I've mowed through about five rewrites for the Defender Sira story, unfortunately, so I've taken the old editions offline. Until then, you can read this excerpt from the new chapter. Apologies for the wait.

Defender Sira: The Premier Director

By Steven Chan
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Rosse let the bisha wine pour into his glass, staining its clear sides with rich purple color. He scanned the sandy-golden room with his solid-blue eyes as he swallowed the wine without feeling its cool sweetness rush down his throat.

The partygoers — all royalty, Rosse observed — were dressed up in light frills, flowing dresses, and shiny suits. Those in the center of this banquet hall danced under a large prism-glass chandelier while the three-man band in the corner bowed mellow tunes with their hollow wooden celasets.

Rosse set his glass on the clothed table behind him. He weaved his way through the crowd while they courteously acknowledged him with his official title as successor to his father, the Baron:

"How do you do, dra-Baron?"

Rosse nodded towards them with a thin, fragile smile. He arrived towards the side of the room, where the Baron engaged in small talk with his guests. The Baron noticed his son and lifted his jewelry-adorned hand:

"Rosse! Son, I would like you to meet some of our provincial potentates. I may introduce to you Potentates Lissa and Cebek."

"Enchanted to meet you," Rosse bowed.

"Likewise," Lissa and Cebek perfunctorily responded.

"We were talking about the rebels. Cebek says he has a large militia ready in case of another rebel attack; Lissa says he has agents weeding out his cities for rebel activity." The Baron folded his arms: "In any case, we three are all equally confident that they will not pose any threat to the welfare of the Chelaz Dynasty."

He motioned towards the potentates: "If you'll excuse me." Lissa and Cebek nodded and turned away.

The Baron set his hand on his son's shoulder: "Still haven't changed your mind?"

"No," Rosse asserted, stepping away from his father's grasp. "You've read my note and you know how I feel. Ever since you were ennobled as the Baron, the state of the people has gotten worse —"

"It's for the good and the prosperity of the dynasty, Rosse!" the Baron barked. "How many times must I reiterate? In order to build up a strong dynasty, expenses must be paid off. Our debt to the Quolthèse is large —"

"But petty politics is not a matter that concerns a commonor," Rosse interjected.

"Their next meal matters, though. It isn't a wonder they are planning an uprising, the way you and your dynasty are robbing them to pay off expenses, like these grandiloquent banquets," he pointed at the guests in the hall.

The Baron's face flushed: "This is also your dynasty, Rosse!"

Suddenly the sky outside the glass windows flashed. A boom sounded in its wake. Rosse and his father looked eye to eye for a moment, then turned their heads towards the window. They could see several large, glowing spheres hurtling through the air.

"Plasma cannon," breathed Rosse. He turned to his father and thrust his cape around him. They ran, leapt as the glass window shattered, and cringed as the plasma cyst burst, burning several guests.

"Now do you believe me?" shouted Rosse.

The Baron shrugged it off but yelled into his comlink: "Commander?… Get the guards mobilized.… Arrest them if you can, but kill if you must."

He looked at Rosse with glossy eyes: "Your note. You have already devised an escape plan for the family."

Rosse nodded, hearing bullets sputter and lasguns buzzing outside the broken window. "If I'm not mistaken, my family has already reached safety by this point."

The Baron stood up, oblivious of the screams of his guests as they rushed the door like cows rushing into the slaughterhouse. He led Rosse to the rear of the room, opened a door, and entered the throne room. Here was a sight so majestic! Two large chairs, adorned with jewels imprinted into its gold plating, sat quietly on a raised platform. A soft velvety-blue carpet ran down the platform and through the room.

The Baron unhooked a case from his waist belt, opened it, revealing two gloves. He slipped the pair of gloves over his hands. The gloves hummed, glowed a golden color. Rosse took a step back in reverence of the relics' power. What was the Baron doing?

The Baron took the gloves off, stuffed them back into its case, and handed it, without the customary ceremony, to Rosse.

Rosse held it in his hands and looked at the Baron's face, illuminated by the fires outside. "The Yxzor is only handed down when… You can't be…"

"I'm holding my ground," the Baron stated solemnly. "I'll show you that this palace is impervious to rebel attacks. I'll show the rebel leaders who rules this planet." He looked Rosse square in the eye: "You go on ahead." He whispered, "Keep the dynasty alive."

Rosse froze there. He could feel the palace shake as the rebels rammed the entrance with a battering cannon.

"Go, you fool!" Rosse's father barked.

Rosse immediately obeyed, running off towards the main hallway. He would order a guidebot to lead him through the recreation room, a hidden passageway, the buried catacombs, and into the launch hangar, where the rest of his family would either be waiting or have already escaped on the transport.

The dra-Baron could already hear him confront the rebel leaders, hear them argue, and hear the end. He was quite sure that his father wouldn't see the suns rise again.