Schism of Blood and Stone (The Starfield Theory Book 1) by Brian Frederico Page B

on the uniform he might even pass for a young version of him, as blasphemous as it sounded.
    How would he handle the boy? Obviously, he could not be the Archduke. He had no experience, no training, nothing. He hadn't even spent a day in a royal palace, had no idea of the politics, the treachery, the dangers that presented nobility. The theories he learned in his schooling were a nice start, but actual experience was the only way to have any sort of influence. All he did now was pilot a ship under contract with some no-name shipping firm. Damien wondered if he'd bought into that spacer culture, looking like some monstrosity etched with glowing tattoos and ridiculous clothing covered in fuels and lubricants. Though most nobles and common soldiers had the SESE tattoos to interact with their war machines, most used more invisible forms rather than the garish vanity of the spacer culture.
    What was Peter thinking!? Damien raged suddenly, smashing his fist on the armrest. He went so far in protecting them that he's completely alienated them from their own destiny. And what of these Sørensens? How could they possibly believe he is capable of ruling the Commonwealth? Dietrich has finally lost his mind.
    And why had Peter never revealed the children to me?
    The thought sobered him instantly. As the de facto heir to the throne, Damien had a right to know the developments of the line of succession. And, on a lesser, but still important note, Peter was his brother. He thought they had developed a mutual trust over the years. The children were his niece and nephew! Members of his own family. What made Peter keep them secret for twenty-five years? Did he fear Damien or Salena would attempt to have them killed as Arthur died? Had their relationship really become so strained over the years that Peter could no longer trust him with his secrets?
    Damien furrowed his brow. “ I had nothing to do with Arthur's death,” he whispered to the crackling flame. “I would not harm my own kin. Why did my brother not trust me? Why would be put us in this situation?”
    The fire did not answer his questions.
    “Bah!” Damien lurched from the chair and kicked the logs from the fire, sending embers and ash scattering. He observed his destruction for a moment before collecting his thick overcoat and headed into the hallway. The Crimson Lady was an ancient warship so her hallways were narrow and lined with pipes and access consoles lit only every few meters by illumination panels set into the ceiling. Besides the fireplace and weapons upgrades, Damien had ordered no major changes to the vessel. She remained largely as she was when she was build nearly a thousand years ago when the Commonwealth was still young and humanity still possessed the technology to build such massive star ships. She had spent her life on the border fighting the Dominion and safeguarding Commonwealth territory just as Damien had. They were kindred spirits in a way. Damien gently followed a length of pipe with his fingertips. The only woman in my life , he thought somberly.
    His solitude was beginning to be too much. He needed answers and another keen mind with whom to discuss them. He weaved his way through the ship's halls, returning salutes from the few officers he encountered. They recognized his presence and his authority, but none of them went out of their ways to acknowledge him. They were all his veteran crew, and they knew better than to bother him with needless military pomp. Damien wore no identifying markers on his destrier either preferring to move across the battlefield as if he were just the lowliest of recruits. The enemy would not waste ammunition on such a low level target, at least so he believed. He had spent his entire life in combat and the fact that he still lived provided some evidence for his theories.
    Damien headed for the docking bay and settled into his personal shuttle. He ordered the pilot to take him to Sir Aaron's command ship donated from House