Date: 10,196 B.C.
Location: Kaitain, Imperial Palace
Golden light from the large windows filtered through the polished marble columns, casting long shadows across the mosaic floor. The Kaitain Imperial Palace was, as always, a monument to excess: statues of forgotten emperors, tapestries narrating conquests that no longer mattered, and a court where words were more lethal than swords.
Duke Leto Atreides strode down the central corridor, flanked by his trusted men. His dark cloak billowed with each firm step, contrasting with the ostentation of the place. His face, serious and restrained, was the perfect mask for someone who knew that every glance in that room sought to measure him... or destroy him.
At his side, Thufir Hawat, his Mentat, analyzed each nobleman present with sharp eyes, calculating the likelihood of betrayal in every gesture, every whisper.
Further back, Duncan Idaho and Gurney Halleck walked with the relaxed posture of veteran soldiers, but with their hands always close to their weapons. They knew that in Kaitain, smiles were as dangerous as daggers.
At the back of the room, on a raised throne decorated with emblems of the Golden Lion, stood Emperor Shaddam Corrino IV, dressed in white and gold robes that gleamed in the artificial lighting. To his right, his inseparable shadow: Count Hasimir Fenring, whose slight frame and sharp face concealed one of the most lethal and enigmatic men in the Empire.
"Duke Leto Atreides," a herald announced in a theatrical voice. "Approach the Lion Throne."
Leto advanced with his characteristic dignity, stopping at a formal distance. He bowed slightly, the smallest gesture he could offer without showing submission.
The Emperor regarded him with a barely visible smile, that smile that never reached his eyes.
"Duke Leto, always a paragon of honor and duty." His voice echoed through the room, where dozens of nobles and CHOAM delegates pretended not to hang on every word. "I summon you today to grant you a great responsibility… and an opportunity."
Leto met the Imperial gaze without hesitation.
"I am in the service of the Empire, Your Majesty."
Shaddam IV raised a hand, and a servant approached with a sealed scroll. The Emperor took it and, with a dramatic gesture, unrolled it.
"By Imperial decree, House Atreides will be relocated to Arrakis, to assume full control of spice production, replacing House Harkonnen."
A murmur ran through the room, though everyone had heard the news before it was officially announced. In the Empire, information always traveled faster than decrees.
Leto showed no surprise, but his eyes narrowed for just a moment. He knew this was no prize. It was a trap disguised as an honor.
The Emperor continued, his tone solemn:
"You will rule Arrakis in the name of the Empire. You will control the extraction and trade of melange, maintaining the stability that the Guild and CHOAM demand."
To one side of the hall, Leto caught a glimpse of the ambassador from House Harkonnen, a burly man with a cruel gaze, sporting a venomous smile. The Harkonnens' withdrawal from Arrakis was too orderly... too convenient.
When the Emperor descended the steps and personally handed him the scroll, Leto felt the symbolic weight of the yet-to-be-spoken betrayal.
"Do you accept this burden, Duke Leto?" Shaddam asked, his voice echoing in the high vaults of the palace.
Leto took the scroll in both hands, feeling all the eyes fixed on him. He knew that to refuse it would be an open condemnation. To accept it... was to enter an arena where every grain of sand could be a hidden dagger.
"House Atreides accepts this duty," he replied firmly.
Formal applause filled the room, hollow and false.
The Emperor smiled, satisfied.
"May the winds of Arrakis blow in your favor, Duke."
Leto gave a slight bow and stepped back, sensing that the game had begun.
As he left the room, Fenring watched him with slanted eyes, and for a brief moment, Leto thought he saw something more than intrigue in his gaze... something close to pity.
But in the Imperial court, pity was just another tool.
Hours Later — Atreides Residence on Kaitain
Artificial rain pounded against the windows of the residence assigned to House Atreides in the Imperial capital. Leto was gathered with his trusted men in the strategy room, where a holographic map of Arrakis hovered above the central table.
"This is a verdict disguised as a promotion," Gurney Halleck growled, his arms crossed. "They're handing us the most coveted and cursed planet in the Empire, just after the Harkonnens 'ceded' control without a fight."
Thufir Hawat nodded, his calculating mind processing every variable.
"The Harkonnens have left traps, without a doubt. We know they maintain hidden forces on Arrakis, ready to sabotage any attempt at stability."
Leto listened to them silently, his fingers drumming on the table.
"We have no choice," he said finally. "If we reject the decree, we will be declared enemies of the Throne." If we accept, we must prepare for a covert war.
Jessica, who had remained in the shadows, stepped forward. Her eyes scanned every man in the room.
"We must think beyond the immediate traps. The Bene Gesserit are also watching this movement with interest. Arrakis is not just spice... it's prophecy."
Leto shifted his gaze to her, knowing that the Brotherhood's networks were always weaving invisible threads into every corner of the Empire.
Paul, sitting in a corner, stared at the map with a mixture of fascination and concern. At fifteen, he already understood that they were being drawn into a game whose rules were constantly changing.
"What if we accomplish something the Harkonnens couldn't?" he asked suddenly. "What if we make Arrakis an Atreides stronghold?"
Everyone turned to him. Gurney smiled sadly.
"Boy, in that desert, the sand swallows fortifications... and men alike."
But Leto held his son's gaze, seeing in him the spark he had always admired.
"That will be our mission," the Duke said, raising his voice. "We will not only survive on Arrakis. We will make it the heart of House Atreides."
Jessica looked down for a moment. In her mind, a fleeting memory flashed through her: Kael would have said the same thing... but with no intention of surviving, only of dominating.
A heavy silence fell over the room. Everyone knew that, from that moment on, their lives depended on every decision they made in the arena.