Turning the Kaleidoscope (Multicross: Dune)

“Prisoner. Kneel before me,” Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam instructed as I strode down the uncomfortably long and dimly lit hall leading to the basalt throne that she sat upon. The woman herself wore all black, with a veil over her face which only revealed sharp angles and a piercing gaze that watched every step that I took, and each one felt impossibly loud in the expansive room. The woman on top of the throne didn't twitch, nor did she blink as she watched me approach, climbing the steps one at a time and dropping to a knee as instructed. 

This close, I could see that her eyes were gray, the same shade as steel. And the gaze that met mine was every bit as unyielding. “I have a task for a human, and you have been selected for you have the potential to be more than a base animal, prisoner.” With that, she moved her sleeve that had covered a familiar box that had an opening facing me. “You know what this is.” 

“Pain,” I replied, trying to interject some dry amusement into my voice as I really tried to not think about how the next few minutes were going to suck. 

The Reverend Mother offered something that could have been a smile. Or a snarl. “Exactly so,” she confirmed. Then her other hand moved far faster than her age would indicate. If I had blinked, I would have missed the action entirely. I tried not to react as I knew what was poised at my throat like the fangs of a viper. “This is the gom jabbar. The high-handed enemy. With the barest touch, you shall find relief from the pain. It shall only cost you your life.” Her eyes searched my expression, and she gave me the barest of nods. “Place your hand inside the box.” 

This was going to suck. But, all the same, I did as bid. 

I was right. There was pain inside the box. It started mellow initially, a sharp biting sting that started from the center of my palm before spreading outwards. For the first few seconds, it felt like an intense version of my hand falling asleep and waking up with the feeling of pins and needles. But then the pain grew harsher. Sharper. The pain felt as if the skin was being scraped from my hand, while a burning hot coal cooked it from my palm. 

But I was prepared. There was no Hans Zimmer to hype me up as I held her gaze, schooling my expression even as a bead of sweat formed on my brow. It was an illusion. I knew that. Pain induction by targeting the nerves in my hand with futuristic voodoo science. It wasn't real. That made it far easier to bear, but even then, it sucked. Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes felt like they became hours as the Reverend Mother seemed determined to prove me to be an animal. 

Then, suddenly, she withdrew the gom jabbar from my neck. “Enough,” she instructed. It was stupid, petty, and entirely motivated by pride -- but my hand lingered in the box for seconds more. Just to prove that I had won our little staring contest. “Enough, child. You have proven yourself to be a human.” 

Only when she relented did I remove my hand, and I looked down at it. My hand was covered in calluses and a few old scars, but there wasn't the blackened stump that the pain I had felt indicated. I took a second more to gather myself, and I made sure to maintain eye contact. “Ow,” I said in a slow and deliberate tone.

“As you said, there was pain in the box. Nothing else. Yet you seemed unsurprised,” the Reverend Mother noted, sounding pleasantly surprised. 

“You said you have use for me. I wouldn't expect you to maim your tool before making use of it,” I replied, and she seemed to consider that. “May I stand?” 

“By all means. Humans do not kneel,” Reverend Mother Mohiam replied, and I rose to my feet, rubbing out the lingering phantom pain in my hand and taking a step back. She watched me like a hawk, looking for so much as a shred of weakness before I saw the corners of her lips lift ever so slightly. “I believe you shall be well suited for this task. You have the right bearing for it, as well as the right… history.” 

To that, I said nothing and swallowed a sharp retort. I had little doubt as to why I had been chosen, just as I had little doubt about the assignment that I would be tasked with. 

“Tell me, what do you know about the situation on Arrakis?” Reverend Mother Mohiam asked, her tone sharp as her early amusement was gone like smoke in the wind. 

“House Harkkonen attacked House Atreides with the Emperor's blessing, if not his help, with the intention of slaughtering them to the last. An effort that failed rather spectacularly on account of some very fortuitous timing for Duke Leto and his family,” I began, my voice even. I was lucky that she hadn't used the Voice on me, else I'd be spilling a lot more information that I had no justification for knowing. 

“How you dance around the subject,” The Reverend Mother noted. “House Atreides was saved because the universe went mad, and an empire that stood unopposed for ten thousand years shattered like glass!” She exclaimed, and there was real heat in her voice. 

