THE KING’S GAZE MOVED WITH SPEED AND STEALTH THROUGH THE CONSTANT midnight of deep space. The great void that belonged to no one, but for the Imperium, it waited to be conquered. Cassius stood in the conning tower watching their progress towards Veldt. It would end in one of two ways. Noble getting them all killed either through a battle, from the hand of the Motherworld, or total destruction of their target. No middle ground. Ever. Noble learned that after a disastrous first campaign straight out of the Academy. Cassius wasn’t with him, but he heard about it. If Atticus were not from a military family from Moa, he would have never come back from that. He seemed to be able to come back from anything.
“Commander, I have the chief medical technician.”
Cassius looked at the communications officer to his left. “Put him through.”
The communications officer swiped the control panel. The room filled with clashing shouts and curses. Cassius immediately recognized one of the voices.
The medical technician spoke. “Commander, I think you should…”
Before Cassius could speak, he could hear Noble screaming. “Get your hands off me! I have a ship to command, and no, I won’t calm down!”
“You just need to come down here now,” said the medical technician in an agitated tone.
The communications officer looked at Cassius then snapped his eyes back to the control panel when Cassius glared at him. “On my way.”
The line went dead. Cassius inhaled a deep breath before leaving the command deck to see Noble. He walked swiftly to the medical bay, ignoring those who passed and saluted. He hated this feeling of babysitting, of managing someone who could cost him his life. When he entered the medical bay, Noble was stood next to his bed, arranging a crisp white sheet around his body in the fashion of robes despite the fact his entire body was still attached to the ceiling that connected to the medical mainframe. All he needed were laurels on his head—something he desperately wanted. He often thought Noble and Balisarius were cut from the same cloth.
“Sir, you’re… you’re awake,” Cassius said.
Noble’s face twisted with an incredulous sneer. “Of course I’m awake. Now tell this idiot to unplug me. That’s an order.” His eyes shifted to a medical tech closest to him. Noble ripped a monitor electrode off his chest.
The tech stammered behind his mask, “Sir, there are protocols before you can be cleared to resume your command. Tests that need to be conducted to ensure you are mentally and physically strong enough to…”
Noble backhanded the tech across the face before grabbing him by the neck and squeezing. With one arm he lifted the tech off his feet. He kicked his dangling feet. The cruelty in Noble’s eyes glowed. “Let me help you with the evaluation.”
Noble tossed the tech across the room with clenched teeth. His chest rose and fell with his rapid breathing. The tech lay on the ground, coughing and rubbing his neck. Two others ran to his aid. Noble looked back to Cassius. “Do I seem strong enough to you, Cassius?”
Cassius recognized that wild glint in his eyes, along with something more sinister. He hadn’t made it this far under Noble’s command without knowing what battles to fight. He glanced towards the stunned medical staff. “Help him! Unhook him now.”
The medical staff scrambled towards Noble, who had his arms outstretched, ready to be free from the black cables like a rabid dog waiting to be unleashed. Cables were unplugged with the skin carefully placed over the openings. One tech worked with diligence, carefully extracting the cable attached to Noble’s head. He smoothed the skin over the ports to hide the seams that would stitch together on their own. When free from the cables, Noble glared at the techs scurrying away from him. He turned his attention back to Cassius.
“A few days, sir.”
Noble’s attention seemed to stray as his eyes appeared as if they were seeing something only he could perceive. His head tilted towards the ceiling. His eyes scurried across the lights embedded in the ceiling. He lifted his hands and shifted his gaze to his fingers. They moved slowly before he made two fists. The veins in his forearms bulged and his muscles tensed. One hand moved to his chest. He ran his fingertips across the rough, puckered skin that created a crude scar on his sternum. He closed his eyes and squeezed them as if he was reliving the moment it had been created by that bitch Kora. His lips pursed and formed a tight straight line.
“Admiral, my apologies for the scar that was left by this incompetent medical team. I’m sure it can be removed.”
His eyes snapped open. “No. Leave it. She gave it to me and when I deliver her to Balisarius and her body is displayed in the rotunda of the senate, I will bare my chest and this scar will stand as a symbol, that it was I who brought to justice the Scargiver. And it is I who stands before my people as savior.”
