“So,” said Jaime Pierrot. “What are your thoughts on the world to come?”

The man across from him steepled his fingers atop the desk, considering the question carefully. He was a severe-looking fellow, with pronounced cheekbones and icy blue eyes. Thick black eyebrows made him seem perpetually stern, and the tightness with which his dark hair was tied back into a ponytail didn't do much to help that impression.

Yes, even the business suit he wore was tailored to perfection -- to exactitude. Was he a man who took pride in his appearance, then, or one who took pride in his precision? It was difficult to tell, and the Prince was volunteering no guidance.

In that case, it probably wasn't important.

“That's quite the question to open with,” the man purred. “Especially when I'm the one who invited you here. What are your intentions, Captain?”

Shen Xiurong, the Lord Mayor of the City of Jìnhuà. He was part of the Unified Alliance of Planet's Central Governing Council -- and one of the major players in that council, as a matter of fact. That soft power mainly stemmed from three factors.

First, his political acumen. Before him, the Lord Mayorship of Jìnhuà had been a position that had changed hands quickly. Usurpation had been common in the previous era of Jìnhuà -- but since Xiurong had come to power, none had risen to oppose him. Or, rather, those who had risen had not risen long.

Secondly, the breadth of the territory he controlled. Although the City of Jìnhuà was, of course, a city, that was mainly a technicality born from an ancient contract. In truth, the ‘cityscape’ of Jìnhuà consisted of a staggering number of systems and planets, each considered a mere district in the territory. Independent planets like Cayapali and Taldan also made contributions in exchange for Jìnhuà’s support, increasing their wealth further.

And thirdly…

“My husband asked you a question,” said the third man standing by the window, his arms crossed. “You'd do well to answer.”

NEBULA ONE

Fei Long

"Commander of the Scarlet Parade"

“The Supreme Without Supremacy”

“The Thousandfold Knight”

“The Last Dragon”

“The Hero”

“Angelslayer”

“The Strongest Man of the UAP”

Nebula of Jìnhuà

Fei Long was a tall man, covered from head to toe in shining silver armour -- some kind of advanced Chassis, Pierrot assumed. The helmet had been sculpted to bear the snarling visage of a dragon, and the red visor glinted as it regarded Pierrot. A crimson cape hung from his shoulders, granting him an undeniable sense of majesty. A knight, indeed.

Nebula One, Fei Long, was known for his kind and virtuous nature -- but from the tone of his voice, it seemed Pierrot had ended up on his bad side.

“My intentions?” Pierrot considered, stroking his beard. “Well, I have to say that's an odd question to ask. As you say, you're the one who invited me here.”

“I'm no fool, Captain,” said Xiurong.

“I never said you were.”

“For the last few weeks,” Xiurong continued, leaning back in his seat. “I've been doing all I can to muster our resources, organise our forces, prepare our defence -- our defence for the war we both know is coming.”

“You refer to the Supremacy,” Pierrot nodded.

“The Supremacy is the only true enemy we've ever had,” Shen said. “Anyone else we've faced, in comparison? Mere skirmishes. I dislike dramatism, but in my eyes the Supremacy is the root of all evil. And it's an evil that will be coming our way before long.”

Pierrot raised an eyebrow. “All evil? That's a little absolutist, Lord Mayor. The Supremacy is a travesty of a government, to be sure, but ‘evil’ would exist with or without them.”

“Again… all in comparison. I could bathe my hands in blood for a hundred years and -- in comparison to them -- I would be pure and innocent. The next war against them is imminent. You know it, and I know it -- and yet, you've been blocking my efforts to prepare. I'd like an explanation.”

Pierrot took a deep breath.

“I agree with you that the war is inevitable… but imminent? No. That's still in our hands.”

“How so?” Xiurong asked, his eyes half-lidded.

Open to being convinced, the Prince whispered in its peculiar way, thoughts not Pierrot's own popping into his mind. Playing up antipathy towards the Supremacy. Opposes them, but understands the necessity of a measured response. True purpose of this meeting is to gauge your character. Acquiesce to a limited degree.

Do not disclose existence of the Prince.

