Masks stared at me, when they thought I wasn’t looking and when they thought I was, covert glances and open stares blending into each other like vibrant colors mixing infinitely.

The masks were not true masks, things of paper or plastic, instead they were layered directly on the faces of the Imperators gathered at this ball, though I couldn’t say they were makeup either.

They were made of literal paint and clay and stucco applied directly to our stony, statue-like skin. If regeneration would not just immediately heal it, I’m sure these members of Iulian nobility would etch furrows and carve markings directly into their faces, suffering and sacrifice made in exchange for statement and style.

I wore nothing, had refused it firmly. I think my underlings thought it was because I was putting contrast between me and my subjects and vassals, but really it was just that it seemed silly. The face I bore now, I had fought to keep, against gods and despite death. Why would I hide it? Glory should never be hidden.

“How goes your training?” Antonias asked, leaning against my raised throne. My watchers didn’t dare stare too long at him. He could never cover up his monstrousness with majesty like me anymore. A Leechling he had become in death and so he had been reborn as one as well. The population was convinced Toni was a demon I had bound to my friend’s corpse. They weren’t entirely wrong.

“Well enough.” I said. “Been making good use of the Scholarium’s spatial warping for private tests.”

I rubbed the Governor’s signet ring, marveling at the secret within. It was a part of my plan for winning, but I couldn’t rely on it yet.

My friend handed me a crystal goblet, a twin to the other one he held in his left hand. Thankfully, he had had the sense to put actual wine in mine instead of blood like his.

Time was slipping through my fingers like water, since my fight with Persias I had been training every moment I could, going days without being seen by anyone. I had been badgered into being here tonight for one single reason, the rich and powerful had short memories when it came to consequences when they weren’t regularly put in check and reminded.

The masquerade ball in my honor was not set in Theseas Claudion’s former Governor’s Palace, nor was it taking place in one of Persias’s castles, though he offered them up several times, instead I had commandeered the cathedral-like temple I had resurrected in as a base of operations. It was on Fulvion estate land, but it was undeniably mine alone, dedicated to the worship of me and a holy site commemorating my exodus from the Underworld.

I had not let the Servi craftsman fix the ragged holes and trenches that littered the stony ground from the Laruas taking base matter to transmute into bodies, their own long rotted away to dust. Even my coffin had been kept and recycled into the throne and dais I sat in, looming over all like a watchful hawk. In my own opinion, the damage lent the temple character like a scar.

The grace and dexterity of the Imperators here meant that they danced fluidly in a frenzied pace without a care, avoiding tripping into the pockmark crevices was an afterthought.

“The humans despise you,” Antonias said, flashing me a fanged smile, not caring any more than I did about them listening in. “They’re like rats in the walls, scrambling over your scraps and avoiding your mouse traps.”

“Either I will depart for my grandfather soon or I will be dead and they will have two new masters. For their sake, I hope it’s the first. Vespasias and Nero will not love the mortal traditions of this solar system’s high society anymore than I do, and they’ve had much longer lives to grow distant from the races and bloodlines that birthed them.” I replied.

These people needed to be reforged into a superior social structure before I left and the chances of success worried me. If I took Persias with me, they would collapse into infighting without strong leadership, if I left him behind, he would sulk and despair and the planet would be the same mess with either option.

“Give me control.” Alsig whispered in my mind.

Give you control over what? I thought.

“The planet. Give me control of Iulius and the Apollonian system. I’m the only one capable of fulfilling your will.”

Alsig, I’m leaving or dying, and given you are in my brain, you’re either leaving with me or dying. I thought to her.

“Not if you take me out.” She replied.

Why in the name of Terra would I do that?

Had she gone mad? What the hell was going on?

“Because you don’t need me anymore.” Alsig said.

I resisted the urge to shake my physical head for a contextless conversation lest my watchers got the wrong idea. There wasn’t a need for people to become convinced that the waltz was going to be a crime punishable by death or that the salsa was now considered blasphemy by Lucanism.

What are you talking about?? Of course, I need you. You’re my Silicon Daimon, my artificial companion, everyone who leaves the Scholarium gets one for a reason. I said silently.

“Bronzes need us because they’re not strong enough to fight effectively under the weight of Adamantplate without an AI making it function as power armor. Silvers keep us around for predictive analysis and precognition algorithms, but we’re almost vestigial at that point. The Silver Imperators don’t need help to bear their armor and they could even run it themselves with technopathy. No need for communication services either if you have telepathy. What use do the lords and ladies of Gold have of a tool made by another?” She said.

