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Taurgha wrote:

The Princess' Speech makes further waves...

The Mother's Reaction
After the end of the Civil War, Virx thought she'd be able to take a break from the tediousness of political administration. In truth, she'd shared her distant "father's" excellence in a more administrative setting, but unlike him lacked much of that driving political ambition. Her view? If her technology was good, it would be evident in and of itself, so long as the competitors knew quite well they were outclassed. And while Proscore showed that they were still as annoying a competitor as her "life" as an Omnipo installation, the sheer mass of data and intelligence from the war had given her a perfect excuse to go back to her actual job as a designer and manufacturer of ships, not managing the complex needs of interstellar society.

Well, until some Lasacarid brat showed up to ruin her peace.

The Corridor Treaty was alright enough, by her standards. In truth, she'd thought that the little Tordelians were getting a bit too obsessed with their decisive conflict with Bezannia. Not that she'd tell anyone other than Sakura, the money was too nice and it was quite rude to upset a valued customer. The changing priorities would at least make a nice little challenge for her, now that Tordelia would be forced to reexamine its priorities. Maybe she'd get to make some of those ship designs Sakura wanted?

But the real issue was the Lasacarid.

Oh, it wasn't enough for her to upend the centuries old galactic order, the brat clearly hadn't listened to her tutor about the whole Eternal Treaty thing and how the Talmyrox really wasn't supposed to set foot in Tordelian territory, but now she had to make her own nationalist rallying cry too? And obviously, one target in the little halfing's crusade would be her, the half-Tordelian half-Omnipo so-called-AI CEO who was more than happy to sell arms to eeevil foreigners.

"Ara ara..." she sighed, a twinge of motherly disappointment escaping into her voice.

Her plans to draw in the Tordelians by economic and cultural ties would all turn to dust if this nationalist princess severed the links between Tordelia and the Threesisters as part of the collateral damage of this nationalist grandeur. For a moment, she briefly wondered if this was actually some form of stupid teenaged rebellion. A couple of the ships she'd made over the years entered that phase too, but they'd thankfully grown out of those. But she dismissed that thought. Who'd use an entire nation to carry out a petty teenaged rebellion?

Still, she sighed. For now, no concrete movements supporting the princess had cropped up, but... Well, it was a good time to look into acquiring parts of her "father's" old company that might have gotten spooked by the halfling's new speech. Maybe some of those AI research companies and help finish his other dream? Or those mech producers, Tordelia will need more of those if her projections were right... Anything to keep the ties between Tordelia and the Threesisters. For now, all she could realistically do was continue her personal project of rebuilding old Omnipo's cutting edge. The politics for now could wait. Populism was a fickle thing after all, perhaps Big Goldie might somehow quell the tide.

Taurgha wrote:

As she noticed that the yellow car was no taxi but a random car, Lazaqa became greatly annoyed by the lack of individual transportation. She was quite used to Berut's luxurious taxi rides. Not only that but she could not figure exactly how to move in this chaotic city. She readjusted her backpack and started walking around trying to find a policeman for directions. As soon as she noticed one she approached him "Officer! Officer! ...I am new here and quite tired, can you direct me to a clean and reputable hotel?" she asked in a rather upbeat tone while blinking her eyes.

As she approached the constable, the human would turn his head to the young shryite and smile. "Good afternoon, miss. Certainly. You are in the famous Portage Street district of Dunkleshire, so if you want luxury most of the high and mighty stay at the Chateau Principe, but I also hear the Prince Hoynes is another luxury hotel. Both are along this street, you just walk down the street in that direction and you'll find either hotel. The big signs should tell you when you've arrived. I would offer to walk you, miss, but I am afraid I need to complete my rotation." Indeed in the direction the constable pointed, Lazaqa would find two grand and luxurious hotels. Each was brilliant in its own right, with the Chateau Principe being the favoured of the nobility as it was the older and more established hotel of the two. The Prince Hoynes was built shortly after the Chateau Principe was but suffered a fire that caused it to close for many months. The Prince Hoynes did make a resurgence during the later years and has become a popular hotel once more.

Iammelon wrote:

It was certainly surprising for the large crowd, composed mostly of citizens of Minos but also off world visitors who had heard about the event and came to watch. Most had expected a celebration of the recent treaty, or perhaps a more normal speech. The rather fiery talk caught the crowd off guard, and so for a couple of seconds after Sofya finished, there was an almost total silence. But after that moment of letting the words sink in, one older Taurus citizen in the crowd cheered and began clapping, and this set off a chain reaction of the rest of the crowd breaking out into loud applause. There was good reception from the people of Minos, who seemed to enjoy a push back towards pride and glory while also not advocating another civil war, something many of them were tired of. But of course it was not just the people of Minos that saw this speech, given it had been televised. Across the Nebula, many had tuned in to watch the speech to see what this whole Halfling Zantine Princess was made of after the Treaty, and once again most of them were simply expecting a speech about that achievement. The real message however did find a place in many who had indeed lost much in the Civil War and couldn't really identify with the major Unionist or ex-Confederate political movements. And so, it was safe to say Sofya's speech got people talking. Some in support, some in dismissal of the loud youngling, and more. But many things that were said in that speech did ring some alarm bells in people across the Nebula, forcing action by a number of important individuals.

-

The headache of Tyfrondor was particularly strong today, and the Draconic President snorted as he rubbed his head. Trouble after trouble was stacking up, as was the paperwork. And so the Grand Drake, a mighty Golden Dragon, was currently stuck in an oversized office in the Federal Presidental Citadel on Javalus. He was not alone in the room of course. There was the batch of Golden Guard Watrike standing watch around the room, and Tyfrondor had long since made peace with the constant hovering of his ever-loyal subordinates, even when he would've preferred to be alone. The other individual in the room was more welcome, his dutiful son Razethorn. Perhaps the only reason Tyfrondor was sane, given his personal hate of paperwork, Razethorn had a talent for sifting through and working quick. And that is what the Father and Son had been doing for the last hour, compiling information on the latest heaps of trouble the Nebula had for them today. Pirate attacks in the North, discontent on Doth, complaints about trade route safety, worries of election fraud on Cuthia, and now finally this speech.
Shaking his head, Tyfrondor snorted and spoke out loud, speaking to his son in Draconic, "First the former Confederates begin to consolidate into this 'Freedom Movement', and now we have a Zantine Princess whipping up some populism. Nothing can ever be simple. And the Union Party is too busy whining and squabbling, the Anubites are stubborn as ever, and now we have obligations to this damn treaty... Too much inaction on our part. Need to start acting rather than just reacting."
Razethorn, busy sifting through a stack of paper he was hovering before his eyes, spoke calmly in return, "There is plenty we can do, but what we should do is a more difficult question. Still, Father, if you are worried about that speech... Why not just take some lessons from it? If the sayings are popular, we simply take a few ideas and make them our own. Words are pleasant but people are convinced more by things they can actually see. The Union exists on paper and in words, but the most that the majority of people will see in their daily lives is reminders of new elections. And out east, it can be worse, as what they can see are ruined buildings and scars of conflict. That is what they see in the Union." A snort from across the room was a hint for the younger Dragon to get to the point, "And so, my advice? Monuments and big building projects. The Princess wishes to remind everyone of old historical figures? Very well, but we can build the statues, and brand them as Union Heroes. Replace bombed buildings with museums, big fancy places that everyone can see and visit. Then we prompt schools to have the kids visit these new places, as well as the old, create a common thread between them. It can all fall under the rebuilding efforts, we just have to add in a bit of rebranding. How's that?"
"You've clearly been listening to Monte's plans of her Grand Federal Museum. Be careful with that, or else you might pick your sister's ambition. In any case, that's a way to start. This Union is going to take a lot of work to keep intact... Softskins never make anything easy, even when it's for their benefit. Going to need to formulate a longer term plan. For now, we start with your idea, try and make the Union something to believe in. And finish this damn paperwork so I can go back to Heord..." With that, it was back to work. The President had a lot to think about, and although his plan was still being set up, right now it was time for him to watch where the winds blowed and be ready for the storm.

-

Meanwhile, on the other side of the Nebula in the Imperial Palace of Instabull, Emperor Zenos was rather surprised himself when he heard about his daughter's speech. One that was helped in set up by the Minos government as well, which was certainly not in his plans. The Speech was concerning with its rhetoric, too firey, dangerous to his progress thus far in restoring Zantium's prestige and influence. It wasn't exactly that he disapproved of the message, but the fact this happened without his knowing was not alright. His daughter was a bit out of control, and he needed to try and get a grasp on the situation before this populism got out of hand. So, the Emperor's first move was to inform the Governor of Minos not to aid another speech from Sofya, and inform the Princess to come back to Instabull. Sofya was supposed to go back to Shyr, yes, but Zenos needed a word with his daughter. Besides, he felt that Instabull would be better a place to try and calm her nerves anyways, rather than Shyr. Based on the word choice, he was quite certain that she wanted to be in Iammelon right now. Instabull would do, then she could go back to Shyr when he felt he had a better grasp on everything. Or at least hopefully it wouldn't backfire. Just anywhere but Minos, the Emperor was all too certain that the enthusiastic loyalty of the population there would be too prone to further encouraging this.

Another Zantine also heard about this news, far up north in the Ether of the M'hassari. Prince Basil Lasacris, in his newly built capital of Basilandria, was highly amused by his niece's speech. He was busy with his own ambitions, but there were many words in that speech he agreed with. A lot of it was why he was this far north in the first place. If Zantium could not be reforged in glory at home, he would do it himself up here. This was something worthy in the view of the Prince to support, and decided to mail a letter to his niece to show that. He might not be able to provide material support of any sort, he needed all of that for his own grand plans, but he felt some vocal support from a family member would be appreciated.

-

On the homeworld of the Anubites, within the High Lord's Palace, High Lord Sethus Rwim sighed and turned off a television screen in his sanctum. He turned to the other figure in the room, High Stewardess Ipwet, and spoke, "Just another example. This and that disastrous corridor treaty are continuing destabilizing factors, alongside much more. We cannot simply stand by any longer while chaos and instability seem likely to arise. The Talmyrox in particular is unstable right now, with this Princess as the heir apparent and troubles at home, should things continue as they are proceeding right now we will see the destabilized and inevitably cause a chain of events. And so, we must introduce a stabilizing element. Ipwet, I need you to send a message to Astana. Inform them that we are accepting visitors at this time, if they would wish to have any sort of discussion with us. Make sure they know this offer is from the High Lord to an uncrowned Prince."
Smirking, the High Stewardess leaned forward, "Consider it done. I'll make sure to recall your Aunt from her diplomatic mission to Proscore as well, given her knowledge on the matter."
"Ah, yes, do make sure you do that. Aunt Feme would be extremely unhappy if she was not included in the meeting I am trying to set up. She will be of great help as well of course, but her personal stake does matter. Recall her from Proscore, and send her here. She can be part of welcoming committee. Plus, we do need to catch up. Now go."

Ipwet stood up, and after a small curtsy turned to leave the room. Sethus meanwhile sighed, and went to make preparations. He would have a lot to explain to the Ancestor Council in the near future, and he had to be ready. That, and prepare the Palace for visitors.

The Grand Fortress of Cair Maltez, Astana, 4745

An old Ghashyr was lying in his arcalite-plated bed's golden velvet sheets in a majestic room the size of a ballroom full of statues of mythical heroes. His chest naked as a physician's sensory tools searched his flesh. Soon afterwards the white-haired man buttoned up his nightly robe and stood up "Any changes?" he asked. The young doctor sighed as she placed her tools back in her bag "I'm afraid not your greatness, the tumor remains stable however. You will be among us for at least a year, perhaps more even, Tal-willing". The old royal smiled "Tal-willing. Nevertheless, that is good enough for me, it's as if Tal graced me with enough time to respond to my duties at last". The doctor looked down feeling rather awkward and sad, he was her liege and lord after all ...this weighed heavily on her. The weathered Jalaor picked up and opened letter from a marble table reading it "...do not worry, either way I have been avoiding my fate so long that it feels quite liberating to have to rush things ...and what do you know, old acquaintances are of the same mind! Now please leave this old patient in his peace and go have some fun ...I have quite important matters to attend to"
The doctor bowed her head and bumped her chest "Vhin ta Talmyr" she said and exited the room "...quite the irony" responded Otrysian alone with a smirk. He walked towards the massive windows gazing at the mighty dunes of his native Astana, extending to the horizon as the sun set "Quite the irony indeed".

The next day all of the massive fortress-palace was in full alarm, the Knights Maltez were running down the walls and escorting what seemed to be Otrysian dressed fully in his princely regalia. His shining arcalite armor reflected the mighty sun of Astana as more than twenty servants walked beside their lord and prince, four of them carrying a large chest. The wind was blowing quite hard as he walked towards the old royal schooner.
Otrysian turned to a middle-aged sour Ghashyr woman wearing the Echopalad's official uniform "I'm entrusting Astana to the most capable and delicate hands I've known in administrative manners Lady en-Barra". The laughless minister bowed her head "Always the flatterer your Greatness. Light be with you". Otrysian rather annoyed turned to a young Knights' Maltez recruit "Have you secured what I told you to secure?" ..the young recruit almost trembled "Y-yes, my lord ..I have it right here. look.." Otrysian quickly stopped the recruit from revealing what appeared to be a rolled up painting "Good, that will be enough. Damn youth these days. Now ..off to Tombuiorn!"

Not many days afterwards the old Talmyrene Flagship, the "Magnanimous Jalaor" along with an escort of ten Golden-fleet frigates, was approaching Tombuiorn after a long trip that most of the Talmyrox surely noticed. Nevertheless, the insurrection in Sion and Sofya's nonsensical speech kept Talmyr Myrafiora on the edge of a nervous breakdown and hoping that her husband would put some sense in the crown princess.
Upon seeing Tombuiorn, Otrysian smiled and shed a tear ...he hoped to see her again more than even avenging his dynasty. Before the admiral was about to announce the presence of Otrysian, he grabbed the naval-holodevice "This is Prince Otrysian Arganraxel of the Talmyrox Ghaen Shyryen. I come to the home of the Memory-Lords in good faith and spirit."

---

Minos, Zantine Empire, not long ago

Sofya was ecstatic as she ended her speech. The crowd's cheers, the dream of a new dawn, the lights of an imperial city shining bright ...the smiles of her loyal Rangians. She was intoxicated, she wanted more! For the first time in her life, she felt vindicated and important.
In the backstage hugging Appa tightly she cried while laughing "This is the best day of my life Appa ...finally I belong somewhere! I swear I will not give up my dreams ever again and together we will make this world a better place ..I swear to my life".
The sweet moment was cut abruptly by an ether-message by her father. Sofya's smile was replaced by a worried frown as she prepared to travel to Istabull.

Sofya loved to visit Istabull, she always felt a deep sadness and undaunted pride in its mighty ancient buildings. To her Istabull was the true face of the empire and Iammelon ..not jovial and optimistic Minos. Minos was a great world, but to her Istabull meant much more and saddened her immensely while feeling her with a bittersweet image of what it would look like in its glory days.
As soon as she entered the palace and saw Zenos from afar she waved at him with a true and big smile "Did you see me dad? Did you see how the people loved me? Oh it was great dad!"

It has been a few days since the noises at the top stoked the fire beneath her. At the moment she was sitting in her chair at her desk. Waiting for a call. Such focus was put on the back of her mind, however.

In reflection, she had focused too much on the great drakes. So much so that she didn’t properly digest the situation with Sofya. Now that she settled down, her thoughts went back to that speech. How grand those three portraits she had set up behind her. As if she was reminding the galaxy that they existed once upon a time.

A reminder that they lived a vibrant life.

She heard mutterings among the Anubites. About how disingenuous and dishonest Popilism was. That Sofya was doing this merely for herself.
It was true that Populism is problematic because it’s often used as a tool of manipulation. They weren’t far off to think that Sofya wasn’t being entity true. But not for the reasons they believe.

