"Oh—you should count yourself lucky there aren’t any Confederate agents or parliantary secret police here. Otherwise, that speech of yours would’ve branded you a terrorist and a rebel." Judge Ida then gestured for Augustus to sit.
"Please, have a seat, Mr. Caesar. That surna must co from ancient Earth—I’ve read many books on historical figures." Ida, now pleased with Augustus’s resu and manner of speech, had clearly dropped his earlier guarded attitude.
Most fugitives wandering around Mar Sara could only buy fake identities from friends or gray market brokers, but those always fell apart under the scrutiny of a database check.
"If I’m not mistaken, Caesar is a noble na—Emperor Caesar ca from that very lineage."
"Indeed. My father always wished for to beco an emperor before he passed. It was his life’s greatest regret." Augustus chuckled softly, a trace of dry humor in his voice.
Judge Ida let out a short breath, his expression shifting back to business.
"Hmm... I suppose I should give it so thought," he said at last.
The words made Augustus frown slightly.
But before the mont could stretch, Ida continued: "You graduated from the Tarsonis Police Academy. That ets the minimum requirent to beco a law officer."
"You’re a Confederate citizen, your health report checks out, no overdue loans, good credit history, no drug use."
Judge Ida listed the basic requirents for becoming a police officer, one by one. Of course, even if soone didn’t et those criteria—even a criminal—they could still beco an officer, as long as they had a friend in the court and enough money to buy a pardon.
"Given your outstanding service record, I can file for a special exemption and promote you directly to Marshal, skipping over both deputy and sheriff ranks."
Then, Judge Ida added: "But you need to understand—your direct superior is technically the Magistrate of Hinterland, not . I’m just a judge from Echo Town’s court. I’m recruiting you under the authority of the Magistrate, so we’re not officially in the sa chain of command."
His tone had softened.
"We’ll still need to help each other out. The relationship between a judge and a marshal on Mar Sara is like the symbiosis between bramble and moth—mutually beneficial. I handle court cases; your job is to bring them in. After trial, the convicts go straight to El Indio Prison."
A Marshal is the highest law enforcent authority across one or several nearby towns. They report directly to a Sheriff, and their main duty is to maintain local order. In so cases, they can even enact laws tailored to the colony’s specific needs, as long as these laws align with the Confederate Constitution and current colonial legislation.
In more remote parts of Mar Sara where only one sheriff is stationed, their role effectively becos that of a marshal. On fringe colonies even farther from the Core Worlds, the sheriff is the marshal. Functionally, it’s the sa job.
A Magistrate is the highest civil authority of a region—the one who enacts and enforces the law. Marshals like Augustus serve under them as enforcers. In places like Mar Sara, marshals often carry heavier responsibilities. Many sheriffs riding Vultures and enforcing the law alone are the closest thing to true frontier cowboys.
These practical, decentralized systems were a legacy of the Confederacy’s early era of pioneering expansion. During the seventy years known to later generations as the Great Colonial Era, the Confederate Parliant—then still led by visionary and enterprising leaders—granted the fringe colonies considerable freedoms. It was during this ti that the Koprulu Sector saw the rise of its most expansive and powerful human governnt.
But as the dynastic families solidified their monopoly-capitalist rule, and Parliant slipped into corruption and decay, many of the policies that once favored colonial growth were dismantled. Power was re-centralized. Colonists beca exploited—practically enslaved.
All across the Terran Confederacy, people longed for the golden age of a century ago—an era now rembered only in the mythologized ballads sung at the Tarsonis Opera House.
"Everything else checks out. You’ll need a fixed residence—doesn’t matter if it’s mortgaged or rented—just so long as you can clock in and out on ti. We can move forward with onboarding and get your contract signed," Judge Ida concluded.
"The probation period lasts one month. I don’t care if you’re a barbarian from Agria or a rchant from Hers—if you can’t do the job of a marshal, I’ll kick your ass straight out of here. Got it?"
"That ti will never co."
Augustus’s confident and unwavering expression made Judge Ida’s scowl fade into a smile.
"Good." Ida nodded.
"At the earliest, you’ll be able to pick up your uniform, badge, and marshal’s insignia from the Echo Town precinct in one standard Earth week."
"You’re also authorized to recruit up to two sheriffs and any number of deputies that the town’s allocated payroll can afford. We’re severely understaffed."
"Has this always been a problem, or is it sothing recent?" Augustus asked.
"It’s always been like this. Not many people want to chase bandits and murderers across the desert for pocket change. Everyone here’s ard—even the kids who don’t look threatening are nothing to ss with."
"To be honest, after over a month without a single applicant for marshal or even sheriff, I couldn’t bring myself to turn you down."
Ida exhaled, visibly relieved.
"Looks like you’ve only just arrived in Echo Town. To be frank, I was worried you couldn’t handle the rough folks of Mar Sara."
"I’m a reasonable man."
Augustus drew a revolver from his coat pocket.
"But if they want to challenge the authority of a Confederate marshal, they’d better pray they can outrun my Vulture and my bullets."
