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A Meeting with the Emperor Joint IC with @Rolman99
The Emperor sat upon his great throne as the doors at the end of the hall are pulled open by a pair of Imperial Guardsmen. This was certainly the Potemkin, he thought, as the man approached the throne, his boots clicking softly on the floors of polished marble. The Grand Baron’s eyepiece shimmered in the Terran sun as he bowed before the teenage sovereign.
The Emperor remained seated and tried his best to sound and look authoritative, making his posture rigid and his movements measured. His tutors taught him that body language was as vital as etiquette or skill with the saber. He gave a nod to the Grand Baron. “Your highness.”
The Grand Baron looked up at the young Emperor, “Your Majesty, I thank you for granting me this audience. It is a wondrous sight to see the heir to the great Arctur II upon the throne.”
The Emperor smiled. “Thank you, sir. And it is of no concern at all to bring the head of a Great House to speak with me. Now, you said you would tell me about the goings of the war?”
“Yes, your Majesty, we have successfully pushed out all recent major pushes by the aliens into our territory but on three planets,” he pauses as he pulls out a map and points to them, “we have so far been unable to dislodge the aliens from their strong points. Time will grant us victory I have no doubt on two of the planets if we can properly develop and defend our supply lines on planet, but I have grave concerns over this planet, Ilium II. Here the aliens have burrowed into a secure mountain range, developing it into a massive fortification. Our artillery has proven somewhat useless against it and we don’t have enough firepower to conduct a frontal assault without hundreds of thousands of casualties.”
“Not even an orbital bombardment could do it?”
“An orbital bombardment of enough size to be effective would render 10% of the planet uninhabitable for at least fifty years. It could be easily done your Majesty, but I have a slightly different proposal. We could hit the fortress at these three spots with a very limited orbital bombardment to crack the walls open. Then detachments of the Imperial Guard with support from the Army will attack into each three and the main entrance here.”
The Emperor was silent for a moment, placing a hand to his chin. “My apologies, sir, remind me: what is the strategic importance of Ilium II exactly? Is it populated?”
“Yes, your Majesty.” The Grand Baron nodded, “It is populated, but has since seen at least 60% of the civilian population flee due to the war. Its civilian economic activity is minimal but there is a key munitions factory and depot on the planet. The factory was damaged in the alien incursion but it is back to 90% effectiveness. The aliens in the initial attack stole or destroyed large numbers of weapons and most importantly ammunition.”
The Emperor exhaled. “What exactly would be lost if their positions were to be orbitally bombarded?”
“Previous settlements, mining facilities, and an electrical plant that supplies a quarter of electricity for our munitions operations. However, the creation of a dam at this major river would make up at least three fourths of the lost electrical production.”
“Well, Grand Baron, if I remember correctly from my briefings, does the Navy not use nuclear-tipped bunker busters? I’d imagine with enough precision the enemy would be crushed.”
“Yes, your Majesty. If this is your will, I shall command it upon my return to the front immediately.” The Grand Baron nodded.
“Yes, sir, that would be an order.”
“A full report of my campaign has been submitted to the Field Marshal of the Northern Frontier who shall be sending it to Terra as soon as possible. If your Majesty requires anything else, I am your eternal servant.”
“Very good. Now tell me, Grand Baron, what exactly is the enemy like?” The Emperor leaned forwards, seeming in equal parts a boy ready to be enthralled by the stories of a grizzled veteran, and more pragmatically curious as the new commander-in-chief.
The Grand Baron seems to almost smile, “They are larger, taller and broader than humans. They are made of metal and wires, though there is something organic inside of them. They never speak or make noises aside from their movements. Some of them walk on two legs, some of them walk on four, and others move about on tracks that are part of them. They use energy weapons, as such they lack long range indirect artillery but are deadly in the line of sight. The worst part is that the four legged ones skitter kicking up this terrible noise on the earth like a giant bug.” He paused, “Their armored bodies offer some protection, they can survive glancing blows from our coilguns and some hits that would have killed a man.”
The Emperor raised an eyebrow and chuckled to himself softly. “Much scarier than what they told me growing up. Real abominations, no wonder the Ekklisenia fights alongside the Army and Navy.”
