Sunrider Veniczar: Chapter 6 "Hunt" (Indefinite Hiatus Project) (Patreon)

Prologue: "Arcadius"

Chapter 1 "Alice"

Chapter 2 "Gestalt"

Chapter 3 "Raid"

Chapter 4 "Akane"

Chapter 5 "Yasmar"

If the sun was said to never set on Solaris, illuminated under the glow of scores of starship engines testifying to the economic centrality of the world. The same sentiment was true nearly ten times over for New Eden. Despite orbiting a star on the eastern fringes of the galaxy, New Eden was truly the center of the New Empire and the pinnacle of humanity's achievement since the Dark Ages, the splendor and glory of the Ancient Ryuvians resurrected incarnate.

Struggling to break free of the shackles of the Dark Ages, the early explorers and pioneers of the modern age had gambled with the capricious limits of warp travel, pushing the frontier and envelope of known human space against all odds and reason. For a lucky few, their journey would end with the discovery of a world of hitherto unknown natural and mineral resource riches. An astounding Class-28 world on standard human habitability schemes, the newly christened “New Eden” was true to its moniker, attracting settlers from across the galaxy, who rapidly developed the paradise world and its riches into a new cultural, scientific, and military superpower the galaxy had not known since the days of Holy Ryuvia.

Radiating outwards, the splendor and power of New Eden would see the emergence of the New Empire as the Original Families consolidated their power, coalescing into a formal monarchy and imperial court, proclaiming a resurrection of the Infinite Emperor's legacy and a return to the glories long past, but not forgotten.

Drawing upon its subservient worlds' labor, resources, and peoples, New Eden would carve a swath of territory across much of the known galaxy, finding itself on the cusp of complete victory, halted only by an unexpected, but devastating defeat at Solaris by the fledgling Solar Alliance. Emboldened by Solaris's resistance, entire fringe territories of the New Empire broke away, seeking independence from New Eden. Combined with intervention from the last remnants of the Holy Ryuvian Empire, the New Empire was forced to sue for peace, accepting the humiliating and punishing terms of the Treaty of Vespa and withdrawing to lick its wounds.

But if the Treaty of Vespa had brought even more hardship to the remaining worlds and people of the New Empire, little of it was felt on New Eden beyond the loss of face suffered at the hands of the Solar Alliance. There, massive and monolithic, the Imperial Palace towered above New Eden's metropolitan skyline, easily visible from space, ever the symbol that nowhere else in the galaxy was there more glory or power to behold.

“Damned doctors,” a weak, thready and high pitched voice rasped like nails on a chalkboard, echoing through a silent cathedral-sized room. An elderly man frail of frame, hidden behind innumerable folds of the galaxy's finest silks and fabrics, shimmering in beautiful, fluid ripples, swiped petulantly at a number of medical attendants with a jewel-encrusted scepter. One unfortunate man was caught midriff by the scepter's tip, topped with a dazzling diamond only slightly smaller than the size of a man's head, a gem harvested from within the core of Tamoanchan, New Eden's neighboring gas giant. “Take your filthy peasant hands off me. I am Erizlo, tenth of my line and rightful Emperor of the Infinite... Infinite...”

Erizlo X's frame was wracked with wet coughs as he continued to wildly swing his scepter, the remaining medical attendants hastily rescuing their downed colleague, bowing and fading into the background. Chest heaving, Erizlo X slouched on his throne, the chair's larger-than-life scale and radiant opulence doing little to shore up the image of a sick man jealously clutching his birthright rather than one filling its legacy.

Still muttering angrily, his rheumy eyes tinged with suspicion and ill-temper, Erizlo X deigned to notice the three individuals seated before him at a short table that had been brought into the throne room. The first was a man of significant proportions, his bulk clad in a silken black military robe emblazoned with gold motifs and inlays that marked him as an Admiral of the Imperial Gold Fleet, the largest fleet in the Imperial Navy. Fingering his carefully cultivated mustache's corner's with his thick, sausage-like fingers, the man snorted with unkind amusement at the medical team's dismissal, his narrow, baby-blue eyes glistening wetly from behind the folds of fat that wrinkled his eyes.

“Be silent, Cullen, you fat fool,” wheezed Erizlo X. “Silence. Silence! SILENCE!”

Cullen's jowls quivered shut almost immediately, his face flushing as the emperor continued bellowing, apparently lost to his own line of thought.

