Sonny stood by the wide, single-pane window that wrapped around his top-floor office, offering an unobstructed view of the floating island of Artelis. Below him lay sprawling fields of lush grass, distant mountain peaks, and the city nestled securely beneath. His gaze traced the supply lines leading to the military barracks on his home ship. It had taken time, but at last, the relentless stream of officials and the swarm of interlopers arriving to investigate his attack on the Lotus had receded, leaving the dark skies of Artelis clear once more and the artificial sun drifted peacefully. The intrusion had been a disruptive, unwelcome, probing into his organisation. Something he knew many had wanted to do for some time, given the opportunity only by the guise that it was in his best interest.
He exhaled onto the panel of glass that misted slightly at his breath. He had just received news that Grasci, the self-proclaimed opponent of the Traes had just been shot dead during his public speech at the Sun’s Rising Festival, creating the most overly dramatic death to inspire revolt of all god damned time. It would have been historic had it not been orchestrated.
“The Traes?” he asked calmly, not looking away from the lands below.
“From what we hear,” replied Jam, standing next to Top in his office, who both seemed weathered from their respective journeys to gather information in secret about what was happening on the planet. An expensive and dangerous exercise for them both, “Pac and Eher have been captured, no word about the girl. It seems that Moran, the head of the Traes Guard, has arrested them after the attack on the Professor. The whole thing is a shit show” Jam continued with his usual cool, aloof demeanour.
“We have to imagine that the Dorlec have been involved from the beginning, they have had a Pillar in Yelean space for months, and two days ago another arrived and one more that was on its way was taken out in Nyambe space. It’s suspected that the Eshara did that, but no confirmation just yet,” Sonny nodded along, already knowing, or at least suspecting that all of this was the case. This was just confirmation. A Commander arresting his charge for a crime that couldn't have been committed without his involvement. it wasn’t even a well-crafted story.
“So they knew this was coming, right,” Top continued energetically, “Buddy of mine says that the Dorlec basically built up his entire campaign just to shoot him down last minute and set Det’em into hysterics. Apparently, they first made contact a few years ago and funded him, so yeah, cluster fuck”
“Cluster fuck” said Sonny contemplatively, watching a glider cross the fields of Artelis. Traffic was going to pick up soon, schools were almost out, and the academies would start to empty, soon these fields would be filled with kids and parents enjoying their free time. “They have Kryptea on the planet too, right? So Pac and Eher must have known this was coming, or something at least”.What were they thinking? What was Victoria thinking? By not acting swiftly, they had allowed all of this to unfold. The writing was on the fucking wall. He paused, tempering his judgment, after all, he hadn’t seen this coming either, despite his extensive spy networks. Not as extensive as the Eshara’s, but they hadn’t caught a hint of it. Perhaps it was considered insignificant that it wasn’t worth reporting?
“We also have reports of three guests, a former soldier, a scholar and a kid. They were the ones who helped protect Olivia Traes during the attack last week in Det’em. We haven’t heard anything more about them yet. They could be part of the Dorlec’s plans too,” said Jam. Sonny could sense all eyes on him, each of them watching carefully, waiting for his reaction to the news, hoping to get some indication of what their next move would be.
“We reported them previously, it looks like they came from Gol, a small moon in the middle of nowhere, orbiting a small dead planet, another Dorlec testing ground perhaps. We dont know if they are Dorlec agents or if they are…”
“We are aware of them. They aren’t with the Dorlec,” said Jax, to his left, interrupting Jam, her tone carrying a finality. A gift of hers, a quality well understood by both Top and Jam. They wouldn’t press further. At least, not in front of her. Sharing this information with them now wouldn’t be wise. Not yet.
“They aren’t of concern,” Sonny said, noting the confused expressions that met his words. He understood, their role was to gather intelligence, and now they were being told that what they’d uncovered was already known and unimportant. “Victoria?” he prompted, wanting a full picture before making any calls. Her inaction was concerning.
