[Oliver’s POV]

  “They’re retreating,” Hermes-1’s voice announced over the comms.

  Oliver exhaled slowly, the tension in his chest loosening for the first time in days. Across the tactical feeds, the Republic’s ship broke formation, pulling back in tight waves. One by one, the cruisers that had formed the strangling cordon around Aquarius began to turn, their engines flaring as they slipped into retreat. Within hours, the last of their warships had vanished, leaving the system free again.

  But freedom was not the same as safety.

  The people of Aquarius did not celebrate. The military did not stand down. Day after day, they remained at full readiness, waiting for the next strike. It was only after a week of silence, a week of no incursions, no signatures, no ambushes, that the alert level was finally lowered.

  Even then, the unease lingered.

  “They really pulled back,” Thalos muttered, standing beside Oliver outside the headquarters. His artificial eyes glowed faintly as he peered up at the sky, as though expecting enemy ships to appear at any moment. “One lost engagement was enough to drive them off?”

  Oliver sat on the stone steps of the Headquarters, his elbows resting on his knees, exhaustion etched into his face. “We won’t know for sure until the spies start reporting back,” he replied.

  For now, though, the battlefield was quiet.

  Hovercars drifted past on the street before them, their engines humming softly, containers strapped to their hulls.

  Oliver shrugged. If the enemy had vanished, even for a moment, he would take the peace they’d been offered. However fleeting it might be.

  Beside him, Thalos sat down on the steps with a sigh, his weight settling with a metallic creak. “The wedding’s coming up,” the android said, his tone oddly casual. His head tilted slightly, as though trying to mimic human conversation. “You going to be there?”

  Oliver’s eyes stayed on the sky, his jaw tightening. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “You could at least try sending a message,” Thalos suggested, his voice carrying the faintest edge of reproach.

  Oliver didn’t answer right away. His gaze lingered on the horizon, where the glow of Aquarius’s twin moons shimmered above the skyline.

  “A wedding of this scale, with all the Great Houses present. It’s an unnecessary risk,” Oliver said, his voice calm but edged with the pragmatism of a soldier who had lived too long with danger.

  Thalos leaned back against the stairs, mechanical fingers tapping against his thigh. “It’s not every day that a former Nameless marries a Heiress. And not just any heiress, a Dardanus. Everyone will be there. They’ll all be so consumed with the spectacle, the politics, the endless toasts… no one would notice if you left behind a gift. Maybe even a letter.”

  “Maybe.” Oliver’s reply was quiet, noncommittal. He tilted his head, considering. “When’s it supposed to be?”

  “No invitations yet,” Thalos answered, optics flickering as he scrolled through some unseen feed. “But if I had to estimate… six months? Cicero is still preparing to hand over his mantle to his daughter. That takes time.”

  Oliver exhaled through his nose, a dry chuckle escaping him. “And what kind of letter do you think I should give this time?”

  A faint smirk tugged at Thalos’s lips as he tilted his head. “I heard once, long ago, that Charizard was the rarest of them all. The most expensive. Perhaps that?”

  Oliver shot him a flat look. “Do you realize it’s been over a century? Where in the hell am I supposed to find one?”

  Thalos only shrugged, the gesture almost human.

  Before them, a holographic projection hovered in the air, its light shimmering against the polished stone of the headquarters steps.

  | Wedding Announcement: Louise Dardanus & Nico Dardanus

  The image rotated slowly, displaying clips captured by reporters and spread across the NET. The young couple smiled and laughed, champagne glasses raised, their faces glowing with joy. Louise’s poise radiated the elegance of her House. While Nico was at her side, his hair was finally combed, and he carried a smile that, although a little out of place, still held its natural charm.

  Oliver’s eyes lingered on Nico’s face.

  Thoughts slowly turned darker. 'How much time does he truly have? When will his expiration arrive?' The question gnawed at him.

  He didn’t notice at first when Thalos straightened suddenly beside him, his posture stiffening as a signal pulsed through his comms array.

  Oliver raised an eyebrow, waiting.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  “There’s a transmission for you,” Thalos said, his voice sharpened by urgency. “The Hermes are calling.”

  The hologram of the smiling couple flickered once, twice, then dissolved into sparks.

  And like that, the brief illusion of peace shattered.

  --

  The halls of the headquarters were quiet, the kind of silence that carried unease rather than peace.

  Oliver and Thalos moved quickly through the corridors, heading toward the communications chamber. A place that, in recent weeks, had become less a command center and more Oliver’s second home. Endless nights had been spent there, eyes fixed on monitors, ears tuned to every new report during their battles.

