Timefall Saga – Book 1 – Chapter 16

Aiden Boramont collapsed on the floor in a pool of his own
sweat. His knees hit the ground far harder than he had hoped for, sending a
shock of pain that tickled his spine. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the
wooden blade coming down hard on his head. He clumsily threw his body to the
side, narrowly avoiding the potentially devastating slash.

He grabbed his practice sword on the roll, lying on the
ground to his right. After finishing his role he went to bring the sword up in
a block, however, the sword was caught in his legs. Before he could untangle
himself, another blow landed square into his chest, forcing the breath out of
him and cause him to full back on to his bottom.

“You’re dead.” General Mahr remarked, with little humor in
his voice.

“It’s these damn swords,” Aiden replied after he regained
some of his breath,” They are stupid, I can trust my hands, I can trust a gun,
but a sword has no real point.”

The General rolled his eyes, “Some would argue that a point
is all a sword really has.”

“You know what I mean, sir,” Aiden replied in exasperation.

“You are the next in line for Lord Regent, you have a
responsibility to uphold the traditions of House Boramont, and one of those
traditions is skill with a sword,” Mahr stated, offering a hand to Aiden, “I
trained your brother for many years and he was an explementary student,
reserved, efficient, and skilled. I expect no less from his brother.”

Aiden reluctantly took General Mahr’s hand and helped
himself back up to his feet.

“All of that skill, it didn’t save him in the end,” Aiden
said.

General Mahr let out a throaty growl, “He made mistakes
too. The best you can do is learn from them. Learn from his mistakes, learn
from your own. What mistake did Demetry make?”

Aiden glanced up at the general, who was staring at him
intensely, “He..he let his guard down?”

“In a way. However, his biggest mistake was that he
underestimated his enemy; this is one of the most foolish mistakes one can
make. Never underestimate your enemy. There have been countless great men that
would have gone down in legend, only to be defeated by someone they considered
their lesser.”

Aiden nodded, not wishing to argue with or continue the
point. There must have been something in his eyes, for after a few seconds the
old General sighed, his features relaxing a bit. This is to say that his face
was still carved from stone, but a slightly softer and more understanding
stone.

“Your brother’s loss was unfortunate, but you will be his
successor. You have the capacity for greatness, just as he did; do not let your
doubts drag you down, as his arrogance dragged him down,” Mahr lectured.

Aiden detected an edge of anger in General Mahr’s voice
that he didn’t expect. He had been upset at Demetry’s death as well, or rather,
the nature from which he died.  Demetry
was killed by the Lancers. More specifically, by some boy who was with the
Lancers. That wasn’t exactly right. That archeologist Tanris had said he wasn’t
a Lancer, but some kind of research subject. The Lancers were trying to kidnap
him. However, he did kill Aiden’s brother, and Aiden wanted vengeance.

Mahr watched Aiden as he thought about what Mahr had said, Aiden’s
eyes lowered. After a few moments, he sighed, moving to the side of the
training dojo, putting up the wooden practice sword he had been using before
sitting on a nearby bench and dabbing his face with a towel.

“It is growing late, and I have work that needs to be
accomplished. You will need to meet with your father soon. It will be the first
time he has invited you into his confidence and you do not want to be late.
Make sure your appearance is befitting an heir, and that you do not embarrass
him in front of his advisors,” Mahr explained.

Aiden nodded, moving to put up his practice sword as well.
He would need to take a shower and change his clothing before the advisory
meeting began as well. He still struggled to cope with the reality that this
would be his life from now on. He was always the second son before. His only
requirement was to ensure that his brother lived and was successful.

He had heard of other houses often having bitter rivalry,
with brothers and sisters often at each other’s throats, using backhanded
assassination to rise in power. However, he was raised with honor and integrity,
a sense of duty and purpose. His father had never put a lot of time into him,
but General Mahr had acted almost like a father figure or at least a supportive
uncle. It was perhaps General Mahr who gave him that drive, responsibility, and
purpose.

Aiden picked up the things he had brought with him to the
dojo and headed to the door.

“Wait a moment,” General Mahr called out before Aiden
reached the doorway.

General Mahr stood up and walked over to him, placing a
hand on his shoulder.

“I don’t know if I ever understood why your father
never put the boy to death who killed your brother. I know you want vengeance,
and I suppose I do too,” he sighed, his facing becoming more
resolute,” I was not originally planning on giving you this, but I have found
sources that were able to provide me a little more information the Chronos
experiment.”

