Decian woke to gray morning light and lay in his bed for a moment.

  Three weeks. It’d been three weeks since the regiment had dispersed for their leave. Three weeks of preparation; strategy sessions with his father, reviewing testimony with Livia, studying the various legal precedents that would justify the Blood-Debate.

  He sat up and crossed his room to the bathing chamber. Splashing his face with water from the basin till the grogginess passed, he turned to his right, seeing the clothes laid out along the counter, and dressed carefully. Senate attire. First came a deep wine-colored silk tunic, silver embroidery running down the sleeves and collar in the patterns of Branch Accardi. Next were the fitted charcoal trousers tucked into polished boots. The silver chain of his status went on his throat last, with a matching bracelet on his right wrist, and rings along his fingers — not ostentatious, but enough to mark him as Scion.

  Finally, he strapped on the saber. The comforting weight settled against his hip. At home or not, in a tribunal, or on the battlefield, he remained a warrior.

  His trunk sat near the door, already packed by estate staff. Multiple outfits, documentation for the testimony, and some personal effects were neatly arranged within. He crossed to it and opened the lid, adding a leather folder containing his handwritten notes.

  He closed the trunk and approached the small table near the window where breakfast waited. Bread, still warm, a small pot of berry jam, and a cup of watered wine — in place of his usual stimulant-laced tea. He hadn't had a drop since the night before the command handoff. The clarity that came from purpose was sharper than anything that could be provided chemically.

  Thirteen names. Thirteen reasons he couldn't afford doubt now.

  He ate slowly, watching the sun rise over the eastern mountains, mentally reviewing the testimony he'd drilled with his father for weeks.

  It had been weeks of the same cycle. Quiet mornings, strategy sessions, practicing his testimony until every word carried precision. His father had been relentless — teaching him how to navigate Senate politics, how to frame arguments, how to turn grief into legal ammunition.

  "You're not a Tribune on the floor. You are a Scion who watched his family die for unnecessary orders."

  He finished eating and stood.

  The family wing held a predawn quiet as he walked through it. Most of the estate staff worked elsewhere, preparing for the day's business. The officers would be scattered to their home estates for another week before they'd return for final deployment preparations.

  He reached the main hall and paused at the entrance.

  His father stood near the center of the room, already dressed in Senate robes — deep crimson with silver threading, the colors of a sitting Senator and Lord of House Testa. Gaius stood beside him, wearing a polished cuirass over dark robes, his service decorations visible across his chest.

  Livia waited near the windows, dressed in a burgundy silk gown with silver accents. The slight wrappings around her chest remained visible beneath the dress, but she held herself with the same controlled precision she always carried. Julius stood beside her in dueling attire — fitted black tunic and trousers, his blue champion's sash wrapped at his waist, twin sabers on his hips.

  Julia Sulla stood near her brother Julius, dressed in fighting leathers under a half-cloak dyed a vibrant wine. The Second duelist. Younger than Julius but just as deadly. Her hand rested casually on the pommel of her saber.

  Catus Ferro leaned against one of the pillars, arms crossed. EmberBorn caste, the final chosen duelist, a man who'd won thirty-two duels serving in the Guard without a loss. He wore simple but elegant clothes in the maroon and gold of Branch Ferro, a single heavy saber at his hip.

  Near the entrance, Bellona waited with Cavia and Quintus. His mother wore a gown, hands clasped in front of her. Cavia stood beside her in simpler robes, and Quintus looked as annoyed as always in a fine, fitted outfit of smoke grey, probably already calculating the cost of this entire venture.

  Severus noticed Decian and straightened. "We're ready."

  He crossed to stand with them. The war party.

  Not a military deployment, but it felt the same. A mission with clear objectives and known enemies.

  Severus looked around the assembled group. His voice carried command. "We're walking into the den of political wolves. House Kasio, House Valerius, every Consular House that sees an opportunity to weaken Strata standing in the Senate. They'll play dirty — so we stay sharp. We stay together. And we don't give them an opening."

  "Sounds fun," Gaius said dryly. "Reminds me of that time you tried to negotiate a grain contract with House Marius and they proceeded to bribe the adjudicator."

  Severus smiled slightly. "I didn't try to negotiate. I did negotiate. And we got the contract."

  "After you threatened to call an Imperial investigation by the Arbiters over the bribery."

  "Which worked."

  "You've always had a flair for the dramatic, brother."