Yes, she’s aware that her assumptions are just as valid as theirs. She never met Sofya in person after all. It’s just when you begin to take note of certain traits, it’s not a stretch to come to a conclusion that she believe is a factor in Sofya’s actions.

Sofya is afraid of being forgotten. Everything she's done, from ordering the creation of ships to this speech, was to make a mark on creation. A mark deep enough that it’ll remain long after she dies of natural cause.

She can’t ever fault her for feeling that. It’s just a natural fear to have. Everyone has it to some extent. More so when the individual is born into a high station in society. Because they have expectations and are often compared to their predecessors.

How can that possibly be a healthy pressure to have on a growing child?

To pursue for more information. She had spent an hour last night to secure a transcript of a report made by Sofya’s Anubite tutor some years ago. It didn’t surprise her that the tutor noted some of Sofya’s remarks as ’typical imperial arrogance’.

Sure, a scion of an imperial family wanting more than a chapter dedicated to them in the history books can be the sign of an egoist mindset. A child being told they’re special every day tend to have that effect.

However, it can also point to something entirely different. One that she feels is the closest to the truth. The need to feel important, that she belonged in the role she was born into. To be remembered not as just ‘another Imperial Princess’, but ‘Sofya Lasacris’.

She couldn’t help but worry about Sofya. Especially when she doesn’t know her parents enough to guess how they would react to what she did.
The worry made her consider reaching out to Sofya. Not out of a need to make connections or whatever reasoning one might view it as. No, simply because it never hurts to have more possible friends in such a large, cold galaxy.

If it comes to show that her intuition turns out to be false. It won’t bother her. It’s never the wrong thing to look out for possible signs of underlying issues.
That’s called empathy after all.

With the free time that she has at the moment, she proceeded to make a letter to Sofya. Offering her for an opportunity for an amiable get together of Sofya’s choice. Not because of the speech, but rather since they were neighbors in a sense. It only makes sense for neighbors to have a warm air between them.
That done, Heulyn went back to her work.

A large procession of cars drove up a long winding path. They were flying two flags on the front flag poles. A black flag and a purple banner with a tiger and a crown on it. At the front of the long line of cars was a pair of motorcycles, the riders carried large banners that flowed in the strong winds. A heavy downpour brought rain down on the uniformed riders of the motorcycles, the banners dripping with a few hours' ride of water. The vehicles climbed higher and higher towards the summit of the Grand Mount Nochreed of Tir Creachdair, as opposed to the Mount Nochreed of Bezembay. The cars drove for many hours in the heavy downpour. They rounded the summit of the mountain to be met with a large castle on the horizon. The monumental and medieval fortress stood perfectly nestled among the boulders and rocks. The castle had spires hundreds of feet tall, the fortress itself spanned the entire summit of the mountain. The entire castle was done up with lights, illuminating the inner walls and spires from below. The cars approached the castle gates which were already open as the cars approached. The convoy entered the courtyard of the castle and they each moved to different positions in the uneven and rocky entryway.

There were creach warriors, dressed in full uniform. Each wore black armbands. As the main car reached the main entrance to the castle pipers started playing a tune and several creach women approached the vehicle and got on their knee. The Cinewardian soon assembled around the main vehicle and the Lord Chamberlain approached the vehicle to open the door. He offered his hand to the emperor who stepped out. A nearby servant raised an umbrella for the emperor as soon as he stepped from the car. Next from the car came the Empress. Despite each member of the delegation wearing their individual uniforms, everyone present was wearing a black armband. The creach stayed on their knees and they shouted in the native creach tongue. They loudly announced a praise to the emperor. The creach before the emperor slowly rose to their feet and each went to kiss his ring, the emperor uncomfortably let them do so with a slight smile. Each Creach women who did this stepped away with a face that barely contained their excitement. In the doorway of the castle entrance was a familiar figure, dressed in all black and a kilt with a black armband. The Princess Campbell, Premier Minister waited with seven other creach women.

The Lord Chamberlain stepped forward and tapped a staff on the ground. "We now announce the arrival of His Imperial Majesty, Martin to Clan Campbell."

They each kissed the emperor's ring and the Princess announced, "As Eldest of the Eight Princesses of Clan Campbell, I welcome His Imperial Majesty, Martin to Mullach Castle." The procession moved inside and out of the rain. The castle on the interior was luxurious but just as medieval as the exterior with the exception of the lighting and some furnishings. They passed through long and grand halls, full to the brim of guards and other creach women in black. The entirety of Clan Campbell was at the castle in black, and many other clans had arrived to pay their respects in both large and small delegations. The most prominent and important delegation was that of Clan Hall-Grant.

The party terminated its solemn march in a stone chamber. At the far end of the room was a catafalque which had a creach laid out on. She was surrounded by purple and pink flowers. A stone laying across her chest along with a sword. She was not in any kind of suit or uniform but was wrapped in her kilt. In the center of the room was a large antique forge, medieval in design. The emperor approached the center of the room and was greeted by a large crowd who all took their turn to kiss his ring. Martin grew increasingly uncomfortable with the affair but was kept firmly in place by his wife who closely flanked him.
After the room took their turn kissing the emperor's ring the whole room went silent as they returned to their seats a lone woman approached the corpse and closed her eyes. She began singing in high pitched notes, a song in the native creach language. It filled the room with echoes and cast a spell over the room. When the singer finished, she bowed her head and slowly retreated back into a corner. The room kept their heads low as the eight princesses and a few other clan veterans of Clan Campbell approached the catafalque. Together they lifted the great smooth stone sarcophagus and began hauling it to a nearby room. The emperor slowly followed after them but no one else moved.

The group with the body descended into darkness as they took an old elevator down to the depths of the mountain. When they arrived, they were met with a middle aged woman dressed in all black. The soon to be Duchess Elizabeth. The party was in a cave, the oldest part of the mountain. Engraved on the wall were ancient and crude carvings of dragons and constellations. The body was laid before the carvings and the emperor approached. The Pallbearers each went to the body and laid an item on it before returning to the lift and leaving the chamber.

Martin and Elizabeth were left. The Creach looked up at Martin, "the first of your kind to ever be shown this chamber was The Great Jasper. To this day you are the first of the Sarans to be invited back. It is why each of the clanswomen kisses your ring." She said as she rainsed her finger to point at Martin's signet ring. "You are the first heir of the Saran Dynasty to wear his ring. You are truly the great heir to the Tiger's Legacy. In the past, the clans have never invited outsiders to participate in the processions. These are our sacred rites. But my emperor, you are the exception."

Martin stoically stood and looked around him slowly, he opened his mouth but could not find any words with which to speak. The creach got on her knees before the emperor, "I ask his majesty if he would crown me? In the traditions of the creach and the clans we kneel only to the true Sarans." Martin took a deep breath and approached the Catafalque where he lifted a veiled crown from a pedestal and returned to the creach where he lowered it onto her head.

"As Martin, Emperor of Bezannia I proclaim you Grand Duchess of the Planet Tir Creachdair and High Chieftain of the Clans."

The Duchess rose to her feet and smiled blissfully. "How long we of the clans have waited for those words to be said again by the one worthy of saying it." She smiled and approached the catafalque. "As Jasper was the first to see this most ancient and sacred chamber, you follow in his footsteps, young Martin. This room has never been photographed or studied by outsiders. It was created by the oldest creach ever recorded to our knowledge, we are not even sure the creach who carved the markings in this cave were fully sentient yet. It was the discovery of this cave that led Clan Campbell to erect our home above. We are the steadfast guardians of Creach traditions.” The duchess said as she paced around the room.

“Your ancestor was sent to us at a much younger age than your history will tell you. The boy was undisciplined and carefree. It was only when he was brought before the clans that he was transformed into the Great Tiger.”

Martin thought, “But was Jasper not steeled by the Hopper invasion? He did not visit Tir Creachdair until after the great war with the Royaume.”

The duchess laughed and shook her head, “His Majesty might be surprised as to the history we Creach are oathbound to keep silent. When the Hoppers invaded Bezembay, the young king was sent to us to be kept safe. But we took the initiative among ourselves to train the boy. When he returned to Bezembay he was a warrior. He strode across the battlefields like a general with no equal. His sword felled all who stood against him. And when his empire was forged he embraced us as his own ilk.” Martin went silent and stood still as the duchess paced the room. “And when his body was laid to rest he was interred on our moon. So that he would remain with us forever.”

“But, then who is buried in Bournemouth Abbey? I was standing not but a few feet from the great relief of our emperor!” Martin exclaimed.

“Simple, your majesty. We sent back an empty coffin and those in Bezembay did not dare to open our stone sarcophagus. His body and spirit would remain with us, here forever. You see his influence everywhere. This mountain, Nochreed, is named after the Royal Smith just as the mountain on Bezembay was. The master craftsman who forged the emperor’s armour and weapons. Saint Nochreed taught us much, but even today our greatest blacksmiths cannot replicate the armour made by Nochreed. Though try as we might.” She sighed but quickly turned to the emperor. “It matters little of course.”

The emperor politely nodded, “I will once again profess my most sincere sorrow for the,” the emperor coughed, “passing of your mother.” He nodded and looked around the room. “Where will she be interred?”

The duchess shook her head and smiled. “Your majesty, this day is best not spent focusing on such things.”

“I have come a great way from Bezembay to pay respects to your mother. But if you would prefer to not discuss any further I suppose I can accept. But I suppose we are blessed to have such a passionate woman embracing the rank of Grand Duchess.” Martin laughed slightly nervously.

The duchess laughed too, “Embrace. That is an interesting word, my emperor. I am enthusiastic to be certain. But enough idle chat, my emperor. We have grander things to discuss.”

“I am sorry, Duchess but I really must be getting back to Bezembay. Perhaps we may continue our discussion when you join us in the Privy Council for the first time.”

The duchess shook her head. “We have much to do now, your majesty. Be still for a few more moments.” Martin opened his mouth to say something but his spine grew stiff as he stood more upright and found himself unable to move.

“Happily my daughter has brought you to me, your majesty. The clans wish to see nothing more than the empire's strength restored under its one true and worthy lord. Your majesty will know of the changes that have been made in the empire. Drastic to be sure but necessary to bring you to this moment. To this place. We wish to impart on you the same which your ancestor received so long ago. Each clan has put forth the greatest sacrifice to change the empire for this day. I sacrificed my own daughter, Elizabeth who was the most intelligent and beautiful of my daughters, who would have been the greatest Chieftain of my clan... but now she will live to serve the empire as a politician. This we have done for you, my emperor. We have secured your future and now we will dedicate ourselves to you as once we did to The Great Tiger." The duchess stood directly in front of the emperor as she spoke. While she spoke she had taken to removing her clothing until she stood completely bare. Martin still remained unable to move, his eyes growing more fearful of the developing situation.

“You are the hopes and dreams of the creach peoples. Long have we waited for this day to arrive again. The day when you would be precisely the same age as Jasper was when he first came to us.” The room became more and more dim as she spoke, until the two were left standing in an endless blackness illuminated purely by blackened stars in all directions.

“We did not wish to use the old arts on you, majesty. But I have trained in the art of truth-seeking. You are more like The Great Tiger than you realise. We also had to use the Leigear then.” She stepped forward, each footstep sending ripples across the ground like stepping in shallow water. The duchess placed her hand on the emperor and closed her eyes. “Be at rest now, majesty.”

The emperor suddenly stumbled back, each step he took created ripples across the ground. The blackened stars remained resistant to the ripples. Martin could not muster any words as he took in his surroundings but simply tried to run. Finding himself remaining trapped in the infinite void. Despite this, he moved no further away from the duchess than from where he started. The duchess clasped her hands politefully in front of her.

“Majesty, you have nothing to fear here. I mean you no harm, only to imbue you with a gift.” She smiled and held her hand up. She swirled her finger in the air and whispered something. Her fingertip glowed a brilliant light. It extinguished soon after. As the emperor opened his eyes again, he found that despite the initial difference in size between the two they now both stood at the same height. “The clans’ will has culminated in this moment. Our Hopes and Dreams rest firmly on your shoulders. Your heart and our hearts will beat as one. The tiger’s blood runs through you. All it needs is an offering to reawaken that which is there. That which is offered here creates apotheosis. All you need is time to grow and mature. And time we will ensure you will have. For now, your majesty. I implore you to partake of the bounties you are worth… as The Great Tiger partook.” The two stood in silence for a while longer. Martin’s eyes were wide, he was motionless, his eyes glistened with an almost brick red hue.

The Duchess Elizabeth stood at the window of the old tower, she smiled as she watched the convoy of cars depart from the castle and begin the long drive down the Grand Mount Nochreed. She watched longingly at the cars but she had a good reason to be happy.

“You will return to us. A warrior of true and noble descent. Your strength will enrapture all of us to be bound to your side for the rest of our lives. The Clans of Tir Creachdair will follow you to the ends of the stars. And when next you embrace me your heart will beat with the fire and strength of a tiger.” She clasped her hands to her chest and held tight a small lock of white hair.

Taurgha wrote:

The Grand Fortress of Cair Maltez, Astana, 4745

An old Ghashyr was lying in his arcalite-plated bed's golden velvet sheets in a majestic room the size of a ballroom full of statues of mythical heroes. His chest naked as a physician's sensory tools searched his flesh. Soon afterwards the white-haired man buttoned up his nightly robe and stood up "Any changes?" he asked. The young doctor sighed as she placed her tools back in her bag "I'm afraid not your greatness, the tumor remains stable however. You will be among us for at least a year, perhaps more even, Tal-willing". The old royal smiled "Tal-willing. Nevertheless, that is good enough for me, it's as if Tal graced me with enough time to respond to my duties at last". The doctor looked down feeling rather awkward and sad, he was her liege and lord after all ...this weighed heavily on her. The weathered Jalaor picked up and opened letter from a marble table reading it "...do not worry, either way I have been avoiding my fate so long that it feels quite liberating to have to rush things ...and what do you know, old acquaintances are of the same mind! Now please leave this old patient in his peace and go have some fun ...I have quite important matters to attend to"
The doctor bowed her head and bumped her chest "Vhin ta Talmyr" she said and exited the room "...quite the irony" responded Otrysian alone with a smirk. He walked towards the massive windows gazing at the mighty dunes of his native Astana, extending to the horizon as the sun set "Quite the irony indeed".

The next day all of the massive fortress-palace was in full alarm, the Knights Maltez were running down the walls and escorting what seemed to be Otrysian dressed fully in his princely regalia. His shining arcalite armor reflected the mighty sun of Astana as more than twenty servants walked beside their lord and prince, four of them carrying a large chest. The wind was blowing quite hard as he walked towards the old royal schooner.
Otrysian turned to a middle-aged sour Ghashyr woman wearing the Echopalad's official uniform "I'm entrusting Astana to the most capable and delicate hands I've known in administrative manners Lady en-Barra". The laughless minister bowed her head "Always the flatterer your Greatness. Light be with you". Otrysian rather annoyed turned to a young Knights' Maltez recruit "Have you secured what I told you to secure?" ..the young recruit almost trembled "Y-yes, my lord ..I have it right here. look.." Otrysian quickly stopped the recruit from revealing what appeared to be a rolled up painting "Good, that will be enough. Damn youth these days. Now ..off to Tombuiorn!"

Not many days afterwards the old Talmyrene Flagship, the "Magnanimous Jalaor" along with an escort of ten Golden-fleet frigates, was approaching Tombuiorn after a long trip that most of the Talmyrox surely noticed. Nevertheless, the insurrection in Sion and Sofya's nonsensical speech kept Talmyr Myrafiora on the edge of a nervous breakdown and hoping that her husband would put some sense in the crown princess.
Upon seeing Tombuiorn, Otrysian smiled and shed a tear ...he hoped to see her again more than even avenging his dynasty. Before the admiral was about to announce the presence of Otrysian, he grabbed the naval-holodevice "This is Prince Otrysian Arganraxel of the Talmyrox Ghaen Shyryen. I come to the home of the Memory-Lords in good faith and spirit."

