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It is a full minute before the renewed applause dies down.

“But we yet have a choice to make.” I take my time, allowing the silence to grow again. “Do we allow this war to linger? To consume another generation of our young? Or do we press the enemy and grind them until the last of the chains have been shattered?” I speak over the applause this time, letting the fervor spread through me. “It has been a decade of war. But we can end it here. Now.” I spare a look up to the viewing deck above, where the holonetworks have their cameras. My enemy will be watching this later with his daughter and advisors, his nimble mind dissecting my words, divining my plans based on the response of these senators. But more importantly, he’ll be watching me. He must not see my exhaustion. Mercury was a great victory. We robbed him the Iron of his docks. But Venus…Venus is the prize.

Even here, amidst the thunderous applause of the right, I hear Lorn’s words echo in the dark place of my mind.

Death begets death begets death.

“Brothers and sisters of the Republic, we are one choice away from a fully liberated Core. A free System from Sol to the asteroid belt. We would be the first men and women to ever see it. But it will be a sight not without cost.” I pause and permit, for one small moment, the weight of these last years to show on my face. “Like you, I wish for nothing more than peace. I wish for a world where the machine of war does not swallow our young.” I look to my wife. “I wish to live in a world where my child can choose his own destiny, where the sins of the past do not define the nature of his life as it has defined all of ours. Our enemies have held dominion over us for too long. First as slaves, then adversaries. And what stability, what harmony can we bring to the worlds we have freed while they continue to define us? For the sake of our brothers and sisters on Venus and Mercury…” I look to Dancer. “…for the sake of the souls we have unchained, for the sake of our children, give me the tools and I will finish this war, once and for all.”

They roar in approval.

I look to Daxo and, as we agreed, he stands to tower over his fellow senators.

“My noble friends…” His large hands splay plaintively outward. “I know you are weary. I feel the years of war in my bones too. I believe I had hair when this all began.” There’s laughter. “I know better than you the heart of the Peerless Scarred. They do not have the spirit for peace. It is not in their nature to accept this new world we have made. They must be defeated, by all measures at our disposal. My family has supported the Reaper since before he was known. My brother died for him. I have fought for him. And I will not abandon him now. Nor should you. The Optimates stand with the Reaper. And we propose a bill to the floor for a Resolution of Liberty Eternal, to draft twenty million fresh troops, to allocate ships from the Gulf, and to levy additional taxes to fund the war effort until the Core is free.” Daxo sits back down and makes a pained expression in my direction and rubs his temple.

Publius cu Caraval rises from his seat when the applause finally fades. His short copper hair is parted on the side, not a strand out of place. “I was told I was brought into this world to serve. To move the invisible levers of an ancient and evil machine. We all moved those levers. But now we serve the People. We are here to liberate the dignity of man. Darrow of Lykos is our greatest weapon against tyranny. Let us sharpen him again so he can break the chains for our brothers and sisters in bondage on Venus.” He touches his heart, bleeding empathy and resolution.

A chorus of senators declare their support, each shouting over the next. Mustang stands, hammering down her Dawn Scepter. “The resolution is registered by the Senate and now open for debate.”

All eyes turn to Dancer.

He has not yet moved. Mustang analyzes his face. “Senator O’Faran,” she says. “Nothing?”

“Thank you, my Sovereign.” He picks at the edges of his toga in his nervous habit before rising to his feet. To this day he loathes public speaking. His voice is hoarse and halting, as far from Publius’s as possible. “ArchImperator, my friend, my brother, can I first begin by saying how happy I am to have you home. There is no…greater son of the Republic.” Many heads nod. “I would also like to personally offer you congratulations on the partial liberation of Mercury. Despite your methods

, which I will get to in a spit.”

I watch him warily, knowing what he intends, but not how it’s meant to be delivered.

“You all know I am a man of war.” He looks at his rough hands. “I have held weapons. I have led men. It’s what I am. And like most of you, I am also a mortal in a war of giants.” He looks at the Golds, the Obsidians. “But I have learned that giants can be felled with words. Words are our…salvation. So I stand here before you armed only with that voice.” He pauses, grimacing to himself. “And I want to ask you, what age do you want to live in? One where the sword leads and we follow? Or an age where our voice can sing louder than an engine can roar? Was that not the Song of Persephone? The dream of Eo of Lykos?”

There are murmurs of agreement from his supporters.

An inner bitterness wells as he insinuates my deviation from Eo’s dream. She was mine and I lost her to them. But each time she’s mentioned, even in reverence, it seems to me as though she’s been dug from the ground and paraded for the crowd.

“Senators, we have no power in and of ourselves,” Dancer continues slowly. “We are just vessels. Men and women chosen to speak for the People, by the People, to channel their voice to protect the People. Darrow, you helped give the People a voice. For that, we are in your debt.

“But now you refuse to listen to that voice, to obey the laws you helped make. You were given an order by the Senate, by the People, to stand down over Mercury. You disobeyed that order. You released an Iron Rain.” He looks to Sefi. She sits several seats down from Sevro on the guest benches, watching with an unreadable expression. “Because of your impatience, a million of our brothers and sisters died in a single day. Two hundred thousand Obsidians. Two hundred thousand. A number that cannot be replaced.” The words are heavy as they fall, and I see the solemn anger of the Obsidian bloc, the same anger I’ve felt from Sefi since that day. “Not only did you do this, but you illegally pillaged elements of the Fourth Fleet that guards Mars to add to your assault on Mercury. Why?”

“Because it was necessary to—”

“One million souls.”

I knew thirty-seven of those souls, and somehow that number seems larger than one million. “A man once said that a war fought by politicians will be lost by everyone,” I say bitterly. “Harnassus and Orion supported my plan. Your legions have protected you this far. But now you question them?”

“Our legions?” he asks. “Are they ours?” Before I can answer, he lumbers forward, wrangling control of the conversation with all the grace of an old bear.

“How many of us have lost loved ones to war? How many of us have buried sons, daughters, wives, husbands? My hands are raw from digging graves. My heart shatters seeing genocide and starvation on planets we claim free. On Mars, my home. How many more must suffer to free Mercury and Venus, planets now so indoctrinated that our own Colors will fight against us for every inch of ground we take?”

“So as long as Mars is free, you’re content to call it a day? Leave the others to rot?” I ask.

He looks me in the eyes. “Is Mars free? Ask a Red from the mines. Ask a Pink in Agea’s ghetto. The yoke of poverty is as heavy as that of tyranny.”

Mustang interjects. “We have a solemn duty to rid the worlds of the stain of slavery. Your own words, Senator.”

“We also have a solemn duty to make those worlds better than they were before,” Dancer replies. “Two hundred million have died since House Lune fell. Tell me, what is the purpose of victory if it destroys us? If we are stretched so thin that we cannot protect or provide for those we bring out of the mines?”

There are no weapons in the room, save those of Wulfgar and his Warden, but Dancer’s words do damage enough. They rattle the Senate hall. And he’s not finished.