Inside the ship where Augustus and the others were, an automated announcer—linked to the signal control tower—was explaining Tarsonis's history to the passengers in a smooth, precise, and utterly emotionless voice. But the moment Raynor, still groggy from the disorientation of exiting hyperspace, turned the volume down, the sound of Harnack and Josephine munching on fava beans immediately drowned out the mechanical drone.
"This place is fucking huge," Harnack remarked.
"Compared to Tarsonis, Styrling is just a baby," Josephine added. "And your hometown, Shiloh? Tch. It's just a puddle of filth in the galaxy's trash heap."
"Hey, man. I can't pretend I didn't hear that," Raynor said, perking up slightly.
Back when he was still on Shiloh, Raynor had spent a long time trying to convince his father to step away from farm work. It had taken an official bonus payout to finally get his parents to agree to spend even a small portion of the money on improving their quality of life—a process that had left Raynor thoroughly drained, both mentally and physically.
"This really is the holy land of humanity! I heard from 'No-Legs George'—the bartender back at the fleet bar—that the most beautiful women in the world are all here. Hopefully prices aren't too high, or I'll be broke again in no time," Tychus said enthusiastically, staring out the window at the endless highways and skyscrapers of Tarsonis City.
"Oh, that reminds me—Boss Mengsk, can you lend me a bit of cash?"
"What do you mean you're out of money again? You had tens of millions," Augustus replied, uncharacteristically shocked.
"How many girls did you hire in one night? Eight? Ten? Are you some kind of animal?"
"Not that many. You know how it is," Tychus mumbled vaguely.
Tychus Findlay loved money—but he wasn't a miser or a penny-pincher. He loved to spend it, to enjoy it. Women, liquor, cigars—that's where his money went.
"Boss, you have no idea what kind of ridiculous shit Tychus got up to while you were away on Meinhoff," Josephine said, seated beside Augustus. "Imported cigars, each one rolled on the thighs of chocolate-skinned beauties—goes for about a thousand credits per stick. A single box could buy me a new pair of pants. And he bought an entire truckload of them."
"Tychus also loves stuffing cash straight into girls' cleavage the moment he sees them. Cases upon cases of 2421 vintage Queen Estate Port wine—just pocket change to him. Every night, he insists on booking the top girls. Hell, he rents out the entire strip club. Has dozens of women dance naked around him in pools filled with fine liquor. Honestly, only another man could possibly satisfy him."
"You're just jealous, you dickless bastard," Tychus snapped, eyes narrowing at Josephine.
"Alright, that's enough," said Augustus, cutting Josephine off. "Keep it up and Tychus is going to drag you into the shower with him one of these days."
"Don't tell me, Tychus—did you blow through all your money again?" Augustus asked. "I know you skimmed quite a bit off the crystal sale. Even so, money doesn't last forever."
"I'm not reckless," Tychus said casually. "But hey, you never know when a little accident might happen."
"Well then," Augustus replied, "if you ever run short, just come to me. I promise—what I have at my disposal is more than enough to let you live whatever kind of life you want. The catch is—"
"The catch is that I have to be worth the price," Tychus interrupted with a smirk. "Look, maybe you think ol' Tychus is just a bastard, but for the right amount of cash, I'd blow up Tarsonis myself."
"You make me sound like a villain," Augustus said with a laugh. "I don't need you to destroy the world."
By now, the ship carrying them had reached the central district of Tarsonis City. The number of skyscrapers around them increased as the vessel weaved through the clouds. Red beams from anti-air identification systems crisscrossed beneath the ship, scanning it from below.
Up ahead, Augustus spotted several colossal structures far taller than any ordinary skyscraper. These massive buildings—known as Sky Towers—stood like giants watching over the city. Each one belonged to a powerful Old Family.
Augustus could already see nearly ten Sky Towers. They each displayed unique architectural styles: some were Gothic black spires, others grandiose Baroque palaces, while a few were bizarre—resembling giant slabs of transparent crystal or stern, angular black steel fortresses.
These distinctive designs reflected the tastes of their respective Old Families, as well as the industries those families specialized in.
On the surface of these towers, Augustus spotted ornate letters spelling out the surnames of each family: Kusinis, Duke, Terra, Calabas, d'Arbanville, Bennett...
Soon, the ship began its descent. No civilian or military craft was allowed to fly directly over any Sky Tower owned by an Old Family, so Augustus and the members of Heaven's Devils would need to take ground transport to reach the Tygore family's Sky Tower, where they were expected to attend the birthday banquet of the family's matriarch, Andrea Tygore.
"Will the other Old Families be attending as well?" Lisa Cassidy asked as they disembarked and boarded a hover shuttle that sped down a wide avenue toward the Tygore Sky Tower.
"Yes," Augustus replied. "Unless they want to sever ties with the Tygore family. Each family will send one or two representatives. The closer ones might send more."
"So, we're going to be surrounded by beautiful noble ladies?" Lisa asked again.
"That's right," Augustus nodded, "but don't get too excited. I probably won't be able to bring all of you inside."
"But you'll be allowed to stay in the guest hall set aside for regular attendees."
A chorus of disappointed groans erupted from around them—Tychus's was the loudest.
...
The Tygore Family's Sky Tower was the tallest building in Tarsonis City, with more than 150 floors—towering even above the Kusinis Sky Tower. Compared to it, the Mengsk Family's Sky Tower looked like a mere shrub at the feet of a giant.
This magnificent structure was also the very first skyscraper in Tarsonis. Its initial construction materials came from the colonial mothership that had brought the Terran ancestors to this planet. Rumors claimed that the mothership's primary engine still lay buried beneath the Tygore Sky Tower, pumping out fuel and electricity like the beating heart of a great dragon named Tarsonis.
"Chin up, Jim. Don't go thinking of yourself as some clueless country bumpkin. Walk in with confidence."
Augustus stood before the bronzed gates of the Tygore Sky Tower, speaking to Jim Raynor, who was about to follow him into the red-carpeted Aviary Hall.
At the entrance stood about twenty private security guards, armed Marines, and formally dressed attendants checking invitations.
"Oh, I'm confident," Raynor muttered, repeatedly adjusting his expensive white silk tie. But the rented tailcoat still felt a bit tight. No matter what anyone said, Raynor couldn't shake the feeling that he looked like an overfed penguin.
Because Augustus had been informed at the last minute that only one Heaven's Devils officer could accompany him to the banquet, Raynor—being a Sergeant—had won the lottery.
"But this damned suit is gonna strangle me," he grumbled.
Originally, Augustus and Raynor were supposed to wear their formal military uniforms adorned with medals and ceremonial sashes. But the Tygore family's steward had informed them that the lady of the house did not wish to see a crowd of soldiers at her birthday banquet. To attend, they had to dress like nobles.
And it wasn't just Heaven's Devils—many noble officers and generals who had performed brilliantly during the Guild Wars were also invited. Photos of them standing alongside members of the Old Families would appear in major newspapers and on IAA holo-screens that very day.
Perhaps, Augustus speculated, the media would do a bit of post-editing—perhaps digitally dressing them back up in uniform with a few quick tricks.
"Why didn't you get that 'tailor' to make some adjustments?" Augustus laughed as he walked ahead.
"What, so you could watch my belly button pop out?" Raynor snapped, following indignantly.
Augustus handed over a lavishly decorated invitation, and only after undergoing a thorough security check—including a retinal scan—were they allowed inside the grand hall.
To emphasize the distinction between old nobility and nouveau riche upstarts, the Tygore Family still clung to the courtly etiquette of Earth's 17th to 19th century French aristocracy—regulations that, to Raynor, seemed utterly absurd.
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