  "Says the man who challenged three Senators to simultaneous duels during his last term."

  "They were insulting my House. What else was I expected to do?"

  "Not challenge three at once."

  Gaius grinned. "Where's the fun in that?"

  The moment of levity cut through the tension. His father and uncle, two former Tribunes, two men who'd commanded and bled and carried the burden of House Testa for decades. And they could still banter like this.

  Bellona stepped forward, gesturing for Decian and Severus to step aside slightly. Not private, but near enough to the group that the others could hear if they wanted.

  She looked at her son. "You've found your purpose. Good. Hold onto it, and continue to push forward."

  "I will, Mother."

  "The Senate will try to grind you down. To make you doubt. To turn this into procedural theater." Her voice remained steady, calm. "Don't let them. You're not there to play their games. You're there to make House Kasio pay for Accardi blood."

  "They can try."

  She touched his face briefly. "You're stronger than you think. Your father knows it. I know it. Now you need to know it."

  His father clasped his shoulder. "We'll bring them to account, Decian. Together."

  Bellona released him and stepped back. "Go. Make them answer."

  The group headed toward the main doors. Servants waited outside with horses — a small mounted convoy for the first leg of the journey to the rail station. Trunks and supplies had been secured to pack animals.

  Decian stepped out into the courtyard. Morning sun caught the cobblestones, warming the air. Estate staff lined the edges, watching them prepare. Some bowed. Others saluted.

  He crossed to his horse — a black stallion, steady and well-trained. He mounted smoothly, settling into the saddle. Around him, the others did the same.

  The convoy formed up. Seven riders, plus a handful of servants managing the luggage.

  Severus raised his hand. "Forward."

  They rode through the main gate and out onto the estate grounds. Decian looked back once. The Accardi estate stood against the mountains, wine banners flying from the towers. Bellona stood in the courtyard entrance, watching them leave.

  He turned his horse forward and urged it into a walk, hand on his pommel.

  The rail station lay a half-day's ride north. From there, two days east through the mountains into the heartlands of the Empire.

  Into Asana.

  Two days on the rails came and went.

  Decian stood inside the private car as it swayed gently with the motion of the track. The compartment held cushioned benches, polished wood paneling, and a small table bolted to the floor where his father and Gaius had spent hours reviewing Senate procedure and legal precedent. Livia sat near the window with Julius, going over her testimony for what felt like the hundredth time. Catus and Julia had claimed the rear bench, speaking quietly about dueling techniques and past honor challenges.

  The strategy had been set. The arguments rehearsed. Now it came down to arriving.

  He approached the rear door of the car and stepped out onto the external platform.

  The air hit him immediately — cold, thin, biting. The train climbed steadily upward through a narrow pass, mountains rising on either side like walls. Below, far below, he could see the southern approach they'd traveled the day before. And there, at the base of the pass where the great plains met the mountains, the Southern Garrison sprawled across the valley floor.

  Fifty thousand troops were stationed within. Members of the Senatorial Guard on active-duty rotations. The only real access point to the capital from the ground, and it stood fortified like a provincial bastion. Stone walls, watchtowers, barracks arranged in perfect geometric blocks. He could see formations drilling in the central yard, cavalry patrolling the perimeter. Even from this distance, the scale remained unmistakable.

  The train continued climbing. The rail line looked old — and was older than most of the provincial infrastructure Decian had seen — but maintained with Imperial precision. The tracks lay level, the supports reinforced, the gradient calculated for steady ascent without strain. Two and a half thousand years of engineering, preserved and functional.

  The pass narrowed further as they climbed. Sheer rock on both sides now, the mountains closing in. Then the track curved, and the pass opened.

  Asana.

  Decian's breath caught.

  The city rose before him, carved directly into the central mountain range. Halls jutted from the rock face, their facades gleaming white in the afternoon sun. Columns the width of ancient trees supported terraces that climbed the slopes in layered steps. Statues stood at intervals along the terraces — figures of Emperors, Senators, military commanders frozen in stone, watching over the city below.

  The architecture stood monumental. Grand archways opened into the mountain itself, leading to halls and chambers hewn from living rock. Bridges spanned between levels, connecting districts that rose one above the other like a vertical sprawl. And everywhere, carved into every surface, art and calligraphed Script proclaimed the permanence of Imperial power.

  Terrace farms clung to the lower slopes, green against gray stone. Thousands of them, feeding the ten million citizens packed into this impossible city.