Fei Long is uncomfortable being rude to you, but is playing along at the request of his husband. Violence unlikely from him barring exceptional trespass on your part. Currently, you are not in physical danger, only potential political danger.

Pierrot took a deep breath. “The next Supreme will need to quickly consolidate their authority when they ascend the throne. I will concede that.”

“Then you also concede that they'll perform that consolidation by declaring open war against us, capitalising on the sentiments developed over the last century?”

“That's one outcome.”

“And what are the others?”

It was Pierrot's turn to lean forward, and it was Pierrot's turn to steeple his fingers on the desk. In some tiny way, the power in the conversation shifted over to him.

“My ideal outcome,” he said quietly. “And the one I'm working to make happen… is for a particular candidate to ascend to the throne of Supreme. This individual is bound by a code of honour compatible with our needs, and will not act against us so long as he considers himself indebted. In short, whatever means he uses to consolidate power will not involve the declaration of war.”

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Xiurong raised a thick eyebrow. “I've heard word that Nebulas Two and Five haven't been seen for some time. I take it they're acting as your agents, then? Working to make sure this candidate succeeds?”

“If they're doing anything,” Pierrot smiled. “It'd surely be at the request of their governments. I hardly have the authority to dispatch Nebula as my personal ‘agents’.”

The smile on Pierrot's face was quickly mirrored by Xiurong. They were the same kind of animal, to be sure. They knew each other.

“You're a crafty old man, Captain,” the Lord Mayor said. “But enough games. Who's this candidate you've invested your hopes in?”

Pierrot opened his mouth to speak.

“Atoy Muzazi,” said Morgan Nacht.

He looked up at the building before them, the towering Guidorest Hotel. Five-hundred stories of glass and steel -- and on the inside, some of the greatest comfort you could afford in the galaxy. Anxious sweat crawled down the back of his neck.

“You think so?” Gregori Hazzard asked.

Morgan nodded. “I would say he wins against Mereloco,” he replied. “Every time.”

“I’ve seen him fight,” Gregori Hazzard muttered, hands in his pockets as the two of them walked down the promenade. “And I've seen Mereloco fight. Mereloco seems stronger.”

“But Muzazi wants it more,” Morgan shot back. “You can tell -- and that's important.”

“If you say so.”

“But…” Morgan winced, with all the tension of someone who was trying -- more than anything else -- to talk themselves into something. “It doesn't matter if he'd win or not if he doesn't make it to the fight. As things stand, it's unlikely that Muzazi will be awake by tomorrow. Mereloco would win by default.”

“Wouldn't be the first time,” Gregori said. “The Crown's got something similar going on. Well, they're never waking up, but still. Muzazi pushed himself too hard in the last fight. Let it be a lesson to him.”

Morgan shook his head. “If I were going to do that, I wouldn't have bothered coming here. I'm going to give the Commander more time.”

Gregori just silently raised an eyebrow to that. No doubt he thought he was watching a suicide born of folly. He might not even have been wrong about that.

Right now, Mereloco was occupying three entire floors of the Guidorest Hotel -- one of many luxury establishments owned by Morgan's father. Morgan had pulled on that connection to get the information. The floors Mereloco was staying on, and the times he'd be present. It hadn't been the most comfortable conversation -- Morgan hadn't spoken to his father since he'd transitioned -- but he'd got what he needed.

“Let's go,” Morgan said, biting down the shaking of his voice.

It was time to shamelessly beg.

The sounds of squeaking exercise equipment echoed through the room, easily overpowering Morgan and Gregori’s footsteps.

Mereloco currently had free reign over three entire floors in the hotel -- and one of them was this gym. Usually, this place would have been filled with guests working out or swimming in the neighbouring pool. Now, however, it was empty… save for the man himself, and his companion.

The man from the past was lying down on the floor, lifting weights that dwarfed his own body. Although sweat poured down his form, his face was as stoic as ever. Morgan supposed that was no surprise. From what he'd seen of Mereloco so far, he couldn't imagine the man's expression changing even if he were dealt a mortal blow.

The woman from Halcyon Interstellar, Alicia Jane Marsden, saw them approaching first -- and immediately stepped out of her position next to Mereloco to block Morgan and Gregori's path. She narrowed her eyes as she regarded the two of them.