Noble no longer looked at Cassius. His eyes and thoughts were far off, seeing his victory in conquest. Cassius wondered if this was the beginning of Noble wanting to challenge the authority of Balisarius. If so, they were entering dangerous territory. The Regent made it very clear who his enemies and allies were.
The sky over Veldt was illuminated with an indigo and yellow predawn glow tinged with Mara’s red. A few stars and the moons were visible. Hagen entered the longhouse and banged on a small bell. The warriors sleeping on the floor sat up, bleary-eyed at the intrusive noise. One of the villagers brought in clothing and boots for farm work. No one complained, knowing what was at stake.
When the warriors were dressed and outside, Hagen stood on the back of the flat bed of a wagon ready to address everyone. The warriors and villagers stood in front of him, still waking up, waiting to hear the plan before time ran out. He searched the crowd with his eyes before he stopped and followed Gunnar and Kora approaching together. Den stared at them hard, his face crestfallen as he looked back towards Hagen’s feet on the wagon. Tarak glanced back before doing a double-take. Kora and Gunnar attempting to avoid eye contact with anyone made it obvious they were uncomfortable showing up together so early in the morning with their clothes hastily put on—and by the looks of it, not rested. Tarak gave her a large grin and elbowed Titus.
“Sorry we’re late,” said Gunnar as he moved closer to Hagen.
Kora remained back with the warriors. Titus and Tarak continued to glance her way. She looked straight ahead. “Say nothing.”
The two men giggled like schoolboys. “What? I can’t say good morning?” said Tarak.
Gunnar stood next to Hagen and Den, who shot him a stoic glare before crossing his arms. Gunnar gave him a half smile, but wouldn’t meet his gaze. He cleared his throat before turning to the crowd. “Let’s begin. We have a few people here with us who have probably never harvested grain, made sheaves, or worked a scythe. But we will welcome them and, through our work together, win favor with the spirit of the soil and guarantee the future abundance of these sacred fields. You all know your jobs. Don’t be afraid to personally approach our guests and put them to work.”
A group of older women with their hair tied back, wearing loose trousers and long-sleeved blouses, approached Titus and Tarak. The leader stood in front of Tarak. She had silver hair with pale yellow streaks. Her light skin showed her age around her eyes and mouth, with creases like tilled rows in a field. Yet, her eyes sparkled with youthful energy.
“You two will come with me. We will follow the reapers and bundle the grain into sheaves. Do you think you can handle that?” Her gaze followed his chiseled shape, mostly his bare arms.
He looked at all the women who remained stony-faced and tanned from outdoor work. Tarak furrowed his brow and scoffed, “This sounds like women’s work.”
She flashed him a confident smile only a woman of a certain age and life experience could give a man. Hervor was a woman who didn’t suffer fools because she had heard and seen it all before. “It is. That’s why it might be too much for you.”
Tarak looked at her, stunned, his lips parted. Titus laughed out loud. “Lady, you already know him so well.”
“We should get started before the sun is too high in the sky. Follow me.” She turned to move with the other women by her side. Titus and Tarak followed in silence.
* * *
By the time the sun had risen above the mountains, everyone was hard at work. The rhythmic swinging of scythes in the hands of the reapers led by Den moved horizontally across the fields. Step by step, they worked their way through the tall golden stalks. Behind them, Tarak and Titus followed the lead of Hervor and her band of women. They gathered the fallen stalks into bundles and tied them together before leaving them in a pile. Kora, Gunnar and the rest of the warriors followed behind them, propping the bundles up against each other in the shape of a pyramid so they could dry. Hervor stopped her own work to help Tarak keep the stalks in a tight bundle between his thighs to tie it properly. She shook her head and smiled at him while showing him again the technique that required the strength of one’s entire body. He smiled back at her as she moved.
Kora, who was not far behind, watched their interaction— which bordered on flirting. She chuckled and glanced towards Gunnar next to her. He also laughed, noticing the two, then moved closer to Kora. “He was chained up a long time.”
“As a prince I assume he is used to having a lot of female attention, just not in this way.”
Gunnar waited a beat. His expression became more serious. “You okay with… what happened last night?”
She glanced around to see who might be listening to their conversation. “Of course. But it’s no one else’s business.”
“I know, but the way Den looked at me… It’s not a secret how he feels about you, or his intentions given the chance.”
“Well, just because we want something doesn’t mean we get it.”
“Gotcha.”
