[Katherine’s POV]

  “We’re landing in twenty seconds. Brace yourselves,” the pilot’s voice crackled over the comms as the transport shook. Its thrusters were gradually reducing their power to land, but the strong winds tried to stop them.

  Through the narrow viewport, Katherine caught her first glimpse of the world below. White sand moved outward in spirals as the ship’s descent disturbed the place. The desert stretched endlessly in every direction, an ocean of shifting dunes that shimmered under the scorching sunlight. At times, the sand caught the light so fiercely it looked like the ground itself had turned to glass.

  The ship struck the ground with a sharp impact, the hull groaning as the landing pads dug into the unstable surface. For a moment, they could feel the ship slipping and sinking into the sand before finally stabilizing.

  As they were finally safe, the hatch hissed open, and a wall of heat and wind surged inside. Hot desert air whipped against Katherine’s face, carrying with it biting grains of sand that stung her skin with each strike. It was a harsh welcome, a promise of the hardships to come in this unforgiving world.

  “Disembark!” Katherine ordered, screaming against the storm.

  The soldiers of House York obeyed instantly, their boots sinking into the pale sand as they secured the perimeter around the landing site. The transport, with its mission complete, immediately began reactivating its engines. Soon it lifted itself back toward orbit before the corrosive winds could strip its plating.

  Fantasia-3 was a hostile planet to any ship foolish enough to linger. Its atmosphere, dense with razor-sharp particles, could eat through any metal in hours. Landing was allowed only when no other option remained, and pilots treated the surface as if it was poisonous.

  Katherine lifted her gaze upward. The world above was no kinder. Where Fantasia’s skies were sometimes known for their shades of blue and even green, today they were buried beneath a veil of white. A sandstorm stretched from horizon to horizon.

  “Ma'am, we should move to the tents,” one of the officers advised, raising his arm to point toward the structure barely visible through the haze.

  Katherine nodded, shielding her face with one hand against the wind as she moved forward.

  The tents rose from the desert like small outposts, their fabric stretched against the gale. They were made of a thin but resilient material. Their brownish canvas blended with the desert, appearing almost like blocks of earth projected from the endless sea of sand.

  “Welcome, Princess. This is our humble settlement,” one of the colonists said, bowing slightly. He was draped in long white robes that fluttered in the desert wind, the fabric shielding every inch of his skin from the merciless sun. With a gesture, he directed one of his aides, who hurried into a nearby tent. “We are preparing proper clothing for your entire team. Unfortunately, the sun here is too harsh. Without full coverings, the heat will scorch the skin and drain the body of moisture within minutes.”

  Katherine tilted her head with curiosity. “Why no subterranean cities? Or even proper habitats? That is the usual practice for colonies on worlds like this.”

  The colonist’s expression was calm, resigned. “The ground here is too unstable. Sand runs too deep for subterranean structures, at least at shallow depths. As for habitats…” He exhaled. “They require vast amounts of Energy and a steady supply of Crystals to maintain. This world was never seen as strategically important to the Empire. We had little choice but to survive with what we could build.”

  An aide returned, carrying neatly folded garments dyed in deep crimson and pale beige. Katherine accepted them without a word, following the colonist’s indication to a secluded space within a corner of the women’s quarters.

  There, she shed her military uniform, her fingers moving quickly, almost impatiently. The desert wind pressed against the fabric walls of the tent, filling the silence as she slipped into the garments of the colonists.

  When she caught sight of herself in a small polished plate of metal propped against the wall, her stomach tightened.

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  The veil, thin and sheer, draped across her face, concealing her expression from the world, yet she felt more exposed than ever. The red cloth wrapped around her torso was little more than a band, baring far more skin than any princess of her rank should reveal. A belt cinched at her waist held additional strips of fabric that hung loosely to cover her legs, swaying with every movement. Sandals of braided leather completed the attire, their straps winding up her ankles.

  Katherine tugged the veil tighter across her face, as though it might shield her not only from the grit of the desert, but from her own shame. The outfit was indecent by her standards—unbecoming of her title. And yet, she could not deny its practicality. It was light, breathable, and unrestrictive. In the suffocating heat of Fantasia-3, it was far more helpful than her stiff military uniform.

  With one last reluctant glance at her reflection, she straightened her posture. 'A princess does not falter, no matter the clothes she wears.' She told herself.

  Stepping back into the open, she found her soldiers waiting. The warriors of House York were already wearing their desert gear, their bodies wrapped head to toe in layer upon layer of protective fabric. Their faces were hidden behind veils and goggles, transformed into faceless soldiers.

  “Princess,” the colonist said again, bowing slightly. “Allow me to guide you to the Oasis.”

  Katherine was about to accept, eager for someone to show her the settlement before she set out on her expedition. But another voice cut through.

  “That won’t be necessary. I can show her.”

  The words came from just beyond the tent. Katherine turned sharply, her eyes widening as a familiar figure stepped into the light.

  Alan of House Aquila.

  He was swathed in long brown desert robes, the fabric drawn tight against the storm, his arms folded across his chest.

  “Alan…” Katherine’s lips curved into a smile, though it faltered almost immediately. “If you’re here, then I imagine Mordred must be as well?”

  “No,” Alan replied coolly. “The President had no time.”

  “Strange,” Katherine murmured, almost to herself.

  Alan tilted his head, curiosity flickering across his face.

  “Given the importance of this place. Every Great House converging here, I assumed he would be present,” Katherine explained, her tone sharper now.

  Alan shrugged faintly. “It’s the same with John. Men like them believe they have the right people in place to handle matters. They don’t need to stand among us to cast their shadow.”

  Katherine forced a small smile, though silence stretched awkwardly between them.

  Together, they stepped out of the tent, the desert’s heat pressing against them. Before them lay the Oasis, the only actual settlement on Fantasia-3.

  Her eyes drifted back to Alan. “It’s good to see you walking again.” There was no judgment in her tone, but she couldn’t hide the note of hesitation.

  “Republic technology,” Alan said flatly.

  Her brow furrowed. “Is that why you’re with them?” she asked, genuinely curious. The idea of her standing on the battlefield against Alan, and with him aligned with Mordred, gnawed at her.

  “No,” Alan began, then paused, his eyes narrowing as if searching for the right words. “I’m not like you. You still believe there’s an explanation to be found. A reason. You think you can change things. But me?” His voice hardened, colder now. “When I see the statue on your planet, I don’t feel sad. I feel rage. Rage to burn the Sixth Division down to ash.”

  Katherine flinched. “We don’t know it was them,” she said, though the words rang fake even to her own ears.

  “Don’t say what you don’t believe,” Alan snapped, his tone sharp but steady. “He told us he was on a mission he couldn’t speak of. That’s Sixth Division work. That’s Stewart’s way. Abandoning soldiers. Erasing missions. Erasing people.”

  His voice dropped, the anger fading into something colder, more dangerous.

  Katherine studied him for a long moment, her chest heavy. She wanted to argue, to defend, but couldn't.

  Above them, the sky rumbled with the thunder of engines. Katherine’s eyes lifted, watching more trails of fire cut through the storm as ships descended toward the Oasis.

  “Have all the Great Houses arrived?” she asked without thinking, realizing a moment too late that such information might be privy to each Great House.

  “All but one,” Alan said, his gaze following hers.

  “Which?” she pressed, her eyes narrowing as a transport descended.

  “The Aquarius.”