BtH88

==Chapter 88 - By the Horns==
===Shadows of a Father===
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Shenanigan's Pub
Saso, New Syrtis
Federated Suns
March 12th, 3026
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It had been years since he had last been here, Morgan thought to himself as he sipped on a dark cold-brewed ale, but the place had changed little. Oh, the staff was differently—mostly, although the owner and head bartender, the grill chef in back as well, were the same ones he had met long ago. But the ambience? The décor? That and the clientele—mostly members of the New Syrtis Capellan March Militia and, Morgan winced as he looked up at the black wreathed shield on the wall bearing the unit emblem of the 6th​ Syrtis Fusiliers. All of that remained the same.
He had known that he would have been far out of place here in the uniform of the Davion Heavy Guards RCT that he was entitled to wear, so tonight, he was dressed in civilian attire.
He took another sip and shook his head. Coming home had been hard—but it had good to see Mother again, even if it was under these circumstances. The mess that his father had created, and Morgan sighed, the splatter was even now still falling and much of it had coated one Morgan Hasek-Davion with heightened suspicion and questions about his own loyalty both to the Federated Suns and the person of First Prince Hanse Davion.
Because of that, he felt the chilly stares of his fellow MechWarriors and officers of the Davion Heavy Guards—although Marshal Ardan Sortek had sat down with him and assured him that neither he nor the rest of the Heavy Guards command had any doubt in the young man.
Morgan had appreciated that gesture, but it didn't stop the feeling that most of the men and women under his command would be happy to see him transferred out—to any unit but theirs. And having to attend the funeral of his late father—minus the body which had been reduced to ash in some Taurian desert on New Vallis—and be confirmed as the Duke of New Syrtis had only magnified the gulf between Morgan and the people he nominally led.
He sighed as he took another sip. These long, cold days on New Syrtis since the Heavy Guards landed had shown him yet another ugly truth—New Syrtis itself was no longer his home. Not anymore. He didn't fit in here; he didn't fit in on New Avalon; he wasn't really certain that he fit anywhere anymore.
He heard the scrape of a chair leg on the plasticrete floor and he looked up—three men were there and one sat down with Morgan at the isolated table furthest away from the small crowd clustered about the bar—and the three very lovely, very scantily clad bartenders serving drinks. The other two remained standing.
"Mind if we join you, friend?" The man sitting down asked.
"If I said yes, I do mind, would you leave?"
"Now, that is not very nice. You're him, aren't you?" the man asked with a smile. "Michael's boy, all grown up."
Morgan sat his ale down and he glared across the table. "I don't know you, friend," he snarled. "I don't believe that I want to know you."
The man sitting down looked up at each of his companions and he laughed. "He's got the Hasek temperament, at least."
"Who are you?" Morgan asked in a strained voice as his muscles tensed.
"Just friends of the family, Your Grace," the man answered. "Letting you know that we don't believe a word of the lies being spread about Duke Michael. And like us, that there are men and women throughout the March who are willing to follow you."
Morgan released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and he stood. "They are not lies; I have seen the intelligence briefs and the debriefing of the survivors of the Sixth. My father was a traitor to the Federated Suns—and I want nothing to do with him. Or you."
"Suit yourself," the man said as he stood. "But you aren't a Davion—not really. Your mother was illegitimate, you will never really be the heir to Hanse Davion. You are a Hasek—and the throne should be yours."
The young man glared at the three men for a moment and then he leaned forward and put both hands on the table. "I will say this once and only once—what treason you decide to contemplate is your business, but me and my House we will stand firmly and truly behind First Prince Hanse Davion. And if you mention my mother again, I am going to send you to the hospital." he growled.
One of the two men standing began to reach inside his jacket with one hand and Morgan tensed . . . but the man sitting down spoke up. "No. He isn't drawing a weapon, Your Grace." he said as he stood and the man finished reaching into his jacket pocket and put a card on the table. "Call this number if you change your mind."
And then the three left, leaving Morgan there with the card.
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===Test of Loyalty===
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The Obsidian Fortress
Saso, New Syrtis
Federated Suns
March 13th, 3026
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"Morgan came straight to me after he returned to base last night," Ardan informed Quintus and Hanse. "With that card and he told me everything that happened." He paused and he sighed. "I know we have problems out here in the March, but this?" 
Hanse smiled. "You owe me fifty pounds, Quintus," he said quietly.
"A sum that I am glad to have lost, my Prince," the intelligence minister answered.
Ardan's head snapped up and he just glared at the two men sitting there. "You set this up? To test Morgan's loyalty?"
"We did," Hanse answered. "I have to be certain he can trusted, Ardan—and while you do not approve of the method, I am pleased with the result."
"If it makes you feel better, Marshal Sortek," added Quintus, "I am the one who suggested it to the First Prince."
"But I gave you the go-ahead, Quintus," Hanse interjected. "I have to know, Ardan. He is my heir-designate—I have to know I can trust this man."
Ardan shook his head, but after almost two minutes, he nodded. "I don't like it, Hanse," he said softly. "But, at least he passed your test."
"This test," said Quintus. "There will be others. We have to be sure about the man."
"I am already sure—and I know him better than the two of you!" snapped Ardan.
Hanse sighed. "And you are a good judge of character, I'll grant you that, my friend. But I can't leave someone with Michael's temperament one heart-beat away from the Throne of the First Prince—I can't. So, I need to be certain he is not the same as Michael. And like you said, he passed this test."
"So what now?" Ardan asked. "Another set-up? Someone asking him to hop-skip-and-jump across the border to get in bed with Maximilian Liao?"
"Nothing like that," Quintus said as Hanse smiled. "We are going to . . . acquaint Morgan with someone that will appeal to him. Become his friend. Become his confidant. Perhaps even his lover, who knows?"
Ardan sputtered. "And she will be giving you reports?"
"Who said it is a she?" Quintus asked with a sudden grin, and then he grew serious. "Yes, the agent in question will be reporting to me."
"I do not like . . .," Ardan began, but Hanse interrupted him.
". . . like this. Yes, Ardan, we get it. We understand. But it is necessary. Until I know, he remains in his current post—and you cannot warn him that this was a test or that other tests of his loyalty are coming. Can you do that?"
Ardan stood there for a moment and then he slowly nodded. "I can. I don't . . ."
". . . like it," Quintus and Hanse said at the same moment, and Ardan blushed. "But I will do it."
"Good," Hanse answered simply as he stood. "Now, I've got some time on the 'Mech range scheduled—care to join me?"
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