“The Cataclysm is the only thing that matters!”

Artur Paendrag’s voice thundered within the meeting chamber at the heart of the Humanity Alliance’s capitol building in Austin, Texas. Once the seat of the state’s government, it had become the beating heart of the Humanity Alliance and its efforts to preserve a world against the incursions of aliens, mutants, and beasts.

“We can spare no effort in locating, and ending this threat before it metastasizes into something beyond our ability to address!” Artur continued from his position at what was once the speaker’s seat, and now represented the ostensibly elected position of the Alliance’s President.

“Victory goes to those with the courage to seize the day, my fellow Senators, and we cannot allow the Coalition, the Nomads, or any other faction to gain control of the resources on offer!”

“It’s only 20,000 Aetherium,” one of the civilian senators objected skeptically. “Is it really worth—?”

“Only 20,000 Aetherium, Senator Hayes?” one of Artur’s fellow Generals interrupted with cold fury. “It’s precisely that sort of wealth which allows those hellspawned aliens to manifest their damned Castles and Fortresses, and all the defenses that go with them!”

“Not to mention the gear, equipment, special supplies, elixirs, and crafting facilities,” Gwendolyn cut in from the same side of the chamber. “Artur and I saw one such city recently, I might remind you, and its soldiers very nearly threatened our lives! If we cannot find a way to accrue a vast sum of Aetherium, and quickly; the Alliance will begin to falter. Our momentum has already been stymied by the Coalition, and if they get their hands on these resources…”

“I see,” Hayes said with a tight expression, and a glance at Artur, who met his eyes coldly. “I suppose I may have underestimated the importance of this… Quest, then.”

“That is one way of putting it, Senator,” Artur said in a voice as cold as his gaze. “And it is indeed reassuring to see you so willing to listen to logic and reason when it is presented.”

“I am only concerned about the cost of this expedition, Mr President. We have already sacrificed much for this conflict, and—”

“I would remind you—” Artur cut across him harshly “—that the ‘conflict’ you speak of is the very survival of mankind itself. You were not there when the Alliance was formed, Senator Hayes, but you have benefitted from the rivers of blood we shed to secure its creation regardless.”

The Senator’s expression flickered with annoyance, and Artur felt an old anger boiling up within him: the same anger he’d felt at politicians, suits, and other such unworthy cowards that had sent men like him to die while they lined their pockets. It was the same rage he’d felt, down to his very core, when he’d learned that the wars he’d taken bullets in had been little more than politically expedient favors for his government’s less-than-savory partners.

“Do you have something to say to me, Senator?” Artur asked with as much self-control as he could muster.

“Only that I think perhaps it is time to consider that, despite our best intentions, this conflict is no longer in the best interests of the Alliance’s people. I would caution gainst overcommitting to further use of force, Mr. President, until we can be better aware of the fiscal situation moving forward.”

In Artur’s mind, Hayes’ head exploded in a detonation of viscera and brain matter before he could finish, and the Senator’s lifeless body ragdolled into the floor from the force of the impact.

In reality, he swallowed back his desire to murder the traitorous little rat and forced himself to calm.

“Is that the judgment of your peers as well, Senator?” Artur asked with as much outward professionalism as he could muster.

“It is,” the Senator said boldly. “It has been a matter of some concern among the Civilian Sector of the Alliance for some time, and we owe it to our constituents to question the veracity of the need for endless war.”

The Senator’s voice gained confidence the more he spoke, and Artur quietly tightened his grip around the hilt of the dagger on his hip while the little weasel continued.

“The Coalition has clearly managed to coexist with the Fantasies, and while integration may indeed never be an option; the idea of mutual coexistence within separate borders should be discussed.”

“Is that all you wish to put forth, Senator Hayes?” Artur asked while the hilt of his knife groaned under his grip, and almost demanded to be used against the cowardly, low-leveled rodent.

“There is another consideration,” Hayes said with clearly inflated confidence.

“By all means,” Artur replied curtly.

“I think a long-delayed removal of the emergency powers granted to you by this body should also be considered, Mr. President.” Hayes said boldly, and while raising his chin against the sudden growls and slamming fists echoing from the military side, and speaking louder. “You have served humanity with distinction and valor in the nightmare following the Incursion, but you are a soldier—and like the founding fathers of the United States understood: Governance is better left to the people themselves, so that brave men and women like you may continue to defend us against whatever threats rear their heads.”The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“Treason!” one of Artur’s Generals roared.

“You sniveling rat!” another snarled.

Gwendolyn even went so far as to raise her lance with a murderous gleam to her eyes, and that was when Artur slapped his hands together.

The echoing BOOM from the impact of his palms silenced everything, and he looked out over the assembled—ready military and suddenly terrified civilians—and spoke far more calmly than he felt.

“Senator Hayes is within his rights to express his beliefs,” Artur said while carefully controlling his seething rage, and the desire to slaughter the suited coward where he stood. “We must respect the sanctity of this house of Democracy, as our forefathers would have wanted. Freedom of speech is, after all, an enshrined liberty both in the United States Constitution that came before, and the Alliance Charter of Liberties that we built in its image.”

