Meanwhile, far above the capital city, the night lights of Merchant Valley shimmered like molten gold beneath the towers of Tenrihines. Steel and Stark had recovered from there last fight with the Light, wounded, exhausted, and silent. The battle with the fragment of the Light had left marks deeper than the eye could see. Ian, sensing their exhaustion, decided against another debrief in the command wing. Instead, he brought them to a place rarely mentioned among soldiers, the Ember Court.
The restaurant sat on the uppermost floors of a marble-and-gold tower, its balcony overlooking the endless sprawl of the capital. The city below glowed with millions of lights and a thousand languages, the hum of civilization echoing faintly through the glass walls. A host bowed them inside. The Ember Court was all quiet luxury—marble floors polished to a mirror sheen, chandeliers flickering with soft plasma flames, and servers in white coats carrying dishes that shimmered faintly with cosmic color.
The Ember Court glowed softly under the galaxy's evening light. From their private booth, Ian, Steel, and Stark could see all of Merchant Valley spread beneath them like a sea of gold. The faint hum of air traffic blended with the quiet clinking of glassware and the whisper of soft music. The booth was secluded, lined with black marble and warm amber light that reflected faintly against the polished table.
For a rare moment, there was peace. Steel sat to Ian's left, his repaired arm resting stiffly on the table. The alloy plating had been scorched from the last mission, and the damage ran deep beneath the surface—beyond metal, into flesh and memory. Stark sat across from them, relaxed but still carrying that distant look in his eyes, the kind that soldiers wore when they'd seen too much.
Ian set down his glass and leaned forward slightly. "Steel, I know you like your arm," he said quietly, his tone steady and deliberate. "So I had a replacement made—with the highest-grade technology we could find. Custom Kia integration, nanite support system, full sensory response. You'll be able to channel your energy straight through it like never before."
Steel's brow lifted. For a second, his stoic mask cracked into something human. "Thanks. I'll see how good it holds up."
Ian smiled faintly. "There you go, that's how you get your spirit back."
He turned toward Stark. "And you... Well, I got you something a little different. A space yacht. Fully equipped. Crew, chef, engineer—all full-time service. All paid for."
Stark blinked, his grin returning almost immediately. "You got him a new limb, and I get a whole yacht? I think I came out ahead."
Steel shook his head with mock disbelief. "He gets a whole yacht."
Stark leaned back with a lazy grin. "You got a whole new arm, big guy. Fair trade. Anyway, thanks, Ian. Seriously."
Ian looked between them, the humor softening into quiet sincerity. "I know it's not going to fix the emotional trauma." His voice dropped low, almost lost under the hum of the restaurant. "But I hope it helps you heal—at least a little. You've both done more for this Empire than anyone will ever realize."
For a long moment, none of them spoke. The lights from the city reflected in their glasses like distant stars.