“Identify yourselves,” she snapped.

She's strong.

Morgan could tell. It was her stance, the way she positioned herself, the presence she commanded in the room. He supposed that was no surprise, either. Back in the day, Halcyon Interstellar had done a lot of poaching from the Special Officer Exam. They had no shortage of powerful Aether-users.

Best to tell the truth here. Morgan opened his mouth to do so, but before he could…

“What do you want?” asked Mereloco.

The man was on his feet. Morgan hadn't seen him get up, nor discard the gargantuan set of weights that was now embedded in the floor. A shiver ran down Morgan's spine. If Mereloco had chosen to launch an attack at that moment, would Morgan even have noticed?

Mereloco's eyes were dull and dark. Now Morgan was certain he'd be best off telling the truth.

“My name is Morgan Nacht,” he began -- but he didn't get any further than that.

“I don’t care what your name is,” Mereloco said, dangerously quiet. “What do you want?”

“I'm here on behalf of Atoy Muzazi. I'd like to discuss… I'd like to discuss delaying the match between you and him. There's a clause in the rules that allows it… but we require your consent as his opponent.”

“Why isn't he here himself?”

“He's…” Morgan swallowed. “He was injured badly in his previous match. He hasn't woken up yet. Hence why we wish to delay.”

Mereloco did not blink. “I don't. If he doesn't show up, I win. Go away.”

Morgan cleared his throat. “If you were to win by default… surely that wouldn't be a victory you could be proud of!”

“I don't give a shit about pride. Go away.”

With that, he turned and began to walk away.

Panic flared through Morgan's mind: he was leaving. Convincing Mereloco was their only chance, and he'd fucked it up. If not for that panic, Morgan would never have done something as monumentally stupid as what he did next. He never would have stepped forward and recklessly shouted:

“Coward!”

Mereloco stopped. Mereloco looked back over his shoulder. Mereloco glared with eyes of stone.

“You sure?” he muttered.

Are you sure you want to do this? Are you sure you want to be here? Are you sure you want to die? If so, keep speaking.

Morgan got the meaning, and Morgan ignored it.

“You're frightened,” he insisted, trying unsuccessfully to stifle the trembling in his voice. “You saw how Atoy Muzazi performed in the last match, and you're scared the same will happen to you. That's why you don't want to fight him.”

Gregori quietly spoke up. “Uh, maybe --”

“If I'm wrong, then prove it!” Morgan roared. “Right here and now! Agree to the delay, and take on the Full Moon!”

A tense silence settled over the room, save for Morgan's ragged breathing and the distant traffic outside. He couldn't help but notice that Gregori had taken a very tactful step away from him. Making sure he wasn't caught in the range of Unchained, no doubt. However… the killing blow did not come.

Instead, Mereloco just frowned. “Why would you go so far for this man?” he asked.

Morgan met his gaze dead-on. “I'm his second-in-command. It's my job to go this far for him.”

The man from two-hundred years ago narrowed his eyes. “Woman,” he said, glancing at Alicia. “Leave us. The other guy too.”

“Sir, I don't know if I'd advise --”

“Leave us,” Mereloco repeated, in a tone that brooked no argument..

As Alicia carefully left the room, Morgan exchanged a glance with her. He was well aware of the current situation with Halcyon Interstellar. After the death of their CEO, they’d been divided on how to deal with Mereloco. One faction wanted to throw up their hands and dump him, while the other -- which Alicia was part of -- wanted to keep supporting him for the time being in hope of his favour once he became Supreme.

Even so, that faction was unstable, given Mereloco’s propensity to do as he pleased. Morgan guessed that whatever Mereloco was about to do wouldn’t help much with that either.

They all stood there, they all stood still, until they finally heard the door close behind Alicia. Leaving just Morgan, Gregori… and Mereloco himself. His gaze was inscrutable.

“So…” Morgan finally spoke up.

Mereloco interrupted without missing a beat, and his words were enough to turn Morgan’s blood cold.

“Boy. I’m going to kill you now. If you’re still alive in five minutes… I’ll do as you say.”