of governmental authority. Humanity’s birth-world was racked with unrest and rebellions against the shackles of their worldwide government: the Social Synergetics.
The colonists who eventually reached Ignis Glace were a varied lot, but made up primarily of Austrian and French Monarchists. These original colonists believed the old ways were best, and when they reached the promised land they planned to revive centuries-old traditions such as kings, knights and chivalry.
For their own part, the Social Synergetics had decided as a committee to allow emigrations of any and all separatist groups. In fact, they encouraged the process. After all, why keep one’s troublemakers at home? Let them head out to the stars, and good riddance.
And so the Ignis Glace colonists were allowed to leave and after a long, arduous journey they reached their new home. Unfortunately, being Monarchists with no royalty of their own, nearly all the colonists viewed their eventual role to be one of dominance and high rank. Many claimed noble heritage, but this was difficult to verify, particularly in the case of Austrian colonists. Austria had outlawed nobility and titles in 1919, and long centuries later the bloodlines were muddled at best.
On the long voyage outward, obsession with the topic of social rank kept spirits high. Many of the colonists passed the years discussing the various niceties of being a lowly Baron versus the grandeur and responsibility of taking on a King’s mantle. Virtually none of them envisioned themselves as serfs, drudges nor even craftsmen. The fact that all these roles would have to be very common and were in fact essential to a successful pioneering society did not impinge.
Upon arrival on the alien surface of their new home, harsh realities sunk in. Someone had to do the work and, in fact, even self-proclaimed emperors were soon required to pick up power-shovels and wield them with vigor. Those that shunned work came to be despised, and if they persisted, were soon viewed as delusional. A Ruling Council was assembled to award titles, and they did so on the basis of merit. Individuals rose in rank during the initial decades due to displays of hard work rather than statements of bravado. Over time, those that aspired to become knights and barons did the best, while those who had scoffed at ranks lower than that of Earl or Marquee soon joined the sour legions of peasants, indentured servants and scullery maids.
One family known as the Droads were a group of hard-scrabble frontiersmen. The Droad lands bordered the wastelands of Sunside. Here, the sun’s red eye was blocked by a craggy mountain that stood nearby in the Sunside wastes. The fief consisted of the land encompassed by the mountain’s long shadow. The Droads had laid claim to the triangular wedge of land when they’d first discovered it. They’d lived ever since at the hottest edge of Twilight, in the isolated shaded region, surrounded by bright, hot deserts. The star blazed, but the cool gloom of the mountain’s shadow allowed the Droads to live comfortably further sunward that was the norm. Working hard to farm this permanent zone of velvety half-darkness, the Droad family had remained put for nearly a century.
Originally, Droad House had been a hamlet built of mud and stacked hardwood logs. It had been known simply as ‘The House’ for decades. In time, through providential purchases of neighboring properties and diligent farming, the structure came to be renovated in black granite and surrounded by a high wall. This close to Sunside, the defensive measures were prudent. The sun-soaked wastelands were inhabited by creatures such as drenquiks and venox-runners, both native species that frequently raided Twilight farms. Even more dangerous were gangs of landless nobles who referred to themselves as ‘errants’, but whom everyone else considered to be nothing but lazy bandits. When captured, it was these people who were most often rehabilitated via the process of turning them into hardworking mechs.
Droad House had persisted and thrived despite the hardships. In keeping with tradition, the original homesteaded lands came to be called a barony, and there were even flirtations from the Ruling Council indicating it may well be uplifted to the status of a duchy. Lucas Droad rose to prominence in the family at this happy time, but due to personal problems, he eventually volunteered to emigrate to Neu Schweitz to see what could be done to further the interests of his world.
In his wake, Droad house fell upon harder times. The land was relatively fertile and cool, but difficult to reach, making trade difficult. At the time of the arrival of grim vids from the Nexus warning of alien hostiles approaching the planet, the Droad lands had been lowered in status to that of a marginal barony again. The offspring of the latest generation showed some of the old Droad spirit, and still held the title of knights, but only by a thread.
The current matriarch of the clan was none other than Lucas Droad’s ex-wife, Baroness Olivia Droad. Not being a true Droad, but rather one who’d married into power, some said she’d driven Lucas to leave the barony and then ruined it. Whatever the case, the years had not favored her. She’d become an undeniably sour old woman with glittering eyes, a sharp tongue and expensive tastes. Physically, Olivia was now much older than Lucas Droad, as her ex-husband had spent many years in interstellar travel. She did not remember him fondly, and hoped never to lay eyes upon him again.
“Make your report, child,” the Baroness said to the image of a man which hung in the air in front of her.
“There’s been trouble along the rim again, mama,” the young Knight Leon Droad said. “I have not yet found the cause, but it is true, there are dozens of distillers that have been smashed by unknown bandits.”
The lad was good-looking and her favorite. He had sandy hair, a heavy jaw and a piercing stare that matched her own. Her heart warmed just to see him. Perhaps that bastard Lucas had been right about one thing: he’d always said that all hope for the future lay within the youth of today.
Olivia considered Leon’s words for a moment, and they gave her pause. “Has anything been taken? The copper tubing, the controlling AI boxes?”
“No, mama. Nothing.”
The aging Baroness sat thinking about bandits on a dingy throne inside Droad House. The throne was upholstered by sun-scorched reptilian leather made from Sunsider venox skins. Olivia hated the throne, and yearned to replace it. Unfortunately, she had neither the funding nor the willpower to do so. Everyone in her family would be howling to depose her yet again if she dared to do so much as put a blanket over the rough, wart- encrusted hides.
“Is there anything else, mama?” Leon asked.
“Call me Baroness, Leon.”
“Yes, mama.”
Olivia rolled her eyes, but did not press the point. He was a good boy, if not the most brilliant of souls. “I don’t like the sound of this, Leon. If they are not stealing, they might be baiting you into a trap.”
“For what purpose? What profit?”
“I don’t know. But I don’t trust bandits that aren’t stealing things of value.”
“All right mama-uh, Baroness. I’ll be careful.”
“See that you do. There’s a good boy. Call me when you find them.”
“Hello mama!” said another, higher-pitched voice. For a moment, a second face interposed itself between Leon and the vid pickup. It was Knightrix Nina, a small creature with eyes and hair as dark as Leon’s were light. Olivia flinched at the vision of her daughter. She was perky and cute, and smiled at her mother with waggling fingers.
Olivia struggled to keep the corners of her mouth from twitching downward. She nodded to her daughter in recognition, but said nothing. It was all she could do.
The connection was broken a moment later, and Olivia reflected briefly why she hated her daughter so. She amended the thought immediately: she didn’t hate the girl. She just-didn’t like to look at her. It had to be her appearance. She was the holo-image of Lucas Droad, her probable father.
In that sense, the girl was a reproductive oddity. Olivia wondered how she could have had twins, with one resembling her husband and the other her consort. Could the twins really have been sired by two different men? Biology was strange and faintly disgusting, when one really pondered it.
Olivia shook her head, trying to clear it of unwanted thoughts. She shifted her buttocks, trying vainly to locate a comfortable spot on the abominable, bumpy throne. Oh, how she hated Lucas Droad’s throne. If she dared, someday she’d burn it and build a new one that was thickly padded with fur-covered gels.
Leon and Nina were mounted. They rode one-man skimmers that glided ahead of a trotting squadron of mech perrupters. Unlike mech laborers, these mechs were designed for combat and were assembled with light