  The Emberhall sat at the heart of it all — a complex of interconnected buildings and halls that formed a city within the city. Even from here, he could see its mass. The central audience chamber rose highest, its dome plated in copper that had turned green with age. Around it, archives, administrative halls, and Senate quarters, all bound together by covered walkways and enclosed courtyards.

  And above everything, at the highest terrace, carved into the peak — the Imperial Palace. White marble and black iron, its towers rising like teeth against the sky. The residence of the Inferno and the Imperial family.

  Asana had stood for over two and a half thousand years, built during the end of the Wars of Reclamation. One of the oldest cities in the Empire. The most powerful capital on the entirety of the continent of Olympus. It was the seat of everything.

  Decian gripped the platform railing as the train descended into the city proper.

  They passed through the outer districts first. Residential terraces, markets built into carved alcoves, bathhouses fed by aqueducts or mountain streams. Workshops where citizens flowed between stone halls with the ease of a populace that had lived this way for generations. The streets ran clean, ordered, controlled.

  Senatorial Guard stood at every major intersection. Not the garrison troops with rifles and tactical gear — they were the Ceremonial Guard. Polished armor, crimson cloaks, sabers, halberds, and spears held with parade-ground precision. They maintained order without the need for firearms. Their presence remained visible, constant, disciplined.

  A reminder that the city functioned under Imperial law, enforced by Imperial authority.

  In the distance, Decian caught a glimpse of a walled district — darker stone, heavier fortifications, with distinctive dragon banners on its towers. The 1st legion's garrison. The only troops in Asana who were permitted to use live fire weapons.

  The train descended deeper into the city, passing through tunnels carved through the mountain. When they emerged, the architecture shifted — showing statues that predated the current dynasty. They were in the administrative heart now.

  Citizens flowed through the streets in various attire. Senatorial representatives and staff in their robes, military officers in dress uniforms, provincial administrators coordinating logistics for an Empire that stretched across half a continent, and civilians in fine colors and fabrics.

  This city wasn’t governed — it was governance. Every stone, every hall, every terrace projected permanence and power.

  The train slowed as it approached Central Station.

  He turned and stepped back into the car. His father looked up from the table where he'd been reviewing notes.

  "We're here."

  Severus nodded and stood. Around him, the others began gathering their things. Livia adjusted her gown and checked the wrappings around her ribs. Julius secured his sabers. Catus and Julia rose from their bench, stretching after hours of sitting.

  Gaius approached to stand beside Decian, looking out through the window as the train pulled into the station. "It's been six years since I was last here; it hasn't changed."

  "Should it have?"

  "No. That's the point, my boy." Gaius's expression turned grim. "This place doesn't change. It endures. And it eats Houses like ours when we forget that."

  The train shuddered to a stop.

  Through the window, Decian could see the platform — wide walkways, vaulted ceilings supported by columns wider than a man could wrap his arms around. Ceremonial Guard lined the edges in ceremonial formation. Citizens flowed through the station with purpose, heading to rail lines that connected Asana to every corner of the Empire.

  Severus crossed to the door and paused, looking back at the group. "Stay together and stay sharp. We're in their territory now."

  Decian walked away from the railcar and immediately noticed a group approaching. Six members of the Guard, sabers sheathed, crimson cloaks hanging perfectly still. The lead Guard stopped a few paces away and raised his hand.

  "Flame-stamps, please. We need to verify your clearance."

  Severus stepped forward, reaching into his robes without hesitation, and produced a small crimson booklet — bronze wire stitched around its edges, with his clearance seal, name, caste designation, House class, and picture printed on the thick waxed stock paper inside. The Guard took it, examined it briefly, then nodded and returned it.

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  One by one, the rest of the group did the same. Decian pulled his own stamp from the inner pocket of his tunic. The Guard checked each one methodically, confirming citizenship and clearance to be in the capital.

  "You're cleared for entry to the capital," the Guard said, stepping aside. "Welcome to Asana, Lord Accardi."

  Severus nodded once. "Thank you."

  The Emberhall complex rose ahead as they exited the station and moved through the adjoining streets. Interconnected halls and administrative buildings sprawled across an entire district. Archives with copper-plated roofs. Senate chambers carved directly into the mountainside. Quarters for sitting Senators stacked in terraces that climbed toward the central audience hall.

  The seat of the Tri-Liturgical Senate.

