Heir of Tenebrae
Aurelian Sigismund arrived above Bastion in formal attire for official business for the first time in probably a decade. His grey eyes and stern face seemed like carved from bedrock as he stepped down the shuttle ramp that brought him here, the tall figure seeing a planet and surface he has defended, stood alongside its conquerors and has utilised as a place of earning and as strength. Bastion was capital of an ideal and realm that was now gone, left alive only as a phantom in the heads of those that would not let go of a past long gone.
He had moved on. He always did. It was not down to lacking loyalty, it was a mere trait someone as old as him was getting used to - nothing lasts. At least nothing that is touched by people of limited visions and petty ambitions.
The Vandemarian Techwrights had a large variety of businesses across the Galaxy and some of its major facilities, especially of the Olympian Armorsmiths subsidiary, were placed on Bastion and Taspir III - now in the hands of the emerging Diarchy. His eyes narrowed for a split heartbeat at the name. Another one. But a different one he had aligned himself with now. It had not yet reached across the entire Galaxy and he would make sure it did not so soon, but Aurelian was now an act.
An act yet to be decided to be maintained here or not. But this was business, not politics and he did not care too much for what the locals were now doing. They seemed more determined, more focused than the Lost and less of a wildcard than the majority of the Dark Empire. It was to be seen what would happen here.