Beside him, a pale woman of elfin beauty with silver hair that cascaded downwards before pooling at her shoulders like shimmering mercury hid a smirk behind a delicate, gloved hand, her pale blue eyes dancing with pleasure. She too was immaculately dressed in a black military gown, although hers was worn with infinitely more grace and elegance over her lithe, aristocratic frame, tapering seductively, and bearing subtle platinum inlays. Admiral Selenda Vysse of the Platinum Fleet, the Empire's pinnacle of military development and technology, the young heiress of what was essentially the entire Imperial Military-Industrial complex and Countess of the most powerful clan in the New Empire outside of the Erizlo dynasty's direct bloodline, itself.

Across from both, a man with a sallow, severe expression, dressed in all black, completely disinterested in any of the spectacle before him. Nearly everything about the man was devoid of color or personality, from his jet black hair cropped severely as though by slide rule, to the dark voids of his eyes, sunken and shadowed behind his prominent brow ridge and gaunt cheeks. Admiral Gunderous of the Obsidian Fleet, the smallest of the three fleets, but the most select, famed for their unwavering, fanatical loyalty and utilized as the Emperor's personal guard and intelligence service.

“Father.”

A man's voice cut across the throne room's empty, dead air powerfully, interrupting Erizlo X's indistinct ranting. Immediately, the atmosphere in the room shifted perceptibly. Whereas the three Admirals had been more or less favoring the Emperor with studied ignorance of his borderline senility, they now straightened in their chairs rigidly, exuding deference and, in one particular case, nothing short of devotion.

Prince Erizlo, eleventh of his name, strode towards the gathered Admirals and his father. Although he was dressed in a simple white tunic in stark contrast to the Admirals and the Emperor, the regal and noble air he radiated seemed only accentuated by the simplicity of his garb. From the arrogant tilt to of his head to his flashing, piercing blue gaze, the Prince's stature and presence outshone everything and everyone else in the room, eclipsing his father’s weakness even further. As a boy, the Emperor's decline had already been evident, whispers abounding through the court that the young Prince's virility and stark contrast to his father hid a bastard's bloodline. The whispers had been summarily silenced, the young Erizlo personally dueling and cutting down noble after noble with nothing but the antiquated sword that still hung at his hip, spilling their blood upon the very floor of the throne room until no further challenge was heard.

Without waiting for invitation, the Prince sat himself at the end of the table immediately to his father's right, all eyes upon him.

“My son, my son...” Erizlo X muttered, his wizened hands clasping the Prince's smooth, muscular ones. “You grow more worthy of our dynasty each passing day. I- I-”

“Father, the war council. Was there something you wished to discuss?” Prince Erizlo's voice was firm, but every bit the part of a loyal scion, as though he desired nothing else but the fulfillment of the aging Emperor's wishes.

“Traitors in our midst,” Erizlo X spluttered wetly, his eyes darting around suspiciously again as though expecting to find the Compact hiding behind the pillars and vaulted buttresses of the throne room. “Spies, rabble... ungrateful ingrates... peon swine... dare to rise against our might...” The emperor trailed off, licking his dry lips furiously.

“Of course.” Prince Erizlo turned to the three Admirals, activating a holo with several images of the latest Arcadius taken over the last several months from nearly a half-dozen worlds and installations the Compact had the gall to raid. “A new man has taken on the mantle of Vennasar.” Erizlo said the word with no small measure of sneering contempt. “The fourth this decade. In short, we are to eliminate this man, like his predecessors.”

Cullen snorted derisively. “You'd have thought the public torture and execution of the last one would have made a more lasting impression. My Prince,” Cullen bent his bulk eagerly. “I shall crush the Compact and this new Vennasar with the full weight of the Gold Fleet!”

“Fool.” Gunderous's quiet voice cut across Cullen's bravado like a hot knife through fat. “If we knew where the Vennasar was, we would not be meeting. I will mobilize my forces immediately and leave no stone unturned.” Gunderous's eyes seemed to deepen somehow. “My men will... procure leads from any suspects they may have. Of this, I am sure.”

For her part, Vysse simply curled her lip at Arcadius's image as though an unpleasant odor had infiltrated the room.

Erizlo X stamped his feet like a child, turning purple with the exertion. “I want him dead! I want those Compact bandits crushed like every other space pirate and piece of refuse that strays into our Empire's borders! I want- I want!”

Prince Erizlo made a slashing motion with his wrist, his eyes burning as Arcadius's image disappeared. As one, the three Admirals stood and bowed, filing out of the chamber with the Prince's silent dismissal.

Alone now, son looked to father, wiping away a trail of spittle on the latter's cheek with something akin to tolerant indulgence.

“My son... I know you will... you will carry the will of your Emperor...” Erizlo X muttered, his eyes slightly unfocused.

“Of course.” Prince Erizlo stood and straightened his back, standing tall over his father. “It is already a forgone conclusion.”