Aiden froze, staring at the small drive between the
general’s fingers. After a few moments, the general put it in Aiden’s hand,
closing his fingers around it, the look of resolution solid in his face.

“My hands are tied; I obey the Lord Regent, but between
you and me, make him pay. If you can.”

General Mahr’s fingers patted Aiden’s shoulder before he
turned back to the sword rack and walked over to it, sitting back down with the
towel around his shoulders. Aiden gave him a nod before turning and leaving the
room. He made his way back to his quarters.

The Taerrean Palace in which the Boramonts lived was not
their original home estate. Their original home was located in on the second
planet from a sun named Boramo. The family themselves did not know if it was
the Boramonts named after the planet or the planet named after the Boramonts.
However, when the Boramonts managed to secure the Taerren SPIG during the second
rebellion they had moved to the capital palace and had remained there.

Aiden preferred the Boramont estate over the Lord Regent’s
Palace, if for no other reason than that he saw it at home, away from the political
intrigue of the palace. The palace had many numerous functions. Besides housing
the royal family, it also housed a large number of dignitaries, ambassadors,
and a private army worth of guards set at protecting the residence from any
potential dangers.

The hallways were large and lavish, with enough room to
allow at least ten men to walk abreast.

The floors were lined with lavish Akari carpets, the walls
covered in tapestries and art of various styles and designed. The art had been
in the Palace before the Boramonts moved in, having been placed and added to by
years and years of caretakers following the wills of their previous tenants. It
left a variable hodgepodge of inconsistency, with styles often changing from
hallway to hallway.

Aiden quickly made his way to his suite, located on the Mozaic
wing, named for a large quantity of art dedicated to mosaics and cubism. Once
he reached his room, he removed his clothing and quickly cleaned up. He did not
have time to bath, but he used a washcloth to quickly wipe himself free of
sweat followed by towel to dry himself.

He had his dress robes picked out and quickly assembled
them, making sure his clothing and braid appeared perfect. His father would not
be kind to him if he found imperfection on his body. He had learned a long time
ago that doing as expected did not earn him praise, but failing to meet
expectation did earn him ire from the Lord Regent. Since his brother died, that
expectation had grown exponentially.

He looked as his braid, hung over his right shoulder. It
was not as long as Demetry’s had been, but it was closely approaching that
point. It was not as well braided as it could have been. He would need to have
his servants redo it soon, but right now he did not have the time.  He made sure to don his sword at his hip
before leaving.

He turned to leave the room, but a flicker on the screen of
his personal computer caught his eye. He quickly tapped the screen, bringing up
a message he had received. The message was encrypted, but Aiden had long since
memorized the code and could read it almost as easily as he could read common
tongue.

The message stated “Orange Room, 22:00”. Aiden smiled. He
knew who the message was from and what it meant. She had picked a time that was
particularly pressing. She knew he was unlikely to get out any later than ten
minutes before that time, he would have to run to meet her on time. She wanted
to see him run to meet their appointment. Why would she pick the Orange Room of
all places? It was an incredibly gaudy room filled with baubles and other
decorations left over from a particularly flamboyant leadership.

He left the room and headed to the council chambers. The
council chambers were a few hallways away in the central wing of the mansion.
They were one of the few rooms that were designed with the current Lord Regent
in mind. This meant the room was minimalistic in design. Blacks and reds were
his primary colors, and the room consisted of no lack of these. Over the back
of the room spread a massive sigil, a black silhouette horse reared up in front
of a red sun.

A long table filled up most of the room ending at a large
rounded half globe at the end. The globe was black with white dots over it,
signaling the design of the stars that made up the Taerren Colonies. Stars that
were not part of the empire were dotted as red. Aiden’s father had told him
once that the reason the stars not controlled by them are red, is so that you
never forget that anyone who is not a Taerren is a potential enemy.

The Lord Regent, Mortimer Boramont, was standing at the
front of the room in front of the round landscape. He stood with three other
men. The first was Peter Lamur, the head of one of the major houses. The second
was Staff Knives, the master of secrets. Aiden did not recognize the third man
but suspected he was one of the Knives’ sources. Knives was a very analytical
man and often felt the need to support the information he provided Boramont
with physical proof.

“You’re late,” the Lord Regent stated as Aiden approached
the group of men.

“Practice went longer than expected,” Aiden responded.

Lord Boramont hadn’t looked up from the table he was examining.
His finger was pressed up against one of the white stars on the map. Aiden
recognized the star as Ophran System. It was one of the less accessible systems
but offered rich deposits of ores that brought in a decent amount of income for
the empire. It was also one of the older colonies, having been a part of the
SPIG for almost as long as Taerra itself.  Lord Boramont’s finger pressed harder on the
star until his finger turned red from the pressure before releasing.