“She definitely has people on the ground, we had word from inside the Eshara itself. We don’t have any information on them, but they are there, probably some real cloak and dagger stuff, you know. It’s all being played pretty close to the chest, even in the Eshara. She has a full division ready to raid Yeley in the wings, currently on standby. She could go full apocalyptic on the planet if she needs to,” Jam cleared his throat loudly, clearly aiming to get Top’s attention, sensing his compatriot was perhaps being a bit too casual. Sonny didn’t mind.
Sonny exhaled deeply. This was a mess, and the worst part was that he literally couldn’t do anything about it. If she chose to raid the planet, that would be the end for the Eshara—they’d be wiped from the galactic map by the Houses, triggering retaliation from every corner. One planet with so many problems, he thought, turning the Hulfean coin in his hand. He needed to trust that she understood this, or at least still cared. She was usually politically savvy enough to stay out of such matters, to see the risk as too great. Cold logic and foresight were her hallmarks, but this felt different. This was an emotional decision. He understood the stakes, but she also needed to trust them.
“The meeting will start soon,” Jax said, nodding to Top and Jam, who bowed and began to leave the room.
“Good work, by the way,” Sonny added, wanting to offer some semblance of gratitude for what he knew must have been challenging work. They returned his gesture with pained expressions, he could see they wished they’d brought better news, or at least something he hadn’t already known. But they’d done exactly what he required of them. He’d make sure to send them a reward, money, most likely. They may have been ex-smugglers, but they still operated with the same desires.
Jax waited for them to leave, then vanished from her spot, reappearing instantly beside the long stone table in the centre of his office, preparing his seat. Sonny took a final look at the stillness of Artelis outside, his gaze lifting to the slow drift of the artificial sun over the ship, before making his way over to the table.
“Remember, don’t piss anyone off,” she warned. “This was clearly a House's op. There’s no point fighting it here.”
“You must introduce me to your teacher one day, Jax. I think we’d have a lot in common,” he replied, tongue in cheek. She sighed, but a smile broke through.
“Sometimes you just need a reminder,” Jax said, tapping the back of the chair for him to sit. “Two minutes. You know Daddy doesn’t like it when you’re late.”
“Ugh, that’s fucking gross, Jax. Don’t say it like that,’” he grimaced, shooing her off as he took his seat. She had prepared him a tea, reminding him yet again that he was drinking too much coffee. He scoffed, casting her a look, but she only returned an encouraging, slightly apprehensive smile.
“You’re not sleeping in the first place, coffee won’t help,” she chided, her tone gentle but firm. Standing behind him, as was tradition for the second-in-command during a Houses meeting. A looming spectator.
He took in the quiet before the meeting began, listening to the sound of their breathing in the vast, austere office. He hated these meetings, nothing good ever came from them. The cold black stone beneath his hands never seemed to warm. Usually, he avoided taking his seat at the table and would never dare sit in any other chair.
A small circular projector rose from the centre of the stone table, casting light around the other open seats. Each with their own chair, would remain physically unoccupied, save for the holographic projections that would place their occupants there. Each House Head, in possession of an identical table, held their own seat, their own position among the Houses.
In moments, Sonny was joined by five others around the empty table, their images flickering to life as the projector cast their holograms into their respective seats. Distorted and incomplete, their projections strained under the interference of tangled communications across the galaxy. With the heightened security over their connection for the meeting, which strained the feed and the vast distances that the electrons were set across, there was always an imperfect image that was cast.
Across from him sat Sume, an elegant woman who held the rank of Queen in Nyambe space. Through the distortion, Sonny could make out her low-cut suit and her implacable expression with a subtle smile and high raised eyebrows. She was bald, with a long neck wrapped in a thick gold dzila choker that contrasted strikingly with her dark skin. A thin white gold traced from the back of her head to halfway down her forehead, with another thicker line drawn down the centre of her lower lip. Enigmatic as ever, Sume radiated an effortless arrogance and control, but she was loved by her people, if not feared.
