The afternoon light spilled over the dunes of Arrakis like a golden blanket. From the black stone towers of the new Imperial Palace on Arrakeen, the endless desert horizon could be seen, that fiery vastness that had shaped the destiny of the Atreides.
In the heart of the fortress, Paul Muad'Dib Atreides walked silently through the newly carved basalt corridors, his hands clasped behind his back. Beside him, Stilgar strode forward, his Fremen cloak swaying with every movement. Behind them, Gurney Halleck and Jessica argued in low voices.
The walls were decorated with tapestries woven by the Sietch tribes, depicting scenes from the battle against the Sardaukar. The floor slabs bore inscriptions of water and sand, a fusion of the sacred and the conquered.
Paul paused by a window and looked westward, where the cliffs of Carthag rose.
"There's a murmur in the Guild," Stilgar said quietly. "Ships missing. Orbital stations silent. There's talk of a world… Garsuun."
Jessica tilted her head.
"Garsuun was ruled by a lesser house. Farmers and minerals. Of no political relevance."
"Now it seems to have a new master," Gurney chimed in. "One uninterested in treaties."
Paul didn't speak. But his mind was already connecting names, faces, and visions. Kael's message, the forbidden name, had left an invisible scar on the court.
Imperial Council Chamber
The former Harkonnen Audience Hall had been transformed. Where skulls and weapons had once hung, there were now flagons of sacred water and star charts.
Representatives of the Landsraad, now forced to reside on Arrakis for at least part of the cycle, sat on semicircular benches. In the center, Paul stood like an emperor. To his left, Princess Irulan, her face expressionless. To her right, Chani, whose blue eyes watched each noble like a silent predator.
An emissary from Bilar Prime, a distant system, was led to the center of the room. His face was drawn. His ship showed signs of combat, though he claimed to have faced no resistance.
"Your Majesty," the emissary said, bowing respectfully, "I bring news from the outer fringes. The world of Garsuun has been... transformed. Not by war, but by technologies that defied our scanners. Where there was dust and ruins, there are gardens. Where there were villages, there are towers."
Paul frowned.
"And its ruler?"
The man swallowed.
"He calls himself Kael Atreides."
A murmur rippled through the room. Paul closed his eyes briefly. Chani clenched her fists. Jessica turned slightly toward Stilgar.
"Garsuun isn't a military objective. Why would you take it?" Irulan asked, though her voice trembled.
The emissary held up a data disk.
"They left this. A message for you."
Paul took it. He inserted it into the throne's holographic reader.
Kael appeared again. This time he spoke not with threat, but with... certainty.
"I didn't need ships to conquer. Only land. Only the future. While you signed treaties, I sowed realities. This is just the first. Bilar, Liradon, Vellum... they will fall without a shot. Not because they fear my power. But because they desire what I offer."
The hologram dissolved.
Stilgar whispered,
"He's building a parallel empire."
In Liradon's orbit
Kael observed the planet from the bridge of his flagship, The Silent Crown. Beside him, Maelren projected terrain readings. The ancient cities had been rebuilt in 23 hours. The terraforming wasn't aggressive, but integrated: the planet's resources absorbed, adapted, repurposed.
Before him, the planetary governor of Liradon, an old man in ceremonial robes, stood trembling on a presentation platform.
"My people... are not armed. We cannot oppose them. But if you are to take them... allow me to keep my language, my rituals."
Kael looked at him for a long moment. Then he nodded.
"Language is not an obstacle. As long as you understand one thing:"
He bowed slightly.
"That the future has my face."