“Yes, they are our ultimate enemies, no quarter given, your Majesty.” The Grand Baron bowed.
“Very good. Is there anything more you’d wish to say before I dismiss you?”
“No, your Majesty. I am sure you are a busy man and I have nothing else of import.” The Grand Baron replied.
The Emperor chuckled slightly at “busy”. “Then you may go. Thank you, sir.”
The Grand Baron bowed for a final time and quietly left the throne room. He intended to return to the front as soon as possible but first he had a meeting with the mother of Grand Countess Holt.
"How do I look?" Seraphiele asked her brother. "Midshipman Seraphiele Adler, at your service!" She saluted jauntily. "Oh, cheer up gloombucket."
Sariel showed no signs of cheering up. Their first term at the Imperial Naval Academy started next month and the major-domo had brought their new uniforms twenty minuets prior. Whilst Seraphiele had instantly stripped and pulled on the new clothes, Sariels still lay unwrapped on the bed beside him.
"Midshipman Sariel is required to report for duty! Shipshape now!" Sariel continued to pout. "Failure to report for duty will result in identification as a subversive. Midshipman Seraphiele will proceed to subdue the subversive!" In no time at all she had her twin pinned to the bed and half stripped.
"Cut it out, Sis. You promised, remember?"
"Things have changed, Sariel, you know that. You couldn't go off as some itinerant hermit now even if-"
"Sera, I don't mind that; if you want me to stay, I'll stay. But why must everything be done thier way? There are plenty of paths that bring no shame to the family. Why the Navy? I-"
Seraphiele stopped listening. Her brother had been in this state of angst for several years now. Try as she might, she couldnt understand him - why worry about a few years when he would have relative freedom for his entire life. Hell, nobody had seen their uncle Tansy in years. Christos Apokalyptikor alone knew if he was still even alive.
"The Lord Celandine is present!" The clipped tones of the major-domo rang through the house as the twins swore, struggled to disentangle themselves and stumble into a reception room moments before their grandfather swept in.
They sank to their knees and placed their forheads on the ground in the flamboyently extravegant form of obesience used by House Lazen. "We are honoured by your presence, Grandfather."
Celandine ignored them as he walked around the room, his eyes no doubt taking in their discheveled attire, Seraphiele's uniform, Sariel's lack thereof. His finely embroidered silks made a gentle swishing sound as he made a continued show of examining the perfectly ordinary objects in the room.
"I hear your grades were lacking, Granddaughter?"
"It was... taken care of, Grandfather."
Celandine's face flickered in amusement, or perhaps even pride.
"The days after a succession are a turbulent time. When Arctur I came to the throne there was a colossal changing of the guard. Not just the five making the Imperial council but those below them, and below them, and so on down to the dog in who gets the kitchen scraps. Everyone has their favourites. Such a time provides opportunity to grant favours and reap loyalty at all levels of society. I hope you both are aware of this." His eyes settled on Sariel for a moment. "I had the occasion to speak to the Commandant of Midshipmen at Navy. I suggested he might consider my grandson for Space Marine training."
"I am honoured by your patronage, Grandfather" Sariel said in a monotone.
"I am pleased to see my grandchildren are healthy. I will now depart." He half bowed and turned for the door.
"It is thanks to your care and tutalage, Grandfather. Please be well." The twins intoned together. They waited thirty seconds before picking themselves up off the floor.
"Did he just come to gloat that I must toe that family line?" Sariel fumed.
"Oh don't be so self centred, and he may be many things, but petty isn't one of them. Besides, he all but guaranteed you a place in the Space Marine Corps. That's practically Army. Better even." She stuck her tongue out at him.
"You think he knows? I never said..."
"I wouldn't be surprised if he figured it out, the sly old bastard."
"Urgh. This is what I mean, why do they have to decide my path for me?"
Seraphiele rolled her eyes. "Oh, give it a rest. Lets get drunk."
"Alone?"
"Or in company. Whatever." She threw her sailors cap at him. "Anything to get that god-awful gloom off your face."
It is made known that unreasonably wealthy young aristocrats may get unreasonably intoxicated at the residence of Seraphiele and Sariel of the House Lazen. Special care is made to ensure the Princess Imperial is made aware.
