The Knights of Malta

[Jihadjoe]

Arsenio Zavala stood in the window of his city apartment in the capital city on Malta. He wasn't a city man, his home was his estate in the southern hemisphere near the town of Corleone. The wealth and land Juan Zavala had inherited from his adopted father and subsequently passed on to Arsenio was a comforting thought.

Arsenio's father Juan had been a lucky man. Found floating unconcious in an escape pod in Omicron Eta near the eastern end of the minefield aged twelve by the man he would later call Padre Almoldo. Almoldo Zavala had been a don of some considerable influence, and this had been passed to Juan upon the man's demise. Rare for someone who's true ancestry was unknown.

Juan Zavala had lived the life of a Don of Malta, taking the Zavala seat in the Council as a Reaper representative and then passing it on to his true-born son Arsenio when Juan left with the Reapers to find their new home in the Omegas.

There was a knock on his door. "Don Zavala?"

Arsenio laughed "Silvano, we've known each other long enough now, si? That title hardly matters any more anyway..."

"It's time. They're waiting."

Arsenio nodded, straightened the ceremonial Maltese naval service admiral's uniform he wore on such occasions and walked to the door.

"They're a tough crowd Arsenio... And a few might be angry about... Well. You know."

"Easier than the old council."

"Maybe..."

The two men stood in silence as the elevator took them to the ground floor. Arsenio paused before walking into the building's foyer. A hundred or more people were waiting there, a narrow path between them leading out of the main doors of the building to the raised platform outside. He glanced at Silvano and walked confidently towards his stage.

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