---

Minos, Zantine Empire, not long ago

Sofya was ecstatic as she ended her speech. The crowd's cheers, the dream of a new dawn, the lights of an imperial city shining bright ...the smiles of her loyal Rangians. She was intoxicated, she wanted more! For the first time in her life, she felt vindicated and important.
In the backstage hugging Appa tightly she cried while laughing "This is the best day of my life Appa ...finally I belong somewhere! I swear I will not give up my dreams ever again and together we will make this world a better place ..I swear to my life".
The sweet moment was cut abruptly by an ether-message by her father. Sofya's smile was replaced by a worried frown as she prepared to travel to Istabull.

Sofya loved to visit Istabull, she always felt a deep sadness and undaunted pride in its mighty ancient buildings. To her Istabull was the true face of the empire and Iammelon ..not jovial and optimistic Minos. Minos was a great world, but to her Istabull meant much more and saddened her immensely while feeling her with a bittersweet image of what it would look like in its glory days.
As soon as she entered the palace and saw Zenos from afar she waved at him with a true and big smile "Did you see me dad? Did you see how the people loved me? Oh it was great dad!"

The trip of the flagship and its frigate escort was also noticed by most of Iammelon, as it was hard to miss. However no action was taken to stop or delay the fleet, as the Anubites had given it an invitation. The RSJD would keep an eye on it from afar, mostly to ensure nothing happened to it while it was within the Nebula, but they otherwise left it be. That is not to say the fleet was entirely ignored, as it got people talking. Questions about its purpose and goal in meeting with the Anubites inevitably appeared in the minds of many, and rumors spread. Some speculated the fleet was there to get Anubite backing for a Talmyrene civil war, others believed it was some form of treasure fleet moving to deposit stores of Arcalite in Tombuiorn’s Great Archives and Vaults. One particularly outlandish rumor speculated the Anubites were in control of both the Sionese rebellions and the Arganraxels, and this fleet was coming to bring tribute and swear fealty to their dastardly Anubite masters. This last rumor mostly appeared in the Iammelonian Rim and stayed in Ether Pubs. In any case, Iammelon noticed, and the Nebula was watching.

The Arganraxel fleet arrived safely at the homeworld of the Anubites, and would bear witness to the ancient desert planet. Their communication however would not be with the planet, but rather the massive orbital edifice that stood between the fleet and the world below. A massive, double-pyramid like structure acting as a mighty star fortress around Tombuiorn. This was the Ancestral Bastion, one of the oldest orbital structures in all the galaxy, still actively watching over its home. The return communication would come from there, “Welcome Prince. You are expected by the High Lord. Your fleet may dock in the shipyards. You however are invited to the High Lord’s Palace to meet with the Rwims. Flight directions are being transmitted now. May you find good fortune in the sands.” With that, the Bastion sent over a flight path, granting the Arganraxel access to Tombuiorn.

The path, intended for a shuttle, was a direct course to the Imperial Palace. It took them over the desert and then finally into the great linear city that followed along the great river of Tombuiorn. All of its ancient buildings and monuments wizzing past as they approached one building standing tall over the others, the Palace of the High Lords, home of the Rwims.

A welcoming congregation waited near a landing pad. There were Rwim House Guards, personal troops of the Rwim family, a number of servants, and also a group of scribes. As usual, the Anubites intended to record this meeting carefully. High Lord Sethus was not among this group, but there was one central Imperial figure leading this welcoming party. An older Anubite woman in a black dress, standing proud with a smile on her face. The one that the House Guard looked to for orders, an unmistakable Rwim, and somebody that the Prince would certainly recognize; Feme Rwim. She stood at the front because she had that duty as a member of the Imperial family, but more personally because of a sense of excitement at a long overdue reunion.

When Otrysian finally landed and emerged, it would be Feme who spoke in greeting, “Welcome back to Tombuiorn, Prince Otrysian Arganraxel. The High Lord will be able to meet with you shortly. In the meantime, allow me to show you around the palace. After all… It has been a very long time since you were last here.” Her smile grew, staying formal but clearly quite happy.

-

It was certainly a transition going from green, cheerful Minos to the ancient city world of Instabull. The people were more regal here, but more reserved. Less of the open optimism and joy that the people of Minos displayed. Old watchtowers were still manned, but by older legionnaires rather than youthful and excited Taurus recruits. Every building was higher and more shiny than most of what Minos had to offer, but all were of a different era. Like a planet sized museum people happened to live in.

The Imperial Palace was much the same, but it was at least more vibrant. Sofya’s arrival was greeted with a small group of Rangians saluting her and escorting her inside towards the main hall, as a trumpeter made a small tune to pronounce the arrival.

Zenos was waiting in the main hall, quietly thinking to himself before Sofya made her presence known. He smiled back at her before coming over and giving his daughter a hug, speaking kindly as he did so, “I certainly saw you, Sofya. You drew quite the crowd! But that speech is why I called you here, I need to talk to you about it. Over here.” He gestured to a side room, a small meeting room that was meant for private discussions within the palace.

Getting close to the door, he looked to the two Rangian Captains that were of course loyally following their respective charges. Appa, Sofya’s loyal friend, and Zeno’s captain which Sofya would also certainly know; Lord-Captain Brackson, a very large Taurus with black fur who stood in fairly sharp contrast to Zenos. He was intimidating as befits the guardian of an Emperor, but Sofya would know from personal experience that Brackson was actually rather laid back when not putting up a front as part of his duties. The Emperor nodded to both Rangians, “Guard the door, nobody comes in until I am done. Nobody. This is only for my daughter to hear.” Brackson nodded, taking up a position on the left side of the door. Appa nodded as well, though she first gave Sofya a reassuring smile before taking her own position on the right side. With that, Emperor and Princess could enter the room and speak in private.

It was not a fancy chamber, but it did have some nice chairs in it. Zenos sat down in one and gestured for Sofya to sit down in one as well, before he spoke calmly, “Now, Sofya. I will tell you right now that I am not mad. Your mother is a lot more anxious, but I like to trust your judgment. I know you went and made plans with Governor Rhangarb, so that speech was planned. Why did you feel the need to make such a statement to all of the Nebula? You can be entirely honest, that’s why I arranged this privacy.” He was remaining calm, since Zenos did genuinely want to know what was going on in his daughter’s mind.

The Alicorns wrote:

Cynder squished the idea of responding to that first question. Yeah, they were also planning to backstab Bezannia at the first opportunity... But, well, everyone sort of knew that part. "I am interested in coming along for a tour of your planet along with setting up some sort of permanent consulate there. Tordelia's heard a lot from soldiers trading tales about each other's worlds, so it'll be nice to finally set foot in person. And I wouldn't mind setting up some sort of contract to do so, it's not too far off from standard procedure for Tordelian mercenary stuff," she replied.

The lack of response was a good enough answer for Norcai, who simply smirked. A grudge was a grudge, he knew that very well. And in respect to that, he didn't press, instead responding in amusement at her words, "So you wanna come see Tusk City, Firestarter? You're a brave one, I like that, and Tuskas will like that too. Don't get much in the way of tourists, we only like visitors who have business on our soil, so we tend to scare off the more weak-minded. But a tour can be arranged! We'll even let you pick out a spot for a consulate that you like! And in respect to your bravery, the tour will be free, oral contract in good faith. We'll save the paper for the bigger part of the business. Besides, in the interest of fairness, should let you see who you're dealing with before you start putting your name on contracts. I'll even introduce you to some other Rathans, my family should find you to be amusing, Princess."

"And I've heard about your mercs. They never really came about during the years of the Shadow Boar, for good reason. Most of the Tuskers your folks have met are likely from the Senar Family, the far travelers. That lot are good soldiers, good pilots, terrible story tellers. Too much booze in their gullets and too thick a pipe up the rear to do our planet any justice with what tales they got. It'll be much better for you to see Tuskas for yourself. Still, if this works out, your mercs should certainly come on over. The Council won't mind, as the Families have plenty of work for brave guns for hire. Especially if they good at signing and upholding contracts."

Standing up from his chair, the elder Tusker stretched his arms, "For the tour, you can come back with us after this whole diplomacy matter is done and over with. Or you can arrange your own transport, don't matter to me. The agreement is as follows; I give you a tour of Tusk City, and you use that tour to see if you're ready to really make good with the Families." He held out his hand, a quiet offer to shake it if she agreed. Such little things were important to the Tuskers.

Triporea wrote:

Martin and Georgina plus their escorts who could partake of the food would enjoy everthing thoroughly. Though Martin did not partake of any drinks that were served to him, instead his glass would be filled by a servant with sparkling mineral water from a glass bottle that Martin seemed to have brought with him all the way from Bezembay. He would only take alcohol if the glass had only been lightly wetted with drink. Meaning less than a teaspoon filled the bottom of the glass. Georgina on the other hand was already requesting spirits, finding the wine too sweet for her tastes.

"Indeed, the empire under my rule is making strides to repair its friendships with those who truly matter. The Zantines have always been our friend. They will always be our friends and we are delighted that such important business could have been held in a beautiful planet like Minos. I am certain you are very proud, but what is more, I find that with a new age of peace dawning for the east with a historic treaty like the one in question on Minos we will see more Co-Imperial relationships blossom." Martin smiled to Zenos.

For his part, Zenos stuck with the wine as that was what he personally liked and he was quite capable of handling it. That and it was rather traditional for the Zantine Emperor to consume such wine, and he wasn't in any mood to break a perfectly good tradition. And by now, he had quite the tolerance. Georgina however would be accommodated when Lord-Captain Brackson noticed her request for something less sweet, seeing the Rangian Captain wave over a particular Taurus servant. This servant brought over a different tray, on which were bottles of a few different drinks, with the bottles being clearly sized for larger species such as the Taurus. Brackson quickly commented, "The brandy is from Avalantus, but the Whiskey there is Minosian. Rather partial to it myself, but you'll find it has quite the kick, even for a Taurus. We're not the sort for the sweet, weak stuff."

Zenos meanwhile smiled at Martin and nodded, "And I am glad you reached out for this. I was hoping to repair that friendship myself, Zantium needs to restore relations with our friends in the Ether. As for that treaty, I am indeed proud of it. Both for my daughter gaining some much needed experience, but also to see Minos prosper again. It's a very lovely planet, and I am happy to see it restored to relevance. And I am happier still that you chose it as the location for such an important meeting! It means a lot to us to be remembered in such a way. And if it is only the start of more relations to come, all the better! An era of peace is the perfect time to solidify friendship, so that it will be a strong enough cooperation to hold even in more troubled times."

"And, on that..." Zenos grew a bit more quiet, "I was indeed hoping to further strengthen ties. The Zantine people are looking forward to a bright, better future. I want to sow the seeds for that better future to last. Now I am aware of course that Zantium is now apart of the Iammelonian Union, and I of course have no intention of contesting your ties to the government back on Javalus. But how would you feel about a Zantine consulate on Bezembay? It might not quite be the same as the Zantine Embassy of more ancient times, but it would be nice to have some people near Redgrave Boulevard to help foster further friendship. Just something to think about, I know over there you need to consult with your Premier on such things, but I just like to share such ideas, Emperor-to-Emperor."

Iammelon wrote:

For his part, Zenos stuck with the wine as that was what he personally liked and he was quite capable of handling it. That and it was rather traditional for the Zantine Emperor to consume such wine, and he wasn't in any mood to break a perfectly good tradition. And by now, he had quite the tolerance. Georgina however would be accommodated when Lord-Captain Brackson noticed her request for something less sweet, seeing the Rangian Captain wave over a particular Taurus servant. This servant brought over a different tray, on which were bottles of a few different drinks, with the bottles being clearly sized for larger species such as the Taurus. Brackson quickly commented, "The brandy is from Avalantus, but the Whiskey there is Minosian. Rather partial to it myself, but you'll find it has quite the kick, even for a Taurus. We're not the sort for the sweet, weak stuff."

Zenos meanwhile smiled at Martin and nodded, "And I am glad you reached out for this. I was hoping to repair that friendship myself, Zantium needs to restore relations with our friends in the Ether. As for that treaty, I am indeed proud of it. Both for my daughter gaining some much needed experience, but also to see Minos prosper again. It's a very lovely planet, and I am happy to see it restored to relevance. And I am happier still that you chose it as the location for such an important meeting! It means a lot to us to be remembered in such a way. And if it is only the start of more relations to come, all the better! An era of peace is the perfect time to solidify friendship, so that it will be a strong enough cooperation to hold even in more troubled times."

"And, on that..." Zenos grew a bit more quiet, "I was indeed hoping to further strengthen ties. The Zantine people are looking forward to a bright, better future. I want to sow the seeds for that better future to last. Now I am aware of course that Zantium is now apart of the Iammelonian Union, and I of course have no intention of contesting your ties to the government back on Javalus. But how would you feel about a Zantine consulate on Bezembay? It might not quite be the same as the Zantine Embassy of more ancient times, but it would be nice to have some people near Redgrave Boulevard to help foster further friendship. Just something to think about, I know over there you need to consult with your Premier on such things, but I just like to share such ideas, Emperor-to-Emperor."

The Empress was all ears when the captain began suggesting things to her. She watched carefully as each bottle was presented to her but she quickly cut the captain off before he could finish speaking. "The Whiskey for me. I do apologise captain for perhaps seeming rude, But before I married into the House of Saran I was of the House of Grenheim." Now this was a noble house that Brackson would recognise. One of the few warrior houses of the empire, and the last Hurvecht warrior house. Indeed Georgina did seem familiar to some of the Minosian Guard. She was once a promising knight-to-be, training under her father, the Duke of Grenheim. Indeed the Grenheims had travelled to Valai, Minos, Tir Creachdair, and other worlds to prove their skill. Practitioners of the traditional Bezannian rapier, they were renowned swordsman. Why, there might have even been a Guardsman in the very room with a scar left by the empress in her youth. She was a little hard to recognise now, she was not in a Grenheimian Duelling Suit, their famous fashion staple, and her hair was near shoulder length as compared to her past short hair. Georgina happily took the whiskey and enjoyed.

Martin held his conversation with Zenos and smiled, "my noble friend we would be delighted to host a Zantinian consulate on Bezembay. You forget that in the empire my authority still supersedes that of Sansad. I can issue the edict as soon as I am able for immediate approval. You have my word, the relations of our empires will never be as strained as they had been previously. You know, the Princess Anne Ball is not but five months away! If you could appoint a consul before such time and dispatch them to Bezembay I would be delighted to receive them at the Imperial Levee." The Levee was a ceremony held annually at the ball where all newly appointed diplomats, generals, nobles, and other important individuals, both Bezannian and foreign, would present themselves before the emperor for a personal introduction. The Levee was usually the last event held at the ball.
Martin smiled, "Now I suppose I should offer the same. To establish a permanent Bezannian consulate here on Instabull. With a consul solely dedicated to our friends here."

Iammelon wrote:

The lack of response was a good enough answer for Norcai, who simply smirked. A grudge was a grudge, he knew that very well. And in respect to that, he didn't press, instead responding in amusement at her words, "So you wanna come see Tusk City, Firestarter? You're a brave one, I like that, and Tuskas will like that too. Don't get much in the way of tourists, we only like visitors who have business on our soil, so we tend to scare off the more weak-minded. But a tour can be arranged! We'll even let you pick out a spot for a consulate that you like! And in respect to your bravery, the tour will be free, oral contract in good faith. We'll save the paper for the bigger part of the business. Besides, in the interest of fairness, should let you see who you're dealing with before you start putting your name on contracts. I'll even introduce you to some other Rathans, my family should find you to be amusing, Princess."