"One more thing," Augustus added.
"What happens if I hire more officers than the town can afford to pay?"
"If you can cover their salaries out of pocket—or if they’re willing to take a pay cut just to work with you—that’s all acceptable," Judge Ida said after a brief pause.
"Worried about the gangs?" he added.
"Then you might consider applying for a colonial militia charter."
"Understood."
A smile broke across Augustus’s bearded face.
This was exactly why he had agreed to beco a marshal.
Barring any surprises, this position would grant him considerable authority—an ideal tool for expanding his control over Hinterland and spreading the ideals of the Revolutionary Army. His ssage would target workers, farrs, and the newly risen nobility born from the industrial boom.
But marshal wasn’t Augustus’s final goal.
If things went according to plan, and he could remain on Mar Sara for a while, he intended to extend his reach far beyond this single town.
Even though Augustus had officially enlisted as a marshal of Mar Sara, he never planned to stay on this planet long.
The Revolutionary Army fleet was, after all, a rogue force wandering in exile.
If discovered, the Confederate Navy would descend on them from across the Koprulu Sector to crush them with overwhelming force.
This reality shaped the strategy:
While the revolution desperately needed a ho base, the fleet had to relocate from planet to planet at regular intervals.
At each new location, the Revolutionary Army would leave behind a contingent of Pan-Terran Party operatives and soldiers to establish hidden bases and depart with newly recruited locals.
Those left behind would form planetary guerrilla cells—spreading revolutionary ideology, recruiting fresh mbers, and training the next generation of fighters.
In the remaining three months of 2489, Augustus planned to rest and regroup on Mar Sara, building up so wealth by mining crystal deposits. By 2490, his next move would take him to the Kel-Morian Combine to replenish his fleet.
Roughly 4,000 Revolutionary Army soldiers, disguised as miners, were scattered across Mar Sara’s planetary surface. They relied entirely on Echo Town’s market for food and basic supplies. anwhile, in orbit, the Revolutionary Army fleet—aside from the six warships that Warfield had already taken to Umoja—still maintained eight vessels carrying approximately 40,000 troops.
The battlecruisers lacked self-sustaining ecosystems, food synthesizers, or hydroponic farms. This ant that every two to three months, Augustus’s quartermasters were forced to purchase supplies from cities across Mar Sara. But with Confederate fleets actively sweeping Confederate territory for signs of the revolutionaries, such massive food orders were bound to attract suspicion eventually.
For now, the quartermasters—posing as ordinary rchants—were sourcing supplies from the capital and two other major superstores on Mar Sara. Still, this was clearly not a long-term solution.
Judge Ida tapped his fingers lightly on the desk, his tone dropping a notch.
"It’s strange, but ever since Marshal Thomas died in the line of duty, Echo Town has been much safer."
"Sheriff McAllen even reported that a few troubleso gangs have left town entirely—moved their headquarters to other settlents. That’s rare. Usually, those thugs only pull back after they’ve been properly hurt."
He glanced at Augustus as he spoke.
"And while the cri rate has dropped dramatically, reports of missing persons have spiked—alarmingly so. Even in cities with large transient populations, those numbers are shocking."
"I want your first assignnt to be investigating this bizarre situation."
"It does sound troubling," Augustus replied.
He knew full well what was behind the drop in cri and rise in disappearances—because he was responsible for it.
"I’ll look into it right away."
"Good."
Judge Ida stood up, clearly pleased.
"Then I’ll be waiting for your good news."
"These aren’t peaceful tis. The Four-Year War, the rebellion, the witch cults of the fringe worlds... Even though no one here seriously believes those dogs who fled from Tarsonis could ever reach Mar Sara, you should still keep an eye on any suspicious figures skulking about."
Judge Ida had no idea that Augustus was the true owner of the local mine. On record, the property was registered under the na of a Umojan advisor who reported to him.
"There’s a newly established mine not far from Echo Town. The workers there are all from Agria—I think you should keep an eye on them."
"I will," Augustus said.
"I’ve always despised the Korhal rebels. Those scum will pay dearly for their betrayal."
"To be honest, I do feel sympathy for the ordinary people of Korhal. The fault doesn’t lie with them, but with the few rebels who dragged them into rebellion."
Judge Ida nodded.
"I like your attitude. I was going to invite you for a drink at Janine’s Bar—it’s the best one in town. Small, but quiet. Good for talking shop. But since it’s still working hours, I guess we’ll save it for next ti."
"I’m sure we’ll have plenty of chances. I hope we can beco good friends."
Augustus shook hands with Judge Ida, then turned toward Raynor and the others waiting by the door.
"Did it work out?" Raynor had been waiting, clearly growing impatient.
"Smooth as silk."
Augustus threw an arm over Raynor’s shoulder.
"Jimmy, let’s get a drink—just like old tis. My treat."
"Where to?" Raynor grinned.
"You na the place, brother. I’d follow you to the ends of the sector."
"Judge Ida said Janine’s Bar is decent. Let’s head there."
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