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Prologue
Ravik
My fingers itched to crush Hagan Soluk’s skull. If he knew the depth of the hatred I still bore him and the seven survivors among the Fifteen, he wouldn’t be stoking my ire any further with his endless sniveling.
“Enough!” I shouted, slamming my fist on the arm of my throne while seething with anger. The slapping sound against the white stone and polished bones of my seat echoed through the large hall. “This isn’t open for debate. I have no patience for your whining and complaining.”
My gaze roamed over the Council; twelve men, four of whom I would kill in the worst possible way at the first opportunity. Each one of them, leaders of their respective clans, would appear intimidatingly powerful to a non-Braxian. To me, most of them were no more than worms I would gladly crush underfoot. They shifted in their white stone seats laid out in a half circle before me. Behind them, their firstborn sons and respective Clan Elders sat in attendance. My own two sons, Keran and Ganek, sat on each side of my throne.
“You’ve had three years for the transition. Why the fuck are you not ready?” I demanded.
“Demand has been steadily declining for most of our exports,” Hagan argued, “and the prices of imports have soared. With slave labor, we could still manage. But since the abolition, we’ve been drowning.”
Four of the twelve councilmen nodded with mumbled words of approval.
“You’re drowning because you didn’t adapt,” said Krygor Aldriss, dismissively. “My son gave you and the others plenty of advice on how to diversify your business and provided you with potential fields to grow into. Youchoseto ignore his recommendations. Now, you pay the price.”
Hagan’s dark-brown eyes burned with anger and resentment as they turned towards Krygor. “I will not have my clan beholden to your half-breed!” Hagan said, spitefully. “All of his so-calledsuggestionswould put us and our fates under his thumb. I would see my clan starve rather than bow before one such as him.”
Krygor leaned back against his chair, a lock of his long, salt-and-pepper hair dropping in front of his pitch-black eye. “Well then, it looks like you’re in the process of getting your wish.”
Smug bastard…
I fought to repress a smirk. Krygor, leader of Clan Aldriss, was one of only three men I fully trusted on my Council—with my life.
“Half-breed or not, Anton Aldriss has brought great prosperity to all of us who followed his advice or entered into business agreements with him,” intervened Elder Pattel Veelan, another trusted friend. “Times aren’t changing, Hagan. They havealreadychanged, and Braxia is being left behind.”
“Then Braxia needs to retake its leadership role rather than kneel to off-worlder rules,” Hagan snapped, earning himself more nods and whispers of approval.
“And how will we do that, you fool?” I asked, fed up with having the same, pointless arguments for months. “Every civilized planet in the Eastern Quadrant has joined the Galactic Council. Their rules for membership are clear. Why are we still talking about this? The Great Wars have ended. Non-contractual slavery is over. Science and trade are the future. I will not have you further waste my time rehashing these tired, old complaints. Braxiawillevolve into modern times, even if I have to beat it into our people.”
“Not all planets have joined the Galactic Council,” Clan Leader Raylor Caldes said in a measured tone. “The Sarenians refused.”
“Pariahs,” I countered, waving a dismissive hand. “Their predatory nature violates countless edicts of the Galactic Council.”
“Maybe so, but they would make powerful allies. Between them and the few rogue planets in our Quadrant, we would have a formidable alliance,” Caldes continued. “The Western Quadrant also has a number of planets that haven’t joined the Council. Among them, one that is quite keen to form an alliance with us.”
“Oh?” asked Hagan, his eyes sparkling with interest.
Raylor Caldes nodded. “Yes. The Guldans are also seeking allies to oppose the Galactic Council’s tyranny. They are extremely wealthy, highly technologically advanced, and possess an impressive network of mercenaries.”
“And have made enemies of the Tuureans,” said Elder Fenton, my best friend. “The Guldans are almost completely isolated in the Western Quadrant. They are under more embargos and retaliatory measures than you have hair on your head. Whatever benefits we might reap from such an alliance would pale in comparison to the massive losses we would sustain in a war against the Galactic Council.”
“If we are to make alliances,” Krygor said, “the Tuureans are the ones we should pursue. In fact, my son Anton happens to be friends with their leader, Admiral Lee.”
“Again with that fucking half-breed,” Hagan muttered so low I barely heard him.
“Is there something you would like to share with the rest of us, Clan Leader Soluk?” Krygor asked Hagan. “If you wish to issue a challenge, I will eagerly accept.”
Krygor waved at the empty, circular space between their seats and my throne, where innumerable duels had taken place. The stone tiles covering the floor of my Hall had taken an even darker tone over the years from the countless times blood had been spilled over them.
Hagan stirred uncomfortably in his chair and rolled his broad shoulders. His flat nose twitched as he shook his head. Like all Braxians, he was massive and muscular, a giant by galactic standards. Yet, he looked scrawny in comparison to Krygor, who was only slightly smaller than me. Unlike Krygor, Pattel, and myself, Hagan didn’t come from a warrior clan. All of those in his bloodline were smaller than ours. Unless he appointed a champion to fight in his stead, Hagan would get crushed by someone like Krygor. As much as I would enjoy my friend breaking a few of his limbs, Hagan would die by my hand.
Raylor cleared his throat, stirring the attention away from Hagan who failed to hide his relief.
“The Tuureans do not share any of our interests,” Raylor said with disdain. “Quite the opposite. They’ve destroyed one of the Guldans’ largest slave breeding empires, and they make it nearly impossible for anyone to pursue any type of flesh trade in the Western Quadrant. The Guldans are looking to establish a new network here, in the Eastern Quadrant, to trade both slaves and technology. Magnar Ravik, they could be the perfect partners to take us into that new era you speak of, while allowing us to maintain our way of life.”
“The topic of slavery is closed and will not be reopened,” I said in a tone that brooked no argument. “Indentured servants are the only type of slaves that will be allowed on Braxia, and their contracts of servitude will be registered in the Hall of Records with a start date, end date, and detailed terms. Remember that this rule becomes effective next week. You are all responsible for ensuring it is enforced within your own clans, or you’ll be fined along with the offenders.”
