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SCL Chapter 74: Home Is Where the Battle Begins
🕑 Added 2025-05-16 04:52:13 +0000 UTC“You little rascal,” Achton said as he embraced Augustus, clapping him on the shoulder. “No child of House Mengsk is ever ordinary.”
“Where are Mom and Dorothy?” Augustus smiled and asked.
“They’re still at White Rock Castle in the northern mountains of Styrling. Remember? That’s where your grandfather passed away,” Achton replied.
“I still remember him.” A vague image surfaced in Augustus’s mind—his grandfather had been a towering figure, though the details of his face and voice had long since faded. House Mengsk had preserved many of the traditions of Earth’s royal dynasties, and it was in honor of his father that Angus had named his youngest son 'Augustus'.
To escort his son, Angus had mobilized an entire security unit, including three Type-58 Land Cougar armored vehicles and twelve Vulture bikes.
The Vultures rode in a wedge formation around the armored convoy. One of the vehicles carried Augustus and his group, while the other two were filled with heavily armed soldiers.
This wasn’t excessive or paranoid overprotection. Although House Mengsk’s power on Korhal was deeply entrenched—like a towering tree rooted firmly in the planet’s soil—they had no shortage of political enemies or commercial rivals. Assassins were often hired to target the few remaining members of the family.
Given the family’s immense wealth and influence, such security was essential even against the threat of kidnappings or harassment.
Augustus sat in the rear seat of one of the Land Cougars, next to the window. He turned his head slightly, gazing out at the rapidly receding scenery through the thick layers of bulletproof glass. Beside him sat the stern-faced Achton and a visibly uneasy Lisa.
“I heard from your mother that you’re planning to retire?” Achton asked.
“Yes. And I don’t plan to drag it out until next year. The war is already over. I submitted my retirement papers last weekend, though they haven’t been approved yet,” Augustus replied. “If everything goes smoothly, I should be discharged by next month.”
Just like his older brother, Arcturus, Augustus held no particular attachment to the military. Although he had already reached the rank of second lieutenant—and could likely be promoted to a field officer once the war officially ended next year—he had no intention of staying.
His father was about to rebel, the entire planet was on the brink of revolution… If he didn’t get out now, was he supposed to stay in the army and wait to die?
At this point, the only thing still tying Augustus down was his unit, the Heaven’s Devils. If it weren’t for them, he wouldn’t even plan to return to Meinhoff after Christmas.
“Well, your father could use an extra hand,” Achton nodded. “He’s still a young man, but his hair is nearly all white.”
“Well, Feld, where are we going? Styrling City or White Rock Castle?” Augustus asked.
“We’re going to see your mother. She’s missed you terribly,” Achton replied.
Due to the local government’s environmental protection policies, the Styrling Skyport was built far outside the city limits. After exiting the terminal, the Mengsk convoy still had a long way to travel to reach its more remote destination.
The convoy raced along a major highway beyond the boundaries of Styrling’s metropolitan zone, passing through silver-grey industrial parks and stretches of rural farmland.
It was autumn. The greenery lining both sides of the highway remained lush and vibrant. In the distance, expansive wheat fields had taken on a luxurious golden hue under the season’s touch. The sky was clear and blue, with clouds drifting by like a herd of flying horses—resembling the idyllic scenery of a pastoral oil painting.
Unlike many of the Terran Federation’s core worlds—where economic growth often came at the expense of environmental neglect—Korhal IV had revised its air purification protocols and proactively adopted a wide range of renewable resources. As a result, Korhal remained a vibrant, green, and beautiful world, even while achieving a high level of technological and industrial development.
Augustus kept staring out the window. By now, the countryside and thick woods had faded into the distance. The hills south of Styrling began to rise into view.
Between the rolling hills, clusters of silver lights glittered—reflections off metal and glass. Augustus could almost see the dazzling neon lights, massive holographic displays, and advertising billboards of Styrling, and hear the vibrant roar of the city.
The convoy ascended a silver-grey alloy bridge spanning the hills. As the elevation rose, the full panorama of Styrling unfolded before them.
Styrling looked like a city forged from liquid mercury. Under the sunlight, the shining metal and glass reflected a dazzling silver radiance. The network of bridges and major transit arteries that wove through the city resembled thick, dark lines in a world of molten silver.
At the city’s center, towering sky-scrapers soared into the clouds. Between the silver-grey buildings stood monumental structures with sharply defined polyhedral forms and other geometric designs that defied human convention—brimming with technological wonder and futuristic beauty.
In Augustus’s memory, nighttime Styrling was as brilliant as summer fireworks. Its sea of neon lights and countless IAA projection screens created a luminous ocean stretching from the southern mountains to the northern coastline. The kaleidoscopic lights reached into the sky, twisting and reflecting within the clouds like multicolored silk.
Korhal’s lights—radiant, splendid, and breathtaking.
...
The sprawling and majestic castle complex of the Mengsk family stood atop a steep coastal cliff. Deep blue waves crashed against the golden sands and jagged rocks below. The scenery here was stunning, the climate mild and pleasant—as if one had stepped into a mythological Norse coastline.
This ancient estate, as old as the colonies themselves, had always served as the summer retreat for the heads of House Mengsk. Located four kilometers from Styrling, the northern capital city of Korhal, it was far removed from the centers of corruption and decadence ruled by arrogant nouveau riche and the decaying government elite.
Perched atop the cliff, the white castle was a medieval fortress surrounded by tall white walls. Every rampart and spired tower was built from massive blocks of pure white marble, with the high turrets rising proudly through the surrounding mist.