"And I've heard about your mercs. They never really came about during the years of the Shadow Boar, for good reason. Most of the Tuskers your folks have met are likely from the Senar Family, the far travelers. That lot are good soldiers, good pilots, terrible story tellers. Too much booze in their gullets and too thick a pipe up the rear to do our planet any justice with what tales they got. It'll be much better for you to see Tuskas for yourself. Still, if this works out, your mercs should certainly come on over. The Council won't mind, as the Families have plenty of work for brave guns for hire. Especially if they good at signing and upholding contracts."

Standing up from his chair, the elder Tusker stretched his arms, "For the tour, you can come back with us after this whole diplomacy matter is done and over with. Or you can arrange your own transport, don't matter to me. The agreement is as follows; I give you a tour of Tusk City, and you use that tour to see if you're ready to really make good with the Families." He held out his hand, a quiet offer to shake it if she agreed. Such little things were important to the Tuskers.

"I don't think you can consider yourself a real Tordelian if you aren't willing to get yourself into a scrape or two," said Cynder, making a motion with her head as if pointing towards Sakura, "And touring a planet that used to be owned by the Boar certainly isn't going to be the most dangerous thing in my lifetime. I'm willing to come with you guys once the whole meeting's done. I'm not expecting an invitation to Bezannia anytime soon, not without getting tied down in marriage to some bachelor of theirs."

Her face for a moment showed some barely suppressed disgust at the thought, before she continued.

"So I'm willing to come with after the meeting's over with you guys. I don't think that things will get fixed with just this meeting alone anyway."

She shook hands with Norcai, confident that the conference would just end in a diplomatic stalemate where the worst that would happen was just some boring administrative stuff she didn't need to handle herself.

Virtus Nostra per Calamum (Our Strength from the Pen), bold and large words engraved on the entrance of a palatial building. A lone Hurvecht entered the palace, there was a small desk sitting in the middle of the room, two grand staircases lead to upper floors and an elevator lay at the far end of the room. The lights in the room were off and a sign on the desk read, “Closed.” Small rope barriers were on poles in front of the stairs.

The figure walked around the desk and opened the iron gates of the elevator. They pushed a button on the inside to turn the lights on. The dial above the door had a need over floor 0, and there were floors 1, 2, and 3 above it. The man closed the elevator gates and grabbed the lever and held it down for about thirty seconds. The elevator did not move, but there was a ding and he let go of the lever and the elevator began to descend. It opened again to a small room with walls draped in heavy red curtains. The ceiling was padded and studded with lights and a human in a tuxedo was sitting at a desk with a ledger and a small button with wires leading into the curtains directly behind him. He smiled and looked up at the approaching Hurvecht.

“Good evening, sir. Just one?” The Hurvecht nodded and the man made a note in his ledger. He pushed a button on his desk and the curtains behind him opened.

A burley Equiaux stepped forward and looked up. “Might I take your jacket, sir?” The hurvecht removed his outer coat and handed it to the man who traded a ticket for the coat and opened a large padded door for the Hurvecht. Beyond the door was a large club draped in red. At the center of the club was a large stage, on the back wall a formidable bar. Across two concentric tiers were tables and booths facing the stage. A series of podiums were on the stage where a band was performing music, though it was not music that was likely to be heard in a Bezannian club as it was far too Iammelonian sounding. On the stage a group of sixteen or so Meascthan showgirls were dancing. Lining the tables were guests of nearly all species in tuxedos and dresses. The Hurvecht however, was alone in being of purple fur and in coattails with a white tie. Immediately the room’s eyes were drawn to the newcomer. The Hurvecht’s mask was not like the masks worn by all the other patrons in the room. Where as their masks fully concealed the wearer’s identity and were elaborate and grand in design, this noble Hurvecht was wearing a domino mask.

As they strolled through the aisles, the patrons slowly began muttering amongst themselves who this was and what they were here for. The figure strolled to a vip booth, where a human man wearing a tuxedo and burgundy waistcoat was sitting. The Hurvecht was intercepted by two bodyguards, but remained unphased. The human simply waved them off and the Hurvecht sat down.

“Lord Loganmaine, isn’t it?” The Hurvecht smiled and nodded in return. “Pleasure to meet you then. So what brings the great lord steward to the Domino Room?”

“You know I think I’ve forgotten. Probably a social engagement, good to enjoy the atmosphere of the night.”

“A man like you? I thought you’d take all your social engagements at the Boite Imperiale.”

“Normally, I would. But tonight I have other things on my mind. Plus I go there almost every other night. I needed a fresh scene.” The Hurvecht said as he signaled a waiter to come and take his drink order. “Arlington Lily, double the fortified.” The waiter quickly ran off to get Lord Loganmaine his drink.

“You are a strange man, Lord Loganmaine. You come into a place like this dressed like that, bound to draw attention.”

“Well this is my dinner attire. And while I find there being a mask requirement as silly, I was forced to dig up my only one. Only wore it during the Duchess of Ezmien’s masquerades.” Lord Loganmaine mused while he sipped his drink.

“Silly? You mean you lot don’t wear masks at the Boite Imperiale? But it’s the most prestigious and secretive club on Bezembay! Nobody can get in unless they’re true and proper highborn!”

The Lord Loganmaine began laughing and nodded, “you speak the truth indeed. It is a private member’s club and the members just happen to be all nobility. Which is precisely why there is not a mask required like here. Us, the nobility I mean, know each other intimately. We have all moved beyond the petty squabbling and back stabbing that the peasants are afflicted by. Sure there is infighting between feuding individuals, but this does not change the simple fact that each of us have known each other intimately since childhood. Why I was practically raised alongside my dear friends the Lord Goodcastle and the Lady Kiliman. We have no need of masks. If I arrive in the Boite and find the Lord Edmonton six bottles deep in the Bisgeovet vintage it is because I already knew he had been fighting with his aunt and sister over his mother’s ashes. If I see the Lord Edmonton in the company of young Lord Westingham I do not bat an eye because I have known the Lord Edmonton to be a homosexual since he was a young man. Say I go in tomorrow and find the Lady Edeltree in the company of the Lord Silvermane and Lord Edeltree with the Lady Haverton. I knew already that the Edeltrees have been privately separated for over two hundred years now, but dear old Williamina will not divorce Hildred because she may not love him but she does respect him enough to not leave him without a title.” Loganmaine by this point had finished his drink and pushed it aside.

The pair sat in silence for a while before the lord spoke up again, “this is the fundamental key which separates us. Our two classes. We in the nobility are united as one, raised together from birth to rule. You all claw at what is left in the hopes you will rival us.”

The man shifted his lip down, “high and mighty talk. You are in my club, remember? It is not customary to insult a host.”

“You asked and I answered.” The lord said as he was served another drink.

“Well I would refrain, best not to cause a scene.”

Loganmaine laughed again, “a scene? Like for the papers? Are you going to call journalists to pour over my being here? Going to rough me up and dump me in the river?” He snorted, “no, no. There will be no scene. Say, what do you think would happen should you or your men remove a pistol and shoot me through the heart? Aside from my passing, do you think the papers would be a flurry with reports of the emperor’s right and trusty lord steward meeting his end in a sorry place like this? That I was having meetings with the Bondsman gang? No! Of course not, the police would launch an investigation but find naught. The papers would run as normal and life would continue on without me. Just like poor old Danworth. Speaking of, you really must complement your gang for their superb work. Whole affair was wrapped up nicely. Speaking of which, I remember my purpose in coming here, other than antagonising you.” He smiled and removed a box from his jacket and set it on the table. “Complements of the Lords Lilyplate and Goodcastle. Keep up the bang up jobs and we’ll have more work for you soon.” The Lord Loganmaine finished his drink and stood from the table. “But until then goodnight, gentlemen.” He turned and left.

The man left sitting at the table shook his head, cursing that puffed up nobleman. He knew of course a man like that was untouchable but it didn’t make it any easier to swallow the condescending droning of a nobleman. Though it was a somewhat enlightening experience for a mid-level boss in the bondsman rising through the ranks, it was important to learn the ins-and-outs of the trade.

Virtus Nostra per Calamum, the engraving above the door. But as the Lord Loganmaine was leaving the full motto was engraved on the inside of the building facing out. Virtus Nostra per Calamum, si modo scribere nouimus (Our Strength from the Pen, if only we knew how to write).

It all started that fateful day, Charlotte Chatterjee began her morning as she usually did with a commute to Government House on Gentling’s Hill. With the completion of the new surface trolly, her commute was easier than before. All it cost was a few gents to ride the trolley across Gentling’s Bridge and into the city center. She had to disembark by the Inner City Security Wall, a checkpoint established by the colonial police to protect the central city and government areas. But thankfully she had an inner city passport that was provided to her through her job. She could move through the security checkpoint without hindrance.

When she arrived at Gentling’s Hill she walked up the grand central stairs to the main entrance and entered the rather functional but still grand Government House of Maharajah. She was the secretary to the Governor-General, General Reginald Fairfax. She passed through the security at the front desk and made for her work station in the upper sections of the building. She passed the security office and the archives before arriving at her desk. She had to pass through the Governor-General’s office to reach her own workspace, but she did not mind. Her office was on the west facing side of the building and she had large windows behind her and to her left that faced the harbour and the city. Gentling’s Hill was high enough that her view of both were unobstructed and she could even see the large Viceregal Palace at the other end of Government Ward. She sat at her desk and started up her type-computer, she always hated these things. When she first started working for Government House they had a Bezannian computer expert give a lecture on how to use them effectively and demonstrated that one needs to be able to read and type at high speeds. The most efficient type-computists could do close to forty-five words per minute while being able to continuously read outputs. Bezannian computers did not have digital screens after all, and the computer had a second set of type keys allocated to its internal systems that allowed it to type outputs simultaneously to inputs.

The Bezannian employees at Government House all seemed experts with the type-computers compared to the Maharajan born employees. Charlotte herself found the computers impressive works of engineering and clockwork but unintuitive. The Bezannians had screens as she had seen on the communication system built into the governor-general’s desk, but the screen was specifically designed around video based communications only. She lamented at the idea of owning an Iammelonian computer, but such things never really found their way to Maharajah. Today was not all gloom however, as the governor-general himself was out on business to Bezembay. Odd to be certain as General Fairfax was an important man on Maharajah.

There was a knock on the door, “Come in.” Charlotte said, looking up from her computer.

In stepped a young man, Maharajan too. He had a large dossier in one hand and a tray with tea on the other. “Miss Chatterjee, good morning! I figured I’d bring you the general’s request so you can put it in his office. And morning tea.”

Charlotte smiled, “Thank you, Mister Gawami. But I was not aware of any requests made to the archive?”

“Well he requested some files be brought out of secure storage for his review. Said to just leave them in his office for when he got back.”

“Secure storage?” Charlotte asked. “I thought the protocol was to review secure files in the vault and never bring them out.”

Gawami nodded, “but the librarian approved the request and said it should be fine so long as no one breaks into the general’s office in the next two days.”

“May I ask what is in the files?” Charlotte said, extending her hand.

Gawami nodded and handed the dossier over. “It is just old budgets. At least that is the location I pulled it from. I assume they are old military budgets that Fair-fatty needs so he can ask Sansad for even more money.” He laughed.

Charlotte returned with a small laugh of her own and looked the outside of the dossier over. The case was not heavy, indicating there were not many papers within. Not that she could see as the case had a lock on it. Gawami said goodbye and returned to the archives and Charlotte placed the dossier on the general’s desk for when he returned.

Her day was painfully slow after this however, she had barely any work to do and she was finding anything to do just to pass the time. That was until the clock chimed three o’clock. As on the other end of the building, two employees and around three security men were taking a break in the music room. Just below them, a large van had arrived and seven armed insurgents made for a service door. These men were seen on cameras nearly instantly by the security office. The office dispatched a message to the security men over their radios that there were armed intruders in the service passage. The three security men near the room drew their weapons and started flipping tables, barking at the two employees to get out. Two more security men arrived and took up positions around the room with their pistols. Across government house the rest of the security men were securing their doors and posts. Five were assembling at the office to equip gas masks, launchers, and body armour.

The door to the music room flew open and the security men opened fire on the door. The insurgents recoiled back down the passage but their automatic weapons forced the security men to take cover. This allowed five into the room under fire but who quickly took cover. A few seconds passed as more shots were exchanged. One insurgent was struck in the neck and recoiled, gasping and gurgling for air as their blood pooled on the floor. A security man was shot in the arm in retaliation. It was at this point the security office triggered the building’s general alarm. And soon metal shutters and doors were closing all around the building.

Miss Chatterjee looked confused as the heavy metal security door slid down over the wooden door to the governor’s office. She jumped to her feet as the windows were being covered too, but before she could be completely sealed within her side office one of the shutters on the windows suddenly stopped and made several loud thunking noises before there was the sound of a belt driven motor running out.

“Bloody bezannian tech…” She she poked her head out the window.

Downstairs the fighting was ramping up. Now trapped inside, the six insurgents were fighting bitterly. But the security men were relieved as their armoured comrades arrived from upstairs. They quickly formed up and fired off two gas canisters into the service hall where a few remaining insurgents had taken cover to flush them out. A third tried to fire at the ones in cover in the room but missed, his canister landing in a corner of the room. When it failed to go off, the ignition of the gas only set the nearby curtains on fire. Something both sides neglected as the firefight continued. It would be a few minutes later, when the fire began consuming the room that the security men started evacuating. The security office, panicked, did the only thing they could and sealed the now burning room with the insurgents with it. When the security team regrouped they started planning an evacuation of the building.

Charlotte was standing by the window, sighing as she looked out at the city. Her day dreaming was suddenly interrupted however but the smell of smoke, angling herself in such a way she could peer around the building, she saw a plume of smoke emerging from the building. She then saw the main doors of the building open and many of the Bezannian employees rushed out. The security men guiding them out. At the base of the hill firefighters and local police were forming lines around the building. She waved her hand and shouted for help, but none of the security men seemed to hear her. She sighed and waited a few more minutes. But when she noticed the firefighters were actually just sitting around she knew something was wrong.

The fire was swallowing more and more of the building, Charlotte tried calling for help several more times but in the end saw nobody was coming back up the hill to help anyone. She looked around below her and saw a tree she could possibly jump to and climb down. She figured it would be better to break a bone climbing down a tree than burn in her office. So she jumped out the window, caught a branch and slid to the bottom of the tree. She was covered in cuts and her clothes were torn in several places. Looking back the smoke was inching closer to her office, but now it was time to leave she thought. She ran down the hill and she made it to the police line where she was taken into safety away from the fire which was now enveloping the whole building.

Charlotte left minutes later, not wanting to stick around. She felt sick and lucky to even be alive. When she got back to her flat, she turned on her television to see the news. But when she hit the switch all she got were dead signals. She flipped through channels but all were dead. She went to her long ranged telephone and picked it up, dead too. She tried the public phone in the street but that was dead too! She knew now more and more something was happening… especially when she heard that the Viceroy was now announcing a city wide lock-down for security purposes. When a few days passed and Charlotte heard a rumour that the Bezannians had evacuated the countryside, her gut sank. The city had become abuzz with activity of all sorts, mostly Bezannians fleeing the countryside and queueing for ships offworld. Military ships were coming and going day and night. And the Viceroy had seemingly disappeared. But what worried Charlotte the most in all of this were passenger ships hanging signs over their ticket counters reading “Bezannian Citizens Only.”

The big passenger liners were not the only way to get off world, however. There were always the less reputable groups who could get one off world for a price. But Charlotte had no intention of going to such groups. She knew how and where to find them, but she was a city girl. She was a little concerned about turning to pirates and smugglers. So she did the next best thing, she packed her flat and grabbed all the money she could in purpura and headed for the Imperial Postal Service Processing Center in the harbour. She knew the vast complex was more automated and in the late hours of the evening would have few guards if any. She slipped into the complex through a side gate and made for the outgoing center. She opened a large cargo crate and sighed before she entered it. She pulled the door closed behind her and settled in for the long ride. It would be a few hours before the crate she was in got moved. Mashed between metal boxes full of mail, she made herself cozy.