  More Ceremonial Guard stood at the main entrance — sabers and halberds at attention. They recognized Severus and stepped aside without challenge.

  Inside, the scale became overwhelming. Vaulted ceilings. Halls wide enough to march a cohort through. Busts of Emperors and Senators lining the walls. Staff flowed between chambers — clerks with ledgers, representatives coordinating between offices, political officers reporting to their Houses.

  Severus led them deeper into the complex. They passed through a broad gallery where Senate committees met in side chambers, voices echoing through archways. Another corridor opened into an archive hall, shelves stacked with bound records stretching three stories high.

  "Our quarters are in the eastern wing," Severus said. "The Senate provides housing for active members. Julius and I maintain rooms there during long sessions."

  They turned down a narrower corridor, heading away from the central halls, and stopped.

  Four men blocked the way.

  House Valerius members. Emerald robes trimmed with gold thread, the serpent crest visible on their breast pins. Political nobility.

  Three of them appeared young — late twenties at most. Clean-shaven, polished, wearing their wealth like armor. The kind of men who'd never really bled in the mud but thought Senate standing made them dangerous.

  The fourth was older. Gray-haired, a black High Senator's sash sat across his chest. He positioned himself slightly behind the others, watching.

  They stood there, waiting.

  The tallest of the younger ones stepped forward. Dark hair, thin and lanky, a predator's smile.

  "Lord Accardi. Gracing the Emberhall with your presence. How unexpected."

  Severus's expression didn't change. "Senator Theron. Step aside."

  "Of course, of course." Theron made no attempt to clear the way. "We were just remarking on the warborn of House Testa arriving in the halls of governance. Such a novelty. Strata playing at politics instead of dying in the mud where you belong."

  The second young Senator — blonde, shorter— laughed. "You should be at the front, earning your meager standing. Not here, wearing silk and pretending to be our equals."

  The third gestured toward Decian, grinning. "Look at the jewelry. That fine chain and ruby. Tell me, Tribune — who did you burn to ashes to afford that? How many of your own troops did you trade for silver and jewels?"

  Rage settled into Decian's chest with a cold clarity.

  The older Senator — Philippos, Decian realized, recognizing his voice — spoke quietly from behind them. "Careful, boys. Remember where we are."

  Theron ignored him. "Perhaps we should collect interest on behalf of the families you burned, warborn."

  He drew his saber. Steel whispered against the scabbard.

  The other two followed immediately — Nikias and Lysander, the names coming to him as their blades cleared leather with the practiced ease of men who'd trained with sabers since boys.

  Decian and Julius stepped forward as one, drawing their own sabers.

  "We'll cut your serpent tongues out for the disrespect," Julius said, voice flat and deadly.

  Behind them, Gaius roared. "Consular cunts! You want to test Strata steel? Step forward and fucking learn!"

  Julia's blade cleared its sheath the instant her brother's sabers did. "Come on, then! Let's see if you fucking wolves have teeth after all!"

  Theron lunged at Decian.

  The strike came fast — a diagonal slash aimed at the throat. Decian sidestepped, let the blade pass, and countered with a low cut toward Theron's forward leg. The edge bit shallow before Theron managed to pull back, stumbling.

  To Decian's right, Nikias closed in with an overhead strike. He caught it on his blade, twisted, and drove a pommel strike into Nikias' face. Cartilage crunched. The Senator staggered back, blood streaming from his nose.

  Lysander came at Julius with a thrust. Julius deflected it effortlessly with one of his blades, stepped inside his guard, and countered, bringing around his other saber into a slash that opened Lysander's sword arm from elbow to wrist. Lysander went wide-eyed and dropped his sword, clutching the wound.

  Theron recovered and lunged again at Decian, this time going low. Decian parried, locked blades, and shoved him back against the wall. Before Theron could recover, his blade pressed against the man's throat.

  "Yield, or die," Decian said quietly.

  Theron's eyes went wide, panicked. "I—"

  Nikias, still bleeding from his broken nose, grabbed his saber from the floor and charged at Decian's exposed side.

  Julius reacted.

  His left blade intercepted Nikias' mid-strike, deflecting it wide, and in the same fluid motion, reversed into a devastating slash across the Valerius Senator's face.

  Steel parted flesh. Blood sprayed across the walls.

  Nikias screamed and fell against the wall, hands going to the ruined mass of his face. The cut ran from his left cheekbone down to his jaw, just missing his eye. His cheek hung open, flapping. Blood poured between his fingers and onto the floor.