“I was trying to be polite. It seemed like it might be a sore spot,” I replied, and that earned me an ugly look and a sharp stare that cut right through me. 

“Your sympathy is noted, but unneeded,” she replied curtly. I didn't hold it against her. Like I said, I figured it would be a sore spot. I mean, I'd be pretty sore about it if my organization had been guiding an empire for ten thousand years, all for some nebulous goal of creating a god amongst men, and on the cusp of the very last step, the table almost literally got flipped without warning. And the table, in this instance, was the entire universe.

What had happened was beyond description. In the year since, there had been millions of theories to explain what people had taken to calling the Displacement. A simple word that massively undersold the sheer scope of what had transpired -- but how could you honestly describe it? 

How do you describe an empire that had stretched across the known universe suddenly being crammed into a single galaxy? A galaxy that spanned some five hundred million lightyears, through which the planets that had comprised your empire found themselves scattered about almost at random? No cause for the transportation to be found, no excuse given, or explanation offered as to how or why it happened -- just that it did. One night, the stars changed. And to say that it left the Padishah Empire in shambles was exceedingly generous, considering that they outright couldn't find half of their Great Houses now. 

And, in a bitter twist? Losing half of the empire was the least of their problems. 

“In that case… Arrakis is a stalemate where everyone is losing,” I continued. “The Emperor saw an opportunity and he took it -- he placed legions of Sardaukar on the planet to protect the spice. Which royally pissed off Baron Harkkonen as he wanted to control Arrakis in earnest and he can't do that with the Emperor's left hand man looking over his shoulder. I imagine some things were said, and the result is a shadow war -- assassination, sabotage, weaponized incompetence, and so on. Which they naturally blame on the Fremen since they can't publicly accuse one another, leading to reprisals upon the Fremen for actions that they didn't do.” 

I paused, then I shrugged, “But I doubt the Fremen have noticed.” The Fremen had been fighting the Empire from the moment it decided that it had an interest in Arrakis and it's spice, which became an utter necessity for it with the banning of computers. For them, the situation was normal. “And, if they have, I bet they’re upset that the two are doing more damage to each other than the Fremen are doing to either of them.”

In short, Arrakis was a political powder keg and a military quagmire. All the players made moves that made sense at the time. The Emperor deploying his Sardaukar on Arrakis to safeguard it in new and uncertain times? It made perfect sense on paper, but it was still an undeniable overreach on his part as the Great Houses had gone to no small lengths to keep control over the spice melange out of the Emperor’s hands. 

Baron Harkonnen? The man was a shark, and he smelled blood in the water. But he couldn't exactly declare independence from the Empire with one hundred thousand of the Empire's elite troops parked on what would be his doorstep. So, he worked to dislodge them little by little to maneuver himself into a position where he could give them the boot. 

And House Atreides? They were alive. That much was verified, but they had slunk into the depths of the desert with what retinue that they could take with them. They hadn’t reached out to the Landsraad about how the Emperor had attempted to slaughter their House, which told me that they were taking the long view of the situation. The Padishah Empire was fractured and scattered, and such an accusation would destroy whatever was left of central authority. 

That restraint told me precisely what Duke Leto Atreides intended. 

“A sufficient explanation,” Reverend Mother Mohiam replied flatly. “I see that your education wasn't neglected on Salusa Secundus. Which makes your subsequent defection all the more puzzling. Would you care to explain yourself, my chosen tool?” 

Honestly? Not really. I'm not sure what I did in my last life to earn being reborn on that shit hole of a planet, but one failed rinse cycle in the reincarnation machine was enough to convince me I needed to become immortal because I had already done way worse than pirating anime in this life. 

“Becoming Sardaukar was the only way off the planet,” I replied simply, hoping that would be enough. 

Salusa Secundus. The Padishah Empire's prison planet. There were two ways to wind up there -- you had to be one of the most vicious and irredeemable criminals in the universe, or you had to be born there. Which I unfortunately was. From there, the only way off that godforsaken rock was to become Sardaukar, part of the Emperor's personal army. Which included a lot of religious indoctrination that I managed to fake my way through, and that was why my defection was such a big deal when I bounced the first chance that I got. 

“It just wasn't the life that I wanted. For all the good that did me,” I added, just in case she wanted more. 

“That life may yet be yours,” the Reverend Mother lied through her teeth. She struck me as the type to tie off loose ends, which I almost certainly would be by the end of this. “The task I have for you is thus -- Find Ariste Atreides and deliver her to me.” 

