Planet Etteria

The Royal Court at Issneen

12252 Years

Xeus swung his greatsword, colliding with his opponent's, setting off a shower of sparks as Maloidian steel met. With their blades locked, he lunged forward, grunting as he drew on his strength, his muscles shaking. Sweat beaded on his lip, but he clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes. The magnus sun burned his bare shoulders, his braid stirred up dust, and his heels dug into the gray sand. Exhaustion pounded his thoughts and determination. This male was his sixth challenger, and as king, Xeus had to be the best.

So tired. Quit. Let him win.

He dared not cast a glance at the great teacher, or lima kuu, on sparring master duty today. The temptation to beg for relief was great, more so of his stupidity in accepting another challenge from a male so young.

The only one to save Xeus was himself.

He ducked and spun to the right of the male, who stumbled. Xeus brought an elbow back to strike across the male's exposed back, splaying him into the sand.

"And match," Lima Brac called, ending the challenge.

Thundering broke across the crowd as his males stomped their appreciation, their heavy boots raising dust clouds.

Xeus raised his chin and gazed at the expansive skies of Etteria as he drew in gulps of air. His limbs twinged and trembled. He clasped the forearm of his opponent—a young warrior fresh from his four-year service on Gikaet. Xeus curled his lip and scanned the proving grounds. Did his males fear him? Fewer and fewer were willing to spar with him, leaving the inexperienced and still emotional youngins to chance it.

He squared his shoulders, tucked his greatsword under his arm, and cut a wide berth through the males gathered. All pressed their fists over their hearts in a sign of respect. He strode to where Cales, his closest battle-bond, waited. With shaking knees, Xeus climbed the hill, refusing to show an ounce of weakness. He couldn't as king.

"Impressive." Cales grinned and held out his palm, asking for the sword.

Xeus moaned. "Is it just me, or are we training them better?" He handed over his sword and accepted the towel, dabbing his flushed cheeks.

"Six battles, Xeus, would tire anyone."

Xeus snorted. "I doubt Remi knows the meaning of exhausted." Six, ten, fifteen battles wouldn't be an acceptable excuse to Base Commander Remi—the respected male who trained the youngins on Gikaet. Gesturing to the proving grounds, he arched a brow at Cales.

"Not today. I shall test my mettle tomorrow, perhaps even best the Great King Xeus."

At Cales's wide smile, Xeus chuckled. "You have yet to, so perhaps tomorrow the Maker will bless your strength, footwork, or senses."

Cales fell into step beside him as he headed for his office. "And may the Maker bless your ability to keep your friends."

Xeus weaved along the intricate paths of his beloved gardens, pausing to gather a hahyt blossom into his palm for a deep inhale. The sweet scent triggered memories of his damu days when the weight of Etteria didn't rest on his shoulders. "My friends would accept my challenge to spar." He snuck a glance. "Intimidated? Is it my impressive physique? The length of my honor? The—"

"Size of your ego?" Cales grinned.

"Tell me, Cales, why are fewer willing to challenge me?"

Cales stilled. "Truth?"

"Truth?!" Xeus faced him. "When have you not told the truth? And besides, we are Etterian. We do not deceive."

"Very well. Your strikes have been almost lethal."

Xeus frowned. "So?"

"So, they do not wish to perish on proving ground soil. There is no honor in that."

Xeus flicked a dismissive hand. "I would not kill my males while sparring."

"They do not know this, my battle-bond, and your visage is terrifying to behold."

Xeus scowled. "They cannot fear me, Cales. What weak warriors is Remi training if they are frightened to face me?"

Cale smiled. "Prudent ones?"

"Then you shall sacrifice your time and energy as my permanent opponent." Xeus strode off, done with this conversation.

"I—" The clang of the sword striking the gray gravel on the path preceded Cales tackling Xeus from behind, taking him to the ground.

He locked his elbows, not willing to smash his face across the coarse stones. Cales looped his arm under Xeus's and cupped the back of his neck. With the weight of the male pinning Xeus, he struggled to rise. Instead, he pushed off and flipped them, landing on top of Cales. His battle-bond grunted, but wrapped his legs around Xeus's waist, closed his arm across Xeus's throat, and squeezed.

Xeus grinned and brought his elbow back into Cales's stomach. Despite the grunt, Cales's grip across Xeus's throat didn't loosen. With each strike or fumble for freedom, Cales held on until spots circled Xeus's vision. When he tapped Cales's forearm asking for release, air flooded his lungs while his friend rolled away.

He lay there, panting, his lungs burning. "Strike when your opponent is distracted," he huffed.

"That I do not spar with you does not mean I neglect my training, Xeus." Cales rose and offered Xeus his hand.

Accepting it, he allowed his friend to hoist him to his feet. "I know this, but I do not like that my males fear me or grant me the win. This does not improve my skills."

"Agreed." Cales closed the distance between them and rested his palm on Xeus's chest. "Then from tomorrow, we shall show these youngins how to battle like honed warriors."

Xeus pressed his palm on Cales's chest, just below his collarbone. Gray dust coated his white tunic and his braid. "I shall hold you to that, my battle-bond." He chuckled, scooped up his sword, and gestured to the throne room. "Come, let us begin this day. There is much to be done before my announcement."

He stomped to his office, reminded of what awaited him. Under the water's spray in the cleansing room, he corralled his thoughts to now, this moment, not wanting to dread the upcoming gathering. The decision was made, yet, despite the peace in his soul regarding it, he anticipated much disapproval and arguing from his ambassadors.

