Arriving at his office the next morning, Novaeus was fully prepared for the day. Sunlight pierced the reinforced glass and cut across the dark metal of the room in clean lines; dust motes turned to gold in its path. He moved with the same immaculate economy he always carried—no wasted motion, no tremor of impatience—settling into the chair behind his desk with that effortless, insolent calm that made men report to him without question. The dinosaur egg and the Atlantean spear sat on display near the window, odd relics that lent the room a hint of antiquity against the humming, modern geometry of servers and holo-projections. The office no longer felt desolate; it felt furnished with purpose.
Adrian and Marco were waiting. They reported in quick, practiced tones, eyes flicking to the Emperor of the underworld for the smallest cue of approval.
"Sir," Adrian began, "according to our investigation, those who attacked you were affiliated with the syndicates from the Golden Triangle. They operate a branch here that handles shipments from Taiwan through to China. We wiped out much of their local leadership when we took control of the city, but apparently some cell survived and is out for revenge. Their income has diminished; they're desperate. We don't yet know whether this is an organized strike from the entire collective or the action of one of the remaining factions. We're still investigating."
Marco folded his hands on the table and added, "They used hired guns. The weapons came from a rival arms merchant—one of the old networks that's lost business to our production line. It's messy but it's traceable. If you want retribution, we have vectors."
Novaeus tapped his armrest a slow, deliberate rhythm. The sound was small but exact; men learned to hear instruction in it.
"In that case," he said, not raising his voice, "send operatives into the Golden Triangle. I want blood on their streets. Send the enhanced units—five should be enough to start. Kill from the bottom up. It does not matter if they're only hired guns. Start at the lowest level and work your way up until they respect us."
Marco nodded. "We'll mobilize the PMC for support. We can't expand the Atlas PMC openly here; the political heat would be unbearable. We'll do it as a gang operation there. That region is gang-controlled—government interference is minimal."
"Good," Novaeus said. "Make a branch. Keep killing until they learn our price for assaulting us. Do not hesitate. Do not leave witnesses."
"We'll handle it," Marco replied. His jaw set. He already had men to call, lists of safe houses, cryptic contacts in ports and warehouses where a swift, decisive strike could be rehearsed in the dark.
Novaeus turned his attention to Adrian. "Adrian, since we need a favorable public face, acquire a hospital. We'll use it as a front—medical legitimacy, training grounds for our pharmaceutical rollouts. Coordinate with Ascension Tech's pharmacy division. We'll integrate our medicine production and medical tech into the hospital operation. No one will refuse treatment, but everything can funnel through our systems. Even if the public never knows, it will fund our expansion and give the tech exposure."
"Understood, sir," Adrian said quickly. "I'll begin acquisition talks today. There's a small private hospital in the district with a failing board. If we move fast, we can secure it at a reasonable price and start integrating Ascension's products."
"Good. Legal channels where possible. If not—" Novaeus paused, the sentence finishing itself in the minds of those who worked for him. "Use discretion."
Adrian left with the same efficient energy he'd arrived with. Marco remained to oversee the tactical deployment. The holographic displays around the desk resumed their soft swirl; EIDEN's presence threaded through them like a constant, pale river.
"EIDEN," Novaeus said once the two men had gone, voice low and measured. "What have you uncovered about the attackers?"
"My lord," EIDEN intoned, the voice in Novaeus's ears as clinical and precise as an incision, "the attackers were hired operatives associated with syndicates originating in the Golden Triangle. Our intelligence indicates their logistical income has suffered a severe contraction due to the capture of port routes and the consolidation of smuggling channels under Caelum control. Several second-tier financiers within local governments have suffered losses; analysis suggests a correlation between those losses and the recent facilitation of weapon transfers. The shipment manifest for Friday indicates an external supplier moved small arms into local hands shortly before the ambush. Signature patterns on the munitions match a known rival broker—an entity displaced by our weapons production."
Novaeus's smile was slow, almost amused. He didn't show surprise; he catalogued it. "So they used their old contacts to try and bite back."
"Affirmative. Additionally," EIDEN continued, "the auction invitation appears to have been leveraged as a vector. The presence at the auction created an opportunity for surveillance—identifying movement patterns, assessing exits, and profiling transport routes. The inclusion of your identity in the event was used to produce vulnerability by presenting a controlled bait."
