Chapter 37 — Life Beneath a Thousand Suns
☕ A Morning on Mars
The sun rose faintly blue over Nova Albion, its light filtered through the terraforming haze.
Steam curled from the cup in Edward's hands — Martian-grown coffee, brewed from experimental soil farms.
He sat on a balcony of transparent alloy, overlooking the crimson valley below.
Workers moved along silver tram lines, children in white uniforms ran to the Academy of Innovation, and banners bearing the golden gear fluttered gently in the recycled breeze.
Lady Charlotte Pembroke emerged from the terrace door, her formal robes traded for a casual blue dress.
"You're up early again," she said, smiling softly.
"Habit," Edward replied. "Old kings used to rise before dawn to inspect their fortresses. I do the same… though my fortress is the sky itself."
Charlotte laughed, setting down a plate of fresh fruit.
"Except your 'fortress' serves tea and holds garden festivals."
"A better kind of empire, don't you think?"
🌕 Echoes from the Moon
Later that day, Edward joined a holoconference with the Lunar Sanctum — a serene hall of white marble and crystal domes, where monks discussed both theology and thermodynamics.
Annabelle Hayes appeared first, her hologram flickering into focus.
She was smudged with grease and smiling brightly.
"We've finished the first generation of mana-electric flight pods!"
"Meaning?" Edward asked.
"Meaning the Moon now has… taxis!" she declared triumphantly.
From behind her, a monk groaned, "And noise! So much noise!"
Everyone laughed — even Evelyn, who rarely smiled during briefings.
The meeting ended not with reports, but with laughter — and a shared sense that the future wasn't just grand and shining, but alive.
🏫 Afternoon in the Academy
Edward spent the afternoon walking through the Celestial Academy, where children of Earth, Moon, and Mars studied together.
He stopped beside a group of students tinkering with a floating crystal drone.
"What are you building?" he asked.
A girl in a silver uniform replied shyly,
"A music orb, Your Majesty. It translates light into melody."
The drone pulsed — and soft notes of aetheric harmony filled the corridor.
Edward smiled. "Beautiful. You've created something the stars themselves would envy."
As he left, one of the teachers whispered to another:
"Imagine — the Prince of Britain teaching children how to play with light."
🌇 Evening Reflections
At dusk, the domes of Nova Albion shimmered like glass lanterns against the red horizon.
Edward gathered his companions — Charlotte, Annabelle, Evelyn, and the other close members of his circle — for dinner atop the observatory spire.
They spoke not of politics or expansion, but of small things: recipes, new books, funny mishaps in laboratories, even gossip about an upcoming festival on Luna.
Annabelle leaned forward, smiling.
"Do you ever think we've gone too far, Edward?"
"Every day," he said honestly. "But then I see a child running beneath two suns, laughing… and I realize that maybe, this is exactly how far we were meant to go."
Charlotte lifted her glass.
"To the dream that keeps us moving."
"And to the people who make it worth dreaming," Edward replied.
They clinked glasses — the sound echoing like a soft bell through the tranquil night.
🌠 Night on the Crimson Plains
When everyone had gone, Edward stood alone beneath the stars.
Mars' first wind brushed his coat — faint, cool, real.
He looked up at the twin lights of Luna and Earth shining together, and thought of all the worlds still waiting in silence.
"Perhaps one day," he whispered, "we'll plant gardens even among the stars themselves."
The wind carried his words away, mingling them with the hum of the terraforming spires and the laughter of children in the distance.
For the first time in centuries, humanity's footsteps on foreign soil were not echoes of conquest — but of home.
End of Chapter 37