Chapter 3

Erhan

“Get out of the way!”

Erhan slithered around Devra, nearly mimicking a somersault as his tail led the rest of his body forward.

The room was a battleground.

Flurries of metal swung and twanged through the air, clanking and reverberating synthetically. High-pitched noises resounded, shaking the walls as the weapons collided unnaturally together, struggling to break apart as they fused in the air.

We really shouldn’t have moved our training , Erhan thought. This room’s far too cramped for our needs.

It wasn’t as though they didn’t have bigger rooms. Perhaps to handicap himself, Devra had decided to train under tighter conditions, mimicking the limitations of the outside world.

But he’s going to take off somebody’s head.

Already, they were embracing these archaic weapons to train their strength and mobility.

The tuners swung through the air haphazardly, threatening their recipients with sharp bludgeoning damage, and on collision with each other, sonic emissions.

What I’d give for a nice blaster. Or even a sword , Erhan thought, realizing his internal monologue was distracting him from combat.

The tuner harmlessly impacted his training armor, producing a small note.

Devra grinned widely.

“You didn’t get me,” Erhan said. “I just got a bit distracted is all.”

For a brief moment, Erhan thought he might have agitated Devra. But as the room came to attention, concluding its sparring session, Devra slid forward and bowed.

“You always were a sore loser,” Devra teased.

Erhan shook his head. “Is that any way to talk to your mentor?”

The door to the training room burst open, and one Naga, much larger than Erhan, careened forward across the hardwood floor.

Briefly, Erhan felt tempted to pick up his tuner and resume training, despite the insistent formality of Xekrin, their messenger.

Erhan looked out of the corner of his eye, inspecting the training weapon for imperfections and blemishes.

Xekrin coughed.

“Something I can help you with, Xekrin?” Erhan finally addressed the messenger. He peeled his eyes back toward the male, who was simply fulfilling his courtly duty.

“Uh, yeah,” Xekrin stuttered. “You’ve got a message from the king.”

Erhan smiled, flashing his pearlescent fangs. “Well, that’s not a very formal way to announce an official summons, is it?”

Erhan snaked past Xekrin, feeling the wood’s smooth and calming texture on his tail. Xekrin hesitated.

“Lighten up, Xekrin. I was only joking.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Erhan swore he saw Xekrin bow.

Erhan hated little more than being the recipient of a bow. He didn’t want to be seen as another prince to the throne. He was a capable warrior in his own right.

But as much as he hated being sucked up to, he realized that Xekrin was only doing his job.

So, wiping his brow of sweat, Erhan turned to Xekrin and gestured. “Lead the way.”

The royal messenger weaved his way forward slowly, ensuring he was being followed.

“I’ll be back,” Erhan called out to his guards. “Please don’t let yourselves become rusty in my absence.”

The sounds of high-pitched metal erupted behind him as he closed the door, following closely behind Xekrin.

He anticipated the turns toward the throne room: left, right, down the ramp, across the fields, farther down the corridors.

But Erhan was surprised when they did not turn left at the library, slithering toward the courtyard instead.

Despite this, Xekrin’s focus was unwavering. He did nothing to address the discrepancy in their destination.

“I thought I was going to see the king,” Erhan objected, looking back at the long stone hallway.

He wasn’t sure why royalty liked to linger centuries in the past, preferring stone halls and wood floors to the metal of the people. It had never been anything their history addressed. On other worlds far less civilized than this, other cultures lived in palaces of metal and screens, not rock.

“You are, my prince,” Xekrin said, making Erhan wince at the phrase. “Your king will see you in the courtyard today.”

Erhan furrowed his brow. The king only liked to linger in the courtyard on severe occasions. It was how he decompressed from stress, escaping the weight of his duties when they became particularly burdensome.

Erhan had been expecting a lecture on duty to the crown once more. Perhaps this was something else.

As they reached the courtyard, Xekrin moved to the side, allowing Erhan passage into the gardens. He was surprised to see the king stretched out near the flowerbeds, planting glowing red areth seeds in the green soil.

“Brother,” Erhan said, realizing he still had not been sighted. “I keep telling you, you have servants for that type of task.”

King Gravon sighed, cocking his head only slightly to acknowledge his brother’s arrival.