The Voice didn't sound as it did in the movies. In a way, it was almost soothing, but every word reverberated with an undeniable power. I felt the command was over me and solidified in my chest, and I knew exactly what had been done. After about three months of… tenderizing me, I suppose you could call it, they had conditioned me in preparation for this moment. Already, I felt the compulsion prick at the edge of my consciousness, demanding that I begin my search. It felt like an itch in the back of my brain, and the only way to lessen it would be to make progress in finding FemPaul. 

“As you command.” Bowing my head, I accepted the order and marched away. Yet, all the while, my mind picked at the order and churned over ways to subvert it. Because, while I was thankful for the opportunity, there wasn't a point in staving off my execution if they were just going to kill me later. 

Plus, I had plenty of practice faking my way through mental conditioning. 

…

There was a reason why the Padishah Empire had used Salusa Secundus as its recruiting grounds for the Emperor's personal attack dogs. The planet was an irradiated wasteland after someone nuked it to the point that the Fallout series would have raised an eyebrow. Every summer, the temperature would jump to a hundred and fifty degrees while every winter, it would plummet to negative one hundred. All the while, radiation storms swept across the land and made the harsh planet that much more unbearable. 

The wildlife, through scarcity of resources and mutation by radiation, were all driven to be the most dangerous and predatory versions of themselves they could be because if they were anything less, then they couldn't survive. The people were no better. Degenerate rapists, cannibalistic murderers, sadistic psychopaths -- the society that they shaped was an unrelentingly cruel one that couldn't possibly sustain itself without fresh blood being pumped into it by the millions every year. 

The Empire cultivated that cruelty. They turned it into a crucible, all to create peerless and ferocious warriors. And, in that task, they succeeded. When everyday life was an unimaginable hell, you clung to the solitary hope of freedom allowed to you. That freedom was the Sardaukar. 

So, it was quite impressive that Arrakis was such a desolate planet that it naturally matched the same crucible that the empire had forged deliberately. If not surpassed it. 

The transporter brought me down to the dockyard of Arrakeen -- one of the two cities on Arrakis. The very moment that the bulkhead door opened, I was immediately assaulted with a dry sweltering heat that felt entirely too much like sticking my face into a hot oven. Any trace of moisture on my face evaporated in an instant, leaving my eyes feeling a bit dry. The air simmered outside of the transport that carried me and hundreds of other hopeful migrants to the city, and despite the greeting, they shoved themselves forward as if it were a race to win. 

I let myself get carried in the mob of people, noting my surroundings as I peeked out from beneath my cloak hood. My gaze went to the watchful eyes of the Sardaukar. They stood vigilant, armed and ready as we approached processing for entry into the city. It was a remarkably smoother welcome to the planet than Dune Awakenings had prepared me for -- getting shot out of the sky, crash landing in the desert, and being dragged into a cave. Going through space TSA was far more mundane, even if they were operating on a level of tyranny that would make Kim Jong Un jealous. 

But, it was to be expected. The Spacer Guild that brought us here didn't care what our intentions were, only that we paid the cab fare. Arrakeen, in the wake of House Atreides’ downfall, had been occupied by the Sardaukar and the Emperor's left hand, Count Hasimir Fenring. Given that he was the Emperor's spy master, and this was a shadow war, as one would expect he took security quite seriously. 

The Sardaukar inspected me, pushing back my hood, and through his tinted helmet, I saw his gaze immediately land on the lines of tattoos that ran underneath one eye over my cheekbone. A stanza from a poem that only those who came from Salusa Secundus would know. Then, to confirm his suspicions, my hands twitched in a Sardaukar code. “Report me to your superiors. I have my own mission.” 

“Pass,” the elite warrior turned TSA agent said, granting me entry to the city. A tattoo could be faked, but the code? The dogmatic loyalty that our home planet cultivated was so ironclad that I bet it was genuinely unthinkable for him that I was here on behalf of anyone but the Emperor. 

Arrakeen was a city at odds with itself, I found as I walked the sand-swept streets. Awnings covered the roads, offering shade, but they could do very little about the unrelenting heat. It was a city dancing on a knife's edge, everyone waiting for the next incident to happen -- blowing up a spice reserve, an assassination, or the tension finally boiling over to become a riot. Yet, at the same time, it was a city of hopeful opportunists that saw the great disruption as their chance to make it big. 