“Are you sure?” He asked, glancing at Staff Knives, already
ignoring Aiden’s indiscretion.

“Positive my lord,” The man responded as his left hand
stroked his coat lightly before nodding to the unknown man.

“Sire,” the man said bowing, “Lieutenant Kim, Cyan Guard,
254th Regiment. I saw the sector fall. I was called in from the
Serah system. The rebels had moved far quicker than we could have anticipated.
They had already in the process of taking over the jump gate by the time we
jumped in. They instantly began sending over boarding parties. My commander
ordered we retreat before they were able to take any of our ships or spread the
rebellion to Serah. We barely made it back to Serah before they snapped the
connection.”

The Lord Regent did not move his eyes from Knives as
Lieutenant Kim gave his report. He continued on discussing the casualties he
believed they obtained. The commander himself had not survived. His ship had
been in mid-jump when the connection snapped, either ripping his ship into
shreds or tossing it somewhere randomly between Serah and Ophran. Either way,
the man was dead or as good as dead and would never be seen again.

“Advice?” The Lord Regent asked once the report was done,
his eyes returning to the half globe map.

“We should strike back. Hit them hard. Overwhelm them
before they have a chance to celebrate their victory. We need to teach them
that this kind of behavior will be punished. We need to wipe out the Lancers
once and for all!” Peter Lamur responded anger in his voice and a dark look on
his face.

Staff Knives coughed politely, drawing the eyes of everyone
except the Lord Regent, “While I do admit I am no strategist, I would think it
might be wiser to wait, my lord.”

“Wait? What would waiting do?” Lord Lemur retorted,
“Waiting will only make them think they can get away with it.”

“With due respect, my lord,” Staff bowed as if to stress
that point, “Attacking now would cause them to simply flee back into hiding.
Instead, if we let them grow. Let them build an army, let them think they have
a chance, then we can show them our full might and crush them.”

“You’re talking about letting them build an army and then
starting a full out war! Absolutely ridiculous, you’re talking about a war that
would cost millions of people their lives,” Lord Lemur responded.

“I agree that the cost would be high, but the defeat would
be equally complete,” Staff replied, his voice remaining constant and calm,
“The leader of the Lancers would make themselves the general of their army. It
is human nature, they couldn’t help it. Sometimes, when you have rats in your
walls, you need to turn out the lights and wait for them to leave their little
cubby holes.”

“To use your analogy, you’re talking about letting them sit
and breed until we have a full infestation,” Aiden cut in.

The two men glanced at him, apparently having forgotten he
was there while the Lord Regent continued to stare at the map, making no
indication he was listening to their conversation. The Lieutenant said nothing
his head bowed, waiting for himself to be released. Lord Lemur seemed pleased,
with someone supporting him. Staff Knives seemed impassive, his face
expressionless.

Aiden cleared his throat before continuing, “Lord Lemur’s
idea wouldn’t work either, for the same reason Knives suggested.”

That removed the smile from Peter Lemur’s face.

“And what would you recommend,” The Lord Regent said, his
eyes finally glancing up from the map to look at Aiden.

“There is only one way to deal with rats, you set a trap
and wait for it to snap,” Aiden said, trying to imitate his father’s sense of
authority.

“We have tried traps before…” The Lord Regent responded.

“There are many different kinds of traps, sir, and there is
more than just one kind of bait,” Aiden proposed.

The Lord Regent pondered it for a few moments before
nodding, “I will put you in charge of this, what do you have in mind?”

Aiden began to explain his plan. He had thought of this for
some time now and had worked out a plan for it. He hadn’t expected to reveal it
at this meeting, but he had always remained prepared. After a bit, Staff Knives
began to look thoughtful and even Lord Lemur’s frown disappeared. By the end of
his speech, even his father looked almost like he might smile.

When they were finished, it was five past twenty-two. Aiden
smiled as he left the room, leisurely heading towards the Orange room. When he
reached the room, he was fifteen minutes late and the room was empty. He
chuckled when he realized she hadn’t waited on him. He headed back to his own room,
anticipating an angry message on his personal computer.

When he reached his room, he immediately grew suspicious.
There was something wrong with the room, some things had been moved. He glanced
at the desk, realizing that his personal computer was gone. He drew his sword.
The whistle of the sword leaving the scabbard rang into the darkness. There was
a light in his bedroom, which he could see through a crack.