  As the doors hissed open, the Hermes officers were once more at their stations.

  “What do we have this time?” Oliver asked, his voice steady though his gut told him it was something bad.

  Hermes-1 turned, his expression tight. “It’s Six. He’s requesting an urgent transmission line.”

  Oliver frowned. “A direct line? He’s still infiltrated, isn’t he?”

  “Yes,” Hermes-1 confirmed, his voice clipped. “But he insists. He says it’s critical.”

  That single word, critical, sent a chill down Oliver’s spine. A last-minute transmission from an infiltrator was never good news. It meant something had gone wrong, something that could unravel months of careful planning.

  “Open the channel,” Oliver ordered.

  The chamber filled with the hiss of static, a harsh whisper that seemed to stretch on too long. Oliver’s jaw tightened as he waited, his eyes fixed on the wavering signal. Then, at last, a voice broke through. It was low, hushed.

  “Command?” Six’s whisper was strained, almost a breath.

  “Command online,” Oliver replied immediately, leaning closer to the console.

  “My mission’s been compromised,” Six said, his tone urgent but controlled.

  Oliver’s chest tightened. “Compromised how?”

  “Someone leaked information about the artifact’s location… or they figured it out on their own. I don’t know which.”

  “Damn it,” Oliver muttered. “What’s happening on the ground?”

  “New ships are arriving every day,” Six explained, his voice quick, urgent. “They’re searching the same territories I’ve been scouting.”

  Oliver’s fingers curled into fists. “What kind of ships?”

  “Scouts,” Six replied. “But not just one House. They’re bringing in teams. Dozens of specialists, from every Great House.”

  Oliver exchanged a glance with Thalos, whose expression, though artificial, carried the exact realization.

  The secret of the artifact was no longer theirs alone.

  “Do they know what the artifact really is?” Oliver asked, his voice carried his suspicion.

  “Partially,” Six whispered back through the static. “You must have seen the newsfeeds by now.”

  Oliver shook his head, his tone grim. “We were under siege. Communications have only just been re-established.”

  “Then you haven’t heard,” Six continued. “They’re announcing an expansion. The Republic, the Empire, the Houses… they’re all converging. They’re making their move to seize the Fantasia System.”

  “Shit,” Oliver muttered under his breath.

  “They’re claiming it’s about blocking the Orks, securing Sol System,” Six explained, his voice low. “But that’s the story they’re feeding the public. They’re not mobilizing around Fantasia-4 or -5. They’re all setting down on Fantasia-3.”

  Oliver’s eyes narrowed. “Then they know.”

  “Not everything,” Six admitted. “But enough.”

  Oliver leaned forward, his voice a razor. “What do they know? Or what do they think they know?”

  A pause crackled across the line, then Six answered. “They believe there’s a Silver Crystal.”

  For a moment, Oliver almost laughed. The sound escaped him as a dry, humorless chuckle. “A Silver? Really? Then the surprise will be… interesting.”

  But Six’s reply was grim. “It’s still a problem. They’ll scour that world endlessly, digging, drilling, probing. They’ll trigger the defenses sooner or later.”

  Oliver’s tone hardened. “Do you need extraction?”

  “No,” Six said firmly. “I need reinforcements. If we want the artifact, it can’t just be me out here. Not anymore.”

  Oliver fell silent, his mind racing. He stared at the static-filled display, weighing the choice. Finally, he nodded to himself, his decision made. “Understood. I’ll assemble a support team. Wait at the extraction point.”

  “Copy,” Six replied. Then the line dissolved into static, the whisper of his voice swallowed by the void.

  The chamber was still. For a moment, only the faint hum of the consoles filled the silence.

  “So that’s it,” Oliver said at last, his voice low, almost to himself.

  Thalos tilted his head, optics narrowing, confusion etched in the subtle movements of his face. Several of the Hermes turned as well, their eyes fixed on Oliver, waiting for clarity.

  “They’re chasing a Silver Crystal,” Oliver explained, his tone sharp. “If I had believed one was there, I’d have pulled every soldier from Aquarius, too. I’d have sent my best to secure it.”

  Thalos’s voice cut through the silence. “But there isn’t a Silver Crystal on Fantasia-3… is there?”

  Oliver’s gaze darkened, his eyes like storms. “No. What lies there is far more dangerous.”

  The words hung in the air, heavy with implication.

  He rose from his chair, his armor creaking faintly as he straightened. “Prepare a small ship. We’ll move fast and quiet.”

  Thalos blinked, his servos whirring as he processed the order. “We? You’re planning on going yourself?”

  Oliver turned, his expression stern, unyielding. “You don't think I’d sit here and wait?”