He hefted the curved sword and marveled at the grey metal. Only the ore on Anshan could produce the metal that was not only unbreakable but easily molded. All the spaceships, computers, and weapons within the Five Galaxies were made from ore from Anshan mines-- even the swords, the only weapons sanctioned by the Planetary Council as fair and appropriate for man-to-man combat. The Council disallowed lasers or other advanced weapons, instead opting for the traditional weapons of their ancestors, and the only weapons some planets with their crude civilizations in the nearby galaxies used.

Swiping at the air, A'Ran couldn't help but feel furious that the Council would protect such civilizations from those that were more advanced out of some sense of fairness while sitting by doing nothing as his planet was overrun and his parents murdered. Despite his hatred for the politics, he knew he needed the Council's help. His people were starving as the planet died, and soon, the Council would realize the planet produced no ore without its rightful ruler.

Anshan-- a chunk of rock in space-- was smarter than the entire Council combined, even Jetr, who was content to mediate between him and the Council without truly choosing sides. Jetr had been loyal to his family for generations, and A'Ran respected him, knew the odd-looking man was the only reason the Council hadn't ceded to the Yirkins' petitions to claim the planet officially.

And yet, he couldn't help feeling as if he alone bore the weight of his planet on his back as he struggled to pay for food, water, and weapons. He was running out of ore and other means to barter; he'd need the Council's mercy soon.

"I am sorry my sister did not please you, A'Ran," Ne'Rin said as he stepped into the field.

"She pleased me, Ne'Rin, but she is not meant to be my nishani," he replied.

"What do you wait for?"

A'Ran was quiet. He didn't know how to explain it and wondered if he should even try with Jetr's suspicions fresh in his mind. His father said Anshan would tell him, and the feeling would be unmistakable. He hadn't been on his own planet since his parents were killed, and he wasn't sure how the planet would choose someone for him when he wasn't there.

"I'll know," he said with more confidence than he felt. "Are the warriors ready for the next campaign?"

"They are."

"You and I have a different mission. A very unpleasant one."

"Jetr told me."

"Ready my personal ship for the flight to Qatwal."




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