Most of them didn't understand the sheer scope of what had happened. They couldn't. They just knew that the demand for spice was higher than it had ever been before. It was lost on them that it was because the Spacer Guild, the organization that controlled all space travel, was in a mad scramble to find the Empire's missing planets. The disappearance of long-established major players in the spice and water trade and the collapse of one of the cornerstones of their society wasn’t a cause for concern -- it was simply an opportunity. 

Honestly, it was nothing but pure dumb luck that the Empire hadn't lost Arrakis for more than a month. 

The streets were filled with fast-moving crowds and rich scents of perfumes, oil, and spice. Merchants sold their wares, meager as they were -- because as desolate as Arrakis might be, this was still a thriving town with a population of some five hundred thousand, and a population of half a million demanded entertainment and amenities. Yet, there was an undeniable sense of poverty amongst the people. There was no one on the street corners begging, as any reduced to that point were dead soon after. Probably from dehydration. 

It was in the threadbare, ragged, loose clothing. Or the sunken eyes and cheeks that came from weeks or months of mild dehydration. Not enough to kill you, but enough that your body felt the effects. And, their presence selling items on the side of the streets was an indication enough. Those who were rich would hawk their wares inside a building, few of those there might be. 

I walked the length of the city, getting a feel for it. And to give those who would take notice of my arrival time to put a tail on me. “Whoever they are, they work quickly,” I mused with some amusement, aware of the three men who were following me. It was the dealer's choice on whose payroll they were on -- there were a lot of options. Could be Count Fenring. Could be the Harkonnens. Could be spies that still served House Atreides. Could also be common criminals. 

Like I said. A lot of options. 

The streets of Arrakeen were a grid with little in the way of back alleys, but it had initially been born as a garrison town so it was built with chokepoints in mind. It was a simple task of letting my feet carry me to one of them while I pretended to be unaware of those following me. Finding a side street that was depopulated enough, I walked down it before darting behind a stall. Whoever was following me, they really weren’t very good at it because they immediately fell for the easiest trick in the book and rushed to try and find me when they didn't see me after turning the corner. 

“Where-” I cut the leading man off by grabbing him by the head and slamming it against a wall with a wet ‘thunk.’ The other two reacted quickly, but I had the element of surprise, and I used it. Lashing out with a foot I caught one in the leg, kicking it out from beneath him before I met his falling face with a high knee that flattened his nose. A second knee took him out of the fight. 

By that point, the third had enough time to engage his shield. The air around him was covered in a shimmering haze, and with it, he was protected… but only from fast projectiles. He yanked out a dagger and lunged for me -- his form was half decent. He had obviously been trained. Just not well enough. 

The shield rippled as I blocked the thrust, flashing red when I broke through the final layer of it. Shields slowed objects that penetrated them, resisting all the more fiercely the faster the projectile was going. Being slowed was unavoidable when penetrating a shield, but you could work beneath the threshold to pierce it. A quick twist and a yank disarmed the man, with his dagger finding its way into my palm, but only for a short moment before I returned it by planting it into his shoulder. 

He gasped in pain. Rookie mistake. An elbow to his diaphragm destroyed his ability to breathe for the next couple of seconds, and with his diaphragm spasming and his lungs rebelling, I disabled his shield with a flick of a finger. His legs gave out from underneath him, as he gasped… “Come on. You’re alright. Just hold your breath for a second, and you’ll be as good as new. Minus the hole in your shoulder, of course. In my defense, you did try to stab me.” 

The sudden burst of violence hadn’t gone unnoticed, so I threw on what I hoped was a friendly smile to the small crowd of people that had been walking by and now openly stared. “Sorry for the interruption, folks. Go about your day. Nothing to see here,” I ushered them on with a gesture, and they didn’t need much more encouragement than that. Meanwhile, the rookie spy had managed to get a lungful of air. Good. He could use it to answer some of my questions. 

“So, I don’t suppose you’ll tell me who you’re working for?” I asked, dropping into a squat before the man. Dark brown eyes. Tan. Not too ugly but not too handsome either. The perfect face for a spy. “And, please, don’t say ‘they’ll kill me if I talk. Seriously. What do you think I’m going to do if you don’t?” I asked with a dramatic shake of my head. 