Behind her stood her second-in-command, Solomon Toure, a man revered and feared throughout their entire region. A man with his unparalleled ability to muddle the mind and sift through thoughts, a seer of unique class. He too wore a suit that Sonny would imagine would be as flashy as his Queen’s. Sume nodded genially at Sonny, and he returned the gesture. They’d never had any reason to distrust each other, but they hadn’t found much reason to trust each other, either. Sonny wasn’t fond of the games he’d heard they played, but since they hadn’t affected him, he let them be. Choosing one’s battles was crucial in the galaxy’s political landscape.
Sonny had both seats beside him empty, but to his right, a man stood rather than sat. A towering figure with his arms held behind his back as he towered over the table. This was Hardra Gilga, the Kryptea’s Head from the Houses’ perspective. The Kryptea had two leaders, but only Gilga was officially recognised. He was a brute, with reddish skin stretched tight across a massive chest, a stone-like nose, square jaw, and small eyes. He looked as if he’d been carved from a mountainside. Unlike other Kryptea, Gilga wore his black hair long and untamed, more a wild mane than the usual slicked-back style, reminiscent of a lion. There was more to his animalistic nature than just his mane though.
Instead of the customary beige cloth of his people, he wore a black military uniform, not an exo-suit, as the Kryptea had no need for such things, but a cloth uniform. The uniform didn’t add anything, rather, it took away from their cultural robes, something that the Autarch no longer wanted to permit. No, this man had been integrated by the Autarch who had for two decades now been eroding their culture, their identity so that it could be more absorbed by his own throne. This was the new age Kryptea, the one born to servitude under the Autarch, the one that was being morphed into something new. A new Kryptea that wouldn't be looking to end their servitude. Gilga was a monster, he kept the Kryptea promise of never questioning an order, but Sonny had always thought that this man enjoyed his orders. He would have gladly accepted the order to wipe out the Sha-En. Sonny thought that this was the Autarch's goal, a new breed of soldier, hungry to prove themselves. Soldiers that could walk onto worlds, and burn all in their path. The biggest problem that Sonny had with Gilga, was that this man fucking loved it. He didn't see this as a punishment, but an excuse to exercise his powers and play his blood sport.
The second leader of the Kryptea, the one not recognised by the Houses officially, was Jurgen Krietz, an older leader from before the war who had accepted the punishment from the Autarch. He would still be in Lacedon, where he trained the youth and acted as a spiritual head to their people, though Sonny wondered how much longer that would be permitted. Hardra was the one who was in charge, who dictated the orders and served the Autarch. The official head of the Kryptea would undoubtedly be waiting for his chance to crush the spiritual head. Sonny believed he was more than capable of it.
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Hardra Gilga was not permitted to sit at the table during meetings and so needed to stand behind his chair whenever they met, the Kryptea having lost that right after their crimes against the Sha-En. He also was not permitted to have a second in command at these meetings, which, in Sonny’s mind, didn't really matter anyway. The Kryptea didn't operate like that and could have had anyone be there, their structures still relied on absolute obedience, so they had no leaks.
To Sonny's left sat the Empty Crown, a seat that had remained vacant ever since the fall of the Sha-En. This was never brought up as something that the Houses needed to solve as an issue, and Sonny knew the general sentiment among the Royal Heads and the Autarch, was that fewer Heads to contend with was preferable. The Sha-En had once been revered as wise, popular, and powerful before their massacre by the Kryptea, qualities that made them a threat to the Autarch himself. Though this was never openly acknowledged in a House’s meeting, it was well understood. At one point, it had seemed the seat might be claimed by the last Sha-En, Jinn, but he had refused it, leaving the Empty Crown. It had been left there with no further pushing, nor need to find a replacement. In fact, the Sha-En were now seen more as dangerous members of society than anyone who should be represented.