“If I wanted Den then I would have been with him last night,” Kora said without looking at Gunnar, continuing with her work. He paused for a moment to watch the way her body moved in the light.
Nemesis nudged him. “Love alone won’t harvest this field, just like love alone won’t save us from the Imperium.” Gunnar snapped out of his reverie. Nemesis was already moving on. He took a deep breath and continued to lift stalks.
By late morning, everyone in the fields was ready for a much-needed rest. Sam and Hagen ensured there was enough water on hand. Nemesis wandered through the field, away from the small talk. In both hands she carried smooth wooden threshing sticks. A light breeze caressed her skin and blew strands of thin black hair from her face. She closed her eyes and stood in a wide stance, allowing the elements to guide her mind and body. With sticks in hand, she raised her arms from her sides and allowed the wind to rush past her. In sharp, swift movements she began to practice her katas, her chosen form of meditation. In the distance the village children played. Three of them, all the same age of ten, broke away to watch her graceful art. They stared at her metal hands and closed eyes in awe, never having seen anything like it before. Eljun’s eyes went wide. “I told you. Nemesis is the strongest. And she doesn’t even have her swords!”
Red-haired and freckled Finn shook his head. “It’s Titus. He’s strong and smart. He’s an actual general. Did you see his armor?”
Edda twirled her braids, looking past Nemesis. She giggled. “You’re both wrong, it’s Tarak! My sister thinks so too.”
Eljun tried to copy Nemesis’s moves. Edda and Finn chuckled at his clumsy attempt, but he didn’t care. “No, it’s Nemesis. I don’t care what anyone says, it’s Nemesis.”
“Children!” An adult male voice broke their play, with all three jumping at the same time. The stroppy farmer gave them a stern look and waved for them to come closer. “Back to work. The lot of you!”
The three children scattered towards the fields. Eljun glanced back to see Nemesis walking away towards the rest of the villagers and warriors, returning to work until they stopped for a late lunch. They all knew the stakes were high, and the first part of the day had to be the most productive before the heat set in.
By midday, hunger and heat brought the work to a halt. With many female and a few male eyes glancing in his direction, Tarak removed his shirt to give it a quick douse in the icy river water. He put it back on to cool his skin.
The villagers sat not far away, eating hard cheese, cured meats, and fresh bread beneath a cluster of large trees that provided shade. Despite the approaching threat, they seemed to be in good spirits as they talked amongst themselves. Sam returned to a large basket and pulled out a new sowing project. Aris settled next to her with enough food for both of them.
Hervor approached Tarak with a cloth holding a generous portion of bread and cheese. “Here, you have to keep your energy up.”
He looked at the lunch and smiled. “Thank you. I wasn’t sure who to ask.”
“Don’t be shy. You don’t get what you don’t ask for.” She turned to walk back to the group of women who seemed to follow her. He watched her wide, luxurious hips sway beneath the fabric of her trousers. Titus slapped him on the back and leaned close to his ear. “Now that is a woman who could tame a wild beast without even touching it.”
Tarak looked back at Titus walking towards the lower end of the river where the banks were covered with high and thick reeds.
* * *
Nemesis lay on her back with her hat low, shielding her face. The children who had watched her earlier giggled, talking to each other. Finn gave Eljun a light shove. “Well, go. You like her so much. I dare you.” Edda nodded in agreement. Eljun held a stalk of wheat in his hand. He crept towards Nemesis on his toes, trying to remain as quiet as possible. As he got closer to Nemesis, he extended the stalk. He looked back at his friends stifling giggles and shooing him forward. She remained still when he turned back to her. Just as the edge neared her chin, Nemesis reached out and grabbed it from his hands with a hard tug. She gave them a stern glare.
Eljun’s eyes widened as he shrieked. “I told you she has other powers!!” he screamed, running to catch up with his friends, who laughed as they fled. Nemesis couldn’t stop a small smile forming on her lips as she readjusted her hat and returned to her rest.
After lunch they worked until the sun was a bright blister falling behind the mountains. Kora took control of the wagon pulled by uraki. Hagen stood behind her, stacking the dried bundles of wheat Sam, Gunnar, and Nemesis tossed onto the wagon. When the field was clear they all nearly collapsed. Hagen wiped his brow and chuckled. “I might need someone to help me home.”