******

Vysse loitered outside in the throne room's antechamber, reapplying a layer of lipstick so exquisitely pale, it was almost transparent. The meeting with the Emperor had more or less gone the way every meeting with him went. Time, illness, and paranoia had made Erizlo X lesser than the meanest shadow of his predecessors generations past. But the Prince; there was a man worthy of the throne the old imbecile sat upon. No wonder the Imperial Court had whispered of Prince Erizlo's illegitimate claim to the Erizlo Dynasty; any fool with eyes could see that the reigning Emperor and the Prince shared no more commonality than a vulture with an eagle. Not that it mattered to her; the Prince was the Emperor the New Empire needed and when that day came...

Vysse's breath caught for a moment as her mind turned to the future. All her life, everything she'd ever wanted had been hers before she'd even known she wanted it in the first place, bought by the right of her birth and her place as daughter of the Empire's largest military contractor, heiress of a business empire so powerful it was eclipsed only by the entirety of New Eden itself. Everything except...

The New Empire's defeat at Solaris and subsequent capitulation during the Alliance-Imperial War had made it weak, but the Vysse family had nurtured it back to strength again, only deepening their ties with the Erizlo Dynasty. What independent pundits on Imperial politics that were allowed lauded her as a young visionary, “investing” with the Empire during a “recession” that had shaken all other confidences and reaping the rewards by cementing the Vysse clan's dominance in the Imperial military for the next century at the very least. But Selenda's eyes had always beheld a prize beyond anything as banal as money or military contracts. The Prince himself; the very lifeblood and revitalization of the Empire and her at his side, his Empress... his Sharr.

The throne room doors opened once more, titanic gates creaking open as the Prince strode from within. Vysse lowered herself in a deep curtsy, her bangs falling forward to hide her eyes and half-smile. Often enough, the Prince would simply walk past, but on occasion...

Prince Erizlo's footsteps drew directly up to her, his feet stopping at the edge of her vision. “Selenda.” His voice was quiet with the calm of a gas giant's metal oceans. “Accompany me.”

“As my Prince wishes,” Vysse rose, bringing her sleeves together, keeping a mere half-step behind her Prince as they walked for a time in silence.

“You were quiet at today's war council.” Prince Erizlo's path carried them through the palace's shimmering halls, past artifacts, works of art, priceless antiquities reclaimed from every corner of the Empire that spanned humanity's history from the days of the Ancient Ryuvians and, if some of their more eclectic scholars were to be believed, potentially even beyond, dating back to the fabled First Expansion. As the twilight of dusk began to set, the halls themselves seemed to glow, lit from within by the unique luster of stellar alloy, dredged from the jealous hearts of white dwarf stars in the Empire's stellar core mines as a testament to the Empire's strength and achievements.

“Would you have had me beat my chest like Cullen or Gunderous?” asked Vysse with hidden laughter. “A hunt has been called. You and I both know that silence and swiftness bring down a beast on the run.”

The comment seemed to elicit a flicker of amusement in Erizlo's eyes. “A Hunt, you say...”

“My Lord knows I take an interest in his... sport. I hope the beasts I gifted your grounds provided a modicum of entertainment for a hunter of your caliber,” Vysse returned Erizlo's gaze with an expectant look.

“Come then,” Erizlo entered his personal chambers, throwing the doors wide open for Vysse to enter as well. “Perhaps this will prove instructive.”

Vysse stepped inside, her pale eyes passing over the opulence and luxuries within in disinterest. Sweet meats, delicacies, and other sensual tantalizers arrayed on jeweled platters to delight the senses. Spiced incense from the hallowed forests of Uvaner perfumed the air with a soothing caress. Between it all, dozens of half-dressed women, virgins of such beauty that any other man would have spilled the blood of a hundred for but a glance in his direction, awaited to ply the Prince with their ministrations and devotions.

Vysse stepped past it all, barely noticing. Jealousy on her part would be akin to dignifying insects. She knew, firsthand, that such carnal pleasures and pursuits of the flesh and senses were experiences long since exhausted by those like herself and the Prince. Food, sex, and pleasure on such a base level could no more hold the ennui of their lives at bay than animal feed for a God raised on nectar and ambrosia.

Erizlo's perception was no different as he strode past the women without so much a glance, like with any other furniture the Imperial Palace's house staff had seen fit to curate his quarters with. “Take this.” Erizlo opened an ornate case and passed Vysse a firearm.

“A dueling laser, My Lord?” Vysse's voice could not hide her surprise as she gripped the antique firearm delicately, its wrought metal and wood grip cold beneath her fingers.

“Indeed. You said you took an interest in my sport, no?” Erizlo took one for himself and threw open another set of doors, these leading directly out to the palace grounds and gardens.