She bounced around the empire for a while… before arriving on Istabull. Charlotte Chatterjee was tired, she was homeless, she was hungry, and most importantly she was desperate for an audience with Sofya. In her time away from Maharajah she learned many, many things…Like the imperial hand over of Maharajah to the Corridor Authority and the truth behind what she had seen. Not knowing quite how to reach a princess she started by first heading to the gates and asking the guards to deliver a letter. When this did not work, she resorted to trying to break in. But she was no thief or spy, and was caught easily. Now arrested by the Rangian guards she begged them to inform the princess, she had to speak with her, if even for a moment. Charlotte claimed she wanted to help the princess and give her information about the empire! Information relating Maharajah, Charlotte insisted she was an admirer of the princess and she only was trying to help and that she feared for her life.

Taurgha

The Alicorns wrote:

"What? I thought I submitted... Argh! Fine, I'll send another copy over," said the captain, "And if that transmission mysteriously drops, I'll even let them board, alright?"

Central Sionese Mountains, Darja Province
The old mountain city seemed abanonded at first glance, bullet marks covered its many small stone-built houses and the bigger Draconic monasteries. The smell of burnt flesh came and went as the mountain wind rushed through the main street. Most of the civilians hid in their houses as red banners featuring a fanged dragon flew over the old gates of the regional capital of Kalapat-Sajaaryang. There in the central square stood a large army of peasants drunk in Achjaal and shooting in the air to celebrate their victory; all dancing around a circle of pyres and within that circle, horrendously skinned human beings -still alive- burning slowly and screaming in agony. A female ghashyr sitting on a jade throne in front of the monastery, a bottle of achjaal in her hand and a pistol in the other was overseeing the cruel torture and the celebrations. She wore a black military tunic and a simple red scarf, yelling "Drink! Drink and Revel Comrades. Our struggle won't end until the last Triad worm burns in the pyres! Our struggle won't end until the green plains turn blood red as dragonfire! Our struggle won't end until the gold-filled banks of the coast buy us all tons of dreamrose and achjaal at our command! But until the final victory, the Ancestor Spirits aid our cause! So drink proud Siang, the legacy of Sionxu has not died yet! Tomorrow we march to the old imperial capital of Batac!" The soldiers cheered ecstatically as she drunk her Achjaal and threw the empty bottle at the burning victims in the pyre.

Sionese Capital of Iavana, Iavanalang Province
The mighty mega-city of Iavana stood imposing in the distance with its mighty towers and guardian-statue of Tac-Lac. More than half the Triple League's army was besieging the capital of Sion, yet even with numbers on their side a sense of bad fortune loomed in the air around the rebel camp. Sen Yet Soon stood worried in his tent along with his military advisors unable to decide when to strike; all this seemed too easy to be real. His sister would not give up the Triad empire so easily, something did not make sense. If only some sign of good luck appeared, then perhaps they could take the city.

Above Shyrite skies a much different scene was taking place within a small Tordelian ship.
With the false copy not matching Talmyrene data, a brigandine of the Planetary guard approached the "trade vessel" in a boarding position; carefully locking its trap-door to the Tordelian ship's trap-door. Soon a loud declaration could be heard from the door "This is Lieutenant Marolazgor Turiuyen of the Talmyrengal Marta. I have orders to search this ship and verify its identity. We demand a safe entrance and be advised; individuals bearing weapons will be shot and killed while uncooperative behavior may result in the ship's seizure. Open Up." the deafening metallic voice from the old Ghashyr metacorder ended abruptly after a chilling screech.

The Alicorns wrote:

atsu-chan: Oh! I wanna see what's on the other side of that thing!
a_cherry_blossom: No. Any proper military ship'd get us in deep sh*t with the Talmyrox and the Nebula.
atsu-chan: Aww...
a_cherry_blossom: Although, I do know a way around it...
fleet_mom joined the chat
a_cherry_blossom: Hey, Virx, I need you to send over a survey ship over. Got any spare?
fleet_mom: Sure, I can even spare her now that Cyboar's undergound. She won't be entirely happy that she's being dragged out of studying all those samples, but I'm pretty sure she'll like poking at whatever's on the other side of the portal...

From Virx, the VRS Veilpiercer took off from one of Virx's many docks, going off into the Corridor to discover just what was on the other side of that portal...

As they entered the majestic portal, the ship found itself within a very strong ethercurrent dragging them with extreme speed towards a small planet. As soon as the ether current threw them up, it was unclear what their position was. However, one apparently peculiar and noticeable change was that the Eye was not visible anymore in the Ether-sky, instead there could be seen a slightly chunky green piece of ether far away.
Even more annoying was the fact that there was not even a single spec of Spice around! WORSE! a Bezannian ship was near!
It all made sense now, this whole portal was only a Bezannian trick!

The Empire of Bezannia of Triporea

Iammelon wrote:

The trip of the flagship and its frigate escort was also noticed by most of Iammelon, as it was hard to miss. However no action was taken to stop or delay the fleet, as the Anubites had given it an invitation. The RSJD would keep an eye on it from afar, mostly to ensure nothing happened to it while it was within the Nebula, but they otherwise left it be. That is not to say the fleet was entirely ignored, as it got people talking. Questions about its purpose and goal in meeting with the Anubites inevitably appeared in the minds of many, and rumors spread. Some speculated the fleet was there to get Anubite backing for a Talmyrene civil war, others believed it was some form of treasure fleet moving to deposit stores of Arcalite in Tombuiorn’s Great Archives and Vaults. One particularly outlandish rumor speculated the Anubites were in control of both the Sionese rebellions and the Arganraxels, and this fleet was coming to bring tribute and swear fealty to their dastardly Anubite masters. This last rumor mostly appeared in the Iammelonian Rim and stayed in Ether Pubs. In any case, Iammelon noticed, and the Nebula was watching.

The Arganraxel fleet arrived safely at the homeworld of the Anubites, and would bear witness to the ancient desert planet. Their communication however would not be with the planet, but rather the massive orbital edifice that stood between the fleet and the world below. A massive, double-pyramid like structure acting as a mighty star fortress around Tombuiorn. This was the Ancestral Bastion, one of the oldest orbital structures in all the galaxy, still actively watching over its home. The return communication would come from there, “Welcome Prince. You are expected by the High Lord. Your fleet may dock in the shipyards. You however are invited to the High Lord’s Palace to meet with the Rwims. Flight directions are being transmitted now. May you find good fortune in the sands.” With that, the Bastion sent over a flight path, granting the Arganraxel access to Tombuiorn.

The path, intended for a shuttle, was a direct course to the Imperial Palace. It took them over the desert and then finally into the great linear city that followed along the great river of Tombuiorn. All of its ancient buildings and monuments wizzing past as they approached one building standing tall over the others, the Palace of the High Lords, home of the Rwims.

A welcoming congregation waited near a landing pad. There were Rwim House Guards, personal troops of the Rwim family, a number of servants, and also a group of scribes. As usual, the Anubites intended to record this meeting carefully. High Lord Sethus was not among this group, but there was one central Imperial figure leading this welcoming party. An older Anubite woman in a black dress, standing proud with a smile on her face. The one that the House Guard looked to for orders, an unmistakable Rwim, and somebody that the Prince would certainly recognize; Feme Rwim. She stood at the front because she had that duty as a member of the Imperial family, but more personally because of a sense of excitement at a long overdue reunion.

When Otrysian finally landed and emerged, it would be Feme who spoke in greeting, “Welcome back to Tombuiorn, Prince Otrysian Arganraxel. The High Lord will be able to meet with you shortly. In the meantime, allow me to show you around the palace. After all… It has been a very long time since you were last here.” Her smile grew, staying formal but clearly quite happy.

Otrysian's mission arrived in a solemn yet truly imperial manner, all in traditional gold-and-white Arganraxel era Talmyrene garb, while Otrysian himself bore even the sash and sword of his position as Talmyrene prince. The Knights Maltez quickly formed lines and raised their swords pronouncing him in unison as he appeared "Vhin ta Talmyrengal Sazhor! Sazhor Otrysian Arganraxel! Martes Maltez, ARTACYON!" With the command given they all stood in perfect attention as the old prince walked in between the two lines of knights. If it wasn't for the insistence of the title "prince", most would think this as the entrance of a Talmyr.
Upon noticing the familiar figure of Feme from afar, Otrysian's eyes shined bright full of joy. He almost broke protocol by making a rush step to run and hug her, but quickly remembered that he was in the midst of all those scholars and judging Anubite courtiers. "Right..." he said to himself and tried regaining his composure to play his part in accordance to his position. However, as his eyes met with hers all talk did not matter, neither did the pompous ceremony; he merely made a slight nod at her, speaking softly "Truly it has felt like a long time, my lady Feme".
Nodding back to the Knights to stay in position, Otrysian extended his hand to Feme "Yes, let's walk.." While the prince kept a formal appearance, he really seemed to struggle containing his emotions when next to the Anubite lady, as his truthful smile could be seen by all. Soon however they could greet each other privately; With judging eyes far behind, Otrysian grabbed the Anubite from her waist and hugging her twirled her around on air, before gently putting her down again. His back seemed to have suffered greatly, but the old prince would not have it any other way.

-

Iammelon wrote:

It was certainly a transition going from green, cheerful Minos to the ancient city world of Instabull. The people were more regal here, but more reserved. Less of the open optimism and joy that the people of Minos displayed. Old watchtowers were still manned, but by older legionnaires rather than youthful and excited Taurus recruits. Every building was higher and more shiny than most of what Minos had to offer, but all were of a different era. Like a planet sized museum people happened to live in.

The Imperial Palace was much the same, but it was at least more vibrant. Sofya’s arrival was greeted with a small group of Rangians saluting her and escorting her inside towards the main hall, as a trumpeter made a small tune to pronounce the arrival.

Zenos was waiting in the main hall, quietly thinking to himself before Sofya made her presence known. He smiled back at her before coming over and giving his daughter a hug, speaking kindly as he did so, “I certainly saw you, Sofya. You drew quite the crowd! But that speech is why I called you here, I need to talk to you about it. Over here.” He gestured to a side room, a small meeting room that was meant for private discussions within the palace.

Getting close to the door, he looked to the two Rangian Captains that were of course loyally following their respective charges. Appa, Sofya’s loyal friend, and Zeno’s captain which Sofya would also certainly know; Lord-Captain Brackson, a very large Taurus with black fur who stood in fairly sharp contrast to Zenos. He was intimidating as befits the guardian of an Emperor, but Sofya would know from personal experience that Brackson was actually rather laid back when not putting up a front as part of his duties. The Emperor nodded to both Rangians, “Guard the door, nobody comes in until I am done. Nobody. This is only for my daughter to hear.” Brackson nodded, taking up a position on the left side of the door. Appa nodded as well, though she first gave Sofya a reassuring smile before taking her own position on the right side. With that, Emperor and Princess could enter the room and speak in private.

It was not a fancy chamber, but it did have some nice chairs in it. Zenos sat down in one and gestured for Sofya to sit down in one as well, before he spoke calmly, “Now, Sofya. I will tell you right now that I am not mad. Your mother is a lot more anxious, but I like to trust your judgment. I know you went and made plans with Governor Rhangarb, so that speech was planned. Why did you feel the need to make such a statement to all of the Nebula? You can be entirely honest, that’s why I arranged this privacy.” He was remaining calm, since Zenos did genuinely want to know what was going on in his daughter’s mind.

Despite the comfort of the luxurious chair she was sitting, Sofya felt quite uncomfortable. Her fingertips were tapping on her knees, while her head was going back and forth. Why she had to do this? What was she thinking? It was against all she was taught! Was this just an immature whim? Many thoughts passed simultaneously within the young princess' mind, but then suddenly all stopped...
She stopped moving her head back and forth and looked at her father rather angrily "..because I hate it. It feels as if the entire universe expects me to be an empress one day, but no one even asks me what I think or what I want ..I only have to follow orders and act this or that way. I always have to be pleasant to the Ghashyr lords, I always have to pretend I believe in some stupid Light fantasy. No one cares about what I think ...and it's not just mother, you too dad act the same way. You may be nice, but you both always bent to immoral rules, idiotic fanatics and greedy crooks beneath you instead of leading the fight against them" her tone started becoming more desperate and anxious "And you expect me to do so as well! Both of you want to make me a slave not an empress ...mother would have me married to whatever house she wants to have as an ally, like some breeding mare. Both of you want me to balance my very identity even! Well I can't do all that, and I won't stand it anymore. Both realms are sad decadent ruins because for ages no emperor put aside everything to help the people and guide them ..because every royal grows this way, meant to just follow and be a good puppet. I am not like that. And frankly I do not care about Shyr, I'm sick of it! They always judge me there, I'm always some weird creature in their eyes. I don't want their stupid evil black crown or their evil zealot ways. They are how they are because they're Eskalivi all of them, but with Iammelon I think I can help and I will. I just hoped you would understand and help me instead of judge me and toe mother's line." she seemed ready to cry as she ended ...this was not really her usual self, she had never been that open before and it made her terrified.

Triporea wrote:

As she approached the constable, the policeman would turn his head to the young human tourist and smile. "Good afternoon, miss. Certainly. You are in the famous Portage Street district of Dunkleshire, so if you want luxury most of the high and mighty stay at the Chateau Principe, but I also hear the Prince Hoynes is another luxury hotel. Both are along this street, you just walk down the street in that direction and you'll find either hotel. The big signs should tell you when you've arrived. I would offer to walk you, miss, but I am afraid I need to complete my rotation." Indeed in the direction the constable pointed, Lazaqa would find two grand and luxurious hotels. Each was brilliant in its own right, with the Chateau Principe being the favoured of the nobility as it was the older and more established hotel of the two. The Prince Hoynes was built shortly after the Chateau Principe was but suffered a fire that caused it to close for many months. The Prince Hoynes did make a resurgence during the later years and has become a popular hotel once more.

The young Berutian woman was awed by the majesty of the Chateau Principe, however she felt that it would perhaps be too expensive for her upper middle class budget. After looking at both she decided to step into the Prince Hoynes smiling at the valet and approaching the reception "Hi! My name is Lazaqa, I would want a single room for five days and to be informed of any tours offered in the city. Also, I would like to know when and if you serve breakfast."

An Olden Place, Forgotten within the Dunes of Tombuiron

She could taste wet copper on her tongue. Ancient dust dance in her vision. As if it was in sync with the dance on this cool, stone floor. Worn with use over innumerable days. Many danced here to hone every aspect of their self for many reasons. Worthiness, discipline, preparation. For herself, the purpose have yet to reveal itself in spirit.

The ringing ebb away as she refocuses. She was aware of the circular ring drawn on the floor in chalk. A sliver of an opening high up on the wall. Letting in rays of the sun to serve as the only source of illumination in the room.

The sound of quiet footfalls bounce off the walls. Coming from a source that doesn’t exist. Or rather it does in a way, just not in the eye of the public. His existence is just like this place. Nameless. Forgotten to time. That fact is evident whenever her eyes fell on his form.

He does have a name she’s sure. It’s just that she has yet to receive the honor of it. One that she knew wasn’t likely to be earned anytime soon. The extent of her knowledge of him is that Anrak sent her here to be trained by someone he knows. Someone who is closely tied to the Ithrak House.

That was what this dance was on paper. Heulyn Ithrak being trained by an enigmatic Anubite in a place that doesn’t exist on any public map. Beneath that, she knew it was more complicated than that. More profound.

“It’s as I heard. The memory of combat in strong in your bones.” His voice too was hard to make out. As if everything about him was to present an air of mystery. “You’ve at least dissuaded my fear of you being nothing more than a pup who enjoy rolling on warm stone.” But not enough to impress him yet.

