Eight Gods on a Windowsill

In the catacombs of the Red City, five Amali men met in the cover of darkness, aided only by torchlight. Their visage was covered by long hooded cloaks. No part of their body could be seen past the cloak, save the tendrils on their chins, each with varying amounts of metal rings fitted around them. These long cavernous underground streets were well paved, despite cracks and wear showing from their age. Like the rest of the city, it, too, was painted red. Each alleyway led to another set of vaults. Each vault had large doors made of metal from the inner planets of the Amalyan Empire. They knew they had to be careful. They could not be caught here. Especially, by the Forsaken. They were taking a very big risk. These catacombs had been forbidden, not because of structural issues, but because many vagrants and bandits roamed their walls. They pondered to themselves why they had to meet here. They also knew they could not meet on the surface. Too many eyes. Too many ears.

Finally, after walking for what seemed like an hour, they came to the designated vault. One of the men rapped on the door while the others kept a look-out for any signs of movement. The door opened without any sound other than the hiss of the joints moving after many years unused.

Once it closed, the place illuminated. The lights on the walls immediately turned on. The crypts were lined from ceiling to floor, each covered by a door and a plaque marking the names of the buried individuals. The control room to the vault was just up ahead. Each vault had its own. They made their way down the hall of dead members of the empire. Eighty generations of dutiful citizens to the House of Rayne.

"Why is it we were to meet here again?" One of them suddenly said, absently stroking the tendrils on his chin.

"You really want to be caught by the Forsaken?" Another one answered.

"I thought he has them in his pocket." A third commented.

"Not all of them." Came a response as they made their way into the control room. "Now, gentlemen have a seat." The hooded man who met them motioned to several chairs lined up. The men sheepishly took a chair each as the hooded figure began to remove the hood on his cape. "We gather here to make a change in this empire. Like none before it." Before them stood the Minister Prime. Tall, chiseled, young, and almost completely clad in metal.

"What kind of change are we talking about, Eero." This Amalya sounded very skeptical.

"I plan on making the Empire safe for all Amali. One devoid of the corruption of other races. One devoid of the influence of non-Amali. And most importantly, one free of a weak Emperor."

The Amalya from before stood up abruptly. "What do you suggest we do? Kill him? There is no one who could contest a member of the House of Rayne." Then, he added, "No, we could confine him to becoming nothing more than a figurehead. It's not like he's here much anyway."

"Persja, don't fret so much. We are not going to lay a finger on the Emperor." Eero came back. "Besides, his popularity would make that a public nightmare. I have my ways of removing his opinion from the confines of the law."

"What about the other ministers that represent the other races of the Empire?" Another asked.

"What about them, Luzfred? What have they done to keep the Empire? It is our sons that go and forfeit their lives for the sake of the Empire. Just look at the Y'ugganth. Destroyed in a peaceful place of the Empire by the Gods knows whom."

"I heard that our Imperial Marines survived."

"Eegan, that's what they want you to think. How does one survive the crashing of a space station that does not eject any life pods?"

The chatter among the five Amali was soft as they whispered to each other. Eero could tell they were thinking over his prospects. He managed to sway over half the senate already to his program. Of course, he couldn't just hold a referendum. Instead, he had to quietly and subtle let the other ministers decide. He had a good idea of who would agree. Those that didn't. Well, he had his Forsaken for that.

The vault became quiet.

"Gentlemen?" Eero said carefully.

"We have come to a common accord." A fourth Amalya man countered. "We know you have been doing your due diligence to sway the senate little by little. We need an outlined set of goals and a referendum."

"Mazra, this is something that I can absolutely do. The reason I have brought you here is more because the Emperor has ears and eyes everywhere. He has been quite vocal about his resistance to change or the benefits of his people." Eero responded. His tone was even. "We need to have living space and social reforms for our people."

"When you have brought your ideals before the Senate, we shall take a vote. Only then will you know where you stand." Mazra quipped as he rose to his feet. The other four Amali followed suit. The walked out from the vault, leaving the Minister Prime alone.

After Eero heard the vault door close, he breathed a sigh of relief. He replaced the hood over his head. "Well, what do you think?"

A shadow moved within the dim light. The shadow moved a little closer. "The Emperor has his hands full for now." Came the gravelly voice. "He might not even be a problem in a few days. That said, the House of Rayne has no heir. You may even be able to gain traction to use the long unused contingency."

"Yes and with it, I may even be able to return sovereignty to the non-Amali planets in the Empire."

Outside the vault, the five senators began their path back to the surface. Carefully, they made their way conscious of the dangers of the rabble below the city. They walked, constantly looking around the halls for any other people. To be caught unaware would only spell danger. These catacombs were showing their age. The rock used to construct it was worn. Rarely did the city maintenance crews come down here to inspect or repair the walls supporting the rest of the city. If it collapsed a lot of damage would be evident across the city and the casualties would be high.

"I hope that if the Minister Prime wants to reform the Empire, he will look over this area as well." The otherwise silent fifth Amalya man whispered.

"Indeed, Graz." Eegan responded, quietly.

Suddenly, there was a familiar shick and hum of Amali plasma rifles. Eegan looked up ahead of him to see eight Amali men dressed in green with red sashes on their right arm. Forsaken. Someone knew they were down here. 

 "Graz lez Eeno, Eegan lez Matro, Luzfred lez Alfrin, Persja lez Pert, and Mazra XI lez Mazra," the soldier in the front of the others called out, "you are under arrest for the suspicion of treason. You will accompany us to the station until you are thoroughly investigated."

The men raised their hands in surrender. They knew better than to make any such resistance. It would only make matters worse for them. Someone tipped off the Forsaken. The question was who. Rather than ask, they complied with the soldiers. They would eventually find out.