Novaeus's hand lifted, brushing the display, feeling the soft vibration of the spear's base. "Julian's invitation then—it was not purely his handiwork," he mused.
"My lord, the invitation could have been arranged by any party with influence. Julian Chao's involvement likely functioned as a proxy. Would you like a deeper probe into his associates and procurement channels?"
Novaeus shook his head, slow and deliberate. "No. If they want me, they will throw everything at the problem. I do not intend to hide; neither do I intend to choreograph their steps. Let them believe they've forced me into a pattern. That will be their mistake."
EIDEN's reply was without inflection, but effectively servile. "As you wish, my lord. I will continue environmental scans and prepare countermeasures. Suggested immediate action: deploy reconnaissance teams to the Golden Triangle branches and establish a covert logistics node for rapid response. Secondary action: accelerate hospital acquisition protocols and embed Ascension supply lines to obscure monetary transfers."
"Do it," Novaeus said. He stood and walked to the window, hands behind his back. Sunlight pooled on the water beyond the city, and the harbor glittered with rows of ships—cargo, pleasure, things that breathed trade and death in equal measure. He watched them for a long moment with an expression of casual interest, as though the harbor were nothing more than a chessboard.
EIDEN's presence flared at his peripheral vision, a soft lattice of violet data. "Our public profile has begun to stir those in power," the AI noted. "The mayor is satisfied. Crime rates dropped—public approval of municipal authorities has improved. However the exchequer of several high-ranking officials shows a contraction traceable to our reallocation of smuggling channels. Some of those officials are facilitating opposition. Their acceptance of decreased income is limited. They are responsible for underwriting muscle when necessary."
"And yet the city chokes on its gratitude," Novaeus said, almost amused. "It will whisper my name absent the context. Excellent."
He pivoted back toward the desk, letting his voice warm with something like anticipation. "Mobilize Marco's enhanced units. Send five teams to the Golden Triangle branch nearest our routes. The operation should be surgical—swift infiltration, extraction of key operatives, and public demonstration. Take their boats, burn their warehouses. Leave them a message."
"Understood. Execution vectors prepared," EIDEN confirmed.
Novaeus's laugh was light and precise, the kind of sound that did not relax the room so much as sharpen it. "It seems," he said, and the word stretched like a blade, "the invitation was more than Julian's courtesy."
"My lord," EIDEN observed, "do you wish to maintain your display items in the office? The spear's signatures remain anomalous—Atlantis-era energy traces persist at low frequencies. The dinosaur egg registers as a cultural artifact of negligible tactical value, yet high symbolic utility."
"Keep them," Novaeus said. "A ruler should be surrounded by symbols of time and craft—proof that he sees beyond the present. Besides, people like to guess about relics. Let them think I am frivolous. It keeps them talking about what they don't understand."
EIDEN's quiet hum filled the space. "As you command."
Later, Novaeus sat again at his desk with EIDEN's streams playing like a private chorus of data. He allowed himself a smile—a small twist of satisfaction that had nothing to do with mirth. Exile had given him patience. Power had given him method. There was, now, a map of moves laid across his mind: the hospital acquisition, the branch in a foreign syndicate's territory, the dry docks, the increasing output of Ascension's pharmaceutical lines, the steady bleed of influence through politicians and municipal contracts. The puzzle fit together with the kind of logic only a sovereign accustomed to empires could love.
He leaned forward, elbows on the desk, watching the sunlight skate across the spear's faint runes. "Let them test us," he said softly. "They will learn the cost of curiosity."
EIDEN replied, accuracy like a blade. "Probability of containment and suppression within ninety-six hours once operations commence is high. Collateral political exposure remains low provided actions are contained within non-publicized zones. Shall I enact?"
"Begin," Novaeus ordered. He sat back, the smile spreading a little wider now. The harbor below glittered as the city breathed; men would move that day and nights would stir with violence. He folded his hands and watched the world rearrange itself to his will, and with a laugh—soft, delighted, and almost amused at the choreography of it all—he added, "Hahahahaha. It seems the big players of this world are now slowly targeting me. How exciting." He turned his attention to the water below and, palms flat on the desk, let the sun warm the back of his hand. "Let's wait," he said, the word gentle and absolute, "and see what other surprises are in store for us." Hahahahaha.