With no warning he lunged from dark. A flurry of limbs fills the air between them. She wasted no energy with unnecessary movement. Her form fierce and passionate. It was a contrast to his cool and simple motions. Much like he said, Heulyn martial prowess was becoming sharper the more she drew out the muscle memory in her.

She was someone who’ve once engaged in many conflicts in days past. There were once many epithets tied to her in wake of those conflicts. At her peak, she was unchallenged. But she long left that peak for an idyllic lifestyle.

”Gh-!”

Her side roughly met the uncaring ground. His strike left her a few fractured ribs. They will heal quickly, which he knew. Not that it meant he was being more harsh because of it. No, it didn’t matter if she had that. This was how he sparred against others. Because if they’re in this ring. It means they can take it.

“For the most part, I care not for the greater galaxy.” She heard him talk casually. As if this spar was hardly making him sweat. “The breadth of my world is that of our house. Thus, when word of you reached my old ears. I was intrigued.” He tried to attack her when she was on the ground. She was waiting for him. Ensnaring him then bringing him down to the floor. Trying to grapple him into submission.

It was a struggle as the both of them slip in and out of each other holds. It came to an end with him keeping her locked in a hold. Holding an ancient dagger close to her neck that he slipped out sometime during the exchange. She was panting. Listening to him speak right next to her ear. “I’’m confident that you no doubt know the importance of image, no? Is it weighing on your shoulders? Does it make you feel insecure?” He pushed her away.

The two got to their feet in a heartbeat. A trickle of crimson ran down the side of her neck where the dagger’s edge rested. They circle around the ring. The mysterious Anubite pointed his dagger at her minor wound. “You bleed like everyone else. You’re mortal” There was a tinge of disapproval to those words. “Lord Anrak doesn’t bleed.” It may sound like he was stating the obvious, but it was not what he was referring to. “Neither is he mortal. No, he’s anything but. When people learn that he is going after them, they don’t do anything because they can’t do anything. The bodies he buried are the foundation of everything we are.”

Yes. She knows that. Just as she knows every tale and account that speak about her husband’s reputation. She and the Anubite met at the center once more. He had her on the defensive due to the dagger. The steel licked at her flesh here and there. Then she managed to strike it out of his grip. The dagger clattering outside the ring. The two disengaged.

“Yes. It gets to me.” She admits. Anger well in her chest. Lacing her bones, warming her blood, clearing her mind. The source being a mix of having her butt being handed to her and recalling the various frustrations in her life. “But I don’t let it defeat me and keep me on the ground.” They exchange blows once more. This time it wasn’t so one-sided.

The spar came to a lull. “Good. That’s good. That’s the least those who join our house can do.” He said before lunging at her once more with more intensity behind his strikes. In three seconds she once again met the floor. He watches her reel from the pain. “Lord Anrak told me that he plan to one day bless you with the honor of wielding the First Blade. The very sword he used to cut down the first lord in his path to unite Tombuiron long ago. When that glorious day come. I’ll ensure that the woman who grip its handle is a woman who does not bleed. Now. Stand. Up.”

The order didn’t need to be said. For she was already getting to her feet. But the meaning was clear. His duty is to forge her into someone who has the right to beside someone like Lord Anrak. It would be a disgrace to their people, their house, and more importantly to Anrak to see her battered and vulnerable.

And lo, the dance continued.

Taurgha wrote:

The young Berutian woman was awed by the majesty of the Chateau Principe, however she felt that it would perhaps be too expensive for her upper middle class budget. After looking at both she decided to step into the Prince Hoynes smiling at the valet and approaching the reception "Hi! My name is Lazaqa, I would want a single room for five days and to be informed of any tours offered in the city. Also, I would like to know when and if you serve breakfast."

The hotel staff all wore the same blue suits, similar to the décor of the interior of the hotel. The receptionist smiled as she approached, "A single room, of course. We have six rooms available. We have four standard rooms and we also have the Duke Michael Suite and the Princess Margaret Suite available." He would explain the four standard rooms all were on varying levels with different views, one overlooking Portage Street, one overlooking the tarn, one that looked to the university, and one looking to the palace across the river. The Duke Michael suit was triple the price of a normal room, but came with a near fully furnished apartment that overlooked Portage street and came with a few other amenities. The Princess Margaret Suite was nearly five times the price of a normal room but came with a butler and hotel chauffer. "As for a tour, our concierge would be happy to arrange something for you. Breakfast is served to the room at your choice of 7, 7:30, or 8. If you will be missing our normal breakfast hours please call to our desk to ensure we can deliver your food to you at a later time."

The time had come at last. Three fittings Heulyn had to have for her dress, three! The dress was made by one of Bezembay's premier dressmakers, and on rush order it was a miracle Heulyn even got it on time. But as the wife of an anubite lord, the dressmaker was more than happy to shift attention from the Hurvecht lords to designing the perfect dress to snare the eye of the imperial court. As Heulyn was a debutante in Bezannian society she simply had to be given the priority of the house. Her dress was truly stunning, an off white laden with pearls. She was gifted gloves, a necklace, and a tiara by her friend the good Lord May to complete her evening attire. She was told to eat light in the days leading up to Princess Anne Ball. Her friend, Theodore, had pulled out his dinner tails and white tie suit for the evening. He even wore black stockings and had a sword by his side. In addition as the pair were departing for their vehicle he dawned a large bonnet and cape, informing Heulyn that since he was a doctor of law he had been awarded the sword, hat, and cape upon his receiving of a doctorate. It was customary for him to wear his decorations upon such events as was evident by two small medals that were pinned to his inner jacket. He explained he had received one for volunteering as an army surgeon during the iammelonian civil war. The second he was granted for his significant contributions to his borough on Ethelford, as he had made generous donations to local developments the empress had seen fit to bestow him a civil award.

But the hour drew near for them to leave. They would not go to the palace in any old automobile, instead an imperial carriage arrived to collect the couple. As Heulyn would soon see, the carriages were dispatched to collect every attending noble planet wide. Many streets in Saranshire proper were blocked off and the carriages were able to conduct swift unimpeded traffic through the government quarters to the palace. The carriage was comfortable but small. Purely a functional vehicle to bring parties from their residence to the palace in a formal manner. Once they arrived in the palace's underground motorpool, a servant helped Heulyn down from the carriage and onto a carpet. The same servant helped Theodore as well. The pair stood with a small crowd of other nobles, awaiting the funicular to return from the top of the hill and carry more passengers up. Already Heulyn could feel eyes upon her as many lords and ladies gazed upon her dress. Each of them seeming to have a small semblance of maybe jealousy or approval. As the funicular arrived at the base of the steep hill, Heulyn and Theodore were able to board with many other couples. Predominant among them was the simply dashing Duke of Clemans, a charming and fit Meascthan in a respectable suit. Clemans had married into Equiaux royalty in the Chalons and established a significant fortune before returning to the empire a duke. The funiclar reached the top of the hill and as Heulyn exited she was met with the long walk from the terminal to the palace entrance. She would walk almost a mile through the great promenade of Princess Anne Park, an elaborate and well maintained garden path that lead one to the palace entrance. Illuminating the night sky were hot air balloons hovering close to the ground so as to give off light with hanging lanterns. The palace itself was all lit up.

Once Heulyn reached the palace itself, she was in for an experience. Never before had she been in such a place of wealth and majesty. The anubites, ghashyr, zantines, not even the dragons designed a palace with such imperial splendor as this. The men and women who strolled the halls dripped with arcalite jewelry and carried watches, rings, necklaces, and other accessories worth millions of credits. They casually wore suits and dresses of such high make and princely cost the true wealth represent in the room would have been astonishing. In her time on Bezembay, Heulyn had heard the tale that the ten wealthiest Iammelonians' fortunes (if combined) could not equal one tenth the sum of money the poorest Bezannian duke represented. Standing in this vestibule she could perhaps see this tale was more fact than anecdote. She had of course known the Bezannians to be a prim and proper people, but never had she seen their court in full force. She suspected no one really had. Her husband would be damn near blown down by the sights she enjoyed. Though she did spy at least three anubites in the crowd, likely here after much elbow-brushing and social climbing with some lord so they could stick their snouts in the veritable history here and document the affair as was their style. She also spied a few Zantinians and Ghashyr, though the Ghashyr were few and far between.

It was no secret, after the ill fated Unicorn incident the relationship between the Talmyrox and Empire had become strained. The Zantinians were out in full force however, scions were a common spouse among the humans and even some of the Hurvecht who had taken Taurus spouses. Theodore smiled down at Heulyn, "Well, noble friend. Here we are! Hysebarrow Palace. I hope you are ready for an unforgettable evening." He slowly meandered through the crowd and towards a nearby drawing room where a large crowd was mingling. "I appreciate that as a foreigner you are not used to events like this. We nobles sometimes forget how much of a spectacle these events really are, I have. I've been invited to the ball for nearly all my life of course, so such sights dont move me like I am certain they do you." As he spoke, a Hurvecht suddenly approached and Theodore exclaimed. "Castrup, old boy how are you?" The two Hurvecht embraced and Theodore opened his hand to Heulyn. "Lady Heulyn, meet my dear childhood friend Malcom Castrup, the Earl of Witteny from the planet Dernby." Castrup smiled and bowed his head to Heulyn.

Angelarium

Taurgha wrote:

As they entered the majestic portal, the ship found itself within a very strong ethercurrent dragging them with extreme speed towards a small planet. As soon as the ether current threw them up, it was unclear what their position was. However, one apparently peculiar and noticeable change was that the Eye was not visible anymore in the Ether-sky, instead there could be seen a slightly chunky green piece of ether far away.
Even more annoying was the fact that there was not even a single spec of Spice around! WORSE! a Bezannian ship was near!
It all made sense now, this whole portal was only a Bezannian trick!

The Empire of Bezannia of Triporea

As the vast majority of the crew of the Veilpiercer prepared for battle stations or scrambled to discover where in the galaxy they were now, one woman was thoroughly distracted by the sudden shift in situation. "The other side had plenty of spice!" exclaimed a blue-haired cyborg before her voice lowered to a mumble, "but this one doesn't... and the ethercurrent's drawing us towards this planet... The ether's weird too..."

She cursed for a moment about her lack of knowledge about the ether, before going off to see whatever the sensors and stuff were saying. Sure, she was the overall commander, but she trusted the actual captain of this ship to crash land safely on whatever rock they were headed towards.

Taurgha wrote:

Otrysian's mission arrived in a solemn yet truly imperial manner, all in traditional gold-and-white Arganraxel era Talmyrene garb, while Otrysian himself bore even the sash and sword of his position as Talmyrene prince. The Knights Maltez quickly formed lines and raised their swords pronouncing him in unison as he appeared "Vhin ta Talmyrengal Sazhor! Sazhor Otrysian Arganraxel! Martes Maltez, ARTACYON!" With the command given they all stood in perfect attention as the old prince walked in between the two lines of knights. If it wasn't for the insistence of the title "prince", most would think this as the entrance of a Talmyr.
Upon noticing the familiar figure of Feme from afar, Otrysian's eyes shined bright full of joy. He almost broke protocol by making a rush step to run and hug her, but quickly remembered that he was in the midst of all those scholars and judging Anubite courtiers. "Right..." he said to himself and tried regaining his composure to play his part in accordance to his position. However, as his eyes met with hers all talk did not matter, neither did the pompous ceremony; he merely made a slight nod at her, speaking softly "Truly it has felt like a long time, my lady Feme".
Nodding back to the Knights to stay in position, Otrysian extended his hand to Feme "Yes, let's walk.." While the prince kept a formal appearance, he really seemed to struggle containing his emotions when next to the Anubite lady, as his truthful smile could be seen by all. Soon however they could greet each other privately; With judging eyes far behind, Otrysian grabbed the Anubite from her waist and hugging her twirled her around on air, before gently putting her down again. His back seemed to have suffered greatly, but the old prince would not have it any other way.

There were certainly many Anubites watching the procession carefully, and it wasn’t hard to notice a few of the scribes already taking notes about just the style of the arrival alone. Their judgeful eyes watched and recorded all that they could see. Which was why when Feme happily took Otrysian’s hand to walk off to a more secluded area of the palace, the Rwim Guards moved to block anybody, Ghashyr or Anubite, from following the pair. Though this was mostly to stop the scribes, under Feme’s orders. They would have to make their notes based on what they had seen outside.
That in turn gave the two older royals some privacy. The location Feme had led him to was a private interior garden, a purposefully peaceful and empty place within the Rwim Palace complex for when one of the royal family needed a quiet place of contemplation. Of course, that wasn’t what Feme had in mind here, as she quite happily hugged Otrysian back and giggled with glee as she was spun about in the air, something that would’ve surprised most who knew the generally rather stern diplomat. Once put down, Feme smiled and chuckled as she looked in Otrysian’s eyes, “I see you still have plenty of energy left in you, even if you should take better care of yourself. It really has been too long. And if only we had more time for ourselves…” She held his hands tightly for a moment, before speaking again, “I have my ways, of course. Like this time now, I wanted to catch up when I heard about the invitation. Technically my nephew is ready to meet with you now, he doesn’t exactly have business that overrides this in terms of importance, but I created this time before then so we could speak. Selfish, perhaps, but I really needed this. Hopefully the same goes for you.”
She stepped back and sat down on a small bench towards the center of the garden, surrounded by beds of flowers, and she patted the section next to her for Otrysian to sit down on, while she spoke more quietly, “I would go to Astana more often, but it gets harder and harder to manufacture reasons these days, and it always gets the courtiers talking. And my nephew can’t afford that sort of murmuring… But that’s not worth dwelling on. Come, sit. Just enjoy this moment.”

-

Taurgha wrote:

Despite the comfort of the luxurious chair she was sitting, Sofya felt quite uncomfortable. Her fingertips were tapping on her knees, while her head was going back and forth. Why she had to do this? What was she thinking? It was against all she was taught! Was this just an immature whim? Many thoughts passed simultaneously within the young princess' mind, but then suddenly all stopped...
She stopped moving her head back and forth and looked at her father rather angrily "..because I hate it. It feels as if the entire universe expects me to be an empress one day, but no one even asks me what I think or what I want ..I only have to follow orders and act this or that way. I always have to be pleasant to the Ghashyr lords, I always have to pretend I believe in some stupid Light fantasy. No one cares about what I think ...and it's not just mother, you too dad act the same way. You may be nice, but you both always bent to immoral rules, idiotic fanatics and greedy crooks beneath you instead of leading the fight against them" her tone started becoming more desperate and anxious "And you expect me to do so as well! Both of you want to make me a slave not an empress ...mother would have me married to whatever house she wants to have as an ally, like some breeding mare. Both of you want me to balance my very identity even! Well I can't do all that, and I won't stand it anymore. Both realms are sad decadent ruins because for ages no emperor put aside everything to help the people and guide them ..because every royal grows this way, meant to just follow and be a good puppet. I am not like that. And frankly I do not care about Shyr, I'm sick of it! They always judge me there, I'm always some weird creature in their eyes. I don't want their stupid evil black crown or their evil zealot ways. They are how they are because they're Eskalivi all of them, but with Iammelon I think I can help and I will. I just hoped you would understand and help me instead of judge me and toe mother's line." she seemed ready to cry as she ended ...this was not really her usual self, she had never been that open before and it made her terrified.

