lazarus. feyd rautha

chapter four: happy birthday

GIEDI PRIME, HARKO, 10,191

The crowd filling the triangular arena were restless, cheering ceaselessly with fanatic energy the name of their idol: Feyd-Rautha.

His name was chanted in unison like a battle cry. It could have been the official Harkonnen house words.

She questioned why the Baron had not made use of this worship by naming Feyd-Rautha heir. Such devotion seemed wasted, and a people drawn in by love was almost always more effective than fear alone. The trick as a leader was to balance fear with affection rather than indifference. When subjects obey under the threat of punishment, all they have to lose is their lives, but under the impression of mutual loyalty, of genuine community, the subject can imagine the infinite possible rewards that may be bestowed upon them if they do their duty. Rise in rank, marriage prospects, even simple recognition was enough. In untimely death that loyalty would not wither, but grow stronger. Martyrdom created a passion that would rally Giedi Prime forces for millennia to come.

She was seated in the golden box with the Count Hasimir Fenring and his lady. Margot was her Sister Superior, a formidable member of the Bene Gesserit who had already completed her duty in securing the Count's bloodline, producing one daughter just after they were wed. The Reverend Mother didn't show affection often, but it was clear to the school that Margot was one of the girls who had her favour, perhaps because she never allowed herself to become distracted from their goal.

The Baron, seated in the centre of the box next to the Count, did not go unnoticed for one second. His presence was overbearing, like coming back home to notice the horrible smell from food accidentally left out to rot. He hadn't paid her any mind yet, too engrossed in his conversation with the Count.

The audience erupted with screams louder than before, ferocious. Anastacia peered down to the white pit below where a man in black walked to the centre of the arena for all to see.

So that was him.

How pasty his head is, she thought. A majority of the audience members were also without hair, though not all. She wondered if it was a genetic factor or just a cultural aspect. It was never touched upon in any of her lessons about the House Major bloodlines.

She noticed he held two blades, one short and clasped in a white gloved hand and the other long in a black gloved hand. Margot leaned to her slide slightly, her voice was smooth as silk, naturally hypnotic without any technique behind it. "White for poison, black for purity," the Lady Fenring said. "A curious custom, don't you think, Anastacia?" But this she already knew from her studies.

She turned to her with a relaxed face, though she was surprised Margot remembered her name, they didn't know each other well.

"It's certainly exciting," she replied.

In the gladiator pit, the young Harkonnen gave the traditional salute holding his knives up to the unyielding sun. The musicians begin to play their piece. Feyd-Rautha approached the golden box and caught the ceremonial keys tossed down. The music stopped abruptly fro dramatic affect, the entire audience waiting for their champion's word.

In the tense silence he raised the key and shouted, "I dedicate this truth to..." there was a pause, a smirk on his face. "To my uncle and patron, the Baron Vladimir Harkonnen!"

The music resumed, drums beating steadily, filling the arena with anticipation.

Six handlers entered the arena and stood in a wide circle around Feyd. Covered completely in black skintight attire, faceless, with large horns stretching out horizontally from both sides of the head. They carried skinny long blades similar to a fencing foil. She recalled they were used as assistants during these fights, like a shepard keeping sheep within a boundary, these servants kept Feyd's opponents from gaining too much distance.