  He collapsed, still screaming.

  The corridor erupted. Shouts. Running footsteps. Staff and Senate representatives appearing in doorways.

  A full shieldhost of Ceremonial Guard arrived — fifteen troops in polished armor, sabers drawn, forming a line between the two groups.

  "What happened here?" the Captain of the Guard demanded.

  Philippos stepped forward, composed despite the blood splattered across the floor. "An honor duel, Captain. All is settled now."

  Julius still held his sabers loosely. "Agreed. The matter is resolved."

  Decian stepped back from Theron, lowering his blade. Theron slumped against the wall, breathing hard, eyes wide with the realization of how close he'd come.

  The Guard looked between them, then at Nikias, still bleeding and moaning on the floor. One of them knelt to examine the wound while the others held position.

  "The duel is settled," the Captain said finally. "Both parties withdraw."

  Philippos approached to help Nikias to his feet. The young Senator clutched his cheek, blood soaking through his fingers into his robes. Lysander held his slashed arm limply. Theron pushed himself off the wall, shaking.

  Philippos turned to Severus. His voice came cold, venomous. "Strata swine. You can see me on the Senate floor anytime, Accardi. Just you and me. We'll see if you fight without your hounds around you."

  Severus smiled. It didn't reach his eyes. "I'll enjoy that, Philippos. Very much."

  Decian stepped forward, saber still drawn. Blood dripped from his blade onto the stone. He looked at Theron, at Lysander, and at Philippos helping the maimed Nikias stand.

  "Anyone else want to test the warborn?" Decian's voice carried down the corridor. "Step forward. We're right here."

  Silence.

  Theron sheathed his blade with shaking hands. Lysander already headed toward the exit, cradling his arm. Philippos gestured sharply, and they withdrew, supporting Nikias between them. The Senator’s agonized gasps echoed off the walls as they disappeared down the corridor.

  The Shield Host held position for another moment, then dispersed.

  Livia crossed to Julius immediately, hand on his arm. "Are you alright?"

  "Fine, my love." Julius wiped his blades clean and sheathed them one at a time. "They were reckless. Seatborn, who thought Senate dueling made them fighters."

  Catus laughed from the back, sharp and bitter. "Political Houses. All fucking talk until some steel comes out."

  Julia sheathed her saber, still watching where the Valerius had retreated. "They'll remember this."

  "Good," Severus said. He turned and continued down the corridor toward his quarters. "Let them remember. Let every House in this complex know that Testa came here for a fight."

  The group followed.

  Decian sheathed his saber and fell into step beside his father. The rage had settled back into focus. Purpose. Direction.

  "That escalated quickly," Gaius muttered.

  "No." Severus' voice came quietly, certain. "That went exactly as needed. They tested us. We answered. Now they know."

  Decian glanced back once. Blood still stained the stone where Nikias had fallen. Staff were already gathering to clean it, but the message would spread faster than any cleaning crew could work.

  House Testa wasn't here to negotiate.

  The corridor opened into a wider hall lined with polished doors. His father stopped at the third one on the left and produced a key.

  "Here," he said, unlocking it.

  The door swung open to reveal a grand suite. Not quite estate-quality, but close. Decian stepped inside, taking in the space. A central sitting room with cushioned furniture arranged around a low table, windows overlooking one of the Emberhall's interior courtyards. Tapestries hung on the walls — Imperial imagery, scenes of Senate proceedings, battles won under the Empire's banners. Doors led off to private chambers and what looked like a small dining area.

  Better than any field quarters he'd occupied. Significantly better.

  Julius moved to the door on the right. "My apartments are through here. Connects directly."

  The group filed in. Gaius claimed one of the chairs near the window. Livia sat beside Julius on a cushioned bench. Catus and Julia moved to examine the side rooms — one led to a bathing chamber, another to what looked like a small training area with weapon racks and open floor space.

  Decian remained standing near the center of the room, hand still resting on the pommel of his saber. The adrenaline from the fight was fading, leaving behind the familiar weight. But it was channeled now. Focused on what came next.

  A knock came at the door.

  Decian's eyes tracked his father as Severus crossed to it and opened it without hesitation.

  Five Senators stood in the corridor. Formal robes, various House colors, and sashes across their chest marking their rank. Behind them, a group of Senatorial Guard stood at attention.