((In OOC terms event ends when the turn does. I won't 'open' it or anything, so feel free to have as much youthful fun as you wish.))
The Grand Prince spoke up, "Though I know not if our esteemed host is in possession of such a recording, House Royland prides itself on its record keeping. At first glance, the bird appears similar to the clockworks created by my ancestors, but I am unable to place down a specific creator or time of production. Luckily, I've brought this." Arwyn produces a thick book from his coat pocket.
"This is a compendium of nearly all of my house's creations, if this bird is truly of Royland make, its design would be in here, and most likely a way to repair it. While I look through the pages, a preliminary explanation would be spasms of electricity causing the movements, while also being aided by sensors throughout the body, creating the lifelike movement. This is only conjecture, however, but it's the best I can produce." He begins to look through the pages.
He pauses for a moment, seemingly thinking something over. "It comes to mind that I have yet to sample any of the fine food lain before me. Lord Nikias, could you please pass that curry over there?"
During the month-long voyage back to the Southern Frontier from Terra, Razak had much time to think about the Lords and Ladies he had met during the coronation. During a refueling stop, he sent the following message.
((private: Grand Prince Arwyn of House Royland)
"Your Highness,
This one much enjoyed your company during my small celebration on Terra. As I voyage back to the South, it occurs to me that as neighbors only a sector away from one another our two Houses, both alike in dignity, could foster a meaningful friendship. With much apology for any untowardness, I must also say as a father of a 20 year old daughter, it also occurs to one that you have two younger brothers in their twenties. This one was wondering if he should not send his beloved Amya to the Court of Reins with our mechanical bird so that your engineers might find the provenance of the thing and so that the Viscountess might bask in the intellectual stimulation of the Core. It is only a passing fancy, but great things have come from less.
Go in peace,
Razak Parfa Arsland, Grand Count of Ksitigarbha"
Two Slightly Inebriated Mothers Scheming Regarding the Fate of an Empire!
Grand Duchess Apollonia found herself surprisingly nervous heading up the steps to the Dowager Empress’ suite. Lena was an old friend, but this was still the first time they’d been face to face in some time, and the power dynamics of their relationship had changed greatly. She had changed into her fanciest gown, selected a 20 year old red from the Matala Vineyards on Hira, a bottle of her special moisturizer, and a bit of jewelry as a gift. The pendant was encrusted with diamonds and made by a Hiran master.
After being received into the Empress’ chambers, Apollonia bowed deeply.
“Your Imperial Majesty,”
The Empress Dowager stood to greet her old friend. “Appy, please! Enough with the titles.” She looked the Grand Duchess up and down. “It’s been awfully long, even if it was just a year.”
“I was hoping you’d say that, my darling Lena!” Apollonia strode forward to embrace her friend. “I’ve brought presents! Look, Matala Vineyards! And that bottle of moisturizer you asked me about!”
Helen returned the embrace, before breaking out to view these gifts. “Aw, you really shouldn't've! I haven’t had a good red in years, it feels. You’d be surprised how hard it is to get some delivered to Terra, Empress Dowager or not.”
“Oh, and I brought this for you too my sweet.” Apollonia produced the pendant. “I chose a dragon pendant because I know that you’ll guard over your son more fiercely than a dragon, and anyone foolish enough to challenge his reign will die in flames.”
The Empress Dowager’s smile wavered ever so slightly. A tad odd, like the Grand Duchess in this case. “You’ve… Always had an interesting sense when it came to icons…” She chuckled some. “But regardless of a meaning, it’s lovely all the same. Thank you. So, how about we enjoy this Matala and catch up?”
“Indeed, my dear. Now, truly, how are your sweet darlings handling the death of their father? My own Alex was distraught at the news of his father’s death. I sensed a certain quietness in him for a while after. I hope you won’t think him too soft if I confess that even 3 months after he heard the news, he still came crying to me in the night occasionally to have his mother hold him. He was only 13 at the time, though. In a way I was sort of relieved to see that he still needed his mother; they do tend to grow away at that age. He did get better eventually, however.”
The Empress Dowager gave a bittersweet smile as she poured the pair their glasses of wine. “Well,” she sighed, “Arctur and Cassaundra are certainly tenacious. Just like their father in that way, they took it well, all things considered. Better than I. They’re strong, those two. I’m happy for that much, I suppose, but they’ll be like the other Vestraymes: unwilling, perhaps unable, to bend a knee.”
