The towering skyscraper that now served as the temporary command center of the 33rd Ground Assault Division had once belonged to the UNN Global News Network. Around a thousand people had worked in this behemoth of a building. Now, it stood deserted—eerily silent, like a ghost town.
The elevators in the UNN branch building had long since stopped working, forcing Augustus and Warfield to climb the stairs all the way to the 42nd floor. Halfway through the climb, Augustus began to suspect his brother might harbor a cruel sense of humor.
After finally reaching the top, Augustus arrived on the uppermost floor, which, based on the faded signage still on the walls, had once housed the executive offices of regional editors. At the stairwell entrance, a pair of sentries checked their ID cards and scanned their retinas before allowing them to pass.
There were no guards outside the commanding officer's office. Only a large oil painting of a lion hung on the door. Arcturus had always been fond of such beasts—creatures of old Earth, preserved in literature and film. He'd once expressed a deep desire to one day conquer such a powerful and majestic predator.
Warfield took a moment to ensure every crease in his uniform was perfectly aligned before he knocked firmly on the door.
"Come in," came the voice of Arcturus. It sounded remarkably like Augustus's—low and magnetic, calm and composed. Most of the time, it carried a strange warmth, the kind that made people instinctively want to draw closer.
"Aren't you coming in?" Augustus asked, glancing at Warfield, who had stepped aside.
"This is a private conversation between the two of you," Warfield replied solemnly.
"…Fine." Augustus thought to himself, If you're not going in, why bother straightening every wrinkle in your uniform?
When Augustus pushed open the door and entered, he saw his brother Arcturus Mengsk standing with his back to him, gazing out through a massive glass window into the darkness that blanketed Polk's Pride. Arcturus wore a dark brown officer's coat, the shoulders weighed down with heavy bronze epaulets adorned with tassels.
Despite the temporary nature of the setup, the interior unmistakably bore the marks of nobility. His desk, carved from rare Cha'Sara solarwood, retained its natural grain beneath a protective varnish. Tiny sunburst patterns spread across the surface like wildfire—striking and beautiful.
Stacks of files and books cluttered the tabletop, but Augustus's attention was caught by the lone framed photograph standing upright. It showed Arcturus at age twenty, flanked by Augustus himself, their younger sister Dorothy, and their mother.
Oddly, Augustus didn't recognize himself at first. Standing between their mother and Arcturus were two nearly identical girls, both in white dresses with silver twin-tails. It took him a second to realize that one of them had to be him.
One day, Augustus vowed internally, I'm going to destroy that photo.
The ceramic tile floor was covered with a thick carpet embroidered with golden thread, depicting the star map of the Terran Federation's territories in the Koprulu Sector.
Beside the desk stood two wine cabinets secured with genetic locks. Inside were bottles of wine, whiskey, and ale sourced from the core worlds, the Dominion, and even the outermost colonies—evidence of the Mengsk family's legendary taste for alcohol.
The wall opposite the desk was lined with mounted beast heads and vintage hunting rifles. On another wall, a lone portrait of their mother, Katherine Mengsk, hung with solemn dignity.
The portrait had been painted by a 25th-century artist emulating the techniques of Earth's Renaissance masters. The artist had clearly taken inspiration from depictions of the Virgin Mary, portraying Katherine in a radiant red evening gown with an almost divine aura.
"Augustus, my brother. Come. Let me have a look at you."
Hearing the door open, Arcturus turned around with a smile. His face, chiseled like a Greek sculpture, was lit with genuine warmth.
For a moment, Augustus felt that smile was real. Though Arcturus would never admit it, their father's political instincts had rubbed off on him. People often said politicians wore a thousand masks—and Arcturus was no exception.
And so, Augustus allowed his tense shoulders to relax. He approached his brother with the same open posture he remembered from years long past—just like he used to, in the days when things felt simpler.
"I heard you defeated a squad of Kel-Morian assault cavalry on your first day after graduating from boot camp."
Arcturus towered even higher than Augustus. Compared to the barely eighteen-year-old, the twenty-eight-year-old man had broader shoulders and a more commanding presence. Colonel Arcturus was built like forged steel—his back straight as a rod. Even in calm silence, his mere gaze carried a natural air of authority that pressed down on everyone in the room.
"Haha, guess what I said to the officer who reported that to me?" Arcturus gave a hearty laugh and slapped Augustus firmly on the shoulder, clearly pleased to see the younger man remain steady as a rock in the face of his strength. "I told him, 'That's exactly what I'd expect from a member of the Mengsk family!'"
"I've always been lucky," Augustus replied with a grin. "Those Kel-Morian guys just happened to stumble into our rest area."
"Well, then I have to say—your luck is downright outrageous."
Arcturus's steely gray eyes gleamed with something sharp—like a light hidden behind cold iron. Since joining the military, he hadn't returned to Korhal in nearly eight years. In all that time, he'd barely seen his family. The closest he came were the rare, unstable interstellar video calls where the signal broke up more often than not.
Only on rare occasions—usually every two years—supply fleets bound for the fringe sectors from Char, Sigma, or Tarsonis would deliver parcels from home: letters, recent family photos, and quarantined local specialties. His father, Angus, never wrote. Only Catherine and the younger siblings ever sent packages or letters to the family's eldest son.
When Augustus was little, he idolized his older brother, seeing him as a heroic soldier and the epitome of strength.
Even though he grew more rebellious as he got older, he still sent Arcturus gifts from home every year—like finely forged melee weapons crafted by the Styrling Master Artisans' Guild for nobles and elites, or the renowned 'King No. 7' whiskey produced in the central city of Pasha on Korhal IV's secondary continent.
In his emails, Augustus would always ask about his brother's life in the military, fascinated by tales of dangerous missions and legendary adventures.
But the image Arcturus still had of his younger brother was frozen in time—Augustus at fourteen.
Back then, he was your typical rebellious teen: long hair tied in a ponytail, ear piercings, tattoos… the whole package.
In the end, it was Angus himself who dragged him to the best laser cosmetic clinic in Styrling to erase the tattoos and close the piercings. Thanks to cutting-edge, non-invasive technology, the procedures left no scars at all—no one could even tell Augustus ever had them.
Only his hair survived the purge, though he ended up cutting it off himself not long after—too many people mistook him for a girl.
Arcturus was truly relieved to see that Augustus had finally outgrown his youthful defiance and become someone steady and self-disciplined. He had worried about him, deeply.
"How's Mom doing?" Arcturus pulled over two chairs and sat down with Augustus, their conversation flowing easily into family matters.
"She's doing great," Augustus replied. "After Dorothy turned sixteen, Mom founded over a dozen charities and orphanages across Styrling. People in Korhal hold her in the highest regard. She's always busy—but fulfilled."
"What about Dorothy? She doesn't write to me anymore," Arcturus said with a nod, his expression dimming slightly.
"Her schedule at the academy is packed. Besides regular classes, she's also studying etiquette, dance, and court fencing," Augustus said. "She's grown into a real lady—beautiful and charming, just like Mom."
"Yeah… Dorothy's all grown up now…" Arcturus paused.
Back when he was still studying on Korhal, Dorothy and Augustus were just little kids who used to bounce on his lap, giggling and causing chaos.
"She got many admirers these days?"
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