Gunnar and Kora exchanged sly glances. Nemesis spoke up. “I will. Before sleep I’d like to sit in the fresh night air.”
“You sure?”
She gave him a short nod without looking at Kora or Gunnar. Hagen walked next to her with one hand on her bent arm. Sam looked around awkwardly. “Well, I better get back to my project. Sleep well.” She gave them a smile before turning in the direction of her home.
Kora and Gunnar stood in front of each other with the moons now shining brightly above them. A cool breeze blew her hair in front of his face. “We should probably get a good night’s sleep tonight. It’s the sensible thing to do.”
She took a step closer to him and licked her lips. “I’m not sensible. Fighting the Imperium is far from sensible.”
“So where does that leave us?”
She smirked. “Dead and satisfied.” She turned in the direction of his home. He followed behind, ready for another sleepless night wrapped in her sweat and scent. The scent that would never leave his skin or bed for as long as she lived. An invisible leash pulled at his soul as he watched her skin glow beneath the night sky. Tonight would be all about making her happy, satisfied, feeling loved.
* * *
It was another predawn start in the longhouse. Hagen appeared rested and ready to start a day of vigorous back-breaking work they hoped would save their lives. He banged a tin cup and pan together to get everyone’s attention and wake them up. Tarak yawned as he tied his hair back then rubbed his eyes. Hervor handed him a steaming ceramic mug. He smiled and took a sip of the black brew. “What did you put in this?”
“It’s a secret. A little something extra for stamina.” She gave him a wink.
He took another gulp, looking into her eyes. “Stamina is not a problem for me. Early mornings are. I prefer to stay up all night. Sleep late.”
He handed her the mug back and she took a sip. “Good to know.”
Gunnar and Kora were not late, but Den still watched them walk in together from his periphery. Hagen gave the pot one last clang. “I know you all are tired, but we are far from finished. We did an excellent job yesterday. I haven’t seen anything like it in all my time, but that says a lot about you and what you can accomplish. See you all out in the fields.”
The villagers and warriors made their way out of the longhouse to begin another day of arduous work. Tarak had a better feel for the rhythm of his task. It was mind clearing and soul cleansing. Hervor watched him tie a bundle faster than the previous day and more efficiently. As he began to work on another stalk, a man cursed in front of him. One of the reapers held his broken blade. “Lads, do we have any spare? I don’t know how long this will take to fix.”
“No. We are using everything we have to get this done on time.”
Tarak overhead the conversation and walked towards the reapers, who stopped their work. “May I?” The reaper with the broken blade handed it to Tarak. “Sure. You know how?
Tarak inspected the two broken pieces. “If you have the tools.”
“We have a smithy. Hasn’t been used as much since Erik has taken on less work because of his age.”
“Take me. I’ll do what I can.”
Tarak worked the metal with the expertise honed from his time in captivity. He hammered it to the right weight and thickness until it was perfect—better than before. There was pride in his eyes as he walked back to the field with it in hand. The reapers cheered while Hervor looked on. Tarak handed it back to the man. The reaper stood and twisted it to get a full view of the blade. “It looks great. Thank you.”
“No problem.”
Milius stopped their work to look at the new blade. “Do you mind?”
“If you think you can,” said the reaper.
Milius held it in their hand. Nostalgia and longing ached in their chest as they closed their eyes. Memory surged like the energy of a comet. The blade belonged in their hands, it was as if they had held it before, long ago. Milius opened their eyes again and took a few steps back. With precise form, they glided the scythe across the tall stalks that fell in a perfect row. They handed the scythe back to the reaper, satisfied they still possessed a part of where they came from. The reapers simply watched Milius, awed by what they had witnessed.
Titus removed his flask from his belt and shook it. There wasn’t much left as the contents barely sloshed at the bottom. He paused before drinking the rest until a final drop fell into his mouth. He smacked his lips then looked at the flask, as if he was about to say goodbye to an old friend. He turned his head from left to right to see who might be watching, dipping the flask in a barrel filled with water. He smiled then stomped towards the villagers at rest. “Get back to work. The lot of you!” He took a large swig from the flask knowing he had everyone’s full attention. Little did he know Kora stood in the distance and clocked his secret. She felt a swell of pride, hoping he was a step closer to living up to his full potential again, to reverting to the leader he was born to be, the warrior they needed to succeed.