Passed the Empty Crown as it had poetically been named, was Hibiki Otsu, or simply Otsu. She was the youngest House Head by a considerable margin. She rarely spoke in these meetings, usually sitting quietly with her eyes closed, nodding only when accepting orders. Honestly, the left side of the table was a real party. Otsu always wore ornate traditional clothing, thick robes wrapped around her with floral designs and what Sonny imagined were bright colours from the contrasts he saw through the distorted tangled image. Her face remained completely expressionless, her delicate features and soft lines never betraying emotion.
Her House, the Oni, operated almost independently. They paid their taxes, contributed soldiers, and resources, and shared their technologies, but Sonny knew this was merely the price they paid for their autonomy. Their actions were not driven by loyalty or any sense of devotion to the Autarch, it was a calculated bargain for security. They kept to themselves, steering clear of political entanglements and focusing on their own territory, never venturing where they were not invited.
Behind Otsu was Ichimaru Konen, an old warhorse of the Oni. A scar ran across half his face, stretching from his left forehead down to his neck, a mark of service and courage, inflicted by Bel himself during the war. He covered the scar with a liquid-like metal that adorned the side of his face, intricately designed with some lettering etched over his covered eye, resembling ornate armour. Konen had been part of the Oni’s structure for decades, present when Otsu took over as House Head. When she had taken over from her predecessor, a man known only as Hidora. Sonny didn’t know if there was any relation, but he did know they couldn’t have been more different. The Oni’s entire ethos had shifted when Otsu took charge, and Sonny understood not to mistake her for a mere figurehead, she had clearly enforced a cultural change when she took charge.
The head of the table remained vacant, with the Royal Heads yet to arrive. Unfortunately, Sonny found himself locking eyes with the man seated next to Sume, his least favoured of the House Heads, Joseph Valentine, Head of the Dorlec and, in Sonny’s opinion, one of the most despicable creatures in the galaxy.
The Dorlec were all genetically modified, each implanted with the genes of their founder, simply known as Leke, a deity that lived in each of them, in their culture, giving them all a fucking god complex. Their hubris ran so deep that they rarely even mentioned Leke as their founder anymore, instead glorifying the rise of the Dorlec. In their self-proclaimed supremacy, they’d begun praising themselves over their former deity-like originator. They had usurped their own beliefs with their ego.
Their genetic “modifications” didn’t end there. All of them, men, women, and even children were altered to have a particular aesthetic. With slightly paler skin, especially those from Dorlec itself, where sprawling cityscapes blocked much of their star, they had fewer pores, dead-straight dark hair, and a tall, slender build meant to reflect the image of their founder. Sonny wondered if that was still the reason. To him, they were all tainted, a society that relied heavily on science and technology, relentlessly experimenting to extend their reach across the galaxy and improve themselves. The Autarch’s favouritism toward them spoke volumes about the man they all served. Lacking morals, they would push any boundary, justifying their compromises with some scientific or supposedly brave explanation of necessity.
Valentine, with his sharp features and lazy glare, regarded Sonny with an arrogant smirk and a slight nod. Sonny felt sick at having to acknowledge the man. Valentine’s second-in-command, whom Sonny didn’t know personally, but naturally was the spitting image of Valentine, which grossed Sonny out.
Next to Valentine sat Sama Monoe, Head of the Vritra, a House Head Sonny knew little about, as he was relatively new compared to the others. The Vritra, positioned close to the core worlds, acted as a defensive barrier against outsiders for the core itself. They were wealthy, well-positioned, and very well-funded, they wielded considerable influence, their proximity to the core granting them closeness to the Royal Houses. Yet Sama looked like a slob, with long hair, thick stubble, and a shabby uniform, his top button undone and the sleeve slightly rolled up, but only on one arm.