  Allies, Decian realized.

  "Lord Accardi," the lead Senator said. He was older, gray-haired, wearing the deep blue and silver of what Decian recognized as House Corvinus — a Strata House from the western provinces. "May we enter?"

  "Senator Corvinus." Severus stepped aside. "Please."

  They came in, one at a time. Corvinus first, followed by a younger Senator in the bronze and black of House Ferrus — another Strata House. Then a woman in crimson and white — House Decima, Strata from the southern territories.

  Three Strata Houses. Good. They understood what this truly meant.

  Behind them came two men in Consular colors. One wore the pale gray and gold of House Adamos. The other, emerald and white — House Galanis.

  Political nobility. Decian studied them carefully. Not aligned with Kasio, or they wouldn't be here. But seatborn nonetheless. This would be an alliance of convenience, not blood.

  The door closed. The five Senators stood in a loose semicircle, neither hostile nor overly warm.

  Senator Corvinus spoke first. "We heard about the incident in the eastern corridor. Word travels quickly in the Emberhall."

  Of course it does, Decian thought. Blood on marble tends to spread faster than rumors.

  "It's been resolved," Severus said evenly.

  "Resolved with considerable force," the Ferrus Senator said. He appeared younger, early forties, and he didn't sound disapproving. Just stating a fact. "Three Valerius members wounded. One maimed. They escalated and paid for it."

  The Decima Senator nodded. "Valerius drew steel, intending to kill. They learned what happens when you test Strata that way."

  Decian felt their eyes on him. Measuring. The Strata understood.

  Senator Adamos, the older of the two seatborn, shifted slightly. "The... intensity has been noted throughout the Emberhall. Valerius made a mistake, certainly, but the response carried severity."

  "They drew steel first," Gaius said from his chair. "We answered in kind. That's how it works, is it not?"

  "Of course," Adamos said carefully. "We're not questioning the legitimacy. Just acknowledging that allying with House Testa carries... certain implications."

  There it stood. Decian watched the Consular Senator closely. Adamos wasn't worried about the violence itself. He worried about what backing Strata against another Consular House would look like. Political risk.

  Senator Galanis, the second Consular, lean and sharp-eyed, tried to explain further. "House Kasio's allies will paint this as Strata aggression. Barbarism even. Our support will be noted. We're accepting that risk, but we need clarity about what we're backing."

  "Understood," Severus said. "And we appreciate it."

  Corvinus stepped forward. "Your testimony is scheduled for the end of the week. The Senate will review your complaint and determine whether precedent exists to grant the Blood-Debate without a vote."

  The timeline settled into place in Decian's mind. Three days left to prepare, to ensure every word landed with the burden of thirteen Accardi lives.

  "And if precedent isn't granted?" he asked.

  "Then it goes to a Senate vote," the Ferrus Senator said. "Two-thirds majority is required to approve the challenge. That's where we come in."

  Corvinus gestured to the group. "House Corvinus pledges our votes. House Ferrus pledges theirs. House Decima as well."

  The support held substance. Three Strata Houses committing voting blocs before testimony had even been heard. His father's network had been working.

  The two Consular Senators exchanged a glance. Adamos spoke carefully. "House Adamos... has its own grievances with House Kasio. Trade disputes, territorial encroachment, raids into our lands. We understand what it means when a powerful House overreaches and treats lives as expendable. You have our votes."

  The other nodded. "House Galanis concurs. Kasio wasted lives for pride. That deserves an answer. You'll have our support."

  Five voting blocs. Guaranteed. Something hardened in Decian's chest. They still needed a two-thirds majority if it came to a vote, but they had momentum now. Direction.

  Would it be enough? The seatborn seemed nervous just backing them. How many other Houses would follow if the political cost seemed too high? Decian pushed the doubt down. They'd make the case strong enough that the Senate wouldn’t need a vote.

  Severus absorbed that. "Thank you. All of you."

  "There's more," Corvinus said. "The confrontation with Valerius — it won't be the last. Kasio has allies throughout the Emberhall. They'll press, test, provoke. We'd like to post additional Guard at your suite entrances. Our own troops, loyal to our Houses. Extra eyes, extra steel."

  Smart, Decian thought. Valerius wouldn't try another confrontation with allied Guard watching. And if they did, there'd be witnesses who weren't Kasio-aligned.

  Severus considered that briefly, then nodded. "A few extra eyes would be a welcome gift. Thank you, Senator."