Senators on both sides seemed to calm when he spoke, and Artur fixed his gaze on Hayes—who looked back at him with a glint of self-congratulating defiance in his eyes, as if he hadn’t been spared from becoming a viscera stain by Artur’s own magnanimity.

Establishing two branches of governance for the Alliance had been a clever idea, designed to borrow the image of what had once been the Texas State Legislature to ease the concerns of citizens within the Alliance’s controlled territories. It served its purpose well enough, too, and allowed for a much stronger claim to the inheritance of the American Dream, Liberty, and Democracy that Artur had sworn to defend for the majority of his adult life.

The cruel realities of the nightmare they lived in, however, meant that true surrender of power to cowards in suits was the opposite of what could be allowed—and Artur had made damn sure that his officers and fellow Martial Senators agreed with him in totality. Dissent would come only from the civilians, when it came to the war, and they were in lockstep when it came to what had to be done.

Mankind needed to not only survive, but to thrive.

For that to happen, there could never be peace with the aliens that threatened to erase their identity and sought to colonize their world. The United States of America may have been stripped of its weapons, its technology, and even its unity with remarkable and even heartbreaking swiftness—but the Alliance served as a beacon in the darkness for all humans, regardless of creed or race, that sought shelter from the darkness assailing them.

It was Artur’s privilege to be the leader, shepherd, and vanguard of that guarantee. He was not about to surrender it because some trumped up boy with a nice suit and delusions of grandeur quoted Washington at him.

“We will adjourn while the Senators are allowed time to consider your words at length, Senator Hayes,” Artur said into the silence that followed, “and remain adjourned for the remainder of the session. The War Council and I will also meet to discuss a plan of action, in order to present it to the floor, and come up with a certain strategy for dealing with the Cataclysm, and Sector 117.”

“That is acceptable, Mr. President,” Hayes said with a gracious nod, as if giving permission. Artur’s hand moved before he could impulsively draw his knife, and he instead seized the weathered gavel from nearby. A moment of self-control followed, and he thumped the gavel against the waiting wood. “Session adjourned!”

The Senators within the chamber shuffled out immediately, with an entire cluster forming around Hayes, and baying their praise like a gaggle of idiotic donkeys celebrating a hay bale delivery in the dead of winter.

Artur watched them go while his War Council—including his wife—made their way to where he stood with his hands braced on the lectern. Only when the remainder of the unneeded Senators had departed did anyone speak, and that was only for the General of Magical Warfare to create a bubble against eavesdropping.

“We should kill them all,” Elijah, his black-bearded and swarthy second in command said immediately. “Hayes is a cancer, Artur. He’s a remnant of the old world, and worse, he’s a sympathizer.”

“Elijah’s right,” Collette, the leader of their Warmenders, said flatly. “He should be excised as soon as possible. He’s going to ferment more and more dissent until he is.”

“We can’t just murder him after that session, closed or not,” Gwendolyn said with a sigh. “It would be far too obvious, and immediately incur suspicion. We need a more nuanced solution.”

“So we don’t do it,” Ricardo, their Director of Intelligence, said coolly. The man had been CIA before the Incursion, and had signed on to preserve Humanity with ruthless enthusiasm. “We fabricate an assassination—publicly—by the very creatures he so desperately wants us to coexist with. A few Orcs butchering him and his allies in public should send the message.”

“How do we achieve that?” Elijah questioned gruffly. “Austin is fortified, and the Dungeons are controlled.”

“The Border Tour,” Ricardo said in the same coolly calculated tone. “We intended on visiting the borders with the Coalition soon, in order to project strength. Why don’t we turn it into a partial diplomatic envoy to seek overtures of peace?”

“And how does that translate to a dead Hayes?” Malcom, the General of Magical Warfare himself, asked quietly.

“I will take care of that,” Ricardo promised him. “I have enough prisoners in the Black Sites we took over, and more than a few have been craving an honorable death. With your help creating a short-range jump-gate, we can outfit the Orcs in Coalition gear and make it look like they were going for Artur, and mistimed their jump. We’ll be separated enough that it will take time to get there, and I’ll make sure the animals are juiced enough that Hayes won’t live long enough to be saved.”

“It has a lot of failure points,” Gwendolyn muttered, “and we don’t have the resources the CIA did.”

“I can handle the preparation,” Ricardo assured her. “I just need time, and permission.”

All eyes turned to Artur, and he sighed deeply.

The Iron Duke, they’d called him, after he’d taken over Three Rivers as his own. The System had recognized his claim, and pronounced him a Duke in its own qualification of power. The name had been emblazoned since then. The Iron part, well, that was because of his particular gifts.

“Do it,” Artur said finally. “Hayes is a problem, and one we can’t afford to be dealing with. The Cataclysm must be the priority. If we let my fool son or mad granddaughter seize it, they’ll both use it to cut away swathes of our control.”

“And if we seize the reward,” Gwendolyn said hopefully, “perhaps we can finally show our family the error of their ways, once we have the strength to force them to listen.”

“And we can bring back our grandson,” Artur agreed, “and wipe out those knife-eared bastards that took him.”

Growls of agreement followed at that, and Artur nodded to his council.

“We have our plan,” the Iron Duke declared. “Now let’s see it done, and take another step toward taking back our home.” He raised his right fist. “For Humanity!”

“For Humanity!” his comrades echoed.