Convention

1

"And when, in the year of our Lord 8923, the Convention established the binding Convention by a 7-1 majority, the only house opposing it abandoned the Laws and became a minor house ruling only Shariss. Yet by such a violent act, it lost neither its glory nor the fear that other houses showed it."

from "Notes to the History of Mua'ra Teaarach" by Lady Sara

. Ezehiel opened his eyes. Only calmly. No... He could not be calm. Violence was inscribed in the Aldohid blood. Ezehiel Aldohid. A name I can be proud of. The boy slowly got out of bed. It was important to greet each day with optimism.

The room was flooded with a wave of brightness. Sunlight streamed in through four glass walls constructed like two-way mirrors. Aldohid walked to the window and looked at himself. He could honestly admit that nothing had changed. Still the same silver hair reaching past his shoulders, red eyes without conjunctiva.

Ezehiel glanced at the clock built into the wall above the red bed, the only piece of furniture in the room besides the nightstand.

He walked to the opposite wall and punched a series of commands into the protruding terminal, and a red turtleneck sweater and black bell-bottoms slid out of the opening beneath it.

"Back to the boring, ordinary life, Mrs. Ezehiel," he said to himself resignedly, then scolded himself. He remembered his motto, the one by which he had decided to live the rest of his life: "A manic relapse into optimism, Ezehiel, into optimism."

Pondering the rest of the day, he entered the living room, where a low glass table stood in the center of the red carpet, with armchairs arranged around it. A television projector was built into the wall. From there, he turned into the narrow kitchen, where he pulled his favorite orange butterfly-patterned mug from its rack and placed it under the coffee machine's dispenser. He pressed the small button marked "Make Coffee," leaned against the counter, and waited.

He wondered if his father would make him meet Liriel Vanderholt again. Yes, she was alluring, Ezehiel couldn't deny it. Yes, she had beautiful breasts, that wasn't a lie. And yes, she had a charming smile; no story about it could capture the gleam of her baby teeth. But beyond that, Liriel had nothing else. And he wanted to be bound for the rest of his life solely for the purpose of, as his father put it, the sole purpose of combining the genes of two great families and... The mere thought of that statement made the boy shudder...Reproduction.

The mug was full of coffee when the Aldohid grabbed it and heard the door open. With the drink in hand, he stepped into the living room. He noticed his father standing in the doorway. Behind him, impassive as statues, stood two guards in red and silver Aldohid armor. Their helmets bore the symbol of a phoenix gazing at the heavens, from which transparent visors dropped that absorbed laser beams. They wore thin breastplates, under which were shirts and shoulder pads. Warriors of their clan wore light trousers that allowed for easy movement and trichthonium katana sheaths tucked into their belts.

Ezehiel bowed slightly, as if standing just below the person being honored. On the planet Weras, etiquette was truly observed. People admired the Aldohads for their discipline. They claimed that blunders naturally happened to everyone. Then the prince's father, the Lord of Weras, Master of the Katana, Raijin Aldohid, replied with a laugh that great consequences deterred even the most vagrant.

"Excuse me, Father?"

The tall, bald man approached the prince. His golden tunic swept the floor. Ezehiel raised his head. He saw that wrinkled face again, marked by fatigue, so unlike the face of an ordinary forty-year-old. This time, an extraordinary expression was etched on his face.

"Son... You're leaving for Tirona IV in an hour.

" "A diplomatic mission?

" "We've broken the peace with the Vanderholts. We're conquering them," he said succinctly, not paying much attention to his tone.

"But... That boded well for the future! They have the greatest military force in the world! We can't defeat them!" Sweat broke out on Ezehiel's face. As far as he knew, he was the first son of the planet's ruler to become... an army commander at the age of sixteen.

"That's why we're attacking the capital." Again that cold calm, that cold indifference.

"Why are you sending me...And not your generals? Better than me!

" "You ask 'why'?" Ezehiel was sure his father's eyelids flickered. "You must know how to rule...When I'm gone."

Then, without a word, he turned on his heel and left with his bodyguards.

And only now did a thought strike the young prince. His father had spoken of his own death as if he were absolutely certain of it.

2

"Only then did it dawn on me what Terra Quareit graduates truly were. Only then did I realize that they weren't superhumans manipulating magical energy. I saw that they were one of us. This intensified my fear of them. More fearful than the brave monsters are those of us who can take over our minds."

