[Adrian’s POV]

  Adrian drew in a long, steady breath, though his chest felt tight. His gaze lingered on the door before him, calm on the outside, but beneath that stillness raged a storm. A storm of shame, betrayal, and the hollow echo of a faith that had been broken.

  Ever since the day he had seen the true face of his father, since the day he had glimpsed what the Emperors had allowed themselves to become, his world had turned upside down. Pride had given place to disgust. The ideals he had been raised upon, the honor and courage of the Emperor, had revealed themselves as little more than ornaments. Masks, trying to prevent what was happening behind the scenes from being seen.

  He remembered the countless debates, the arguments he had once waged with conviction. When political rivals accused the throne of dragging the war endlessly, when they claimed peace was possible, or that victory could be seized if only the Emperor would act decisively. Time and time again, Adrian always defended his father. He had spoken of burdens only an Emperor could bear, of truths too heavy for ordinary men to comprehend.

  But the truth was far from what he expected. He knew now he had never understood what it meant to be Emperor.

  Two sharp knocks echoed against the door. Yet, Adrian did not wait for a reply. He pushed through the door, stepping into the room.

  The chamber was small, austere, and yet suffocating in its secrecy. Adrian had never been allowed to linger here before, and now the reason was apparent. This was no grand hall, no gilded throne room. It was a hidden office, tucked away from the eyes of the Empire, buried in a mansion few even knew existed.

  Unlike the sprawling residence of the Emperor on New Earth, this place was isolated. The Meridius line, though charged with governing Venus, had never called that scorched world home. They ruled the floating colonies from afar. Their legacy, their bloodline, their seat of power, none of it tied to the world they claimed to own.

  And so the true heart of the family had remained here, on New Earth, far from the toxic air of Venus.

  “Father,” Adrian said quietly, lowering his gaze but refusing to bow.

  Lucius Meridius sat in a high-backed chair, his figure draped in shadows. Before him hovered a cluster of faint holograms, their pale light painting his face in fragments of cold blue and silver. His fingers moved with slow precision, dismissing some projections, enlarging others.

  Adrian’s eyes flicked around the chamber, searching instinctively for his uncle. Stewart was a ghost of a man. The kind of presence that could never be felt, even using Energy to map one's surroundings. The General of the Sixth Division was always near the Emperor, always watching, always listening. Yet now, this seemed to be one of the rare moments when Stewart was absent.

  Lucius finally lifted his gaze, his eyes heavy with a weariness that was not weakness, but calculation. “I have a mission for you.” He pushed one of the hovering holograms forward, the frame drifting into Adrian’s reach.

  “A mission for the Empire?” Adrian asked, one eyebrow arched.

  “No,” Lucius replied, his voice low, deliberate. “For the family. But—” He paused, as though reconsidering his words. “In part, for the Empire as well.”

  Adrian’s brief spark of excitement dimmed. Though he was heir to House Meridius, he had never craved the title. His desire was not for the throne, but to stand beside his father, to aid him, to be close to the one destined to shape the future of the Empire.

  His eyes scanned the data streaming across the hologram. Then one line caught him, and his pulse quickened.

  “Silver Crystal?” Adrian’s voice rose with sudden energy. “Is this true?”

  A thought surged through him. 'I have a Red Crystal. If I could claim a Silver, I could rise to his level. To the level of an Emperor.'

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  Lucius’s laugh was rough, humorless. “No. There is no Silver Crystal. Not there. But that does not mean there is nothing of value. What is buried in that world is not equal to the great three: Gold, Silver, or Bronze. However, it is still powerful.”

  Adrian nodded faintly, but his eyes lingered on the streams of data across the hologram. A detail caught his attention. Every Great House believed there was a Silver Crystal buried on Fantasia-3.

  'But how do we know they’re wrong?'

  The thought burned in his mind until he finally gave it voice.

  “How do we know?” Adrian asked, his tone sharp but restrained.

  Lucius’s brow furrowed. “Hm?”

  “How do we know it isn’t a Silver Crystal?” Adrian pressed, his gaze locking with his father’s. “No one else has intelligence like this. Not a single Great House.”

  Lucius leaned back in his chair, exhaling heavily, his hands clasping together before his face. “The Empire has hundreds of sources of information, Adrian. Networks the Houses cannot even begin to imagine.”

  Adrian’s jaw tightened. “For example… a Sovereign.”

  At that, Lucius’s tired eyes hardened. The mask of fatigue slipped, replaced by something colder, sharper. “So that is what troubles you.” He straightened, his voice edged with cold anger. “Yes. We have a Sovereign aiding us.”

  Adrian’s heart lurched. His blood ran hot. “Aiding us… or using us?”

  Lucius spread his hands with a shrug, dismissive. “What difference does it make?”

  The words struck Adrian like a blade. He opened his mouth, stunned. He closed it, then opened it again, the fury building inside him until he could no longer contain it.

  “The difference,” he spat, “is our honor. Our name. We are using a slave master to claw for scraps of power. Do you not see? By doing this, we stain the name of Meridius. We stain the name of the entire Empire.”

  Lucius’s hand slammed down upon the table with such force that the wood groaned in protest, the legs bowing as if about to snap. For a moment, silence hung until the Emperor rose in his chair, his eyes burning, his finger pointed toward his son.

  “You know nothing of honor,” Lucius roared, his voice reverberating against the walls. “Nothing.”

  The fury in his tone shook the chamber, but as quickly as it had risen, it fell into something darker, quieter, more venomous.

  “You do not know the sacrifices I have made. The decisions I’ve endured. The path I’ve walked to keep you, your mother, your sisters, and every soul in this Empire, alive.” His chest heaved as he leaned forward, his expression a mask of rage and exhaustion. “So do not speak to me of honor. Not now. Not after you’ve only just discovered the truth, that you, me, all of us are nothing more than pawns in the hands of something far greater.”

  Lucius’s breath came heavy. His shoulders sagged for a moment, and in his eyes Adrian glimpsed not just fury, but the weight of decades.

  “You learned this today,” Lucius continued, his voice quieter now, almost a rasp. “I have lived my entire life knowing it. Knowing that I am a slave. And yet, I do my duty.”

  He straightened, his hands smoothing the delicate fabric of his robes, his composure returning. “Do you think I wield this power out of choice? That I do his bidding because I want to? No. For generations, the Emperors have lived the same truth. We gain influence, yes. We hold power, yes. But we live with the sword forever at our throats. At any moment, I might fly too close to the sun and watch my waxen wings burn away.”

  Lucius’s gaze hardened, his tone now absolute. “If I can endure this role, then so will you. You will fulfill your duty.”

  Adrian flinched at the sudden weight of his father’s earlier shout, but the surprise passed quickly. His eyes lifted again, meeting Lucius’s with something new. Disrespect and pity were the only things he could show to his Emperor.

  Lucius leaned back, the light of the holograms flickering across his face. “You will go to Fantasia-3. Take only a small contingent of soldiers. Too many will trigger things way too soon. There will be traps, there will be resistance, so prepare yourself. But bring back what lies there. Do not let it fall into Republican hands. Our peace with them is fragile, temporary. Sooner or later, we will strike or they will strike us.”

  Adrian bowed slightly, more out of formality than obedience, then turned toward the door.

  He paused at the threshold, his hand resting on the frame. Slowly, he looked back over his shoulder.

  “Just because you failed, Father, does not mean the next generation will. I will not accept the Empire being reduced to slaves.”