The villagers and warriors continued in the fields, piling the last of the bundles onto the gravity-decks of the wagons until there was enough to start milling in the granary. Kora looked at the building, remembering the night of slaughter that began this journey. Now the farmers tossed grain into the air to separate the wheat from the chaff. She watched it flutter into the air and hit the light. The golden hue of the waning sun made it look like a shower of stars. Nemesis laughed as she smiled with the children playing with her. Small bits of chaff fell into their hair. A slight bitterness washed over Kora, knowing the Imperium still planned to come here. All this work shouldn’t be for them. And why still come here? Did someone know she was there? So much didn’t make sense, including her feelings for Gunnar.
“We need lifting!” someone shouted. Kora moved into the granary as grain was being poured down a chute and into the gigantic grinding millstone. The stone turned and creaked as it created flour that fell into large burlap bags. A woman tied one of them at the top and looked at Kora. “Just in the back.” Kora nodded and lifted the one-hundred-pound bag onto her shoulder to place it in storage.
Gunnar was in there keeping notes on the production. He looked up at her and smiled. “There really is nothing you can’t do.”
She shook her head and dropped the bag against the wall. She glanced around before leaning in to kiss him, then walked away to grab another bag. But kissing him once wasn’t enough. She turned and wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him again. She giggled like she never had the chance to do on a warship. Even the lovers she took during her many campaigns had taken on a more serious tone. What she felt for Gunnar was like nothing she had experienced before. This was sunshine on her face after a storm.
Soon they were no longer alone as Tarak and Titus were also heaving the large sacks over their shoulders to speed up the process. By the time the sun was nearly gone, the sacks of flour reached the ceiling. Titus and Tarak were covered in specks of flour dust when they dropped the last of the sacks. Tarak gave him a hard slap on the back. “I believe we all deserve a drink. Am I right?”
“Hell yes! Perhaps two,” said Titus with a large grin. They looked towards Gunnar, who continued with his notes and numbers. “You coming?”
He glanced up. “I’ll meet you in the longhouse. Just finishing up.” When they left he stopped his work and looked around the storage room. He wondered if this was the sum of their existence. This was what their lives were worth to the Imperium, or maybe not. He hoped all of this would make a difference. As he left, Aris was returning for another transmission to The King’s Gaze.
Aris saluted the hologram of Cassius. “How has the harvest been going? Any protests from the villagers? I hope they have been providing you with all you need.”
“No, sir. All is to schedule. And nothing to report on the villagers.”
“I’ve not seen Faunus or Marcus during your reports.”
“They have been busy driving the villagers, sir. Getting that extra bit of work out of them. They wanted to continue… enjoying the village right now so they sent me.”
“Very well. When you see them let them know I would like a word.”
Aris swallowed hard but kept his composure. “Yes. I believe it’s your phrase, um… every child screaming… every mother crying.”
Even as a hologram, Cassius’ eyes were as hard and cold as millstones. “That is one of mine, yet I can’t take authorship. I believe it originates from our Regent Balisarius himself during his time as a fighting man, and it is my honor to quote him.”
“And now mine. The work has continued around the clock and we should have all the grain milled into flour just in time for your arrival.”
This good news still didn’t move Cassius to a smile. “Excellent, Private. And if the villagers have held up their end, maybe some mercy is in order.”
“These dogs deserve nothing but our boot.”
Cassius’ eyes narrowed. “Is that right? We’ll see when the job is done. For the slain king.” He put a balled fist to his chest.
Aris nodded and made the same motion. “For the slain king.” He saluted Cassius and waited for him to end the transmission.
* * *
Cassius turned to the back of the bridge in The King’s Gaze. Noble emerged from the shadows. “I should have killed that traitorous little shit with his sisters. There is still time.”
“If that pleases you, sir.”
“It would. It’s clear that what the Hawkshaws are reporting is true—that Faunus and Marcus and the rest of his men are dead. The Scargiver and the others are among them. The young private has chosen a side. He shall die with them.”
“What should we do, sir?”
Noble paced to the front of the bridge. He touched the scar over his clothing. “We wait for more information from the Hawkshaws. Let them think we know nothing.”
“Yes, sir.”
Noble knew he had survived for a reason. His renewed determination to crush the rebels made him think back to the time when he truly learned the meaning of what it took to be victorious.