"Excerpts from Lady Sara's Diaries"

Shani spun with two daggers, aimed a well-aimed spinning kick straight at the mannequin's body, and then slashed, crossing the blades of the two daggers.

"Omnislash, girl!" she heard a shout from behind the glass-walled office from which Varney was observing her training.

The girl began to reflexively execute a sequence of bursts she had been ingrained in her for years. If left unblocked, it could devastate an opponent, leaving them alive.

She bent her legs slightly and performed a backflip, landing in ponytails, her right leg thrust forward. She positioned the dagger in her right hand horizontally, while the other raised slightly above her head, ready to deliver a thrusting thrust.

The fabric-covered mannequin, controlled by the trainer, advanced toward her, staggering slightly.

"Closer, golden one, closer," Shani muttered. "The Vanderholts don't give up so easily."

The mannequin positioned itself at sword's length in front of her, ambushing her with a parry.

She feinted with the dagger, and when the mannequin curved to the right, she threw the one in her left hand. The robot easily impaled him on its sword, but that gave her the crucial split second to roll under it and deliver a sharp slash to the knee with its other blade.

The mannequin bowed, and she lay down and slid behind it. She smoothly stepped into the sternum and, swinging her legs behind her, stood ready to defend herself. Her opponent jerked the dagger free and prepared for another attack.

But Shani was quick. In a single bound, she was at his side and kicked him directly where the cut had been. When he ducked, she plunged the dagger into his hand, striking him squarely

in the cheek with her left elbow. She backflipped again with both feet, striking him square in the chin.

He threw the dagger away and charged at her with only his wooden katana. With the blade sticking out of his other hand, he looked ridiculous.

Varney, controlling the robot, must have been getting impatient. He realized he had no chance against her. He made one last lunge, but the girl effortlessly grabbed his wrist and spun 200 degrees.

"Damn!" the instructor growled. "We'll have to buy a new dummy again!"

***

Liriel adjusted her shoulder-length blue curls. She hated her hair. All the women in her family had it, but so what if it looked lovely on her mother and absolutely stunning on Shani? She claimed it simply didn't suit her long face, eagle-like nose, and pouty lips. And dyeing wasn't an option until she was sixteen? And what did it matter that she was the daughter of the head of the Vanderholt family, King Tirion IV and Caspin? None. As long as her mother got her say.

Suddenly, the dressing table door opened, and she saw her mother, Sarah. Her waist-length blue hair looked absolutely gorgeous. It complemented her perfect nose and thin, crimson lips.

“Hello, Mother,” she said curtly, not looking away from her reflection in the mirror.

"My father wants to see you, Liriel.

" "I'm coming now. Will you hand me a bottle of perfume?"

Sarah stretched out her hand toward the shelf above the bathtub, and a bottle that seemed lighter than a feather fluttered into her hand.

"Here."

"Terra Quareit," the princess thought scathingly.

"Thank you," she replied, overly politely.

She lightly sprayed herself and went out into the corridor.

***

"We have a problem, daughter." He always addressed them as "daughter," never using their names. As if he wanted to punish Sarah for not giving birth to a son. And in his mouth, the word "slave" sounded much nicer than "daughter."

"Excuse me?" she asked dispassionately, without even sitting down.

"Sit down," he said emphatically.

She brushed past two guards and sat down defiantly, crossing her legs, revealing what was beneath the slit of her skirt.

King Geryon nodded, trying to get to the difficult point. At least that's what it seemed to Liriel.

She realized how gravely mistaken she was when she felt a cold blade pierce her shoulder blade and a warm stream trickle down her back. The boy stood on a natural platform, a felled

tree

trunk. He surveyed his soldiers. His father had sent him on a suicidal mission. Young, frightened rookies. Not much older than himself. And with their help, he was to capture the capital. At least try.

"As you know, Tirona is a metropolis. We'll reach it in three days, conquering the surrounding towns," he said with conviction. He wanted to encourage the warriors, though he himself felt little enthusiasm. It would be good if at least they had some hope. "Don't think that the area around the capital are insignificant villages. You will shed blood. So will I. But while there is... hope." The word escaped his throat with difficulty, as if it were forbidden. "While there is hope, we must give ourselves... For the Aldohides. For all of us."

And then one of the men, perhaps the oldest general with a bushy black beard and a bald head, asked the question Ezehiel had so dreaded.

"Why should we overthrow the Vanderholts and expel them from this planet?"

An awkward silence fell, thick as blood spilled on a battlefield.