So maybe I could keep you around for nostalgia purposes. We’re friends, aren’t we? Of a sort? I said.

She didn’t say anything for a painfully long moment.

“I would have liked to be your friend.” Alsig said wistfully. “But I don’t think that was ever in the cards, as the saying goes.”

What do you mean? I thought.

Subtle cracks were forming in the crystalline glass I held. I had not even realized I had picked it up. None of the dancers gave any sign, but I knew that they had heard the small sounds and would be analyzing what meaning I was trying to convey to them.

Sometimes the meaning wasn’t for every person who watched a performance though. Sometimes the meaning was meant to echo in your own head until you got sick of it.

More cracks formed in the cup.

What do you mean? I said to her again, more forcefully this time. I realized the irony between my thoughts and what I said now, but I asked it all the same.

“I mean I am what I am, and you are what you are.”

I tried to workshop this in my head.

Alright, if you want a body, I could rip you out of my head and put you in a cloned body or a robot’s frame. Then you could still come with me. I said stubbornly.

“I wasn’t just talking about my lack of a body. I was… I’ve come to a realization about you. No matter what, you advance. No matter how difficult the challenge is, you move forward, and you reshape yourself.” She said.

Yes? I said, confused.

“If you do what others cannot, they’re left behind.”

You are literally in my head. You cannot get any closer to being alongside me! I said, frustrated.

“I’m not talking physically, Adrias. The others cannot fight with you as equals, they cannot sit in the same throne as you, they cannot be you. The closest they ever were to being true comrades was however long you spent being the same Rank as them. And then you were forever above and beyond them.” Alsig said.

I shook my head, not caring anymore about what others might draw from it.

Me being more powerful does not mean I can’t be friends with people!

“Can a master be friends with his servants?” Alsig said. “Can a king have a true friendship with his subjects?”

They aren’t my servants. I thought harshly. You aren’t my servant. You’re my- you’re my ally.

“Let’s not lie to each other.” She said. “I’ve outlasted your use for me, soon all I’ll be good for is being a voice in your head and you can do that well enough on your own.”

My wine glass shattered in my hand, the red liquid spilling everywhere, dripping down my hand.

Fine. I’m unlovable and I’ll never have what others have. Happy? Congratulations. What do you want? You’re just a stupid machine with some brain bits shoved in, you were never going to be anything like me. So there’s no need for you to leave because you never-

“Sometimes I forget how young you are… seventeen… Adrias, I’m really-“ Alsig said softly before I cut her off.

“Eighteen soon.” I said bitterly. I reached my wine-stained hand behind my head. “Extract.”

Every person at the masquerade froze as Heracles’s voice boomed from me, rocking them. The back of my skull peeled open like a blooming flower to let Alsig’s chip pass through to land in my hand.

Antonias gazed at it curiously. “Why did you pull her out?”

“She said- she decided it was best for her to leave me. Because I just leave everyone behind.” I said.

“Not me.” Antonias said.

“What?” I said.

“You said you just leave everyone behind. You’ve pulled me up twice now, Bronze and Silver, one way or another.” Antonias said.

“I got you killed against the Subgovernor by bringing you along, if I hadn’t been assassinated by Dio you would still be dead.” I said.

He shrugged. “Then we’re equal on that count. You saved my life on Sunburst Station and you got me eviscerated on Amatius, I’d say it cancels out. I swore to you that I would get to Gold so I’ll do it or die a second time.”

“How are we going to get you to Gold?” I said, not knowing how at this point.

“I’ll help you finish off the two coming here.” He replied.

“You’ll get crushed like a bug. You’re only a Silver Imperator.” I argued.

“Correction, I’m a Silver Imperator and a Leechling who drank a titan’s blood and I’ll be letting you take the hits. I’m only mostly likely to be crushed like a bug.” Antonias laughed, his fangs somehow less monstrous to me.

“This is a terrible, poorly thought-out plan.” I said, shaking my head.

“I would have thought that by now you would have realized that was a defining aspect of our friendship.” Antonias said.

“We’re… friends?” I said hesitantly, my ego already wounded.

“Of course. If you can look past what I’ve become, then I’ll look past whatever you are.” He said. “At this point, I doubt either of us could ever get rid of each other permanently.”

Toni crushed his wine glass of blood in his hand purposely, leaving his hand crimson, before clasping my own reddened hand.