The Gaze floated above the atmosphere of Zuria. Leonidas needed to be sure about something, and Q was the one man he could trust to lay his fears to bed. His ship was almost hacked. That should not happen again.
The fields of Zuria never failed to mesmerize. The beautiful golden wheat fields that stretch into the horizon, terraced vineyards, and dense greenwood valleys. To Zurians the soil is sacred, they toil in service to the Empire, and the harvest of this planet feeds most of the sector. For the hard labor, it's people's only have one wish. To be left in peace.
The southern continent is where they were headed. Returning to Q this quickly was not what Leonidas wanted. He hoped his old friend would be spared from the events of the path he chose. Yet he did not know were to turn.
They descended near to the cluster of workshops between the orchard belts. The air quality was vastly different from that of Durin V. Here it was filled with the smell of tilted earth and ozone.
Leonidas stepped of the ramp, his boots crunching the gravel, looking upon the familiar landscape.
"This is atmosphere, may we never smell the likes of Durin again." Titus stretched.
Ezran grinned. "I doubt that. May have to return for that shield matrix. We've been cutting it close lately."
Q emerged from a barn, his hands stained with motor oil. Ever busy at work, he did not know when to rest.
"What's the status, does she still sing pretty?" He said beaming.
Leonidas smiled. "She sings pretty enough, but I need you to be sure."
Q nodded. "I'll give her the royal treatment."
The crew dispersed to give Q some room - Titus is looking to trade for some fresh produce with the locals. Meanwhile Ezran tells long tales of his bravery to the women, at the displeasure of the men. Leonidas chooses to wander amongst the orchards, and let his thoughts wander.
He finds a quite bench beneath a canopy of flowering boughs, and sits alone.
In his small moment of peace, he found himself drifting to past conversations with his lord father. Duty was everything to the Duke Aleric Lionhart, and he had made sure it would be the same for his sons. Often he would question Leonidas about the nature of Service and Leadership. Questions Leonidas himself pondered quiet oftentimes.
When he had just enlisted into the force. They walked among the obsidian statues of their ancestors.
"You have chosen to be of service to the Empire," Aleric had said. "But what does that service look like to you?"
Leonidas was but six and ten then, long before such questions had crossed his mind.
"Do we not serve the Emperor?" He asked.
Aleric had stopped, his gaze heavy. "The House of the Lion, serves but one. The people. We serve at their leisure. Not above them, but as equals. A notion most of the nobility seem have forgotten. Yet you, a Lionhart, must never forget. What are our words, boy?"
"Duty is the sacrifice of all nobility." He roared.
Words that had been etched into his very bones, as soon as he could form a coherent thought.
Now years later as he sat beneath Zuria's sky, watching the wind ripple through the barley fields. He ponders the nature of these words.
"I have given everything to duty, father. Yet it has done nothing but take from me. Illiana. Selena. I have nothing more to give." He whispered to himself.
Q finally emerged from his task. "She's clean," he said. "Tighter than a diplomat's smile. Whatever you did worked. You're ready."
Leonidas stood. "Then we fly."