Eli looked down at the golden mark on his chest.
The royal insignia of Solaris.
A sun encircled by a phoenix.
A clear symbol of imperial authority.
"I accept my duties," Eli said.
He placed his right hand over his heart and stepped his left foot back. The formal posture of royal etiquette.
"Confirmed."
The monotone voice sounded again inside his mind.
Then the projection vanished.
The light faded, leaving only faint warmth beneath his skin.
Eli exhaled slowly and left the room.
He had ordered Carrow to clear the corridor outside. No guards. No attendants.
The hallway was silent.
Too silent.
His footsteps echoed softly against metal flooring as he walked. He needed to inform Carrow and Voss immediately. Deploying infantry to another frontier would weaken Deoxy at a dangerous time.
As he turned a corner, the silence broke.
Voices. Machinery. Movement.
The courtyard had become a controlled chaos.
The Gravecoil Tyrant's corpse had drawn buyers from across the Bastion.
Infantry personnel maintained strict order. Merchants stood in organized lines, each queue assigned to a specific component.
No one was allowed to rush.
No one was allowed to purchase too much.
Each transaction was measured. Balanced. Controlled to prevent monopolies.
Eli stopped briefly, observing.
Sections of the corpse lay arranged across reinforced platforms.
Blood was collected in sealed containers.Scales were stacked in heavy crates.Exoskeletal plates were sorted by size and thickness.Organs were stored in temperature-controlled cases.
Nothing was wasted.
Every part had value.
Mutant beast blood could be refined into stimulants or catalysts. Scales could be forged into armor plating. Bone and chitin could reinforce weapons. Organs were used in mutation serums or enhancement procedures.
Even damaged tissue could be processed into industrial biomaterials.
Credits flowed from death.
This was the economy of the frontier.
Eli's gaze moved across the scene, expression unreadable.
Viscount Wilson had once sustained the region with hunts like this.
Now that burden had fallen to him.
He resumed walking.
Carrow and Voss would be somewhere nearby, overseeing operations.
He tapped a random soldier on the shoulder.
The man turned sharply, irritation already on his face, clearly expecting another merchant trying to push past purchase limits.
Eli's dark shirt and combat trousers let him blend easily into the crowd. Without insignia or escort, he looked like just another officer.
"If you ask one more time, you'll be in the brig for—"
The words died in his throat.
"My— my lord!"
The soldier jolted upright. His baton shifted awkwardly from his right arm to his left as he snapped into a salute, right hand over heart, left foot stepping back, head bowed low to avoid direct eye contact.
"Your head should not be bowed when making a salute," Eli said calmly.
The soldier froze, then corrected himself at once.
"Yes, sir."
He straightened fully, lifting his head and meeting Eli's gaze despite the tension visible in his jaw.
"Inform Infantry Lieutenant Carrow and Defense Administrator Voss that they are to meet me in the council chamber immediately," Eli said. "Tell them I am already there."
"Yes, sir!"
The soldier snapped to attention, posture rigid.
Eli gave a small nod and walked past him without another word.
The moment he was out of arm's reach, the soldier pivoted and broke into a run, shoving through the organized lines with urgent apologies as he raced to deliver the summons.
Eli reached the council chamber soon after.
The broken reinforcement glass had already been replaced. The walls were pristine, the table restored, as if the earlier destruction had never happened.
He walked to the head of the table and dragged Ilya's chair into place before sitting down.
Ilya had rarely used it. His mutation favored constant motion. Sitting through long meetings only made him restless, so he usually stood or slowly paced instead.
Eli leaned forward, palm pressed against his face.
Imperial honor.
Infantry deployment.
Deoxy's survival.
He needed a way to gain one without sacrificing the other.
Footsteps approached.
The door opened.
Voss entered first. Carrow followed. The soldier who escorted them remained at the doorway.
Carrow stepped inside, then turned back.
"Close the door. Take five steps sideways. No one enters."
"Yes, sir."
The door sealed shut.
Carrow remained still, listening.
One step.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Silence.
Each infantry trooper's stride was nearly identical. Years of drill ensured uniform movement unless mutation interfered.
Satisfied, Carrow moved to the table.
He took the seat to Eli's left. Voss sat on Eli's right, armor shifting with a dull mechanical sound.
Eli lowered his hand.
"There has been an instruction from the Core," he said. "From the Royal Family itself."
Carrow stiffened.
"Did they address you as Viscount… or Warden?" he asked, tension visible on his face.
"As Warden," Eli replied. "They want an infantry detachment for a frontier stabilization event in the Goliath Region."
Carrow exhaled sharply.
"Then there is nothing we can contest. If they had addressed you as Viscount, there were delays we could invoke. As Warden, you are acting under frontier command."
He leaned back, already calculating.
"A detachment will weaken us, but nothing we cannot manage. We reduce unit density and spread forces to compensate."
Voss said nothing. He simply watched, eyes half-lidded.
He served Deoxy. And the Viscount.
Not the Core.
"A three hundred strong detachment by tomorrow, then?" Carrow asked.
"No," Eli said.
Both men looked at him.
"We will send more."
Carrow shot to his feet.
"Are you insane?"
"They are offering Imperial Honour," Eli said calmly.
"Honour will not hold a defensive line," Carrow snapped. "Pirates and Synthiss will not care about imperial commendations when they start burning settlements."
"They are offering imperial honor," Eli said, straightening in the chair. "Recognition. Support. Standing."
"Honour won't save you when Deoxy is overrun," Carrow shot back. "Your father understood that."
"Lieutenant, sit down for God's sake," Voss said quietly.
Carrow hesitated, then forced himself back into the chair, though his posture remained rigid.
Voss folded his hands on the table.
"We send three hundred," he said. "That satisfies the order. We do not receive the honor."
Carrow shook his head. "And we will not be weak enough to be destroyed by pirates."
Voss ignored him and looked at Eli instead.
"Numbers are not the only measure of commitment."
Eli's eyes narrowed slightly.
Voss continued, voice calm, almost casual.
"Why don't you go with them, my lord?"
Carrow turned sharply. "Administrator—"
"If the Warden personally leads the deployment," Voss went on, "the Empire will be forced to recognize it. More so if you achieve anything while there."
Silence crashed down.
It was a simple idea.
Brutal.
Effective.
Dangerous.
Eli considered it only a moment.
"Yes," he said.
Carrow slammed his hand on the table.
"No."
Both men looked at him.