Lord Valerian's office was located on the highest floor of the "Onyx Spire," the tower that dominated the industrial sector of Sylvaria. Unlike the airy and light-filled palaces of Aethergard, functionality reigned here. The walls were of polished basalt, the floor of metal, and the air always vibrated subtly—not with ether, but with the constant rumble of thousands of mining machines deep within the planet's crust.

  Valerian stood by the panoramic window, looking down at the endless stream of raw materials. His mood was as heavy as the ores his House mined.

  "Yield decrease of three percent," he muttered, running a finger along the holographic graph floating before the glass. "Aura Symphony is crushing us in biogenesis, and we can't even maintain the quotas for raw crystals."

  The doors to his office opened with a quiet hiss. Kormac, his chief engineer, entered. He was an old, sinewy Sylvarian whose hands were permanently stained by coolant mixtures and crystalline dust. He looked worried, which, for a man who had once survived a cave-in in Sector 7, was not a good sign.

  "My Lord," he bowed curtly. "We have a problem with that contract for the Royal Training Grounds."

  Valerian turned and sighed with annoyance. "What now? Did we run out of nano-builders? It's just a pavement repair, Kormac. The Royal Family plays soldier there, they break something, and we fix it. Routine."

  "It is not routine, sir," said Kormac, placing a data crystal on the table. He activated the projection. A detailed 3D scan of the crater left behind by Aurelion's Laxa-Hasta appeared in the center of the table.

  "We sent a standard squad to repair the surface after thermal damage. Conventional weapons, even the heaviest plasma cannons, leave a glassy trail. Molten rock."

  The engineer zoomed in on the crater's edge with a gesture.

  "But this isn't molten. Look at the fracture structure. The crystal lattice of the monolith was... sheared. Molecular bonds were violently torn apart by kinetic force that goes off the charts. No heat. No radiation. Just a clean, cold impact."

  Valerian frowned and leaned closer. His business instinct, dormant under layers of bureaucracy, suddenly awakened.

  "Are you telling me something hit the monolith with such force that it atomized it without friction?"

  "We calculated the impact velocity," continued Kormac, his voice trembling slightly. "Mach fifteen. In the atmosphere. Without a sonic boom to shatter windows in half the city. Something absorbed that energy and focused it into a single point."

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Valerian was silent for a moment. His eyes darted across the data. He didn't see a weapon. He didn't see war. He saw a drill.

  "Kormac," he said quietly, "do you know how much energy we consume cooling our laser drills when mining at depth?"

  "About forty percent of total output, sir."

  "And how much material do we degrade with heat?"

  "Another fifteen percent. Crystals around the cut always crack from thermal shock."

  Valerian straightened up. His heart was pounding. This wasn't just a new toy for the Prince. This was a revolution.

  "If we had technology that could deliver a Mach 15 kinetic strike without a heat signature... we could mine for half the cost. And with zero waste. We could access veins that are too unstable for lasers."

  "It is House Luminis Varexa technology," Kormac warned him cautiously. "The authorial signature in the etheric trace belongs to Anaris. If she developed it..."

  "...then it will take ten years to pass through the Academy's approval process," Valerian finished for him bitterly. "And then they will offer it in a public auction. And who will buy it? House Aura Symphony. Because they currently have more free capital. They'll mount it on their bio-robotic drones and we'll be finished. We'll just be digging dirt while they mine pure core."

  Valerian began pacing the room. The idea that such a technological gem might fall into the hands of the competition—or worse, lie idle in army warehouses—physically pained him. It was an insult to efficiency.

  "Who else knows about this data?" he asked sharply.

  "Only my squad and the groundskeeper. They wanted to report it as a measurement error."

  "Let it stay that way," Valerian ordered. "Delete the records from our servers. Officially, you found only standard damage."

  Kormac nodded, took the crystal, and vanished. Valerian was left alone. He looked at the holographic crater again. It was a hole in the ground, but for him, it was a window to the future. He had to have that technology. Not in five years. Now. Before Aura Symphony noticed what had happened at the training grounds.

  He needed an ally. Someone on the inside. Anaris was a lunatic; there was no talking to her. Aurelion was a soldier; he would run him through with a glare. The Queen was unreachable.

  That left Sinthia.

  The second daughter. The diplomat. Pragmatic, cold, reasonable. She always understood the needs of commerce. She always said the stability of the Empire rested on a strong economy.

  Valerian looked at the clock. It was late; the moon Umbra was already high in the sky. The ideal time for a discreet visit.

  He pressed the intercom on his desk.

  "Prepare my personal shuttle. And remove the blue diamond necklace from the vault. I am going to Aethergard."

  "At this hour, sir?" the pilot's surprised voice replied.

  "Yes," Valerian snapped and turned off the hologram. His reflection in the dark glass was smiling, but it was the smile of a predator that had scented prey and failed to notice it was stepping into a trap. "It is a matter of the highest national security."