  "It's settled, then." Corvinus looked around the room. "We stand with House Testa in this."

  Galanis cleared his throat. "There is... one additional concern. Regarding the Blood-Debate itself."

  Here it comes.

  "Speak it," Severus said.

  The Consular Senator chose his words carefully. "Blood-Debates are an accepted mechanism. The Senate recognizes them as a legitimate outlet. But they operate under established protocol — first blood, disarmament, yield. Most end without fatality." He paused. "Your champions are proven warriors. Known frontline killers, to be direct. House Kasio will field champions as well, but they'll more than likely just be seasoned Senate duelists. Consular Houses don't... produce the same caliber of combatant."

  "You're worried we'll butcher them," Julius said bluntly from across the room.

  Galanis shifted uncomfortably. "We're concerned about the optics, yes. If House Testa's champions execute Kasio's in the Senate arena, even legally, it will look like Strata brutality. That reflects on everyone who supported the Debate."

  Julia's voice came from the training room doorway. "We know the rules, Senator. We have each duelled in the hall before."

  She stepped into view, Catus beside her. Both had sabers in hand. "But if Kasio's champions wish for death, we will grant them death. We are not here to dance around protocol for Senate comfort. We're here to answer for thirteen Accardi lives."

  Adamos' expression remained carefully controlled. "That's the concern. If it escalates—"

  "Then it escalates," Catus said. His voice came calm, matter-of-fact. "We'll follow procedure, on our honor. If they yield, we accept it. If they drop their blade, it's over. But if they come at us intending to kill? To spill more Accardi blood? To take another Testa life?" He shrugged. "We're not dying in the arena to make your alliance look civilized."

  The two Consular Senators exchanged another glance. This was exactly what made them nervous — not the violence itself, but the certainty with which Testa's champions would meet it.

  Decian watched the dynamic carefully. The seatborn wanted the alliance but needed reassurance that death wouldn't happen.

  They weren't going to get it.

  Severus stepped forward. "Our champions know the procedure. They'll honor the hall. If House Kasio's champions follow protocol, the Debate will end cleanly. But we didn't come here to lose. If Kasio pushes it beyond protocol, we'll match what they bring."

  "And if they don't push it?" Adamos asked quietly. "If their champions fight honorably and yield when outmatched?"

  "Then we accept the yield," Severus said. "We're not savages, Senator. We are Strata. Warborn of the Empire's nobility. We understand controlled friction. But we also understand what we're owed for thirteen lives. The Debate will answer that debt one way or another."

  It wasn't quite the reassurance Adamos had been hoping for. Decian could see it in the Consular Senator's face. But it stood as all they were going to get.

  Corvinus broke the tension. "The Senate will witness the Debate if it's granted. Protocol will be observed. That's all that matters."

  Galanis nodded slowly. "Agreed. We'll post our Guard within the hour. Three days, Senator Testa."

  The five Senators approached the door. Corvinus paused at the threshold. "Make your testimony count. The Senate will be watching."

  "They'll hear what Kasio cost us," Severus said. "Every word of it."

  The Senators departed. The door closed behind them.

  Silence settled over the room for a moment. They had support, but the seatborn appeared nervous, and not about the wrong things. They understood the risk of backing Strata against Kasio.

  Good. Let them be unsure. Restraint wasn't what they came here for.

  Gaius laughed quietly. "They want us to fight pretty. Make it look civilized."

  "They want their alliance to look justified," Severus said. "Not like they backed a massacre."

  Julius rose from the couch. "If Kasio's champions are smart, they'll yield early. If they're not, they'll die. That's not our problem. I welcome the challenge."

  Livia shook her head slightly but didn't argue. She understood as well as anyone. This wasn't about Senate comfort.

  Decian approached the window and looked out over the courtyard below. He felt his father's presence beside him. Severus stood at the window, looking out with him.

  "You did well today," Severus said quietly. "In the corridor. You didn't hesitate."

  "They drew first."

  "They did. But you finished it." Severus's voice carried something Decian couldn't quite place. Pride, maybe. Or recognition. "They’ll hear what was taken from us soon enough."

  "I'm ready."

  "I know you are."

  They stood together in silence, watching the Emberhall function below them. Behind them, the sound of sparring echoed out of the training room.

  Decian's hand drifted to the pommel of his saber again.

  Three days.

  Then House Kasio would answer for the blood they forced him to waste.