“I.. I don’t… I…” He stuttered and trailed off, his eyes wide with fright. 

I took a breath. “Well, you’re not Fremen. Don’t got the eyes for it, and I’ve heard that a single Fremen is worth fifty Sardaukar. Wouldn’t have won that fight if you were with them. You’re no Mentat assassin either, as you would have known that this would just be an elaborate form of suicide -- but, I can’t discount the possibility that you’re working for one.” My tone was light. Conversational. Casual. Completely at odds with the violence I had just inflicted. There was a part of me that still hated how natural such violence came to me in this life.

The man licked his lips, and he definitely wasn’t working with the Fremen. “I…” He started before his lips thinned, and he trailed off. His silence was an answer in itself. 

“Not going to talk? I can respect that,” I admitted, standing up. “It’s dumb as all hell, but I can respect it. Still, unfortunately for you, I can just get my answers another way.” With that, I reached out and grabbed a handful of his hair and looked to the merchant woman whose stall I had ducked into. Her eyes were wide, and there was fear shining in them when I turned my attention to her. 

But it was swiftly replaced with a gleam of greed when I tabled a solari -- the currency of the Empire. The Reverend Mother had been kind enough to give me some pocket change for occasions like this. “For the trouble. Also, would you be so kind as to point me in the direction of the nearest dingy bar? The kind where the real scum of the universe like to spend their free time and their ill gotten gains?” 

“Th-there’s the Salusan Bull, down the road on the left?” She tried, quickly snatching the solari and holding it to her chest as if I intended to take it from her. 

“Thank you,” I said, offering a dip of my head before I started walking, dragging my would-be assailant by the hair behind me. Much to his displeasure. He grasped at my hand, but that was a little difficult with a stab wound in one shoulder, and he needed to keep pressure on the wound. We made for quite a sight based on the number of people that turned to stare at us, but none interfered. 

They knew better. 

The Salusan Bull looked exactly what I imagined a dingy hole-in-the-wall bar on Arrakis would look like. Honestly, I admired that they were so blatant about it. They might as well hang up a sign that said ‘Beware -- Criminals inside.’ Passing through the front doors, I saw that the interior was about the same. A handful of sitting areas, hookas on display, and in the corner I saw a pair doing lines of space cocaine. I immediately became the center of attention for the odd few dozen people who were inside. 

All of them were rough and armed. So, I greeted them with a smile, “I don’t suppose any of you could direct me to the boss-ah, never mind. Found her,” I said, dragging the man through the bar as my gaze lifted up at a woman who leaned on a balcony. Her eyes and hair were dark, her face sculpted to be beautiful, and her expression was one of disguised interest. Dragging the guy up the stairs was bit of a hassle, largely because he wasn’t helping me, but I got him up there and I found the woman waiting for me. 

I knew exactly who she was. 

Elara Tuek.

Associate of Count Fenring, black market dealer, and a Mentat assassin. That last one came as a bit of a surprise, but I was certain of it -- even without a Mentat tattoo, I could recognize one with a glance. They all had the same look in their eyes. I could see her doing the calculations in her dark eyes, taking measure of me as I dropped the man at her feet. Her expression betrayed nothing before she looked down at the man, then back up at me before she raised a deliberate eyebrow. 

“Sorry for the mess,” I apologized first. “I’ll get a mop for the bloodstains on my way out. But, I’m new to the city and I wanted to know if this man was one of yours?”

“That’s quite the question to ask someone, especially during an introduction,” Elara remarked with a note of amusement coloring her tone. “I wouldn’t hire such third-rate trash,” she continued, and the man stiffened. 

“My lady, but-” He was cut off with my boot finding his neck, and with practiced ease, I snapped it with a twist of my foot. Elara didn’t react to the man’s death, who had been about to confirm that he worked for her. And thus, Count Fenring and the Emperor. 

I wasn’t surprised to find her based here instead of Harko Village, like she had been in Dune Awakenings. The situation on the ground was vastly different from what it had been in the game -- for starters, Carthag hadn’t been nuked by Duke Leto. The Empire controlled Arrakeen instead of House Atreides. I could guess at the reasoning, but the end result was that she was here and that was convenient for me. 

“Ah. My foot slipped. Right when he was about to unveil his employer,” I said, my voice as dry as Arrakis itself. Elara held my gaze for a moment before her lips upturned into a smile, and she inclined her head to me. 

