They say where one goes, the other follows.
In the sprawling expanse of the cosmos, Paul Atreides and Seraphina Sylvane are bound together by an unbreakable tether. Despite the light years and planetary divides throughout the Known Universe, their...
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"Just like you've ordered, I have begun my investigation regarding Great Houses plotting against you."
Emperor Shaddam IV's office in the Imperial Palace on Kaitain was a grand and imposing space, a fitting setting for the ruler of the known universe. The walls were adorned with intricate tapestries depicting the conquests of House Corrino, and the ceiling was a dome of stained glass that cast a kaleidoscope of colors across the room. The massive desk at the center, made from rare wood from Verdantia, was cluttered with reports and communiques, a testament to the Emperor's constant state of paranoia and unrest.
Earl Tarquin Arrandis, known derisively as the Emperor's loyal dog, sat comfortably on a plush, high-backed chair, its red velvet contrasting starkly with his crisp, dark suit. He held a delicate porcelain teacup, sipping its contents with an air of detachment. His expression, as always, was unreadable, his ice-blue eyes betraying no hint of the thoughts churning behind them. He adjusted his necktie with methodical precision before beginning his report, summoned by the Emperor to Kaitan.
Shaddam IV, a figure of pale complexion and thinning hair, paced restlessly behind his desk. His usually regal bearing was marred by the dark circles under his eyes, the result of countless sleepless nights. The paranoia gnawed at him, making him jumpy and irritable, his mind constantly racing with thoughts of betrayal and rebellion.
"And?" Shaddam IV cut in abruptly, his voice a mixture of impatience and weariness. His eyes, bloodshot and haunted, fixed on Tarquin with a desperate intensity. The Emperor's hand shook slightly as he gripped his cup, the fine china trembling in his grasp.
Tarquin's calm demeanor contrasted sharply with Shaddam's agitation. "And you were right," he said, his voice steady, almost soothing in its calmness. "I heard from my sources that indeed, the Great Houses have banded against you. They call it the Secret Circle."
Shaddam's face twisted in fury, his grip on the cup tightening until his knuckles turned white. "How dare they..." he seethed, his voice a low, dangerous growl.
"This Circle was formed after your Imperial Decree for the Atreides to govern Arrakis," Tarquin continued, unperturbed by the Emperor's rising temper. "A short time, but with the Marquis Thalion Sylvane's already growing alliances among the Great Houses, their Circle was inevitable."
Shaddam slammed his cup down on the desk, the sound echoing through the room. "And do you know who these Houses are?" he hissed, his eyes boring into Tarquin's.
"Obviously these are the loyal Houses allied to House Sylvane and House Atreides, Your Majesty," Tarquin answered. Shaddam opened his mouth to speak, but Tarquin raised a hand, preempting him. "I suggest not embarking on a wild witch hunt. It won't help your position for the upcoming Landsraad. Even if the Great Houses don't blatantly accuse you, Your Majesty, even a mere toddler knows you orchestrated Duke Leto's end."
Shaddam's face flushed with anger, his pale skin turning an alarming shade of red. "I cannot let these Houses continue to spread like a plague against me!" he growled. "How dare they even form a Circle, for what? To overthrow me? What else do they even have against me?" He released a manic laugh, his frustration boiling over. "I could send them all battalions of my Sardaukar army and watch them drop like flies."