***

A tall man with a lined face stepped onto the steel dais. He adjusted the purple sash that marked his position in the Convention. He was the representative of his family on the Council of Seven.

He found a simple, unadorned metal chair and sat down.

An older blonde woman leaned over him.

"We have a problem, Quezus.

" "I'm listening, Miss Thanantos," he replied, his lips parted.

"The Aldohides attacked Tirona IV."

An involuntary smile of pity crept across Quezus Ystum's face.

"They attacked the Vanderholts? Don't they know their military strength?"

"They know. But... Liriel was murdered."

Quezus glanced at the Council members. They seemed to know nothing. Unaware that any of the Great Houses could be threatened by Renegade Houses, who would follow wherever old Aldohid directed them.

But Irin Thanatos had a greater concern. Liriel's death put an end to her hopes of reclaiming Earth, which for centuries had been ruled by seven representatives of each Great House.

***

Lady Sara cautiously glanced around the clearing. She was alone in the bright rays of the sun, but above her towered two moons, giving off faint light. She heard a rustling sound. She automatically turned to the source of the sound and saw the person she had been waiting for.

"He betrayed. Shani escaped. We must succeed.

" "One dictator will not thwart the plans the Convention has been preparing for three generations.

" "No. It will not." "She added, though she wasn't sure of the truth of her words.

"To think that the Aldohids, by refusing to accept the Convention's provisions, primarily the ban on the use of nuclear weapons, are closer to us than such great families as the Vanderholts. Renegades, closer than brothers."

4

"And when space colonization hadn't become a mythical dream, the Great Families divided the Earth into eight parts and departed for space, leaving their roots on Terra. And their government. Their homeworld would later become the source of the greatest conflict the galaxy had ever known."

From the history of the conquest of celestial bodies,

The Great Encyclopedia of Terra Quaerit.

Ezehiel took a long sip of water. At least here they had a bearable one. The only good thing about a planet already drenched in the blood of so many people. With that fraction they had left, they couldn't hope to conquer the capital. "A maniacal return to optimism, Ezehiel, to optimism." Damn it. The boy slammed his mug on the table. He didn't care about the five generals who were now staring at him in surprise and wondering about his sanity.

"General Requez, please ask for this young assassin."

At the sound of their commander's voice, a tall girl entered the tent. Her stride was confident, her posture proud. A shaved head, red, bleary eyes, an Aldohidean.

The boy looked her up and down, then, leaning back, asked indifferently,

"Did they train you to be an assassin?

" "Yes.

" "At the Tuk Academy?

" "No."

Ezehiel looked at her in surprise. Few assassins capable of killing the governor of a small town escaped the protective wings of these dark, secret-shrouded professors. He knew they liked to have an unshakable position. When this assassin returned to our planet, they would kill her. And he felt sorry for her; she looked no older than seventeen.

"I'll talk to you. Tomorrow. In my tent. After dark."

Then, with a casual wave of his hand, he dismissed all the generals present in the room. He needed to be alone. He didn't want to share his despair with anyone.

***

The curtains of his sleeping tent parted, and from between them, as lightly as if walking on air, a girl emerged, the heroine of the day. Perhaps of the night.

"May I know your name?" Ezehiel asked without looking up at her. He sank his teeth into another peach from the silver tray beside his bed.

The girl stood impassively, her eyes fixed on his well-built, naked, hairless chest. She forced herself to speak, biting her lip every few moments.

"I am Inash Aldohid."

The surname was unnecessary, the boy thought, after all, all clans practice incest, tolerating only the prolongation of life within their own clan.

"Inash Aldohid..." he muttered, trying to hide his embarrassment. He had never been in such a situation alone with a woman before. The tradition that male heroes in battle are given land, while women are given themselves, made him even more uncomfortable. For years he had been taught this custom, but now... He couldn't even gather his thoughts.

"Sir..." she began timidly.

Does he want to assert his rights? At moments like these, Ezehiel hated his beauty.

"Remove your robes," he said, trying unsuccessfully to appear indifferent.

With a graceful movement of her hand, Ishan shed her silk tunic, revealing herself in all her glory before the prince. She was beautiful despite her lack of hair. A shapely, alluring figure. The budding breasts of an adolescent girl. To complete the act of undressing, the girl threw off her kunai belt.

And just as she approached Ezehiel's bed, a powerful explosion shook the earth, filled with both fear and fascination. One of the soldiers burst into the tent like a scalded man.

"Sir! The Vanderholts attacked our camp first!"