This grand, alabaster stronghold had stood amid the clouds and gales since the era of the colonial pioneers—when the brave and unyielding settlers of Tarsonis arrived in the distant Korhal system aboard second-generation warp vessels. They eventually chose to build a new home on the fourth planet of this temperate star system. The Mengsk family had been the original leaders of that expedition.
Only a single mountain road, winding through dense forest, led directly to the Mengsk estate. Its residents and their servants usually traveled via small private airships.
Security here was even tighter than at the Sky Tower in Styrling. Only the most trusted retainers were assigned to this estate, sworn to defend the lady of the Mengsk family and her offspring with their very lives.
The convoy escorting Augustus didn’t switch to air travel but instead took the winding mountain road, passing through multiple checkpoints.
Augustus kept a mental tally of each checkpoint they passed. The guards, all clad in black uniforms, carried electromagnetic rifles and wore powered combat suits reinforced with armor plates, complete with infrared visors. Still, he didn’t believe they could stop even three Ghost agents. The enemy would no doubt have a detailed infiltration plan—perhaps even disguising themselves as security personnel.
“Feld, how many security personnel are stationed here?” Augustus asked, his brows furrowed as their convoy made its way up the winding road. It was a sign of the concern he felt.
“Including those inside the White Castle? Over two hundred,” said Achton. “About a third are retired members of the Korhal Civil Defense Forces and Planetary Guard. The rest were all carefully selected from elite Korhal warriors.”
“It’s hard to say... Human loyalty is always difficult to predict. I’d still prefer to hire people from Umoja,” Augustus said. “It’s one of the few worlds that Terran Federation agents haven’t heavily infiltrated. The Umojans are renowned for using their advanced technology in both infiltration and counterintelligence operations. More importantly, they’ve quietly supported my father’s cause all along.”
“Well, well... Rare to hear you call him ‘father’ out loud.” Achton chuckled. “Angus has wondered if he went wrong somewhere in how he raised his kids. But Dorothy’s always been well-behaved and understanding.”
“Your father took your advice seriously. He believes those ideas are achievable,” Achton added. “We’re already recruiting from Umoja. The response among the youth there has been overwhelming. Thanks to media outreach, a lot of Umojans sympathize with the Kel-Morian cause. They’re full of passion—but nowhere to direct it.”
“How many, exactly?” Augustus asked.
“Enough to form a Umojan volunteer army, independent of any official government,” Achton replied, a rare smile breaking across his otherwise serious face. “They’re willing to fight for Korhal’s independence from Terran control.”
“That’s the best news I’ve heard all week—aside from our victories in battle,” Augustus nodded. “If we can draw Umoja into the independence war, it’ll be a game changer.”
“Indeed. A clash between Korhal and the Federation is inevitable. But beyond providing volunteers and military supplies, Umoja is unlikely to get directly involved,” Achton said. “If they were willing to take that step, the Kel-Morian Combine wouldn’t have lost so catastrophically in the first place.”
“That’s only because the Federation hasn’t yet pushed them to the brink,” Augustus said calmly, his steely grey eyes resting on the wooded roadside of the mountain pass. “Unlike the Kel-Morian Combine, Umoja doesn’t have such aggressive expansionist ambitions. Their conflicts with the Terran Federation have been relatively few.”
“But the moment the Federation believes it has eliminated all threats except Umoja,” he continued, “the war they’ve so desperately tried to avoid will come crashing down on them.”
“It’s unfortunate,” Achton replied, casting Augustus a look that was difficult to interpret. “Because the next target on the Federation’s list... is Korhal.
“This isn’t like you, Augustus. You used to love war and loathe politics. You never cared about anything your father was doing.”
“When you’ve seen enough blood and death... when you’ve watched young lives fall one after another like blossoms on the wind,” Augustus said quietly, “you can no longer glorify war the way I once did. War is not beautiful. Compared to its reality, those so-called galactic epics are nothing more than childish stage plays.”
“You’ve grown a lot,” Achton said softly.
By now, the convoy had arrived at the summer estate just outside the Mengsk Castle. As the armored vehicle came to a gradual halt in the courtyard, Achton Feld—head of security for the Mengsk family and its entire industrial enterprise—spoke again.
“I just don’t know if that’s a good thing for you... or not.”
Augustus didn’t respond.
Because at that very moment, a silver-haired girl in a white dress was bounding toward the vehicle like an excited bird, lifting the hem of her skirt as she ran. And by the castle’s Roman-style entrance, a woman in a long, elegant cornflower-blue gown stood watching him.
It was Lady Mengsk.
“Augustus!” Dorothy cried as she threw herself into his arms, crashing into him just as he was about to step out of the vehicle, knocking him back into his seat.
“You’re back.”
Holding his sister tightly, Augustus suddenly understood—she was the reason he still had the will to fight.
He tried to lift her into the air like he had when they were children—but failed.
“You’ve gained weight again,” he muttered.
“What? Hmph! You’re the one who’s gotten fat!” Dorothy huffed as she squirmed stubbornly in his embrace.
Practically dragging his clinging sister along, Augustus made his way to his mother. The graceful woman, always so composed, burst into tears the moment she saw her youngest son. She threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly.
“We’ve missed you so much, Augustus. It’s been over half a year,” Catherine said. “You’ve grown into such a strong young man. You’re more mature than before. I’m truly proud of you.”
Looking at the tear-streaked face of his mother, Augustus felt a sharp pain in his chest.
Suddenly, a horrifying image flashed in his mind—his father Angus’s severed head, his mother and sister lying in pools of blood, grotesque wounds torn through their chests and temples.
No.
That can’t be allowed to happen.