“I find it therapeutic,” Gravon informed him, not for the first time.

Erhan nodded, waiting for an elaboration that never came. “You always did like to dig in the soil.”

“Do you think I’m an effective king?”

Startled by the question, Erhan asked for clarification. “Pardon?”

Gravon dusted off his hands, green soil falling from the deep green tips.

“I summoned you here for insight, Erhan, but also because I’ve received some rather upsetting news.”

The brook of the courtyard babbled. Erhan knew that to be around nature was a gift. Some beings had never so much as seen a tree, living in the cruel world of cement, metal, and neon lights.

King Gravon began to slither from one side of the large courtyard to the other and back again. Erhan followed, ensuring he was not left behind so he didn’t miss any conversation.

“We do our best to protect and police the galaxy, ensuring the safety of our peoples,” Gravon reminded him. “I hope you haven’t considered me strict in those implementations.”

Erhan came to a sudden stop, careful not to bump into Gravon as he looked back, inspecting him. “Well, you know I’m hardly a prince…”

“Please cut the shit, brother,” Gravon drawled. “Just give it to me honestly.”

Erhan nodded. “I’ve heard that people consider you a bit strict,” Erhan paused for a moment and then continued, seeing the despair in his brother’s face. “But honestly, I don’t put much stock in those rumblings. You are a great ruler.”

Gravon inhaled deeply. “Right, well… that’s kind of why I called you here. Turns out I’m not doing as good of a job as I believed.”

The wind rushed over the courtyard.

Where was this vulnerability coming from? Ordinarily, King Gravon never admitted his mistakes. It was one of the best, and most infuriating, things about talking to him.

“People are dying, Erhan,” Gravon explained. “Humans, on planets outside of our proper jurisdiction. They’re being sold into slavery against their will.”

Erhan shook his head. “But the trade law,” Erhan countered. “Are they not enforcing it hard enough? Are we not policing public spaces?”

Gravon smiled wryly.

“I had hoped the law would work, too. We had plenty of people on other planets, watching. And though we’ve outlawed the sale of humans publicly, it hasn’t stopped private interests from moving quickly underground, out of our sight.”

Erhan’s jaw clenched at the thought. He couldn’t imagine being dragged out of the public eye like that, only to be held against his will like common cattle.

“The way we had slavery before was disgusting, and we needed it to be outlawed,” Gravon continued. “But there was some logic to the process. At least when slavery was out in the open, we could safely regulate it.”

Erhan bared his fangs. “What are you saying, brother?”

Gravon resumed his meandering pacing of the courtyard, his arms tucked neatly behind his back. “You’ve been adamant about staying out of the courts, for the sake of training your guards,” Gravon said. “I think I resented you for that a little bit.”

Erhan raised his chin, ready for a confrontation.

“But we need you now, Erhan,” Gravon added. “Thanks to you, we have a strong military, full of capable warriors.” Gravon studied the dirt on his hands, which blended in with his scales. “They haven’t been listening, brother. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Erhan’s nostrils flared, his shoulders hiked at attention.

“We need the best Niri out there on the ground, patrolling other planets,” Gravon informed him. “For too long, we’ve dwelled in our fortresses and our castles, hoping to help the problem from afar. But no more.” Gravon abruptly turned, his face mere inches away from Erhan’s. “So, what I’m saying is, we need to lead a strike force team to those planets that have betrayed their people,” Gravon stated. “We want to minimize casualties as much as possible, but we’ll do what is necessary.”

“Understood,” Erhan answered immediately. Partly, Erhan would be glad to leave the confines of the castle for a bit, where he was constantly reminded of a realm he wanted little part of.

But the bigger part of him felt sympathy for the humans and the alien races who lived their lives in squalor. He always hated stepping into those dirty, cold spaces, meeting the scorn of the commoners who saw him as detached from their interests, if they even recognized him at all.

These were the people his family had pledged to preside over—to protect. Yet they conducted their lives, pretending royalty didn’t exist, losing faith in the king.

“I expect you might meet some resistance, possibly even from the people you’re trying to help,” Gravon sighed. “Just please be patient with them. I trust you to help them see the light.”

Erhan hardened his coil, already preparing himself for the mission that awaited him.