The only thing Sonny had heard about Sama was his reputation as a tactical genius. Despite his unkempt look, he was regarded as a formidable weapon for the Houses. Sonny imagined that behind the distorted image, that was being shown, he would see keen eyes surveying each of them. Sama always positioned himself in such a way that his face, even with the distortion, was less visible than the others as he slouched in the chair.
Standing behind Sama’s seat was a woman Sonny didn’t recognise, an unsettling contrast to her superior. Her uniform was immaculate, her hair pulled into a tight bun, and her face set in a stern glare. She was the complete opposite of the man sitting before her.
Beside Sume and across from Sonny was another empty seat, the Hulfean seat, which had remained empty in every meeting Sonny had attended, save once. The war god Locne never joined these meetings. It was widely known that he had fallen out of love with the Houses after the war, though Sonny suspected it began long before that. Despite his detachment, the Hulfean had not gone independent. Locne, aware that his House would be under threat from the others if they left, had chosen to remain a member.
The Autarch would love to have the excuse to eliminate Locne, who some believed should have taken control after the war with Bel. He was a hero and the oldest and most individually powerful member of the Houses, of that there was no doubt. By the time the Houses were officially formed into what they were now, Locne had already been leading Hulf for thousands of years. The ancient, immortal war god still held a legend to those who knew about him, but the Houses had made a concentrated effort to make him seem more of a myth than anything else, never confirming his age, his power, his existence to the rest of the galaxy. Locne made this easy for them too, being a man who preferred to be left out of the public image. It had been only some twenty-odd years since the House’s campaign to disprove the existence of the most viable candidate to stand against the Autarch, but Sonny knew that it had worked, hearing members of his own house wonder if the legends of Locne were true or not.
The reason the Locne didn't go to war with the Houses was the same reason that the Houses didn't go to war with Locne. The cost would be incalculable. Put simply, it wasn't worth the expense or effort to destroy him. Nevertheless, Sonny knew that this risk was constantly under measurement, and constantly being considered.
Sonny looked to the head of the table, waiting for the arrival of the Royal Heads, his father, Rene Matise, and Anna Serifine. Each carried the namesake of their House as a direct descendant of its original Head. They were true royalty within the Houses, the only ones born to these roles, a legacy almost unheard of for centuries, even before the Houses had joined in a formal alliance under the Autarch.
The third Royal Head, Philippe Le'Marc, was probably the most dangerous man in the entire Eleven Houses, and he arrived first. His hologram appeared out of thin air in Sonny’s office, taking a seat as the light anchored to his form. Sonny felt the tension around the table rise. Middle-aged, fit, and good-looking, with a prominent nose and tightly curled hair, Le'Marc’s appearance belied the true monster within.
He gave a smile to the rest as he sat, to which he gained a nervous nod from some. The Nissar’ra were an old House, and rose to the rank of Royal House because of the work that they’d done. Shadow work, dark dealings, the type of work the Houses actively told the public did not exist. The Nissar’ra gathered information, without being questioned, they moved entire systems into place and played the long game of power. If they were not loyal to the Autarch, Sonny imagined that they would have been wiped out long ago.
Sonny suspected it was Le'Marc who was playing the Dorlec in this Yelean game. Le'Marc was the kind of man you prayed would never cross your path, regardless of who you were. If the Autarch ordered it, he could collapse a House overnight, and with his network of spies and highly trained specialists, that threat was no idle one. The masked figure standing behind Le'Marc embodied everything one needed to know about the Nissar'ra, besides Le'Marc himself, no other ever showed their face.
He looked at Sonny who gave him a compulsory bow of the head. Sonny may have been a House Head and the son of a Royal Head of the Houses, but he was not in a position to stand against another Royal Head. Not in any legitimate way.
Anna Serifine came into focus next, taking her seat to the right of where his father would sit. The light caught her in closer focus than the rest, which told Sonny that she was closer to him than the rest were, which was interesting. Given that he was nowhere near the core, and she rarely left the Autarch’s planet, Amorim. He made a note of it.
