‘What I want is of no concern at the moment.’ Ricol said sharply. ‘I suggest, too, that unthinking action solely for the sake of vengeance is stupid, too.’

'Perhaps, your Grace. But I have an oath to avenge my father.’

‘Vengeance.’ Ricol sighed as though he'd heard the story before. ‘You realize that a vendetta by a junior noble or officer against a senior is...ah...risky.’

‘I'm not interested in the politics of vengeance, your Grace. Just achieving it’

‘You should be. son. You should be. When you tangle with a man as powerful as Lord Garreth, politics becomes the most valuable ally you have.’ He shifted back in his chair, considering. ‘However. I can use a man with Mech training and combat experience. I believe you are that man. If you can channel your desire for revenge for a time, if you will swear your oath to me, I believe we can be of service to each other.’

What Ricol had in mind was the formation of a private BattleMech company, one reserved for his own use. Tyrell was his first recruit, the officer charged with forming and training the embryonic unit. The Red Duke, it seemed, had lost several of the Mechs in his private service in an adventure across the border in Steiner space a few years before. Ricol needed firepower to pursue his own, private ambitions, both within the Combine and beyond it.

For Salvadore, it was enough to have both a steady income and new hope ot one day having Victor Garreth within his reach.

It was nearly a year later when the Red Duke summoned him into his presence once more. Ricol had been gone from the Combine for some time, and Salvador's company, now called Tyrell's Terrors, had been employed among the worlds administered directly by the Red Duke. These included the Duke's homeworld of Rodigo and nearby Verthandi, which was still suffering from the chaos left behind by a stupid administrator and a massive, popular uprising. It had been rumored that Ricol was out of the Combine entirely for much of that time, pursuing Star League treasure in the distant realm of the Free Worlds League.

The outcome of that expedition, or even whether it was more than rumor and idle speculation, was unknown. Upon the Duke's return, Tyrell's Terrors received official orders, signed by Ricol, to meet his entourage at a certain date at the spaceport on Kajikazawa. They would provide a guard of honor to escort the Duke to his next official meeting, with the First Lord himself on Luthien.

The Duke looked older than when Salvadore had seen him last, older and more tired, but his eyes still glinted with unrealized ambitions. ‘We spoke once of oaths...and vengeance,’ he said.

‘Yes, your Grace.’

‘You have a choice before you now, Salvadore.’

The Duke's use of his first name startled the young MechWarrior. ‘Your Grace?’

The Red Duke handed Salvadore an engraved card. ‘There is a reception tonight at the Great Hall in the capital, put on by Planetary Chairman Hideie himself. We are invited, of course.’

‘Yes. your Grace.’

‘An acquaintance of yours will be there.’

Chill crept up Salvadore's spine. His mouth tightened.

‘I leave the choice with you, Salvadore. I will tell you frankly that I have worked tor some time to have...that person broken. He is loyal to the Combine, but he is loyal to himself first...and his stupidity could cost us much. Unfortunately, he has powerful friends, and I find there is no way to attack him without risking Harmony.’

The word referred to the concept that governed the relationships between the warring nobles of House Kurita. A man was expected to sacrifice all things to maintain his personal honor—all things except the greater Harmony of the First Lord's will.

‘You say I have a choice, your Grace?’

‘Yes. You have leave to seek vendetta with Lord Garreth.’

His pulse quickened. ‘Your Grace...’

‘Don't thank me.’ Ricol's face was grim. ‘It could mean your death. I value you, Salvadore. and don't relish losing you or your talents.’ He paused, considering. ‘However. I have an idea of what drives you. Perhaps you feel you will never be whole until you face Garreth and challenge him. So be it. You must seek your own destiny, and your own path.’

‘Thank you. your Grace.’

‘I release you from my service.'

Shock confused Salvadore. ‘Your Grace? I thought...’

‘In this matter, you must act on your own. As my man. you would be fighting for me. Against Garreth. you must fight with no help from me. I was able to obtain leave from a representative of the First Lord here on Kajikazawa for you to challenge Garreth. But the challenge must be between you and him. To do otherwise would involve far more than two men. It would threaten Harmony.’

‘Harmony...’

‘Don't sound so bitter, youngster. The First Lord's will holds the Combine together. It is such trifles as personal feuds among his lords that threaten to tear it down.

‘You will have the opportunity to face Garreth, to call him out before his peers. The permission for vendetta allows you to challenge him despite his higher rank. But I warn you that if you disgrace yourself, you will disgrace me. I will have to kill you myself.’

‘Understood, your Grace.’ The words were fire in his throat. ‘I will not let you down!’

Garreth stepped in. his wakizashiflashing in a flat arc that sent the tip whispering centimeters past Salvador's chest. Salvadore struck, was blocked, struck again. Garreth twisted away, breathing hard.

Salvadore was surprised at his own inner calm. He had expected to feel...what? Triumph? Fear? A savage joy in striking back at his father's murderer? Instead, he felt only a steady sense of purpose. He was surprised, too. by the hatred in Garreth's face.

‘Dog!’ the man hissed as they came together, blades locked wrist to wrist, straining. ‘You're Ricol's tool! Nothing morel’

He shoved, and Salvadore lost his footing on the slick marble floor. He fell but kept his blade high, between himself and his foe.

Rather than following his advantage, Garreth turned aside, approached one of the young nobles standing in the ring around the combatants, and pulled the mans wakizashifrom its scabbard. There was an audible gasp around the hall. It was expected that a duel would be fought with a man's own weapons. Grinning in savage anticipation of victory, Garreth advanced on Salvadore. a short sword gleaming in each hand, the points weaving in a complex pattern as he readied himself for the final strike.

Salvadore rolled as the twin blades snicked centimeters above his head. He found his feet then, brought his blade up in time to counter one overhead blow from Garreth's right-hand blade, then twisted aside to avoid Garreth's lunge with his left.

‘Salvadore!’

He twisted again and glimpsed the burly form of Duke Ricol at the edge of the crowd, reaching toward him. The blade of the Red Duke's wakizashicaught the light as Salvadore closed his hand on its grip, and drew it from the extended scabbard.

Two blades faced two blades now. Steel rang on steel, striking sparks as the fighters came together, struck, and danced apart. Both men were breathing hard but Salvadore was smiling as he sensed fear in his opponent. ‘Mercenary dog!’ Garreth screamed. ‘Mercenary bastard! You're Ricol's dog...nothing more!’

‘I have my release,’ Salvadore retorted as they parted once more. ‘For now, I am my own dog!’

‘Bah! Legalities! You do hiswork!’

Salvadore parried with his right blade, locking both of Garreth's blades for one instant. His left hand made a slashing cut that brought a spreading red stain to Garreth's long-sleeved tunic. They sprang apart, blades at the ready. Salvadore grinned and raised his right hand, holding his blade with his thumb as he wagged his fingers inan insulting ‘come here' gesture. ‘His Grace's work,’ he said, ‘is mine now, my Lord.’