The Antipapal Crusade was brought to an end sixty-and-nine years ago, following the surrender of Ua-Menlir and subsequent forfeiture of his holdings. His accomplice, the Antipope Al-Arsim, was arrested a year later by the Church. The Lords of the Congregation convened with the Church to determine the False Warlord's sentence. Ua-Menlir was delivered twenty-and-one deaths and forevermore branded Heretic. Al-Arsim remains confined to her cathedral. The Warlord Nosi, despite the injustices he dealt during his rule, was permitted by the Congregation to hold his seat as Warlord until his term's expiration. He was forced by the Congregation to relinquish the territories acquired during his rule, and the Church declared Nosi the Last of his bloodline. 

Now, Ugar quarrels with his brother-lord Zisuthra, seeking to make him appear no longer able to rule as Warlord. The Congregation nears another election period, and Zisuthra holds presently holds his brother-lords favor. However, that favor is waning and Warlord Zisuthra may not be able to earn a second term.

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Ua-Menlir presided over his palace, surrounded by Clerics and Chieftains. It was a small moon, with vast corridors and grand halls carved out. Boreholes extend down from the surface to the core, which has been hollowed out and capped with lenses.  Buried somewhere in the bowels of the moon is a small nuclear reactor, powering the life support and equipment of the palace tirelessly.

The Heretic's attention was on the star charts projected on the wall on the far end of the room. His court rattled off information he already knew, acting as though their advice held meaning to him. He growled to himself as he silently went through the options again.

The charts were abstract, just a cluster of variously colored dots connected with labelled lines. Each dot represented a star system, and the lines connected systems that were nearest to each other and marked with the actual distance between them. The difficulties of mapping a three-dimensional space in a two-dimensional format are resolved quickly when the void lacks terrain. Nearest to Ua-Menlir's single stellar holding were Nosi the Last's two territories, marked in blue. The chain of lines went on to connect every Lord's territories, increasingly further away from Ua-Menlir's palace. What interested the Heretic, however, was the series of white dots chained together in the opposite direction, away from the Congregation. The xenos.

Despite being a border-state to the aliens, Ua-Menlir had little contact with them. His ambitions had always been directed inward, toward his brothers' lands. But he realized, in the wake of his defeat, that he could not win dominion over his brothers without expanding outward first. The Battle at the Testament of Al-Sa was nearly seven decades passed, but the lessons learned there were still fresh in the Heretic Lord's mind.

"--however, we can't know their strength without several sorties into their territory. We have projected the potential losses in a number of scenarios and we believe you m--"

"The Clerics are excused and bidden farewell. God bless them. Chief Timesi, prepare my fleet."

"What vessels, my Lord?"

"All that can be made ready before my flagship is."

"My Lord." The Clerics and Chieftains filed out, with Timesi bringing up the rear.

The Lord growled to himself and made his way to another hatch. The airlock sealed behind him, and he stepped out into the center of the room before bidding the blast shutters opened.

From his personal observation deck, he looked out at the orbital factories. They were tiny at this distance, nearly invisible if not for the planetshine of the world below revealing their massive ribs. And if he watched long enough, he could make out a glimmering sliver among them as the sun started to creep out from behind his world. The Heretic rumbled satisfactorily as the light reflected off his flagship's hull.

First, the xenos would bend or break.

Then, his brothers.