Zenos remained quiet after his question, just clasping his hands together and waiting. His eyes kept themselves locked on Sofya as she moved her head, and stayed that way as she began to unleash her feelings. The Emperor was doing his best to stay calm and just listen to what Sofya was saying, and there was a moment of quiet after she finally finished.
That was finally broken when Zenos stood up, walked over to Sofya, and hugged her. He wanted to make sure she was feeling a little better before he finally spoke to his daughter in a more somber tone, “I am sorry, Sofya. I won’t pretend to understand everything you are going through, but I want you to know that I am listening. You are my daughter first, and a princess second.” He pulled back a bit so he could look Sofya in the eyes as he continued, “What I do understand is that it is not easy growing up to become a ruler and yet having no input. My father did much the same with me, setting up most of my life, including the marriage to your mother. I didn’t appreciate a lot of the things he did for me until much, much later. Still, I hoped to have been a bit better, but it seems I have to do more. I am not here to judge you like some stuck up Anubite scribe or stuffy priest, I am your father. We can work this out, and we can start that right now.”
Smiling, Zenos stood up and sat back down in his chair, sighing, “I’ll start with a small apology. I did not know how difficult it was for you to grow up on Shyr. That’s something I can’t pretend to understand, since I grew up here, on Instabull. I’ll be honest with you, I find them weird as well. I’ve talked about that with your mother, in fact. The Ghashyr are a very different people to Zantines, in a number of confusing ways. Even having been with your mother and interacting with them for a very long time now, there are still things about them I don’t quite get. But there is a reason I persist and try to understand. It is our obligation to help them to become better, as we are some of the few who can possibly do so. Iammelon didn’t start so great either, but it was made great by the Zantine Empire helping the people of the Nebula and banishing the ways of the Eskalivi from it! And that took time. People don’t get better in a day, and the Ghashyr in particular lack the good things we know. Take your friend and guardian Appa, a Taurus. It is a privilege to grow up alongside another species in common kinship. The Ghashyr do not get to do this, not most of them. Don’t hate them, Sofya. As for the Zantine Empire… You sound like your uncle Basil.” He smirked as he mentioned him, “And he is both right and wrong. We have fallen on hard times, and it does look desperate. But…”
He paused for a minute, clearly thinking, and then smiled, “Actually, no. Before I explain further, I’m going to ask you something first. As the future Empress of Zantium, Sofya I, what is your plan for the realm? Be honest, nobody is listening. What I want to hear is your real opinion, not any rehearsed statements as we have both done so often.”

The ocean waves crashed against the rocky shoreline. Heavy clouds hung low in the sky, blanketing the ocean and land with a light dusting of snow. Standing on a small cliff was a Hurvecht, draped in a heavy winter coat. They gazed out at the ocean and let out a small sigh a cloud of breath forming from their lips. They closed their eyes as a human approached, wearing a similar winter coat.

"Your Imperial Highness, the troops are ready for your inspection." The hurvecht turned its head, and smiled slightly.

"Good, let's go on to the review." The Prince Richard said as he turned away from the ocean and walked down the grassy hill. At the base of the cliffs hundreds of thousand of soldiers in black and yellow uniforms, with metal plates akin to a knights armour over them. The full body armour of each soldier was concealed under black watch-cloaks draped over their shoulders. They wore backpacks and webbing with ammunition pouches over their armour. Their rifles by their sides, they saluted as the Prince approached. Richard walked through the rows of thousands of soldiers. He had a small group of officers following him.

"They'll be awfully slow in combat."

"Yes, your imperial highness. But the armour will be beneficial for them when they engage the enemy in close quarters."

"We shall see. Our heavy infantry and squad based tactics should compensate for their lack of mobility. The integration of communications equipment was a good choice. Improved communications will allow squads to work more efficiently. If we are lucky, they will surpass our expectations in the field." Richard smiled and looked down, "perhaps we can finally stop worrying about an Iammelonian dagger in our backs. Perhaps now we will be confident our soldiers could engage any nation and confidently know there is nothing holding them back anymore." The officers behind Richard seemed confused but listened.

"Your highness, the Anascar is ready to depart. Shall we give the orders to embark?" Richard turned back and thought for a moment. But he noddded soon after, the young officer saluted and ran away. The other officers saluted as well before marching off. Leaving Richard alone in the snowy staging ground among his thousands of soldiers. But after some distant shouts the soldiers turned to the right and began marching off down the field towards a large hill. Richard let the snow fall his shoulders for a few moments before he followed after his soldiers.

The large formation crossed the hill and stretched out before them was a brilliant red ether-ship. Its guns were capped and in parade order. Flags were waving brilliantly from the tallest masts. The large landing gear for the ship were resting on temporary platforms built of metal and wood. The support struts were important as the ship was far too heavy to rest on the earth itself. It took about an hour for the soldiers to board the ship. Its hatches were battened, the decks were secure, and the nuclear boilers were pressurised and at optimal temperatures. The mighty warship slowly rose from its temporary berthing and the engines propelled it for the sky.

In a chamber deep within the ship, Richard was sat in a large leather chair. He was in a neatly decorated apartment, it was well furnished with his home comforts. A bedroom lay behind two wooden doors. A private lavatory and shower were attached to his bedroom with a bathtub and shower. An office sat near a private conference room. A living room was the central part of his suit, but an observation deck sat as the final room in his suite with access to the bridge from there. Richard was alone, a glass of whiskey resting on an end table near his chair. He was holding a framed picture, running his finger along the frame. The picture in his hand was of Richard and his wife Wilhelmina on their wedding day. But standing in their flanks were Martin and Georgina, Richard was running his thumb over the corner where his wife stood, but his eyes were more focused on Martin. Particularly he was studying the eyes of the emperor. "Yellow... they were always yellow." He turned his head to a nearby television which was playing the news, in it Martin was delivering a speech to Sansad. But the Martin in the television had jasper-red eyes.

The Prince's ship travelled from Huron to New South Dernby, where Richard was to disembark for a vacation. The First Field Army of the Empire were to take garrison in Cerila while the Anascar would dock at the Etheric Promenade of Cerila. Richard was transported to Serway Holm Castle by way of shuttle. His home was waiting for him. The sleepy hamlet at the base of the castle flew banners as the prince's gig touched down at the castle's private landing pad. As the prince disembarked, he and his wife embraced on the landing pad before walking into the castle together.

Richard was no longer in his uniform, but a more relaxed robe with trousers and shirt. He had his feet up by a fireplace and was nearly dozing off. Travelling always tired him but he was just happy to be home for the month of vacation. He trusted the Lady Chelmsby to handle the affairs of the office of the Lord Commander of the Empire for a while. Richard had worked nonstop since the coronation in his duties but now he felt he had earned a vacation. His study was decorated to his taste as an enthusiastic fan of history. Hanging from the walls were tapestries, they were not even medieval but primitive. The figures depicted in each and every tapestry were hurvcecht. One tapestry showed a group of six hurvecht gathered around a campfire, a seventh with larger horns was standing over it. The hurvecht with the larger horns held two spears crossed in an X shape, with humans impaled on them. The other hurvecht were holding swords and shields. Another tapestry depicted Kangtar Wo the capital planet of the Talavaari burning. Hurvecht figures were burning buildings and the decapitated heads of humans laid across the ground. The third tapestry depicted Hurvecht on a snowy field, they looked frail and weak. Many were wounded and marching towards ships, behind them were burning villages and Hurvecht skulls. The ships were sailing into the ether and towards a bright star. Scattered throughout Richard's study in locked cases were old and rusted fragments of various things. A spearhead, a helmet, a knife, a necklace, etc. The walls were lined with framed spears and swords and shields. But hanging above the fireplace was a scorched piece of metal. The warped and twisted chunk of metal had the remnants of white paint along it reading "IMS UNICORN." And above the mounted piece of metal was a large and tattered naval jack of the talmyrox.

Richard was there of course, for the Unicorn. His first great victory in his tenure as a soldier. When the mail ship was impounded by shyrite port authorities for failing to pay tariffs, the whole thing could have been resolved easily. In the empire, mail ships chartered by the Imperial Postal Service were tax exempt on cargo carried for the Postal Service only. Crews and captains were supposed to be vetted by the Interior Office to verify the crews were in good legal standing and would not abuse their privileges to dodge port authorities while carrying contraband. But the office was never always able to guarantee the good nature of the crews of mail ships due to the volume of applicants. What likely happened that faithful day was the crew of the unicorn were hauling contraband across the border and failed to respond to calls to stop and pay tariffs. When the crew refused to stop, thinking the ghashyr knew they were a mail ship the ghashyr moved to halt the ship by force and impound it for failing to pay. Naturally it did not matter when Talmyrene forces boarded the ship and discovered it was smuggling.

Who wouldn't be upset? But the empire had its reputation to defend now, so the crew's guilt could not be recognised. Despite knowing full well the truth of the matter, the diplomats sent to the Talmyrox were very firm in ignoring any evidence of guilt and simply demanded the release of the crew and the ship back to the empire for punishment at home. The Ghashyr, stubborn as they were, refused and cited how strict Bezannian laws were to smugglers. And that these smugglers committed crimes in the Talmyrox and as such should be punished there. Things ground to a standstill. Until someone invented the rumour that the crew of the unicorn had been executed by the barbaric and medieval Ghashyr. Despite this being a blatant fabrication the Bezannian public turned on the Talmyrox and demanded the government take action. But the empire could not declare war over this. In secret Richard travelled to the frontier worlds along with his secret weapon. He did not bring any regular navy with him, but a prison ship full of convicted pirates from Bezannian Newporte condemned to death by magistrates for the crime of piracy. Legend has it Richard even halted a hanging to request the pirates be sent to the frontier personally.

Richard delivered the Pirates an ultimatum. Accept the letter of marque to become privateers in the interest of the empire and raid Talmyrene ships bound for Tordelia or be sent back to the gallows. In exchange for accepting the marque, the pirates would be set free and their old ships returned to them along with crews being united with their old captains. Should the privateers abuse their freedom and flee, Richard promised he would personally hunt them down after this business was settled. He pointed out too, that the letters of marque were only valid for captured Talmyrene ships and the prizes promised to them were only valid upon delivery of said ships with their cargo and crew to a Bezannian naval port authority. The price of Talmyrene ships delivered to the port authorities was to be paid in arcalite from the prince's personal store. If the ship could not be captured than the cargo would have to do. Crew were to be treated fairly and delivered alive. Unsurprisingly, all the pirates accepted the Prince's offer. They each took command of their ships and set sail for the Talmyrox, with the exception of three pirate ships that tried to flee. These three escaping ships were pursued and destroyed by nearby Imperial Navy warships.

Richard's privateers were successful as time dragged on, they dragged dozens of Talmyrene ships back to Bezannia in exchange for arcalite. And many pirates would retire wealthy men from their adventures. In total, 84 Talmyrene ships were dragged to their doom. 17 Bezannian privateers were destroyed too, but the loss of pirate ships concerned the prince little. Though, the Ghashyr nearly ended Richard's life when they attacked the small outpost he was using as a headquarters. He was forced to escape on a civilian merchant ship, but he was thankful he was not captured or discovered by the Ghashyr. Richard's privateers were so effective that when next the Bezannian diplomats met with the Ghashyr, they were much less hospitable. They demanded compensation for the lost ships (a princely sum of 15,000 Escales of Arcalite) and a resolution of all border disputes in the region. Of course the Talmyr Marcynia had to concede to the imperial demands. The Bezannians soon celebrated the end of Talmyrene Dominion in the north! Newspapers ran with headlines such as the Bezembay Herald's famous "An End to the Rule of Relics! Ghashearic Dominion belongs with that of the Inupesh (Anubite), in Antiquity." But as the empire celebrated her grandest victory of recent memory, a small private ceremony was held in the fringes of the empire. Richard's privateers presented him with war trophies as thanks. They presented him with what remained of the Unicorn and the standard of a Talmyrene flagship that had been captured. Richard bid the men with their fortunes a long life and struck all of their letters void. He had hoped they would all retire, but he knew some would continue to be pirates and would be captured again. But he put those thoughts behind him, victory was his in that moment.

But how long ago that glorious moment seemed, and now how strange of times it was that he and his empire seemed in such darker times. Something was happening in the empire, something he could not see. As a soldier he was used to the external threats. Angry Vasparines, ghashyr light bringers, confederate red fleets. All enemies the empire had faced before, but now. Now there was something he could not see. Something he wasn't even sure was an enemy. Strange times was what swirled in his head, distracted him to no end. But as he drifted to sleep all of it faded away. All he could think about was that one glorious victory.

Taurgha

Taurgha wrote:

Nia looked intensely, focusing on each new Watrike she was introduced, shifting to the next with her big investigative eyes as their names were given out. A subtle wag of her tail was noticeable while she was meeting new ones and enthusiastically greeted them "Hello Tenkan. Hello Iula. This one is Nia." she waved back at both smiling then turned to Tenkan "Yes, this one has a satisfying height! This one is not Gatorao, correct, is Trikili. However only Pink Trikili this one noticed in Trikorn. Height reason: This one has jumped from very large cliff many times as kid, probably is reason of height and strong legs." thinking a bit to herself about if that could be possible at all she returned looking at Cendri after coming into a conclusion that it was "This one wants to play-fight with cute Cendri and friends Tenkan and Iulia in training! Also wants to hear of anti-piracy missions ...Cendri, what is this piracy enemy?" she remained looking at Cendri expecting an answer, her head mechanically bopping to the very good sound being heard in the room as her tail was still wagging discreetly in excitement.

Tenkan tilted his head to the side, "Cliff jumping increases height? This one was unaware. This one shall find a good cliff to train offspring with for retirement and childraising years." His tail began to swish around a bit as he thought about the idea, his brain already considering possibilities if this really worked.
Cendri looked to Nia, thinking for a moment, and then spoke, "Piracy is law breaking. Unauthorized stealing from ships. Pirates use force to attack and steal, breaking law. This one has gone on missions to fight pirates, punishing law breaking." After that great description of piracy, Cendri then nodded, "Simulation is similar to play fight. Holograms not real, allowing full force. Good is training. Nia can join, learn group tactics. Builds cohesion and teamwork ethic. Iula, Tenkan, please join another simulation. Is important." The two Watrike looked to Nia, and simply nodded their approval to joining in alongside her, with both their tails slightly wagging in what seemed to be excitement at seeing what this 'enhanced Watrike' Cendri had brought along could do. That, or just at the prospect of making another friend. Both were equally possible.

With that, Cendri went over to the console again, preparing and setting up another simulation. He was putting in a number of standard parameters, such as the simulated terrain, the type of enemy, and the length of engagement. He left certain things up to the computer to decide however in order to add more variety, as it wouldn't be a very good training operation if he was fully aware of everything going on. The room inside began to shift, the floor tiles increasing or decreasing in height in order to simulate terrain, and the computer began preparing the enemies by deploying small drones to create projections, although they weren't formed quite yet. Cendri pointed to what seemed to be an armor and weapons rack, "Nia, equip vest and take training gun, for simulation." He had pointed her specifically at the racks normally reserved for Gataro Watrike, which were the ones that would fit Nia thanks to her larger size. By the time she would get it on, Cendri was ready.
The doors to the simulation room opened, and Tenkan and Iula took their places inside as marked by glowing spots in the ground. Two more glowing spots were waiting, and Cendri took a moment to equip a training vest of his own and grab the training gun, a special little rifle which fired fake rounds that the drones would register, but wouldn't actually harm them. Once that was done, he took his spot, and pointed Nia's spot out to her, before explaining, "Simple simulation. Fight, beat enemy, win. Nia learn quick. Say ready when ready." He, as well as the other two Watrike, prepared themselves, but looked to Nia to give the word to begin, as was the computer that ran the simulation. And when she gave the command, the simulation would start, as would her new life on Trikorn with a new band of friends.

-

Taurgha wrote:

Ani joined her hands together and begun crying of joy "THE GRAND DRAKE HIMSELF? WORKING WITH APPROVAL? THIS IS ONE'S DREAM! THIS ONE WILL BE EVER-HONEST FOREVERMORE! Ani is at the service of Charka!" She gave a salute to Charka her tail frantically trying to wag, restrained by the vehicle seats "This one cannot thank enough for second chance, will try best to be a good one and help all Watrike and be honest and true" Immediately Ani thought to herself about what would be needed "This one would need big medical facility with gene samples of all known species and biochemistry machinery. Building must be secluded from breathing-air zone otherwise could pose moderate level danger to population health. This one would also want to meet Nia if allowed..." her tailed stopped wagging, feeling more serious about this particular demand.

