Two hundred years have passed since the Great War.



A dignified looking lord sits at his desk, a stern expression on his face even in the presence of family. The office is tastefully decorated in the old fashion, all dark wood, ornate rugs and tapestries, and very highly polished and orderly. Besides the bronze likeness of Duke Stennis Holmstet near the entrance and various war memorabilia, medals and exquisite ceremony swords mounted on the walls, the office gave the appearance of a man who belonged to a certain class and decorated his office solely for the purpose of displaying his status.



The lord had the lightly bronzed skin common among Antians of the southern planets, face clean-shaven and somewhat wrinkled from age. He had the appearance of a man who had been bred from the day of his birth to rule and command. Nobody had seen him smile in years.



He spoke to the man sat across from him, betraying no emotion.



"As you well know, tonight we celebrate the two hundredth anniversary of the Imperial Fleet's victory over the Mandates," he says, only stopping to retrieve a paper document, only saved for top secret information, and laid it down on the desk for the other man to see. The Imperial standard stood out the most from all of the other information on the page.



"In light of that monumental victory, our Divine Majesty has given our family a most urgent task. We are to lead a colonization mission." Since the lord's ancestor served as the leader of the Antian fleet during the Mandate battle on Bator, and all that lord's descendants served with distinction within the military since then, the Imperial government decided this family would be rewarded for their service.



The lord continued, as if the news wasn't shocking to him at all.



"As soon as I got this letter, I called for you, Marcellus. You are the least incompetent of this family, after all," he stated, as if it was a fact. "You will establish a new house, but never forget your ties to this family, understood?"



Marcellus listened to his father intently, not saying a word. He knew speaking would not be tolerated by his father unless Marcellus was given indication to do so. His father brought his military mannerisms to his family long after his service.



As the meeting concluded and Marcellus picked up the letter and left to prepare for his mission, his father called to him to give him some last words, possibly one of the last times father and son would see each other for a long time.



"Straighten your back! Did I raise my son to walk like a Traxian slave?"

Marcellus arrived at the colony along with the first settlers, using his colonization ship, the Pride of Cantor as his base of operations, since it was one of the only advanced vessels on the planet.

The settlers who came from his father's dutchy were all in makeshift tents surrounding the ship, since no permanent buildings had even been established yet. The guns of the ship offered some protection and peace of mind for the settlers, although the planet was still unexplored and dangerous. Settlers from other parts of the Empire were also near the encampment, new arrivals as well.

The young lord was a recent graduate of the military academy on Cantor, and he was meant to join the Imperial Scouts before his father sent him on this bizarre mission. As of now, he was in his office aboard the ship, checking over the most recent supply count from one of his subordinates.

Bry took a slow and deep breath of the planet's air as he descended down the metal ramp of his passenger ship. It was hot, dry, and carried with it the hint of dust. It was also infinitely preferable, in his opinion, to the flat recycled air of the transport. He was one of a crowd of dozens, all jostling each other as they stepped foot upon their new world.

Squinting his dark eyes from bright sunlight, Bry lifted a tanned and weather beaten hand to his forehead, blocking out the bright indigo sky. His worn boots, ten years old and looking every bit their age, sunk slightly onto flattened and yellowed grass, trampled into near oblivion by the volume of traffic. Dozens of ships were in the process of landing or taking off, magical wards sizzling and sparking as they neared each other. Crowds of people of all kinds, rich and poor, drawn from all parts of the Empire, congregated in clusters. Some were sorting through luggage being offloaded from vessels, others were huddling around food tents.

All of his possessions slung over his back in a small knapsack, Bry walked deeper into the encampment.

After Marcellus had inspected the supply list, he went out and examined the encampment. He went among the various food and supply tents and made sure everything was going smoothly, because he did not want any problems before they'd have to scout the surrounding area.

Marcellus, along with the other colonists, only had very limited information about the planet. They didn't know of any fertile grounds or material deposits, and while the supplies they had would suffice for now, they still couldn't produce anything on their own.

Along with this, the colony had very little soldiers of its own. Marcellus only had a few personal guards, so he knew he would have to recruit among the colonists for scouts. So at every food and supply tent he went to, he made sure to tell the tent manager of his mission. Notices were posted outside each tent.

The message was something like this:

Due to the lack of Imperial soldiers on our fair settlement, Lord Marcellus Holmstet is recruiting men and women for the newly formed Colonial Militia. Report to the Pride of Cantor if interested. Weapons and gear are supplied for free.

Short time skip

Our heroes, through fate, or perhaps the intervening hand of some almighty power, have joined the colonial militia, bringing its total numbers up to exactly 5 (counting a furry mascot and Red, the secretary).

Their first duty: Find a site for a proper colony. Orbital scans have indicated four possible locations - denoted Alpha, Beta, Chi, and Delta. All will have to be checked out and evaluated.

Equipment provided - three hover bikes. Warding is a bit rusty but whatever. It will have to do.

Marcellus, having recently been acquainted with the two newest members of the colonial militia, turns around in his hover bike to address the tiny unit.

All three of them had a headset which they could use to communicate with each other and Red, if necessary.

"Greetings, soldiers. You may refer to me as Lord Holmstet. We are tasked with investigating the four colony sites we looked over at the encampment. Just stick together, and we shall prevail," he stated, sure in his own abilities.

"I know this unit isn't as... Prestigious as you two might've hoped, although one day this little militia will transform into a proper force, with you two at its nucleus. Don't think I'll forget your service when I needed it most," Marcellus said, powering up his hover bike.

"Location Alpha is on your datapads, in case we get separated. Now let's be off," he concluded, heading off towards the first location.