Very slowly he pushed the door open, glancing into the lit
room. He sighed, putting the sword back away. Marice Tarris raised her eyes
from his personal computer sitting open in front of her as she lied across his
bed.

“You’re late,” Marice said with a smirk in her heavy
Ertlander accent.

Aiden raised his eyebrow as he glanced down at her. Marice
was the daughter of an Ertlander ambassador who had moved into the Palace until
his embassy had been completed. That had been over five years ago and still,
they remained as distinguished guests of the Taerren palace. Aiden had never
understood the Lord Regent’s acceptance of this, but the ambassador and his
family followed Tarraen law and Taerren rule without problems, so there was no
real legal reasons to evict them.

Aiden supposed he needed to be more careful with her. While
they were at peace with the Ertland Colony, they did not have any particular
Alliance with them as they did with the Akari. Ertland was the third largest
Colony, right after Taerrens and the Usar, whom they had continuing conflicts
with, and were thus a government that the Taerrens had to respect.

Marice moved to her knees, her small framed body moving
sensually in a brown two-piece garment that fit too tightly and too form-fitting
for Aiden’s comfort.  Aiden fought the
urge to look away in embarrassment. It was improper to be put off by another diplomat’s
appearance. Still, it was also improper to glance at her too fully as well. Aiden
concentrated specifically on her face.

Marice had very short cropped hair, curly black hair that
was only a few inches in length, curling across her forehead and around her
ears. It stuck against her skin, almost as if her hair was wet. Like the rest
of her body, her face was petite. A small pouty mouth, small ears, and high
cheeks set in a heart-shaped face. The only attribute of her that was large was
her brown eyes, with long lashes that only seemed to accentuate those eyes.

After a moment, Aiden succumbed and looked away, almost
being able to feel Marice’s smirk increasing as he did so. She was not dressed
in the tight clothing that shaped her small breasts and exposed her navel to
entice him; it was simply a proper garb for Ertlanders. Taerren guards often
spoke about exotic Ertlander women and an unrepressed society. Those who had
never met someone from Ertland often spread rumors about their unsatiable
appetites and lust. Meanwhile, Ertlander men would respond that the only person
who could satisfy said lusts was an Ertlander man.

Of course, Aiden knew the stories to be false. Ertland
simply had a different culture. They saw the body as a form of art, one meant
to be displayed. Still, sometimes Marice got a look in her eye during a meeting
here or a discussion there and Aiden had to wonder. Knowing the effect of her
attire on Taerren men, Marice thought the whole thing entertaining. Although
the primary person she liked to tease the most was Aiden himself.

“What are you doing? Those are private,” Aiden
demanded, meeting her eyes again.

“It’s not very interesting, Private things are the
things you don’t want anyone else to know, and so far I see nothing fun,”
Marice flippantly responded.

Marice assumed a bored expression, putting both hands over
her head and stretching, arching her back in a way that exposed even more skin between
her midriff. This was the second time she managed to get Aiden to lose
composure and break eye contact. This, of course, made him more annoyed.

“What is Chronos?” Marice asked before he could
say anything, her eyes attempting to look innocent.

Aiden frown before looking down at the computer, the data
drive plugged into it. He cursed, moving down and grabbing it before walking
out of the room. He wasn’t sure whether to be angry at her or call the guards.
She often pushed the lines between being coy and noisy and violating Taerren global
security. Aiden placed the computer back down on the desk and began reading the
information in front of him. It looked like she could not open the data drive.
The information was encrypted and safe, other than for the name, Chronos,
appearing as a file name. Aiden took a breath of relief.

After a few minutes, Marice walked out of his room, her
eyes full of curiosity. He ignored her. If he acknowledged her, he would just
encourage her. Although ignoring her is what got him into the situation in the
first place. Perhaps that wasn’t the best option. Either way, he ignored her
and started reading through the first batch of files. He figured that making an
attempt to hide the information would only make her more intolerable, and he
didn’t fear her finding out anything on the disk. She would keep his secrets,
at least, from his father.

“What are you doing?” she asked, pushing her hip
against his shoulder in a too comfortable manner, her hand touching his other
shoulder.

He continued to read as she looked mildly interested at the
files over his shoulder. His eyebrows began to rise as he started to realize
exactly what Chronos was. Then he began to smile.

He leaned back, looking at the picture of test subject 131,
a boy a few years younger than himself. The boy, who almost two years ago,
killed his brother. Finally, he found him.

“Nothing unusual,” he finally answered, “I
just have someone I need to kill.”