Despite her age, Anna retained the beauty of her youth, now appearing as a delicate elder, though Sonny knew her position as Head of the Serifine House was unmatched, no one in her House could compare to her. She carried an aura of warmth, her gentle smile passing over the other House Heads. Her grey hair stood out in the distorted image, along with her elegant flowing dress, which he imagined would be orange or bright yellow, her favoured colours. She had long been the most formidable diplomat of the Houses and Sonny knew that she was his father's closest advisor. As she appeared, she gave Sonny a playful wink, which he smiled at. She might have been the only person within the Houses he trusted, even if from afar.
Behind Anna stood Janus Uul, tall, blonde, with a fresh face and kindness that made her appear almost out of place at such a meeting. Yet Janus had been by Anna’s side since childhood and knew this world all too well.
They all stood as his father entered, the light clinging to his form as he moved behind his chair. Though there were three Royal Heads, Rene Matise held the title of Royal High Lord Head, a designation Sonny often joked about, telling his father that surely they would run out of titles to give him one day.
Behind him, partially outside the hologram’s frame, stood Yoren Pa, his father’s second-in-command and a man Sonny knew well. Small-framed, his hair now greying, Yoren Pa had served his father even before Rene ascended as Head of House Matise. Yoren Pa was a man of significant knowledge, wisdom and competence, and someone who, though not holding the rank of House Head, was held in the same esteem.
Despite not being blood-related, Sonny and Rene Matise shared a similar physical build. Rene was tall and broad-shouldered, with thick arms and a physique that still resembled that of a soldier. His hair had turned white, and the deep lines etched across his face only made him look more intense than ever. Standing tall, he looked down at the table, taking a deep breath as he surveyed everyone present, offering no special recognition to Sonny.
“Thank you, take a seat, please” Sonny could tell that he was not happy about something. To many people's surprise, Rene Matise was not a man incapable of light-hearted joyous things, but this time he seemed more intense, more stressed, and it sent ripples down the dark stone table. He did know that his father did not like having meetings for no reason, but also knew that they were due a meeting and had supposed that this was just a formality. He knew that the meeting would not be about his own attack, his father would not do anything like that.
“In regard to the new recruitment efforts of independent worlds…” Sonny had to stop himself from scoffing and caught a satisfied glance from Valentine. They considered what was happening on Yeley as recruitment, as fucking recruitment, he thought trying to contain himself. “We are joined today by Adam Xious, who is acting as an emissary of the Autarch”, Rene announced, extending an arm to the far side of the long table where there was no seat, only for the holographic image of Xious to appear. The room stilled.
Sonny felt a shiver run up his spine as Adam Xious, or simply Xious, came into view. He heard Jax shift uncomfortably beside him. Xious was a man with no equal. A man who held no title within the Houses, no declared allegiance to the Autarch, he existed alone, an entity unto himself, a swaying force that was called upon only when control needed to be taken, when his power needed to be exerted.
Xious was tall and well-built, radiating a casual elegance and disarming charm. His demeanour was one of cool temperance, that exuded control and measure. His high, pronounced cheekbones, square jaw that tapered sharply at the chin, aligning perfectly with his dignified nose and his deep-set eyes met each gaze with a gentle yet piercing acknowledgement. His closely shaved head and polished forehead added to his sharp, direct presence. Dressed in a fine dark suit, worn with a familiarity few could afford, Xious commanded attention with every word he spoke, it was with a rich and deep voice, each syllable measured, demanding attention.
“Thank you, Royal High Lord Matise,” Xious said with a softened smile, placing his holographic hands on the table, which, where he was seated, must have matched the exact height of Sonny’s own Head’s table. “I am afraid that it is with terrible news that I join you all here today,” he began, not acknowledging his connection to the Autarch. “There has been word from the Call, it seems that the seal that binds Bel, has weakened”
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