The surprise was felt by the other Watrike in the car, who were not expecting that offer. But they remained quiet, although clearly were a little jealous. Charka for her part merely smiled, she was used to this sort of reaction by now. All the same, she had work still to do, and she nodded, "A facility can be easily procured. There are many underground bunkers in the Watroonik Great Desert can that be repurposed and supplied with whatever you need. Secluded from all possible interference and away from major population centers, while also close enough for me to keep a very close eye on your activities. As make no mistake, you will be monitored, closely. You will not be alone in that facility, and I will be personally keeping a tab on your progress. If it bears fruit, and you get a sample worth presenting, the Grand Drake may yet approve of going further. But no more mistakes, no more badness." She paused a moment to make sure that sunk in, and then looked to the side, as if she was being told something. That got Charka to smile, before looking at Ani, "As for meeting Nia... That can be done a bit later. She is right now settling into Trikorn, and I think it best to let her do so in peace for the time being. But you'll get to meet with her soon enough, once we're certain both of you are safe. In the meanwhile however, I can at least let you see her, so you know she is quite safe."
With that, the display changed from Charka to a different scene. That being the camera footage within the very academy Nia was in right now, showing Cendri introducing Nia to Tenkan and Iula, as well as explaining what piracy is. Charka's voice spoke again, "Making friends already. I apologize that I cannot let you see her in person quite yet, I must be certain first. But in the meanwhile, I am at liberty to keep you up to date with her present activities. I hope this will satisfy you in the meanwhile until we have your lab ready."

-

Taurgha wrote:

Noxyanna instead of feeling angered smiled widely, approaching Iabek calmly and patting the Anubite's cheek, petting him like ..like ..like a common non-sentient canine! "Oh how genius yet so limited ...Anubite culture was always scared of the greater picture. Such lack of insight with so much information, seeing both the tree and the forest but never gazing the stars above. I consider myself lucky ..lucky indeed to grow my intellect untied to the grait chain." with that she retracted her cold hand and nodded "Why yes, I'm a Taggaren, not that this matters in the greatness of the universe more than my own thoughts and who I am as a person. I'm not tied to the past, the past is tied to me as I rush forward to new horizons dear Iabek! And you may say I am such an experiment. But truth is that when your bones melt and your static intelligence is tied to a chain as a sad reminder of who you were ...I will still be immortal and rushing forwards hunting total scientific ascendance and all components of a greater dream" despite her calm demeanor, as she looked at the sky above, her eyes revealed a childish glare as her lips pronounced 'dream', her pure smile turning into a terrible primal grin of grinding teeth. Turning and glaring at the Anubite without blinking once, her voice sounding increasingly serious "What do you know of pain and regret Iabek? What gives you the right to judge and teach? I will tell you, it is mistakes, experience, life. Great mistakes are the prime drive of every scientific breakthrough ...disaster brings about change, and change signals life. I don't see the Anubite society changing at all. I don't even see it being alive" With that she smiled once more "It is true, no one is perfect, but you would be less imperfect if instead of trying to indoctrinate my grandaughter into numbness ..you instead chose to change and let yourself loose to learn and live. Sincerely... ...would you like to know about cheating death better than your granpa ever could manage?"

Iabek was extremely annoyed at the patting, and jerked his head back to avoid any such inappropriate caressing of his facial fur. That was not an activity a stranger was allowed to partake in. In any case he was still carefully listening to her, and scoffed, "Greater picture? We are the greater picture, Taggaren, we are the ones who paint that picture. Do not presume to lecture me on short sightedness, that is your kind's sin." While clearly incensed, and a little disturbed by what she was saying, he did his best to keep listening, as well as continuing to keep his silently recording comm unit active so it got all of this on audio. And so he decided to keep pushing, for the sake of that documentation, "Anubite society changes quite often, but it goes unnoticed by the younger cultures because we remain true to ourselves. We change only to adapt and overcome, but we shall always be Anubites. The same as our ancestors, and the same as my descendants will be. We correct our mistakes, Taggaren, rather than running from them. That is what gives us the right to judge and teach, because we are the only ones who learn. And I need not cheat death, for my spirit will transcend the need for the body while in turn giving opportunity for the next generations to push onwards." He went quiet for a moment, hoping that he had pushed a button, and then continued, "But sure, youngling. I will be the student this once, and hear what contorted lessons you have. You promise immortality? Show me."

-

Taurgha wrote:

Myrsa sulked a bit at Tarral's response "I'm sorry Tarral, I'm just overwhelmed with all this. Though... you did not say no! Sorry, sorry ...I shall be a good dragoness, I promise" with that Myrsa moved on without making any more lewd remarks.

Sarxaxa was strikingly silent as she walked the long ways of this admitedly mighty palace, though she didn't seem to look around, only towards the destination, being focused on the situation. If she was to defend all that her family sustained for ages, she had to be like Kai'Tziak; one of the greatest Katak'sars to grace the universe, remembering his words...
Burdened with these thoughts made her appear truly serious, something that Ymira noted, finally calming down and following her mother calmly and quietly, by trotting next to her mother's tail instead of right next to her front legs as she always did.
After a few seconds that appeared to last centuries mighty Tyfrondor arrived and Sarxaxa adopted immediately a forced, yet quite convincing serene smile, replacing her worried frown she carried along from Shyr "Greetings Grand Drake of Heord Tyfrondor Granion, you have before you the Great Dragoness of Sa'Herod, Sar'ksasa Katak'sar ...though you might know me also as Sarxaxa Ymbrel." She looked strictly behind her at Myrsa and Ymira "..indeed we are the last of our kind, this is Yr'miraak Katak'sar my daughter, known as Ymira Valxaryen and Myr'ksasa Katak'sar, known as Myrsa Valxaryen my older daughter and younger sister" Myrsa waved her left front paw meekly "Hi Tyf!" earning a death glare from Sarxaxa. Nevertheless the Great Dragoness of Saherod was too busy to scold her sister-daughter as she was thinking her next words carefuly "...To avoid softspeaking, our eyes Grand Tyfrondor watch over everything and they saw imminent damnation and death; As leader of my clan and kin I had the responsibility to secure their safety" Sarxaxa took a step closer to the Grand drake and stood "We may be of different planets, of different scales too ..but we share something that no one in the universe does; A heart of fire that beats in us all, red, golden or green scaled ..we are all dragons, and every dragon has a duty above all others to shield their own few from the wrath of the many billions of hateful mortals, regardless of strength, power or hoard" Sarxaxa took one more careful step towards the Grand Drake standing once more, now looking directly at his eyes ...Tyfrondor could tell that this dragoness was not the regular refugee, her eyes held an immense willpower and her voice sounded sure and clear "...for this, I Sar'ksasa Katak'Sar, Great Dragoness of Sa'Herod, ask to remain in Heord with all my kin and clan" Sarxaxa attempted to make another step but hesitated and moved her paw back, firmly stomping it on the floor as the two dragons got awkwardly close ..now staring at the Grand Drake in eery silence before finishing her rather serious monologue "...lastly, I have a question" she pointed downwards at Tyrfondor's paws "what are THOOOSE?"

Tyfrondor's glare was unbroken by Sarxaxa's, or Sar'ksasa's, speech, his glowing eyes staring her down from atop his mighty throne. Even when she made her rather sudden and unexpected last question, something that got the various Watrike Golden Guard in the room to tilt their heads, all simultaneously, in confusion at the random question after that monologue. Silence reigned for a moment, before the Grand Drake's voice shattered it, "Sar'ksasa Katak'sar, listen more carefully when I speak. As I said, all Dragons are welcome on Heord. For this is the Cradle of Dragons, the world from which all Dragons have the right to return to and to live as Dragons will! All that needs be done, is show the proper respect. As such, I grant your request. You may take up residence upon Heord with your clan and kin, as well as bring over whatever of your hoard you can. For the sake of hospitality from the Grand Drake to notable guests such as yourselves, I will arrange a suitable den to be prepared to host each of you. Or you may locate your own, if you so wish, as is the right of all Dragons on Heord."
With that matter of ceremony out of the way, Tyfrondor glared down to his frontal paws, and then spoke out, "This? These are my claw-gauntlets." He held up one, showing that his frontal paws were in fact armored in a golden metal, Heord Gold. He turned his paw around slightly to allow Sarxaxa to see the back of it, revealing a large red gem, "This one has an embedded gem in it, to provide an enchantment. What is it... I won't tell you. That is not an advantage I am willing to give up so easily. Your interest is appreciated however."
He put his paw back down, and then spoke again, "There is still one important matter to address however. You are a Dragon, but you as well as your kin were also Ghashyr. Ezron's message explained to me partially how this was achieved, and I am assuming that now that you are here, those Ghashyr forms are broken. On that, I will ask you a question now. Are the legal personhoods of Sarxaxa Ymbrel, Myrsa Valxaryen, and Ymira Valxaryen dead? Or do each of you claim them? This is an important factor, for I must know if each you intend to stake a claim to them as Dragons, or if you wish to leave those personhoods behind to reforge your lives as entirely Dragons? On this I will not accept one of you to speak for all, all three must answer. For if you intend to stay upon Heord, I must know what you wish each of your futures to be. I will take you all in regardless, as Heord is a haven for all Dragons, regardless of scale of origin. But your bonds to your Ghashyr lives will be addressed now, not in the future, so I may know what I am dealing with." The question was a probing one, as he was not just asking if he was effectively taking in three Ghashyr nobles, but also if they intended to stake their claims to potentially contested assets in the future, such as the leadership of their houses. A big deal to a politically-minded thinker like Tyfrondor.

The Alicorns wrote:

"I don't think you can consider yourself a real Tordelian if you aren't willing to get yourself into a scrape or two," said Cynder, making a motion with her head as if pointing towards Sakura, "And touring a planet that used to be owned by the Boar certainly isn't going to be the most dangerous thing in my lifetime. I'm willing to come with you guys once the whole meeting's done. I'm not expecting an invitation to Bezannia anytime soon, not without getting tied down in marriage to some bachelor of theirs."

Her face for a moment showed some barely suppressed disgust at the thought, before she continued.

"So I'm willing to come with after the meeting's over with you guys. I don't think that things will get fixed with just this meeting alone anyway."

She shook hands with Norcai, confident that the conference would just end in a diplomatic stalemate where the worst that would happen was just some boring administrative stuff she didn't need to handle herself.

Norcai smirked, "Not down to get hitched with a Bezi eh? Careful firestarter, you might just break somebody's heart! And those Hurvs got pretty big hearts, so that's a big organ to replace. Haha!" He gave her a firm shake before retracting his hand and giving a nod, "Sounds good then, Princess. Then once this is all done head over to the ship docks, we'll be fairly easy to find. We'll not leave until you're on board, and then after that we're off. We won't be long. This meeting seems to be coming to a close, as is my business here." Norcai quietly looked over across the room towards another man, a plain faced human female who blended into the crowds quite well, who simply showed him a pouch, one that seemed to be pretty full of something.
Not elaborating on that, Norcai nodded, "Yep, pretty closed. See ya soon, firestarter." With that, he turned back to his group, letting Cynder go off to spend the rest of her time before the end of the meeting.

-

When the meeting was done in its rather spectacular fashion, with the rather unexpected intervention by the Zantine-Ghashyr Princess, the Tuskers had still gone to their ship as normal. The ending wasn't too impactful to them overall, but they didn't leave quite yet. They would wait for their tagalong to find their ship and come aboard, with Norcai waiting outside patiently. The ship itself was a sleek dark blue design, one that was quite reminiscent of Cyboar ship designs but slightly less polished. When Cynder finally arrived, Norcai would smile at her and speak, "Well, come on aboard! We're going home, and time for you to see Tuskas. Fortunately not very far, this'll be a short journey."
The interior of the ship was very roomy, all things considered, and continued the distinctly Cyboar but done roughly style. Advanced, but built by people rather than machines. Norcai pointed out a room, "And those will be your quarters. You can take a nap, if you'd like, rest after the whole congregation. Or do whatever it is that suits your fancy for passing time, not my business."

Triporea wrote:

The Empress was all ears when the captain began suggesting things to her. She watched carefully as each bottle was presented to her but she quickly cut the captain off before he could finish speaking. "The Whiskey for me. I do apologise captain for perhaps seeming rude, But before I married into the House of Saran I was of the House of Grenheim." Now this was a noble house that Brackson would recognise. One of the few warrior houses of the empire, and the last Hurvecht warrior house. Indeed Georgina did seem familiar to some of the Minosian Guard. She was once a promising knight-to-be, training under her father, the Duke of Grenheim. Indeed the Grenheims had travelled to Valai, Minos, Tir Creachdair, and other worlds to prove their skill. Practitioners of the traditional Bezannian rapier, they were renowned swordsman. Why, there might have even been a Guardsman in the very room with a scar left by the empress in her youth. She was a little hard to recognise now, she was not in a Grenheimian Duelling Suit, their famous fashion staple, and her hair was near shoulder length as compared to her past short hair. Georgina happily took the whiskey and enjoyed.

Martin held his conversation with Zenos and smiled, "my noble friend we would be delighted to host a Zantinian consulate on Bezembay. You forget that in the empire my authority still supersedes that of Sansad. I can issue the edict as soon as I am able for immediate approval. You have my word, the relations of our empires will never be as strained as they had been previously. You know, the Princess Anne Ball is not but five months away! If you could appoint a consul before such time and dispatch them to Bezembay I would be delighted to receive them at the Imperial Levee." The Levee was a ceremony held annually at the ball where all newly appointed diplomats, generals, nobles, and other important individuals, both Bezannian and foreign, would present themselves before the emperor for a personal introduction. The Levee was usually the last event held at the ball.
Martin smiled, "Now I suppose I should offer the same. To establish a permanent Bezannian consulate here on Instabull. With a consul solely dedicated to our friends here."

Brackson was not insulted by the interruption, giving a look of amusement instead. That was indeed a name of a family he would recognize, and that was enough for him to accept she would prefer the strong stuff. He nodded to the servant, "You heard her, two bottles of Minos Whiskey. One for me and one for her." The Ialao complied quickly, preparing a bottle for both the rather distinguished warriors before humbly stepping away. Brackson simply drank directly from the bottle, as the Captain of the Rangian Guard was not the sort to take things in a more delicate fashion. After that he decided to speak with her, "Apologies for underestimating you then, suppose I didn't recognize you thanks to the outfit! Now how did a promising knightly lass like you end up married to an Emperor? Hope it hasn't dulled your skills with a weapon, would be a shame to see a scion of the last warrior house lose their edge." That was said more jovially than in any sort of insulting fashion. There was some genuine curiosity however, and clearly some wondering on the part of the Guard Captain on how this had come to be. Brackson was, despite his very political position as the Emperor's head of the guard, still somebody who cared quite deeply about the martial side of things. So now with the chance, he was curious to hear this Grenheim's story.

Away from the more martial duo and back to the two Emperors, Zenos smiled at the news. He was aware of the Bezi Emperor's power, but mostly wanted to hear it from him to get a better feel for him, "Excellent! I look forward to getting past the minor bump we had previously. As for the Ball, that sounds quite excellent! It will not be difficult to appoint a consul on time, so you can count on our presence. I'll simply have to find an appropriate representative for our good friends on Bezembay." The Levee was an interesting opportunity for Zenos, and something he intended to take advantage of. He just needed to find the right person for it, perhaps a relative. Or a trusted subordinate. He would think of something.
He then smiled back, "And I would happily accept that offer. Consider it approved already, I would simply need to issue the edict. We can set it up in the Imperial District, nearby this very palace as well as the other major buildings of Instabull. Your consul will be in quite good hands."