As do the Teretha. He gathers some to him by claiming that I am unjust and uncaring. Yet I provide for us and… them." Again, the disgust towards the Teretha.

  "The greatest satisfaction I can give you is that this man feels the same…"

  "The greatest satisfaction you can give me is the deaths of him and all who follow. I have tried deterrents, oh great revengist." The latter word was clearly practiced. "In all that time you ignored this contract, I tried all I could. I found the one he held dear. His sister was born a twin. I took her and made her mine." The last was almost a fervour as the Baron pointed to the dark shadows. A flickering of soft purple light slowly revealed the frame of a Gravital suspension device. Probably similar to what the Aamaranth Hovers employed to keep the precious, yet highly volatile explosive, contained. Inside the frame, hovering like a delicate flower, was the victim of a monstrous act outlawed in the early years of the baronhood.

  Alecs could almost hear a rush inside his skull as his brain attempted to process what he was seeing. There was a Teretha woman suspended there, but her skin glowed soft purple. Her eyes were open and staring, aware of the world around her. Alec could smell the sweet scent of Aamaranth drifting off of her.

  They called them Aamaranth girls in those days. A product reserved for the wealthiest and most jealous of the baronhood. They used a method similar to what Alec underwent, but with terrible results. They were pumped so full of amaranth that the girls would live forever, suspended in beautiful youth, the Baron's coveted. None could touch them; only look and admire their everlasting beauty. They would pass them down like keepsakes until, in an act of espionage, one was released from her suspension. The slightest breath upon the skin of an Aamaranth girl caused the entire process to implode to cataclysmic proportions. If this woman's suspension were to end, half of this planet would also end. The Baronhood had outlawed the practice everywhere, and the legend was well known on every system. Except here it seemed.

  Alec gawked in disgusted anger, only masking the emotions with years of practiced placidity. He could see the noble resemblance to her brother, and the conscious, tormented terror in her eyes. The Baron was beaming with joy at his theatrics' wonderfully brutal finale.

  "In closing," the Baron continued as his tone switched from the warm performance to measured coldness, "I am saying to you, our dear Alec, I have tried more devious ways than your mind could even comprehend to bring this man down. All I have created is a martyr at best and a hero at worst. Even now, I hear his name in the camps outside my walls. I want you to return with a pile of heads, his on top, that I can display at my gates for any future. And as to my beauty." He walked up to the Aamaranth girl and reached out as if to touch her. The room took an intake of breath. "She has become my muse, my life and my desire. The work my dear Madam Zelsim did is purely immaculate." He finished this off by walking over to the madam and twirling her once like a dance. He clapped his hands, indicating the performance was done, and the band began to play.