The High Council convened in the throne room at the break of dawn. The pale light pierced through the observation glass with its brilliant rays. The banners of Neptura, adorned with the silver eagle, hung still on their beams.

  Sat upon his giant throne, the Grand Archon leaned back, his fingers clamped against the armrests. Before him, around the central table, sat the High Council. Ironsides, Claric, Den, and Valen. The War Minister looked as though a dark cloud drifted over his thoughts.

  “First Minister,” Marcus said. “You may begin.”

  Ironsides nodded, then stood up to address the council. “My ministers, the purpose of today’s meeting is of crucial importance. After the battle with the Eryndal Anomalies, we have received our first transmission from them. Claric’s linguists have been able to decipher the alien tongue. I think you will find the aliens, and what they have to say, most interesting…”

  Ironsides played the transmission they received from the star elven emissary to the council.

  Marcus watched their faces carefully, seeing awe only on Den’s face, as he was the only one who had yet to know what they actually looked like. Though, Claric and Valen exchanged nervous glances with one another, realising it had been them, along with Marcus, that had provoked their anger.

  “As you can see,” Marcus began after the transmission died out, “these aliens, which Claric and I have designated as ‘Star Elves,’ bear striking similarities to us.”

  “That’s one way of putting it,” the Grand Admiral spoke, flicking his short cape over his arm. “These people look almost human, and they know of our species.”

  “Yes.” Claric nodded. “While we do not know for certain, we suspect there could be a genetic link or common ancestors. Their bodily structure and mannerisms are too strikingly similar to be coincidence, but it is all speculation as of yet.”

  “In any case…” Ironsides took the floor again. “The most concerning thing they claim is that we have abducted one of their own citizens, which in my opinion, is a shaky justification for their hostile stance toward us.”

  “A bold accusation,” Marcus said, avoiding any eye contact with Valen as he addressed the rest of the ministers. “Why would they think that?”

  Claric took the lead in this piece of theatre from there. “If I may, your excellency, my research teams have informed me of… peculiar reports…” His worried gaze shifted toward Valen who looked to be grinding his teeth. “They claim an unidentified specimen has been secured within a military research facility.” He set his datapad down, trying to avoid Valen’s glare. “This information only came to me recently, but given the transmission we have just heard, I must ask if anyone knows how such a specimen may have come into our custody? Perhaps we should launch an inquiry about all the specimens we hold?”

  “Curious,” Den said, stroking his chin. “I do recall a report about some unmarked military aircraft in the Eryndal system not long before these ‘star elves’ took a hostile stance toward us, but when I inquired with the supreme command, they told me it was special operations and not to probe further…”

  And now the cards fell into place. Everyone knew special operations was under Valen’s watch as the War Minister. The Grand Admiral’s watchful eye dashed between Claric and Marcus, finally landing on Valen with mild disapproval. Even Ironsides, who tended to play the careful politician, now leaned back in his seat and watched the War Minister with a suspicious eye.

  Valen clenched his jaw. A man who had spent a career making difficult choices, commanding armies, and drafting doctrine on war now faced a moment that crushed him more than any battle ever could. Valen looked him back in the eye. Come on, you fucker. Say it and get this over with. The clone general still said nothing, though everyone was now looking at him. A tinge of red flushed across his face while he tried to keep a stern demeanor. Marcus thought he might have to put Valen out of his misery until…

  “Ministers,” he said, the words seemed like bile out of his mouth. “Your excellency… I… I ordered the abduction of the alien without your knowledge or approval. I take full responsibility for the outrage.”

  Den raised a brow but said nothing, and Ironsides just sighed as his head fell into his hand.

  “I beg your pardon?” Marcus said, forcing a frown onto his face. “Why would you do that?”

  The subtle look of venom Valen shot at Marcus in that moment was unspeakable. The general then let out a sad sigh. “I-I thought we might be able to gather more intelligence on our adversaries to gain a strategic advantage on the battlefield. I judged it as a necessary course of action and acted on my own accord.”

  Ironsides rubbed his temple. “Where is your Nepturan discipline, Valen? Are you not a soldier? Not only did you contradict the High Council and the Grand Archon, but you have severely damaged our relations with a foreign state and the first intelligent life we have encountered. Not to mention, we lost multiple corvettes and thousands of clones who manned them.”

  Valen grimaced. “Don’t lay their deaths at my feet, Ironsides. You know as well as I that any Nepturan would gladly die in combat. They died well, doing what they were made for.”

  “Oh, that makes everything alright, then?” the First Minister shot back.

  Den leaned over, turning on his chair to face Valen. “If you had such concerns and felt passionately about it, why did you not bring it up with the council or the Creator?”

  He shrugged, and it seemed there was nothing but despair behind his eyes. “I don’t know, I just didn’t.”

  The man is defeated… He wasn’t even trying to protect his position anymore. Marcus thought it was best to just end this farce now. “In any case,” Marcus spoke up, silencing the rest of them, “what’s done is done. The shit can’t be shoved back in the barrel. All we can do now is clean up the mess.”

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  Another silence followed. The jury very much decides how to punish the accused. Little did they all know it was already decided. ‘The trick is to be the one writing the script,’ as Ironsides had told him. Valen may have been gifted on the battlefield in the realm of war, but this was politics. And politics had its own battlefield.

  “Well, we might as well try to make it up to the bloody elves,” Marcus said, looking around at his ministers. “Should buy us the time we need to rebuild, anyway. Valen, I will have your official resignation by tomorrow morning. You are dismissed.”

  Valen gave a stiff nod. No salute, no ‘Glory to Neptura,’ and no request for reconsideration. He just stood up, squared his shoulders, and said, “Very well, your excellency.”