“A certain tenacity will undoubtedly serve our Emperor well, but I’m glad you’ll still be there to mother him if he ever needs it. Lena, this crystalware is lovely! Is it Lewandowski?” The Grand Duchess took a sip of her wine and smiled, savoring the flavor. “I imagine that just about every electoral house has written in asking for this or that appointment; so stressful having to deal with all that on top of his father’s death. Glad to see he has his cousin, sweet lad, to relax with on occasion.”
The Empress Dowager chuckled slightly and gave a nod. “Indeed it is Lewandowski. Leave it for Apollonia Dikaios to know her glassmakers! And, well, I’m sure you know how all the emperors are showered in messages from those fools in the Symvou.” She sounded ever so slightly bitter. “But, I suppose he’s managed in that regard. Ulric does help a great deal.”
“I’m only a little bit of a slosh, I promise” Apollonia jokingly protested, “but then again, you remember me from my academy days…” she sighed wistfully. “Those were the days. Can’t drink like that anymore! Do you remember Hernan de Saavedra? He was so stupidly handsome, and you had him wrapped around your pinky finger, my darling little seductress. You know he died in the northern war too.” Apollonia suddenly became pensive. “I can’t believe I ever let myself be courted by Suhil Krishnaswamy, though. What was I thinking?!”
The Empress Dowager grinned. “I don’t think you were. By the Vouda, we were brainless in those days, weren’t we?” She seemed equal parts resentful and longing for those more carefree times. “All we cared about was wine and boys. Ah, the good old days, foolish as we were.”
“Good thing I didn’t have a fief to run back then, oof, what a disaster that would have been. Then again, like the priests say, suffering can make us wise. I probably wouldn’t have grown into the woman I am if I hadn’t made… many mistakes. Sadly for your son, he won’t have the luxury of such carefree days. All the more reason to make sure he’s surrounded by the best and most trustworthy the Empire has to offer!”
“Of course, of course.” The Empress Dowager said, nodding. “I trust Arctur’s judgement for the most part, but I can’t let himself be surrounded by those who could corrupt him. Take the Talvens, for example. Gifted intriguers but a line of murderers. He must be careful, and I must be as well. I’m sure you know how it goes.”
“I consider myself lucky to have my Brock and my Saida to protect my personal well-being, but I can’t pretend I’m not scared that either could be compromised or simply let their guards down or…” Apollonia trails off, grimacing, and takes another sip of wine. “I’ve been curious about ways to augment my espionage abilities. Do you have any ideas? The Talvens. Hmm. Certainly an interesting family. I joked to my Nicky that I’d buy him a battleship if he could seduce Myrana for us -- joking of course! -- but he seemed scared to even go near her. Sadly, they’re exactly the sort of family that is going to expect some kind of Imperial appointment, and would probably interpret it as a grave slight should we exclude them. Trying to win them over, however, is rather risky as well; we could very well end up handing Myrana the weapons with which she destroys us. I propose we meet with her and see if we can figure out exactly what sort of woman she is -- I imagine cold and masculine, no wine and gossip with her -- even if we don’t trust her entirely. Who were you thinking for spymaster?”
“Well, to tell you the truth I was in fact considering Myrana Talven. She’s a monster, yes, like the rest of her family, but an awfully competent one. I don’t see why she would lash out against the Emperor or House Vestraymes, so perhaps I could tolerate her in the cabinet. All I’d know is that she would certainly get the job done.”
“True. I don’t suppose she has a reason to lash out now, but a few years down the road… Still, either way, giving her a stake in the well-being of the Empire could at least in theory keep her loyal. There’s always a chance that the rumors about her are exaggerated anyway. Now… what about the other posts? I’m of the opinion we should consider some of the less prominent families for the job. Your house is already as prestigious as they come so we have no need to butter up to the rest for legitimacy. A lesser or newer house would likely interpret the appointment as a great honor where a more prominent one would simply view it as a matter of course. This would probably guarantee the loyalty and good service of the family in question and earn us their gratitude. Plus, the Edict of Disarmament serves us well, what are the established families going to do anyway… rise up? The edict prevents it, and a minor slight will remind them who really runs the Empire. Perhaps the Holts or the Martellians for treasurer? Uncouth, it’s true, but both with abundant business sense.”