“My Lord, I-” Vysse's calm cracked slightly at the edges.

Erizlo pressed a finger firmly to her lips, rendering her body motionless and soundless with the simple gesture.

“The hunt has been called.”

With that, Erizlo crouched and peered at the ground for a moment before soundlessly moving deeper into the grounds and around the corner of a hedge.

Vysse let out the breath that had been burning in her chest since Erizlo silenced her. Examining the weapon he'd given her more closely, she saw that it was a single-shot focused laser device, crafted by skilled hands at least two centuries prior. A ridiculous weapon for a ridiculous task if the Prince was serious about the hunt; the beasts she'd sent him had, as she'd put it delicately at the time, cost her more than money to procure.

Cursing inwardly, Vysse did her best to creep after Erizlo, rounding the corner as he'd done, but, like the quarry he seemed to have picked up and given chase to, he'd disappeared.

A gentle evening New Eden breeze massaged her from behind, but she was in no mood for its caresses. Continuing deeper into the palace grounds with a prickling discomfort, Vysse swallowed hard, eyes darting left and right at the elongating shadows as New Eden's sun dropped below the horizon. Each and every sound seemed magnified by the quiet of the grounds, every twig snapping, every leaf crunching. Utterly insane, to expose oneself to danger such as this but a few hundred meters from the most heavily guarded structure in the known galaxy. For a moment, Vysse considered turning and simply returning to the palace, but she knew what standing and regard the Prince had for her would vanish in an instant if she were to do so.

Taking a steadying breath, Vysse straightened her back, raising the dueling pistol in front of her like a talisman. It wasn't so different than piloting a Ryder, she tried to convince herself. Nothing but wit and reactions between herself and vacuum and death. Nothing she'd not done and mastered a hundred times over...

Her feet carrying her without any clear direction, Vysse forced one foot in front of the other until she came to a softly lit grotto, the sound of a hidden stream burbling pensively as a worn rock rose on a plinth in the middle, a Ryuvian monolith of antiquity. The hairs on the back of Vysse's neck stood on end, something whispering seemingly from behind. Spinning, Vysse's heart pounded as she saw nothing, but the feeling of being watched continued. Her grip tightening, Vysse clutched the pistol and turned again, seeing nothing but the monolith's lonely sentry, inert and utterly inscrutable.

A blur of motion from the corner of her eye. Vysse spread her feet and pointed the gun behind her. The sound of gnashing teeth and the whisper of claws springing from their sheathes, from the left this time. Vysse clenched her jaw so tightly it felt like her teeth would shatter. She knew full well what sort of creature she'd gifted Erizlo, but to have it turn out like this...

With only a whisper of smooth sinew gliding over muscle and wind ruffling through fur, the creature lunged as she spun to face it. Time slowed as Vysse squeezed the weapon's trigger, its muzzle flash a starlight burst that blotted out nearly every detail of her predator save for the glare off its talons and the amorphous dark of its fur and body. Blurring forward, the creature threw itself towards her, twisting with impossible reflexes and allowing her shot to pass with barely a singe upon its skin.

Vysses eyes widened as the darkness filled her vision and a single glaring slitted eye revealed itself, fixating upon her terrified reflection. For a moment, Vysse felt the primal urge to scream before years of composure crushed it brutally. No creature so rank and base would tarnish the image and reputation she'd built for herself over the years.

Another flash burst like a distant nova, pure and brilliant, illuminating and burning away everything in her vision. Before she could even blink the burst of color and distortion from her vision, Vysse felt the tips of light fur brush past the skin of her face, its heady, earthen smell filling her lungs, and a brief flash of burning pain across the cheek.

Wordlessly, she drew a shuddering breath, one she'd resigned lost to oblivion a mere moment ago. Trembling fingers rose up to her cheek, coming away from her face with a fine line of sanguine, brilliant scarlet. Turning and looking down, she saw the beast, its sloth-like frame motionless as its single eye, extending on a thin neck-like protrusion, poured forth vilely with its vital fluids, bored precisely through its iris by a dueling weapon's fine beam.

From behind, Prince Erizlo stepped past the beast and his Admiral without a glance backwards as Vysse fell to her knees, eyes wide and staring with a mixture of receding mortal fear and glowing rapture as she looked upwards towards Erizlo’s back. With a clatter, the Prince let fall the expended dueling laser as he strode past her.

“A hunt implies challenge. An extermination is resolved before it begins.” Erizlo paused at the threshold of the grotto. “Bringing me the Vennasar's head is a task fit for you. Find me prey worthy of challenge, and then, perhaps, I will yet grace you the understanding of ‘hunt’.”