Raising his palms above his head, he splayed them on the white wall, dipping his head under the spray. In this, he would tolerate none of their opinions.

He stood under the air-dryer, his hair whipping around him, revealing his agitation. Grabbing the clip, he whispered, "Malia pa," and waited for his hair to braid itself before he caught the end and snapped the clip in place.

After tugging on his armor, he hovered his hand above his dark-blue-and-gold cloak—the colors of his bloodline. Gritting his teeth, he flicked it on and allowed the magnetic clasp to connect at the base of his throat. He could dress like the ambassadors in loose pants and tunics in their colors, but he was a warrior at heart, and donning the armor reminded all that Etteria was a battle-ready nation. Cales wore both, depending on his tasks for the day. Xeus did not have that luxury. He had to be consistent, always displaying what his people expected.

As he strode from the cleansing room, Cales held out a glass of giyua juice—the sharp scent making Xeus's mouth salivate. He downed the refreshing liquid then squared his shoulders and marched into his throne room.

Standing center of the dais, he delivered his announcement. Etteria was dying. Couldn't they see that? Why did everything have to be a discussion? He gritted his teeth, narrowing his gaze on the 'troublemakers.' Finding a compatible species for his males was paramount. They needed mates. Etteria needed females birthing females. Even as he dismissed the naysayers, his gaze strayed to his son, Enyl, standing to the side. His matching eye color of dark blue had made this decision easier for Xeus, for his son's future. No matter what happened, he would hold to that.

~*~

Xeus admired Arazyl, a former lover and the mother to Enyl. Still supple in form, her cheeks glowed with happiness, her dark blue eyes sparkling. The thick braid down her back announced her honor, something he had experienced first-hand. Despite her suitability and the genuine bond between her and Xeus, he had to let her go. When they'd parted, he'd wished her happiness, and she had done well for herself. A glance at her lover, Droal, had Xeus nodding. Yes, she had chosen well. His thick braid brushed his heels, and as far back as Xeus could recall, Cales had never cut it in punishment.

Droal was an honorable male, blessing Arazyl with many sons and one daughter. That was such a gift from the Maker. But Etteria needed more females to save them. His thoughts lingered on the announcement he'd made earlier, to search the known worlds for candidates, no matter the species. If they drew forth the Ethera, their ancient mating bond, then that too would be a blessing. But he'd value any females who birthed more females to bolster their diminishing numbers. He sipped his giyua juice, sparing his half-eaten kreso a dismissive glance.

Food had lost its appeal, along with the day-to-day life as king of Etteria. He longed for peace or a battle worthy of his skill, yet debates, trade agreements, and the impending war with Yithia consumed his time. He yearned for the joy of a youngin when the void didn't press so hard on his control, when his life loomed with possibilities. Now he couldn't spare the time to travel to Gikaet for a battle rush, and any emotion he experienced brought the darkness closer. It blurred the edges of his soul, bleeding the light from within.

He'd bid Enyl farewell, sharing his son's need to find peace in exertion, in conquering a known enemy. But as king, Xeus's life remained here, enduring endless politics, having every decision judged. He would remain firm on this one, though, needing to find suitable candidates for Enyl, Cales, and his males.

"You are quiet," Arazyl said with a sweet smile.

Xeus grunted, acknowledging that she'd always had the ability to sense his moods. "It has been a trying day."

He wasn't willing to discuss the state of his soul with her. She need not concern herself when her future belonged with Droal, as was right. She did look beautiful in her silver and green ceremonial gown. Her thick black braid rested over one breast, and her dark blue eyes glowed with contentment. Had she found her Eth in Droal, having experienced the Ethera, her eyes would've been the lovely pale blue as at her birth. Droal's too.

Yes, Xeus had made the right decision. Doing so would save their females from a life of chasing daughters. To move from male to male, despite her feelings, until birthing a daughter didn't encourage a healthy society. Many males matured without their mothers influencing them. No matter how much honoring females and those weaker was drilled in during a male's service on Gikaet, the way females now behaved had the males believing females chose to spread their thighs for tokens, treasures, or pleasure. That some females did so, found solace in things as their souls faded, lay heavy on Xeus's shoulders. But some, like Arazyl, remembered why they chased birthing daughters.

Xeus frowned, wondering what they taught females from age four. Males received extensive training in all aspects of Etterian life, from weapon mastery to security, to data analysis, even to farming kreso. His stomach gurgled as he glanced at his plate. It was hard to imagine such hardy beasts remained a staple of Etterian diets.

"Greetings Lady Arazyl, Lord Droal," Advisor Cales said, entering Xeus's chambers unannounced.

"Cales, what a lovely surprise." Arazyl offered a small smile, careful not to seem too pleased to see him. She rose to her feet and held out her hand to Droal. "It is time we took leave. I do believe Cales has many things requiring your attention, my king."

"Thank you for the meal, King Xeus." Droal clasped Arazyl's hand before escorting her from Xeus's chambers.

"My thanks," Xeus said to Cales, downing his juice before slamming his cup onto the table. "Did you have something specific I need to attend to?"

"Yes," Cales said, approaching the display vid on the side wall. He moved the magnetic-based chairs to the side before pulling two Maloidian swords off the adjacent wall. "I suspect your skills are somewhat lacking," he teased, tossing a sword at Xeus.

He chuckled, and despite his twinging muscles, snatched the sword out of the air before swinging it with practiced ease. The familiar weight tightened his grip, and the rush of a challenge fired along his veins. For a fleeting moment, joy sparked to life in his chest. Then with a battle roar as old as time, he leaped in the air, bringing the blade down.