Lord of the Truth

Chapter 1623: War formation

After a few seconds of careful thought, Theo nodded. ”My father did say something about your situation, and he didn’t need to say another.”

”What did he say?” Hedrick asked in a hurry.

”He Told me, ’You know what you have to do.’” Theo raised his head, ”That’s all His Majesty had to say. No higher declaration, no supreme commission... An that’s all Your Majesty needs as well.”

Hedrick let a slow, curious smile form. ”I always assumed your father to be the most arrogant man I’ve met. It appears he’s passed that trait on to his sons as well.”

”My father never utters words he does not mean,” Theo replied evenly. ”That is not arrogance; it is the narration of truth.” He offered a small, almost private smile and did not bother to defend the etiquette of his father’s brevity. ”I have brought you the state of affairs around you, Your Majesty. I have also brought a full plan—an integrated strategy crafted by the brightest minds of the Shadow Swords. You may adopt it wholesale, adapt it, or discard it entirely and act as you see fit. In the end, they are proposals meant to serve you.”

”...I must hear it before I decide.” Hedrick said, drawing his throne closer with a deliberate motion, then settling into it. ”Present your plan.”

”First,” Theo said, moving the projection and zooming in on several glowing worlds until the constellations rearranged into sharp focus, ”you must know your enemies and the motives they claim to drive them.” The dots on the map pulsed as he spoke. ”Most of the fleets that have arrived at those planets fly no flag. Their hulls bear no emblems—the insignia have been erased, their soldierly marks scrubbed from armor and gear. These are unofficial forces. Their provenance is obscured, and tracing them by ordinary means is nearly impossible.”

”They destroyed their own banners and wiped their emblems clean?” Hedrick’s brow tightened, incredulous. ”They went to that length to hide themselves?”

”This is a compiled register of every power that has, to our knowledge, dispatched forces to those worlds so far.” Theo produced a thin metal card and slid it across the platform to Hedrick. ”On it you will find names, the dates troops departed their homelands, assessments of potential combined strength if conflict escalates, and the individuals most likely to have called them into this campaign against you.”

Hedrick’s breath caught. ”...?!” He nearly choked on the surprise—hadn’t Theo just said all traces were erased? Where had this data come from, then? There is nothing messing from here but their underwear measurements.

Hedrick’s eyes flicked toward his intelligence chief for confirmation, seeking dissonance in the man’s face.

”Kieh!!” The chief, caught between hope and despair, collapsed back into his previous, painful posture—part pleading, part performance.

”The reason they conceal their identities is simple—they hide humble origins,” Theo continued. ”The plan is this: they openly send a fleet or two to wage war on Verilion as a proxy war. They curry favor with their masters, and even if they provoke you, your wrath will not fall upon them, but on those who pull their strings.”

Theo’s voice hardened as he leaned in slightly. ”But the campaign aimed at you directly is different. If they raze the Crumbled Dreams Millennial Empire but fail to kill its head —if you survive— then you are likely to repay them in full. Your name, Your Majesty, is remembered by many for what you did alongside the Destra family, and your deeds since. The epithet Son of Destruction clings to you; history remembers what you are capable of. If you live, you will single them out and erase them methodically—one by one.”

”...”

”So your conclusion is this: when the war breaks for you, those anonymous forces—those fleets with no clear origin—will surge forth and strike under the colors of one or two visible banners,” Theo explained slowly, his finger resting on the metal card. ”Flags that will not fear you; they will placate their patrons and divert your wrath. The card lists three hundred and thirty distinct powers—empires, sects, and noble families—that serve as the wellspring for these fleets. We estimate that number may decline by roughly fifty more entities over the next two centuries, as alliances shift or small houses are absorbed... For now, those forces are distributed across six sectors: the Mid and Young Sectors of 100, 101, and 102.”

Crack.

Hedrick’s hands curled as if to crush bone. ”Even the vermin and vassals from the Young Belt will come out to toy with me?!” he spat, disbelief and fury coiling together in his words.

”.....” Theo’s eyes narrowed, unblinking.

”...Forgive me—continue.” Hedrick rubbed the bridge of his nose.

Six thousand fleets drawn from some three hundred and eighty different powers across six sectors... Was he truly so notorious? So many hands had reason to strike at him?

What rumor, what provocation had spread to gather such a host? If the academies or the great councils had proclaimed even a whisper of a Demon stronghold, those forces would never have mustered so many ships—nor would they commit such resources without a grave cause.

How could he possibly face them? Hedrick Millennial Empire had spent an age forging a force meant to rival his father’s own: the Behemoth. Yet now his armada numbered no more than five hundred fleets, scattered thin across the thousands of worlds that answered his name.

”Nevermind,” Theo said, serene but stern, turning once more toward the star-map. ”From what we can verify, there are two banners that still fly openly, without any attempt to erase their emblems. They show no sign of concealing their colors. The first is the banner of the Behemoth Zavaros The Savage’s Galaxy. I believe Your Majesty knows well who commands them.”

”Of course!” Hedrick’s lips curled in a grim, fierce grin. The name conjured one certainty: Zaryon—Zavaros’ eldest son—would spearhead that fleet, and there could be no doubt he would lead them in person.

Zaryon, heir of Behemoth Zavaros, ruled by his own harsh code, a Monarch of considerable power. Were he to unleash even a fraction of his strength here, Hedrick would be forced to respond, his attention consumed. Zaryon alone could occupy him for years, perhaps long enough for other strikes to land.

Though once a child of the Destra household, Hedrick had been marked by blood and vengeance: Father Helmor himself had invaded the Zavaros galaxy and struck down the murderer of Hedrick’s brother. The feud between Zavaros’ galaxy and the Destra line had never healed. Even after Hedrick formally left the Destra family, the memory of that brutal incursion lingered.

”Who is the second?” Hedrick asked, brow tight with anxious calculation. ”Don’t tell me it’s the Bright Galaxy.” His voice carried a thin edge. ”Kaylis and I hold no direct enmity at present—there is respect between us. If they strike, it would have been preferable if their ships remained shadowed as well.”

Theo’s gaze hardened. He lifted his eyes with measured gravity. ”The second banner openly raised is not Bright. It is...” He let the pause stretch, the name like a blunt instrument when it came, ”...the banner of the Cursed Behemoth, Darvion.”