Introduction

“Amtal Rule: A philosophical concept with the basic premise that in order to know a thing well, one must know its limits. In other words, only when an object is pushed beyond its limits will its true nature be seen.“ – The Dune Encyclopedia

I, Count Lucar Varmoth, heir to a lineage born in the ferocious crucible of planet Thundäruk’s storms, am tempered by ambition, as I reflect on the dynasty of House Varmoth. A legacy carved among the jagged peaks and relentless cyclone-tossed valleys of a harsh, ancient world. Our people once unyielding in their devout worship of the Storm Gods, mastered nature’s fury with the creation of the Chrysalis Bastials, our massive genetically-refined cocoons. These magnificent domes, borne upon suspenser fields and designed to siphon the ferocious celestial energies of lightning and hurricanes, signifies our ascendance from obscurity from the harshest reaches of the cosmos. Our reverence for divine fury gradually formed into a beautifully intricate web of espionage and deception. How have our technological triumphs and dogmatic strength led fate to cast me onto the brutal sands of Arrakis, a planet of biting winds, oppressive heat and ancient terrors? In the recesses of my mind, I summon the Bene Gesserit refrain: “I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.” Its cadence steels me against the tempest of destiny.

We unceremoniously step off a battered frigate into the Arrakeen Space Port. The swirling desert dust mingles with the sweet cinnamon aroma of spice burning in the midday sun and my gaze falls upon a weathered sign suspended above the space port landing field: “O you who know what we suffer here, do not forget us in your prayers.”

This plaintive entreaty echoes as a subtle admonition, as if sung by the dying voices of the oppressed, stirs in me both contempt and resolve. Beneath the relentless glare of Arrakis’s sun and amidst the threat of gathering storms, those words whisper the omen of a harsh planet, granting no sanctuary to past glories. In a realm where every grain of sand pulses with hidden meaning, I must prove that I am no mere dilettante of risk and revelry but a leader worthy of our storied past.

Surrounding me, the instruments of our household assume their appointed roles with a singular focus that mirrors the desert’s own brutal exactness:

Lauro, the cold, calculating and unyielding Mentat, scrutinises the volatile Arrakeen atmosphere, his mind weaving inner, silent computations analysing the desert’s chaotic rhythm. He is a creature of intellect, his gaze fixed on unravelling the mysteries born of sand and squall.

Kleya Leanna Nasser Varmoth, my reserved and unflinching stepmother, watches over us with a dignified solemnity, a presence steeped in Bene Gesserit heritage that commands wary respect. With few words and a knowing gaze, she embodies both caution and the silent burden of our shared legacy.

Nearby, stands Lundrak Varmint, our enigmatic spymaster, whose loyalties used to shift like the desert dunes, reminding me that even in this house trust is a luxury. He offers a courteous smile that belies a mind as mercurial as the desert winds, laden with unspoken intrigues.

At his side, Takshaka, the stalwart and battle-hardened Captain of the Guard and my erstwhile duellist mentor, fixes me with eyes that weigh my every move, balancing critique with an implicit hope that I might rise in this moment.

Then from across the dusty landing field, our irreverent and incorrigibly sharp infiltrator Zibid-i, appears tempered over six unforgiving months of sojourn amidst Arrakis’s merciless wastes that have sharpened his cocky wit. He steps forward with a smile as sly as a mirage. He offers a tempting defiance against the silence of submission cutting through the solemnity like a practiced blade.

In this crucible of legacy and new beginnings, the winds rise and ancient echoes of endless sand murmur across the horizon and the litany against fear resounds within me as I confront the full measure of my inheritance. Arrakis is both adversary and training ground where only those who master both the storm cloud within and the tempest without may forge their destiny. With each measured step, I vow to transmute our ancient glories and deceptions into a future wrought by unerring intellect. The daring resolve and the indomitable spirit of a house that once conquered the fury of its own immortal storms, meets the unstoppable, relentless mystique of a desert that never forgives nor forgets.

In the shadow of the faded Space Port sign and amidst the quiet calculus of my retinue, I reaffirm my decision: I will transform our storied past rich with conquest, invention and whispered treacheries into a future sculpted by intellect, daring and the raw, untamed forces of this planet. And now the dice must roll and the spice must flow…