House Mannator



The Lord Mannator met the Lord Stannes outside his estate grounds, a near unheard of thing for what Blade Lord would put himself in such jeopardy? It was both foolish and yet, bold enough to begrudge the man a measure of respect.


And if not the man, certainly his estate guns poised to rain down destruction on the entire meeting location.


Perhaps it was Stannes who was more the fool?


But Stannes' Blades were overhead, their polish and glistened armour sending a striking contrast against Mannator's own Blades too busy patrolling to match Lord Stannes ship for ship.


But his guns still worked and he was sure they could punch through whatever plating Stannes bloody machines sported. He knew!


"To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" his narrowed eyes betraying nothing when taking in the details and hiding his own fears through his smoking. Lord Stannes was nervous.


"I wish to offer my condolences on your wife's.."


"She's not dead yet!" Mannator snapped, irritated at this opening."


"...eventual demise," Stannes smoothly finished.


Perhaps the man did not know if his wife had died or not?


"What can I do for you, Stannes?" he suddenly sighed, exhaling a bit of smoke in the other's direction.


Stoic as always, Stannes bore the brunt and barreled on ahead. "Succession. I know you have no heir, Mannator. I wish to alleviate it and draw you into my circle."


Lord Mannator was both shocked and amused at the offer. Shocked because if Stannes was offering what he thought the old stiff-head was offering, it would give his House a much needed revitalization indeed and amused that Stannes would think his circle anyone else's property but the Reavers.


"Don't you mean, into the Reaver's circle?" he asked bitterly.


"I mean my circle." Stannes clarified and yet offered nothing further.


Mannator stared at the other man smoking thoughtfully.


"You wish to offer a branch of one of your Minor Houses as a recipient of Mannator seed?" his eyes narrowed, his voice challenging and Stannes visibly stiffened.


"I am offering a marriage alliance between yourself and ..." Stannes nearly choked the words out that nearly gave the other a heart attack, "...and.. and one of my daughters."


Lord Mannator coughed. Lord Stannes' daughters were his lifeblood and if he offered them, then there was strength behind his words. Perhaps he was waking up and not liking the Reaver's boot on his neck after all?


As he thought of the other's daughter, he felt a stirring that made him absently glance at his watch as if it would tell him the very second his wife would die.


Then he stopped his analysis cold and wondered if the other had an inclination of the shivering anticipation that ran down his spine. It was not the thoughts of the lithe body of the other's daughter, her supple breasts or delicate thighs...


No.


It was the fact that he would be the defacto heir of the Stannes House! Assuming the old bird did not have a son somewhere tucked away and groomed for succession.


But everyone knew his son had died exploring the galaxy!


This was adding up to be one of his best years ever.


His wife dying! His new wife a young virgin tart who daddy, a more powerful Lord, would do anything for!


Perhaps Benly would ally with him if he held the Stannes arsenal at his back?


Varriathorn would not interfere and perhaps Hark, with his own problems, would not interfere either leaving the Reaver to crush!


But all everyone saw was his slow thoughtful smoking...


"I accept." he said, quickly enough and in a voice that hid his own thoughts, stirrings and passions.


Lord Stannes nodded but was also lost in his own thoughts.

House Barrador


"There are the transports, Lord," the scanning officer commented and the Lord Barrador could see damage done to the vessels of the convoy. There was something strange about the sight of his daughter's ship but before he could dwell on the thought, his communication's officer shouted, "Lord, your daughter is hailing us!"


Relief flooded through the older Barrador and he nodded once, the view of the convoy being replaced by the bright eyes of his daughter.


"Father," she smiled in recognition and her father's heart warmed.


She's safe!


"We feared there would be danger on E'Scarrion," he started but he saw that his daughter was issuing orders to her people to bring the convoy alongside his own Blade.

He turned to his own Second and grinned, "I must have been more worried than I thought. I am getting a headache despite the relief in my bones."


