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CHAPTER 1: LAST SCION OF FIRE
"Hewn in war by Suns and Stars
Left fallow by the Bull's last roar
The swords of peace still free of blood
Must be forgotten evermore
Forget the Sun and damn the Stars
As all defeats have come and gone
The Knights of Stone shall hold the sword
and wield it for the peace of none
For should the Golem's castle rise
then Suns and Stars come to this shore
and swords of peace shall reap the fields
and ashes dust the crown once more"
~The Knights of Stone: Myths and Legends of the Reunificaiton War, Taurus University Press 2937
New Samantha, Taurus, Hyades Cluster, August 4, 3048
New Samantha was stunning in the summer. Fingers of sunlight played over manicured lawns as clouds spun chaotically through a windswept sky. The steady quiet susurrus of the wind in the trees was the sum total of all sound across Calderon Gardens. Baenlynn stood, his long black hair blown to an unkempt frizz, just staring. Staring at the polished wooden box propped up on the table in front of him. All that remained of his father, all that remained of his family.
The Deist priest, a formality at these events, hadn't said a word in the 10 minutes since Baenlynn had arrived. Perhaps he was still waiting for the other mourners to show up, but there wouldn't be any. No matter the elbows he had bumped in his lifetime, no matter the people he had known, no matter what esteem he had been held in privately... publicly, Eric Shaugnessey had been marked from birth as a pariah, and his funeral like those of every Shaugnessey for the past five centuries would be small, private, and unremarked.
"Has there been some mix up?"
The priest's voice made Baenlynn jump, reflexively curling his hands into fists before relaxing once more. He shrugged. "From what I remember, Padre. This is pretty par for the course." He walked towards the closed casket, leaning on it heavily as he stared at the racing cloudscape. "I think we can dispense with the formalities, don't you?"
The priest took a deferential step to one side, gesturing at the coffin, "If you wish."
Baenlynn took a deep breath, even though he had always known that his father was mortal, even though he had known he would one day die, the suddenness of it had still left him reeling. Now the weight of the moment, the reality of his Father's passing, and its full and specific gravity was coming down on him right now: He, Baenlynn Shaugnessey, was now the last in a line of Shaugnesseys that was so long it touched Terra itself. But more important than all the history was that the man who had taught Baenlynn how to sail a windjammer, how to fence with a vibroblade, how to play the piano, was gone. He took a deep breath and tried again to gather his words as a bulwark against sadness welling up inside.
"My father was a good man." He spoke to the nonexistent crowd. "Not a popular man, not a man who did the convenient thing for the needs of the moment, but a man who did the right thing for the best reasons he knew, the best way he knew how." He looked down, unable to face the endless expanse of headstones ahead of him. "He deserved so much more than this, and I wish I knew how to give it to him."
Baenlynn felt the Deist Priest place a hand on his shoulder, it felt like an insult and one he wanted to shrug off. For a long time the priest sought to find the words, perhaps even to ask questions, but none were forthcoming. Until finally Baenlynn turned away and walked back to his car, the only one in sight. . .
The drive back to the city was uneventful, and the soundproofing of the car made the silence all the more deafening, the world outside seem further away. Baenlynn was still adrift, and still having to deal with all the necessities of a loved-one's passing, but all around him the galaxy spun on. People walked to and from work, couples sat at cafe tables, sharing lunches, children ran through parks splashing through fountains, and shoppers came and went from glass-fronted malls. Strangely, it was this normalcy, the crowd in which he normally loved to lose himself, which pushed his thoughts back towards work. The upcoming trade summit with House Davion on Diefenbaker. A domestically unpopular burden which now fell heavily (and solely) on Baenlynn's politically inexperienced shoulders. Ascending the steps into the ministry of trade building Baenlynn caught a glimpse of himself in a window, and he found himself self-consciously smoothing back his hair and massaging some of the life back into his cheeks. Anything to avoid looking as drawn and tired as he felt right now.
Petros Dupopolis, the minister of trade, was talking animatedly outside his office with a pair of council members when Baenlynn arrived, and true to his warm nature his expression did not waver, even when the other men inspected him with the unthinking and mild disdain he had grown accustomed to from other politicians. The three shared a collective chuckle at one of Dupopolis' jokes and their conversation was concluded, the minister then ushered Baenlynn inside his office.
"Baenlynn. So sorry you had to return so soon." Dupopolis said, shaking Baenlynn's hand. "How was the service?"
Baenlynn felt colour rushing to his face but he swallowed the barb, "Small." was all he said.
Dupopolis sat down heavily in the padded leather chair behind his ornate desk and sighed. "Without your father this just became a whole lot harder, you understand. The protector is firmly against this whole arrangement, and were it not for the specifics of the arrangement we'd have lost the Privy Council's support ages ago." Dupopolis leaned back absent-mindedly playing with a stylus. "Do you have any contacts at the University still?"
Baenlynn nodded. "Some. Sadly none in the Technical Institute. I may be able to talk to the Dean however."
Dupopolis nodded. "Without your father pushing the cultural side of things, we'll have to fall back on on the technological angle." He shrugged. "Perhaps that will make the Protector come around, although it's bound to make the Capellan ambassador unhappy."
Baenlynn didn't even react to the minister's last statement. "I'd think the Capellans would sieze any opportunity for us to alienate them a little bit. If they decide to invade the Concordat we can't count on Davion support any more than we can count on Liao support now if the reverse were true."
Dupopolis sighed, settling down even further into his chair. "That's not the biggest part of the problem however." Dupopolis picked a portable library from the mess of paperwork on his desk and handed it to Baenlynn, whose eyes promptly widened.
"Your father froze all his assets two days before he died. Not only does this put Concordat Freight at risk, it also puts the funding for the trade summit at risk as well."
Baenlynn rocketed to his feet, knocking his knees on the front of the trade Minister's desk. "What?"
Dupopolis looked at Baenlynn, confused "You didn't know? Your father had to promise to personally fund the conference to get both the Protector and Prince Davion to consent to the summit."
"But freeze his assets?"
Dupopolis nodded. "I didn't find out about it until this morning. A condition of your Father's will apparently."
Baenlynn frowned. "His will? You just said he froze his assets before he died."
"Yes. Apparently he updated his will."
"Did he say why?"
Dupopolis shook his head. "No. We were only informed this morning, and only by the Concordat Bank when the Summit funding did not appear."
Baenlynn shook his head, trying to wish away the nightmare which was fast becoming his political career. "Minister, I'll need to speak to the family lawyers as soon as possible. I will call as soon as I have something."
Dupopolis offered his hand and Baenlynn shook it. "Don't take too long, Baenlynn. The Davions are suspicious enough about the trade conference, and I'd like this situation resolved by the time they get wind of it."
As Baenlynn took the steps of the ministry of trade building two at a time he wondered what was so important that his father would risk the work of a lifetime and his family's business, and why so soon before his death? Had he known something? But if this was about the trade summit, why would he sabotage his own plans?