  As he walked down the quiet, metallic hall, Marcus spoke, “Valen.”

  The clone stopped but did not turn.

  “You should know,” Marcus said, “I will not forget all you have done for Neptura, and more importantly, Neptura will not forget your service.” A harmless comment to those around me, but I’m really trying to ease the sting of his wound a little, and let him know I appreciate this. Perhaps it might make him hate me just a little less.

  The ex-War Minister stood still for a moment longer, and with a final nod, he left the chamber.

  The large door clamped shut behind Valen.

  “Well…” Marcus leaned back into his giant throne. “Now that that’s over with, we can continue. Grand Admiral, I trust you will oversee the War Ministry until we find a replacement for Valen? Will that cause you any problems?”

  Den shook his head, smiling softly. “None at all, your excellency. I can have a deputy assigned to it right away. Would you like me to present a list of generals for your consideration?”

  He nodded. “That would be very helpful, yes. You know them better than I do. And Den?”

  “Yes, excellency?”

  Marcus stood up tall and proud, with a beaming smile on his face. Everyone in attendance, the Grand Admiral most of all, looked rather puzzled. “I do believe everyone in this room owes you special thanks, and me most of all. Your strategy at the battle of Eryndal salvaged our fleet and prevented catastrophe. We may not have claimed the system or defeated our enemies, but we live to fight another day thanks to you! We must toast. Can we have some drinks brought in?”

  Buttons were pressed, the doors opened, and some servers wearing military-esque uniforms (everyone around here seemed to wear military uniforms apart from the scientists) walked in with trays holding jugs full of vibrant coloured liquids.

  Marcus took a light blue glass filled with Lyran wine and held it up. The rest of the ministers stood with their drinks. “To Den, the saviour of Neptura.” And me. This man saved my skin, and I suspect he may have to do so again one day.

  “Aye!” Ironsides and Claric said, and they all drank. The sour liquid cascaded down Marcus’s throat.

  The Grand Admiral chuckled, and a red tinge crept across his cheeks. “You honour me, your excellency. I only did my duty for Neptura. And for you.”

  “And you deserve praise for it,” Marcus replied, returning to his seat. “You saved our asses, if I may be so blunt.” And the room laughed. “Anyway, let’s move on. This Aeluyn Covenant. Now that we chopped Valen’s head off, figuratively speaking, I suggest we present it to them. Ironsides, can we have a transmission drafted and translated into their language to send them?”

  Ironsides crossed his arms. “Yes, our diplomat is awaiting instructions. I say we tell them how it is. We had no idea of this operation, and the man responsible for it has now faced justice. It may be embarrassing on our part and will likely make us look incompetent, but it’s better than further conflict.”

  “It is to be peace, then?” Den said with faint disapproval, grabbing another cup of wine from the server and taking a swig.

  “We have no choice,” Ironsides snapped. “Our fleet needs time to rebuild. You out of all of us know that best. We risk greater disaster posturing for war now.”

  The Grand Admiral nodded, though he looked rather glum about it. “Let’s not make it sound like surrender, then, but rather a warning or a gesture of good faith.”

  The First Minister drained his glass. “I recommend something along the lines of acknowledging the… misunderstanding… over recent events, reaffirming that we desire peaceful relations, and offering to open negotiations. We stress that we were not in their system as an act of aggression, but that we were merely exploring and being cautious. Hopefully they can sympathise with that.”

  Den’s fingers tapped restlessly on the table. “And if they don’t buy it?”

  “Then they’ll make the next move,” Marcus said. “We don’t look weak, nor will we push them into war either. The ball can be in their court… for now. We must rebuild.” Marcus took the tone of caution, but inwardly, he was more on the side of the warhawks now. They may not have achieved a decisive victory, but The star elves weren’t as strong as they once thought, and he fully imagined the conflict would reignite again. But next time, we’ll be ready… And the full might of Neptura and millions of fanatical clone soldiers would descend upon this ‘Covenant.’

  Claric, who had been unusually quiet to this point, ran a hand through his long, dishevelled hair and said, “And what of this abduction they accuse us of? What shall we do with the specimen, wherever Valen is holding it?” He shot Marcus a knowing glance then. It was an important question. Claric still had to research it, after all, in case its DNA held the secrets to prolonging life. They needed to keep that star elf, and Marcus hadn’t considered that yet. Because no doubt they would want it back.

  Marcus nodded. “Deny any involvement and tell them we’ll investigate it, and stall.”

  “If we do have this star elf of theirs,” Ironsides chimed in, “should we not offer to give it back? After all, we spoke of good faith a moment ago. Such a gesture would show our honest intentions, no?”

  “You are right, Ironsides, yes. Always the politician.” Marcus leaned back. “But Valen’s reasons for taking it are not wrong. We can study it and learn more of our enemies. I did not want to take the star elf… but now that we have it…” He held up his hands. “May as well keep it for research.”

  “Your excellency…” Ironsides said faintly, and he sensed an objection was coming.

  “The Grand Archon speaks with pragmatism,” Den said. “If they truly value the life of this specimen Valen captured, then we can keep it as a hostage to make sure they behave, lest they start getting any ideas. We gain a bit of leverage over them with it.”

  Ironsides sighed but submitted.

  “That’s settled, then,” Marcus said, satisfied. “Ironsides, prepare a message and have your diplomat deliver it. Claric, you may research the star elf we have until we resolve all this. Any questions?”

  Everyone shook their heads.

  “Then you are dismissed,” the Grand Archon said, and a uniformed cry of ‘Glory to Neptura’ echoed across the throne room before they filed out. Marcus remained seated for a moment longer as he gazed at the still Nepturan banners lining the walls. He had bought himself some time. But for how long?

  He had set the board. It was now the Star Elves’ move.