Their short swords clashed.
No shields protected them.
Paul stepped back, but Gurney's blade still landed, just barely, it passed by his stomach.
They both paused for a moment as Paul's eyes went down to his stomach.
Staring at it, he saw the cut in the shirt and noticed a small gash had appeared.
He began bleeding.
But only a few moments had passed when he felt the itch.
It moved quickly through his body, arriving at his injury in moments.
It felt like it was gnawing at his injury and suddenly he noticed the wound bleeding at a much slower rate.
Paul moved his finger into the small gash and noticed that it had begun to seal itself slowly.
"I think it's best we end it here, Duke Paul. Perhaps we use Shields next time," Gurney said as he sheathed his sword, his eyes lingering on Paul's bleeding stomach, and Paul nodded.
Putting away his sword, he quickly left the room.
His finger rested on the gash, and as the itch and the clawing intensified, he felt the gash repairing itself more and more.
Entering his room, he took off his shirt and cleaned the initial blood that had spilled and observed the gash.
It was slow, but the gash slowly disappeared.
'So that is what it left me?' he thought, thinking of the man that appeared in his room on Kaitain.
"Just who was that..."
'I used to occasionally have visions of that man, but now... nothing, pure silence.'
His communicator buzzed, and Paul picked it up.
"Duke Paul," Thufir's voice reached Paul.
"House Harkonnen has sent the fifty billion solari soon, and an Imperial envoy has been scheduled to arrive on Arrakeen in two days for the official handover of Planet Arrakis to House Atreides," Thufir slowly informed.
"Okay, send the bulk orders on infrastructure to repair from the damage done during the war, and the damaged infrastructure the Harkonnens had left us when they left," Paul said as he entered his washroom to freshen up.
...
Meanwhile, on Wallach IX, the ninth planet of the Laoujin system.
The Home planet of the Bene Gesserit.
A world with a forest and mountainous ecosystems with cities carved out all over the planet, each city an identical copy of the other cities on the planet.
It is said that once you have visited one city on Wallach IX, you have visited them all.
At this moment, the undercurrent had already begun, underneath the Mother School of the Bene Gesserit.
Deep within the school, a place called The Wallach IX Archive Library existed.
A place of utmost sacredness and importance to the Bene Gesserit.
And today, a gathering was initiated.
The Archive was silent.
Row after row of shelves stretched into the dim light, each lined with bound records older than most noble houses. The air carried the faint smell of aged parchment and secrets.
Seven women sat around a long stone table.
No candles. The light came from glow orbs, pale and even, casting no shadows.
Mother Superior Harishka sat at the head. She was still, her hands resting flat on the table.
To her left, Mohiam.
Across from her, Sister Calla, Sister Maret, and three Reverend Mothers whose stillness made them look carved from the same stone as the walls.
Nobody spoke.
Nobody needed to.
"The nerve touch failed." Mother Superior Harishka said.
Nobody looked at Mohiam. Which meant everyone was looking at Mohiam.
She let the silence sit for a moment before speaking.
"Jessica prepared him. Secretly, and thoroughly." She paused for a moment as she organized her thoughts. "I underestimated her devotion to the boy."
"Her devotion," Calla said softly, "or her ambition?"
Mohiam's eyes moved to Calla slowly.
"Both," Mohiam said softly.
Ramallo's dry voice came from the end of the table.
"Has he dreamed?"
The room shifted slightly, her voice weak, her sight reduced, but her senses sharper than everybody present.
When she spoke, people listened.
"Weak prescience," Mohiam said. "Nothing confirmed."
"Weak prescience in a boy his age," Ramallo said quietly, "is not weak."
Silence.
Harishka's hands remained flat on the table.
"Then we watch," she said. "Nothing more. Nothing less."
"The Landsraad session changes things," Maret said carefully.
"It changes everything," Mohiam corrected. "He forced Shaddam's hand in open court. That is not the move of a boy playing at politics."
"It is the move of someone who knows what he is doing, almost too well," Ramallo said.
A long silence stretched between them.
Calla leaned forward slightly. "If he is the Kwisatz Haderach—"
"If," Harishka interrupted. The word landed like a closed door.
Calla settled back.
Mohiam's eyes drifted downward for a moment, and she considered something for a moment but decided to bring it up later as Ramallo's dry voice came once more, almost to herself.
"The breeding program did not account for Jessica's love."
Nobody responded.
Because nobody had an answer for that.
Mohiam spoke, interrupting the silence.
"Emperor Shaddam."
"He seems to be struggling with handling his defeat," Mohiam said.
"Shaddam's defeat at Landsraad changed things, the balance of the Imperium changed... but House Atreides does not seem to wish for chaos."
"So this stability is," Harishka paused for a moment.
"Acceptable." she said.
"Emperor Shaddam must act with more restraint," Calla said and received collective agreement from the people present in the room.
'But...'
"What actions must be taken in case Emperor Shaddam refuses restraint?" Mohiam asked her eyes glancing across the people in the room, but none spoke.
"Perhaps we consider a replacement..."
"One of our own," Calla said.
"It is ideal if nothing happens to Shaddam until he has a son or a grandson."
"If needed, the first princess will have to take over as the first empress in the Imperium," Harishka said.
"Paul... what if he decides not to maintain balance?" Ramallo asked, causing a moment of silence that seemed to stretch on for a long time.
"He must be managed." Maret, who had been silent for a long moment, spoke and Harshika nodded.
"We must set up a proposal," Harshika said.
"But if it does not work," her eyes glanced towards Ramallo.
She didn't speak.
But Ramallo understood.