“Such a shame, but accidents happen,” she replied, accepting the paper-thin excuse. It was convenient for us both. I knew she had sicced her people on me; she knew that I knew, and I knew that she knew that I knew. But, if I were to address the elephant in the room, then I would need to ask questions. Like ‘why did you have people follow me’ and ‘who do you work for?’ Which I knew she wouldn’t answer, so I’d either have to accept that I wouldn’t get answers or escalate. And given that she had a direct line to Count Fenring? 

That wasn’t a fight I wanted to pick. 

“Though,” she continued, her tone light as a feather. “I can understand why one would take an interest in a new arrival such as yourself. It’s not often that one is marked with Sardaukar tattoos without the armor. I even recognize the script, though I don’t know what it says.” She admitted, probing for weakness. Some hint as to what my intentions were, and to get data to map the profile of me that she was developing in her mind. 

“It’s a bawdy poem stanza. I don’t think it would be polite to translate it in such auspicious company,” I lied, offering a thin smile. 

“You didn’t deny that you are Sardaukar,” she observed, and there was interest leaking into her voice now. The conversation was developing as she wished. 

“Tattoos hardly make me Sardaukar. I could have gotten them done because of a bet,” I said, and her eyes narrowed a fraction. The words registered as truth to her because they were. It was just that the bet was that my friend had bet that he would die before me in Sardaukar training. He had, and he got to pick where my tattoos went. And the bastard went and picked my face. 

It was all the truth, and that’s what was throwing her off, however slightly. To her and the Empire's knowledge, there was no such thing as ex-Sardaukar. However, I had lied about what the stanza was and she knew that it was Salusa Secundus script -- a script that only Sardaukar used, which the Empire had taken great lengths to expunge any trace of outside of the planet it hailed from, all in the name of operational security. 

“I see. In that case, I’d recommend that you cover it, with so many of the Emperor’s hounds within the city,” Elara said, knowing that I was misleading her about something, but she didn’t know what and wasn’t going to press me yet. “I suppose introductions are in order then -- I am Elara Tuek, owner of this humble bar. You are?”

“Ah, it’s a bit embarrassing, but I was born without a name. It’s some kind of weird birth defect,” I said, and her eyes narrowed now. That too also registered as true. 

“How very unfortunate. We all have our burdens,” she replied blandly, not challenging the deflection. “If you cannot define yourself by a name, then perhaps an occupation or a goal?” Still probing and curious. To that, I inclined my head to her. 

“I’m something of a mercenary, and I’ve heard there's quite a bit of work to be found on Arrakis. It’s always been the most exciting place in the universe, and that’s only gotten more true over the past year,” I replied, and that gave her something to chew on. “As for a goal…” Ariste Atreides. The name nearly jumped off my tongue, but I swallowed it down. 

The compulsion was strong, but my will was stronger. I had been forged in the fires of Salusa Secundus, and I would not bow to the whims of some old woman. I would seek her out, that much was true -- but I would do so only because it fit my own goals. 

“I’m looking for someone. A Reverend Mother,” I said, and the words were true. The compulsion wasn’t something that I could shake off through normal means, so I would need an experienced hand at unraveling the one that had been branded into my subconscious. Though that required trusting someone to go rooting around in my head without uploading any of their own malware, and the Bene Gesserit weren't exactly known for being the most trustworthy bunch. 

That naturally came with the territory when you were a dedicated political order operating within the shadows who treated bloodlines like a garden to pluck and prune as needed. All in the hopes of creating a person who could perceive every possible future, in addition to the past, through their patriarchal and maternal ancestry. A god-like being that they intended to turn into their puppet to select the future for humanity that they desire. So, I’d use a lot of words to describe the Bene Gesserit but the word trustworthy wasn’t one of them. 

There were a few possibilities, provided that they had made the trip -- Jocasta Cleo, the advanced Bene Gesserit trainer in Dune Awakening, or Tessia Vernius, another member of the order on the run. And there was always Jessica, the wife of Duke Leto and mother of Ariste, but it didn’t seem like a good idea to get that close to the Atreides with my compulsion still in play. 