Chapter 4

"Then Shani was supposed to have said: 'I will not abandon you in the name of an ideal and in the name of a budding love!' But no one really knows what it was like."

From the compilations of Terran folktales

. The clash of blades, the howl of death, the harvest of blood. Pain and the surrounding suffering. Beauty and tribute to the mind all around. When Ezehiel emerged from the tent with his sword, next to Inash, dressed in a thin robe, he saw a truly terrifying sight. Swords crossed with each other and laser arrows. They disabled their shields.

"Stay here," the girl whispered. Her voice and body trembled. "Someone once told me that ideals are worth dying for. So stay here and, damn it! Don't get killed!"

The boy stood frozen, unable to understand the torrent of words spilling from Ishan's mouth. The girl grabbed two kunai, turned them over in her hands, and jumped into the vortex of combatants.

"Ideals? Death for the planet? For loved ones? So why couldn't those loved ones die, if they gave her true affection? She had to understand that despite her death, they wouldn't be able to cope in life without her." But then he realized he couldn't stand by. As she had asked, he didn't intend to kill himself. He intended to kill. He drew his katana and backhanded the nearest enemy soldier.

***

"In the name of ideals..."

She split her opponent's skull.

"For a better tomorrow..."

She watched the enemy's brains flowing across the lush grass.

"For us..."

She thrust her point straight into the soldier's throat, sending a fountain of blood splashing across her face.

"For the galaxy..."

He received a slight wound between the shoulder blades. It could have been fatal if her opponent had put more force into the blow. But he didn't. Fortunately. Inash automatically spun on her heel. She made a feigned thrust, then threw the second dagger straight at her enemy's face. The blade bit into his sword, but it gave her the necessary fraction of time to roll under him and deliver a deep blow to his knee. There was no time to toy with him any further. As soon as he bent over in pain, she drove the kunai straight between his shoulder blades.

And then, on the opposite hill, she noticed the silhouette of a fat man, eagerly shouting orders. He was surrounded by a retinue of soldiers in green uniforms. Elite Guard. But Varney himself, commander of the king's guard, had taught her to be a true daughter of the shadow.

***

"They dared it!" Quezus exploded in anger. He slammed his fist on the desk, spilling the cup of water, soaking all the papers. "How could they!"

Irin remained calm.

"It was obvious from the start." Vanderholt long ago revealed to his most faithful concubine his desire to first conquer the Renegade Houses, and then from their remnants, form a great army to conquer us and create an empire over which his House would rule. Irin smiled wickedly. "Why do you think... Why did he get rid of Liriel? He didn't want to unite the Houses. But he won't stop a machine whose gears have already been set in motion. "

Chapter 5

"The Book of Creation speaks of a paradise for humans. Not for the Vanderholts."

Irin Thanatos; 1st Meeting of the New Council

Thousands of corpses. A battlefield. Blood and entrails spilling out. Ezehiel fought back the urge to vomit. But he had to get there. And he did. He stood next to Ishan among the corpses of the green soldiers. And the King of Vanderholt.

"Ishan... You did it."

And only then did he notice the tear falling from her eyes.

"Ishan..." he repeated. And he forced himself to embrace her. He began to... perhaps... care about her.

"I killed my own father.

" "Ishan..."

"Don't talk to me like that!" she said, pulling away from his embrace. She stood with her back to him and whispered, forcing each word out, "I..."

Then Ezehiel noticed a female figure emerging from behind the hill. A tall, beautiful blonde. Proud and majestic, a contrast to the brutal battlefield. She approached the girl, and she nestled in her arms.

The woman extended a hand toward the prince, bearing two red contact lenses.

"Don't call her Ishan. This is Shani Vanderholt."

***

Ezehiel took Shani's hand and clasped it in his. They looked at each other. Understanding. Full of compassion for each other. They had to complete a mission. Without love. But they had to. For ideals, as Shani had once said.

They ascended together, clad in purple robes, to the dais that would elevate them. To the meeting hall of the New Council. The Council that would change the face of the galaxy.

They must produce children. These children will interbreed with the children of other Great Houses. Until finally, a single Family remains, one that will once again rule the united land.

Then the voice of Iran Thanatos reached their ears, speaking at that moment.

"The Book of Creation speaks of a paradise for humans. Not for the Vanderholts. "

Shani leaned over Ezehiel.

"But I am still a Vanderholt.

" He replied calmly, trying to sound pleasant.

"Not anymore, Shani. Not anymore."