One final clip is loaded. It is a conversation between Romulus and Darrow after the Battle of Ilium concluded. Romulus was in the Hanging Palace of Ganymede. Darrow was on his ship. Their two faces float in the air.
“As promised, you have independence,” Darrow says.
Romulus sits on the floor, his face haggard, the stump of his right arm wound with white bandages. “And you have your ships,” he says very quietly, the spirit stripped from him. “But they will not be enough to defeat the Core. The Ash Lord will be waiting for you.”
“I hope so. I have plans for his master.”
Romulus pauses. “Do you sail on Mars?”
“Perhaps.” The Red’s eyes mock, his tone insinuates, while Romulus maintains an even air of military civility. The man had just lost a son, an arm, to say nothing of the destroyed docks. What a picture of a Gold.
“There’s one thing I found curious about the battle,” he says icily. “Of all the ships my men boarded, not one nuclear weapon over five megatons was found. Despite your claims. Despite your…evidence.”
“My men found plenty enough. Come aboard if you doubt me. It’s hardly curious that they would store them on the Colossus. Roque would want to keep them under tight watch. We’re only lucky that I managed to take…” There’s static interference. “…bridge when I did. Docks can be rebuilt. Lives cannot.” It sounds like a threat.
“Did they ever have them?”
“Would I risk the future of my people on a lie?” The Slave King smiles cruelly. “Your moons are safe. You define your own future now, Romulus.” His eyes narrow to two thin slits. “Do not look the gift horse in the mouth.”
“Indeed.” Romulus’s silence is heavy as he swallows his anger, his pride, and lets the Slave King mock him. “I would like your fleet to depart before end of day.”
“It will take three days to search the debris for our survivors.” He insults Romulus’s request. “We will leave then.”
“Very well. My ships will escort your fleet to the boundaries agreed upon. When your flagship crosses into the asteroid belt, you may never return. If one ship under your command crosses the boundary, it will be war between us.”
“I remember the terms.”
“See that you do. Give my regards to the Core. I’ll certainly give yours to the Sons of Ares you leave behind.” The connection with the Reaper cuts off, but the image of Romulus floats in the air. He shudders, the calm wilting away and giving a glimpse of the broken man beneath. The image sputters out.
Dido looks at her husband, sharing the pain of Aeneas’s death all over again. “Noting the duplicity of the Slave King’s actions, it stands as plain fact that more investigation was warranted. Not only into the veracity of the nuclear threat, which was supposedly levied against us by the Sovereign. But toward the veracity of the Slave King’s actions throughout and preceding the Battle of Ilium. The inquiry which was commissioned by the council was quickly scuttled by my husband. I do not believe there is evidence he knew the dark truth of the Slave King’s actions against our docks…” She says this to temper the fury of the Ganymedi Golds, who built the docks and saw them fall on their cities. “…but I am not beyond bounds by saying more effort should have gone into assessing the truth. Now I would like to call Seraphina au Raa to the floor.”
Seraphina descends and stands between Dido and Romulus.
Dido addresses her daughter. “When you acquired the hologram evidence of the destruction of the docks and returned with it into Rim Space, were you arrested by sworn men of the Sovereign?”
“I was. As I should have been.”
“Did you divulge to them the nature of the information you carried?”
“I did not.”
“Did, at any point, Romulus admit to knowing the truth about the destruction of the docks?”
“He did not.” Seraphina looks at her father. “His actions toward me and the secrecy under which they were enacted were done to protect me from capital punishment for breaking the Pax Solaris. It was a father’s love. Not a man’s schemes. He knew I entered the Gulf. I do not know if he was aware of the reasons why. But he knew he would have to bring me before the Moon Council.”
“Do you believe he committed negligence during wartime?”
“It is not my duty to judge.”
“Thank you, Aureate.”
Seraphina salutes with her fist to her heart and returns to her place amongst her friends. Dido closes her argument. “My charges are limited because, while I believe my husband misstepped by not investigating further, I do not believe there is evidence to prove he was complicit in hiding information from the council. I do not believe anyone here could call him a traitor.” One of the Ganymedi shouts their dissent. “Thus, I ask only for impeachment from his position as Sovereign.”
She sits down.
Helios continues. “Romulus. Do you contest these charges?”
Romulus stands. “I do not.”
“You wish to offer no mitigating evidence?”
“I do not. In the charge of negligence, I am guilty.”
Heads nod in approval. This is an honorable response, one they expected, one that an Iron Gold would give. On Luna, this trial would have stretched out over the course of years, with endless appeals and warehouses of evidence and armies of Copper lawyers. By the time it was through, half those involved would be dead or have had their relatives kidnapped and tortured till they came to the correct judgment. My grandmother would have burned the government to the ground before releasing her clutch on power.
She could have learned a thing or two from this man.
On the dais, Diomedes looks like a man freed from the gallows. His father will be stripped of the Sovereigncy for negligence, but any prison time will be commuted on the grounds of the pending war. Romulus will likely even lead his family’s forces under Dido’s command. It’s a marvel.
But then, in the chancel, behind the Olympic Knights, a fragile chime shatters all well-laid plans. The council turns to look back at the sound. Chance, hardly ten years of age, stands barefoot and quiet in front of her chair, holding a small iron bell. Her white eyes stare out at the terrifying host. Dido frowns, confused. Seraphina whispers to her friends. I feel the rush of impending doom. The memory howls with warning, because I remember my tutor Hieronymous droning on about ancient codices outlining the rules of an impeachment trial. Most forget that the Whites are not set behind the Olympics for show: they cannot decide a verdict, but they do have one unique, archaic power. It is where the phrase “unless chance strikes” originates.