“Dangerous company,” Elara Tuek noted, analyzing that information. In the end, I was the one playing with a full hand. Metaknowledge came in handy like that. I knew a great deal more about her than she did me, and I knew who she was connected to in the shadows. In her eyes, I was a much grander mystery, but not necessarily a pressing one, and I was giving her the opportunity to observe me. 

“Birds of a feather,” I shrugged. “You strike me as someone who’s particularly well informed.” I broached the topic, and that got a curl of her lips. 

“I try to be, though you’ll find nothing on Arrakis comes for free,” she replied. This was an argument that she thought worked in her favor. And it did… it just worked in mine more. By coming to her she could feed her reports directly to the Count, and I wouldn’t have to find out the hard way if I had been compelled to kill myself the moment I saw his face like the protagonist in Dune Awakening had been. 

“So I shall,” I nodded, accepting that. We were in that awkward stage of getting to know each other in our relationship. The score was well known to me by this point -- I do a few jobs here and there, and so long as it didn’t conflict with any of her interests, she’d help me out in finding one of the elusive Bene Gesserit sisters. “I don’t suppose you could give me the lay of the land? I am a fresh migrant, after all.”

To that, Elara scoffed, “You can’t expect me to hold your hand.”

“Expect? No, but could we?” I asked, and I had to swallow a smile when the remark caught her off guard. The signs of it were barely there, just a blink of surprise and her lips parting but hesitating before she replied. 

“... No,” she shot me down flat. Oh well. 

Shrugging, I reached down and grabbed the corpse of the man I had killed. Wouldn’t do to litter, after all. “Shame. Well, if you ever have work or want to hold hands… I’m sure you’ll be able to find me,” I said, turning to leave. 

The thing about Mentats? They were smart. Smarter than smart. From birth, they were trained to think in a unique way so they could process impossible amounts of data in a split second. I hadn’t been trained as a Mentat. I wasn’t on that level. So since I couldn’t outsmart them, I just outstupided them instead. 

I left a genuinely baffled Elara in my wake as I headed for the door, only to be stopped before I crossed the threshold to leave the building entirely. Her gaze was burning a hole in my back the entire time before she spoke up, “If you don’t have a name, then what do I call you?” 

I gave it a moment of thought, pondering what would be a suitable name before I offered a shrug. 

“Just call me Artorias.”

… 

So, back when I was posting Conquest, it came up how it was a pure power fantasy, and if I were to take the story more seriously, then I would change a couple of things. This is the more serious version of Conquest -- it has the same basic premise. Countless settings were tossed into a single XXXXL-Galaxy, and now they’re fighting it out for supremacy. Only with this version, the Displacement happened a year ago instead of 1000. 

I’ve been playing a bit of Dune Awakening, so you can blame it for the Dune start. The game is surprisingly fun, even though it’s outside of my usual wheelhouse. That being said, the game is a point of inspiration rather than the core storyline I'm using on account that there is enough unknown about the main story that I don’t feel comfortable committing to it as an initial premise. 

The main story does a lot of interesting things and it changes the baseline of what Dune is as a result. Paul Atreides was born as Ariste Atreides as Jessica had a girl like she was supposed to, and the initial Harkonnen-Atreides conflict on Arrakis was due to House Atreides backing out of the betrothal with Feyd-Rautha when that psychopath ‘gifted’ her 50 slave heads as a bethrothal gift. 

But, in terms of the broader implications -- Ariste can't be the Kwisatz Haderach, the Bene Geserit wouldn't have prepped Arrakis for House Atreides' arrival by seeding the idea that she is the Lisan al-Ghaib since there wasn't a reason to, and she can't marry Irulan Corrino to become Emperor of the Padishah Empire. And, because Duke Leto and others didn't die, there's not that spark of drive that led Paul to commit to the Jihad if it meant getting revenge. So, that's a lot of deviations from canon that felt like they would be a lot of fun exploring, and give plenty of room for our protagonist.

The Dune arc should last about 10 chapters to cover the conflict over Arrakis. In a similar vein to Conquest, the Mc will be finding and incorporating planets into the empire -- after Dune, I think there would be a smaller jump to Fullmetal Alchemist to pick up a few characters and alchemy. Following that would probably be either Cyberpunk: Edgerunners, The Witcher, or Frieren. Haven't fully settled on anything yet, but I would like to stick to settings with a lower power ceiling and build upward. 

All the while, lurking in the distance, is an existential threat that the MC will have to race to get resources to face.