"You and me both, Lord," the Second replied gamely ordering another round of scans to ensure no E'Scarrion trap lay around them. The people of E'Scarrion could be fanatical in their actions and the officer did not wish to leave anything to chance.


The Barrador transports were surrounded by the House's Fleet and the Scanning Officer frowned at the readings as the ships lined up for the return trip to Themos.


His headache had begun to increase and the man winced in pain, his readings momentarily forgotten.

When he turned around in his chair he saw that the Elder Barrador had sat down and closed his eyes. The Second Officer was alarmed as he noted the same reactions taking place across the Blade's bridge.

"Weapons!" he snapped out sensing something amiss.

When the weapons officer fainted in his chair, the Second moved to activate the ship's defense field. Oddly enough, the Scanning Officer was surprised to find his duty weapon in hand and even more surprised when it discharged against the Second Officer.


The injured command officer turned to the sleeping Barrador and found no help there. Before he could call out to anyone else, the Scanning Officer had fired again.


The Barrador Fleet maintained their stationary position for a long time before making a small course correction.

When they eventually jumped out of the area, they were on a direct course for the estates of the House Reaver.

House Hark



The Blade Lord was livid. “Betrayed!” he shouted, the pain in his voice masked barely by the growing anger.

The watchtowers of his estate had captured Barrador’s blade fleet entering House Reaver’s jurisdiction. His man!


Such a move weakened House Hark and strengthened the Reaver. The Blade Lord had no choice but to seize Barrador holdings within his borders and dissolve the familial bonds.


Such a move, so boldly and publicly displayed also told him something else.


That war was coming.


If Reaver cared to no longer be circumspect in his dealings, then an open challenge to the Vikar was inevitable.


And sooner than anyone thought!





House Reaver


The man cackled with glee as the Barrador Blade Fleet entered his domain. The vessel’s weapon systems were deactivated but the Reaver was taking no chances and so had Barrador’s ships flanked by his own.

What a boon!

Did Barrador lose interest in his house lord? Did he think the Reaver would offer better patronage?

Already, the minor house lord, by entering the Reaver domain, had signaled a public break from House Hark. There was no going back and if Barrador wanted any patronage, he would be forced to accept whatever terms Lord Reaver demanded.

Or the fool be damned! the old man thought derisively.


But the gleaming skin of the Barrador Blade stopped any more such thoughts. That was the damned man’s bargaining chip. With a Blade, all bets were off.

The strongest weapons of war their society could create and this minor House had one. In a situation where everyone had such a warship, supremacy was decided by numbers. The ships were expensive to build, expensive to maintain and took generations to complete. And so the game of supremacy was decided by generations. Which house faked upkeep of their blades to throw their funds into other areas and which houses spent the sole of their profits on just their ships?

It was a balancing game the Houses played year after year, generation after generation. If you attacked a House’s income, how long could they (or would they) go to ensure their blade’s operability. Six hundred years ago a House that was now no more had banked everything a new type of warship trying to break the invincibility of the Blades. Thousands of these vessels went up against the Vikar and lost; the Vikar of the time only having seven Blade ships. The loss resulted in the dissolution of a Great House and only those Houses that could mine enough of the mineral to produce a Blade Ship survived the centuries.

It was generally thought that the mineral was all but exhausted on Themos and could not be found in the surrounding systems. How this minor house of Barrador had managed to procure himself enough to build a Blade ship was a question the Great Houses whispered in secret. The fear was that House Hark, the patron of Barrador, had somehow found new mineral fields to increase his blade numbers but the large lathes of House Hark remained as silent as the rest of the Great Houses.

Perhaps it was a question Reaver could have answered now.



*


He waited in his throne room hoping the Barrador would leave his blade and come to him. Or else why would he come to begin with?


It was a funny thing, hope.


Lord Reaver hoped to amass enough strength to topple Varriathorn and cow the others.


He hoped to become Vikar.

He hoped Barrador would come to him.

Yes, hope was definitely a funny thing.

For sometimes, hopes came true.