“Well, they are certainly among the best candidates but you must remember that reputation is everything. If we make appear that we consort with lowly merchant houses, I fear that we would be treated as such, even if they wouldn’t admit it. After all, regardless of who I or Arctur appoint somebody else has lost and will be vengeful. I’d rather keep potential enemies small.”
“I don’t think anyone would dare treat the Vestraymes as small or lowly, and surely, compared to the might of the Imperial Warfleet, all enemies are small. The mercantile houses have considerable resources of their own and could even provide a useful counterweight to the power of the more established ones. Still, you raise an interesting point. Who were you thinking of then?”
The Empress Dowager thought for a moment, and started, seemingly still in consideration. “Perhaps the Reza girl. Or the Myuscs or the Zweitelbaz-Lohengrans.”
“The Myuscs are rich and have good heads on their shoulders, true, and would certainly get the job done, but I’d be wary of giving them more power than they already have. I’d also be worried they might hand themselves a few too many Imperial contracts. As for the Zweitelbaz-Lohengrans, well, have you met Prince Nicholus? The man’s a pompous fool! The Reza girl is an interesting choice though, and a woman to boot. Her house isn’t as old as the others you mentioned, but older than some. They’re not really rich enough to be truly dangerous, and they have, as my Nicky would say, the good common sense of frontiersmen and the plutonium resources such an origin entails. She is dangerously young for the job, but I’m told she’s bright. If you’re determined to eschew the Holts or Martellians, I could certainly endorse Azar Reza. Now… how about Lord Marshal? I would wager the Potemkins probably assume they have a lock on the title, but I think Izrail Lazen or Evram Ahlmacht would be better suited. Admiral Lazen has unmatched years of experience in the Imperial Navy while the Ahlmachts have been fighting the devil-bug machines for a long time. It will be the navy shooting the abominations out of the sky after all. Beating back the northern menace would be a great victory for the realm and bring glory to your whole house.”
“It would be indeed. The Ahlmachts would perhaps make better overall leaders, I would feel, but the Potemkins would make good Field Marshals to replace the fool in charge right now. And as for Reza, it would be awfully drastic to give a seat to an academy-aged girl. The Myuscs-- I don’t worry so much about them. They’re too busy counting money than they are to scheme, I’d imagine. The IIS could take care of them if they begin maneuvering. That goes for any of the Great Houses.” The Empress Dowager chuckled.
“If only we all had that luxury! The Myuscs are certainly competent and would make good allies for the crown so I can’t object, but, call me a cynic if you must, I don’t consider too many people above scheming. Except us, my dear, but only because our scheming is for the good of the whole realm! Azar is hardly the only Reza of course, she does have an uncle who would likely be well-suited to the task. I could endorse your vision of the military command too; the Ahlmachts on top, the Potemkins overseeing the army, and the Lazens the Navy. Now, for Chief Minister… this one is possibly the trickiest.” Apollonia sips her wine contemplatively. “We could always try to formalize your own advisory position by seeing if you could persuade your son to appoint you as Chief Minister. You know your son’s interests better than anyone and would obviously work tirelessly to achieve them without the complications of competing interests… but that could be an uphill struggle and would undoubtedly rub many people the wrong way -- not that you’re not the best woman for the job! -- both as it would give an appearance of corruption and would deprive us of a chance to win a potential ally. I believe it is imperative to earn the faith’s backing for your son’s rule -- next to the Vestraymes name there is no surer source of legitimacy than the support of the Phosodhah! Excellent for demonstrating to masses of superstitious commoners that Arctur’s rule has the blessing of the Vouda. The Arslands are a newer house, but undoubtedly a respected and pious one. I can only imagine that an Arsland as Chief Minister could help us secure it. I’ve met Razak on several occasions and he seems an upright man who could provide a good moral influence on this viper’s nest of a capital -- present company excluded obviously. What do you think?”
“Apollonia, you’re quite the idealist. The Arslans mean nothing in regards to the cabinet, let alone the position of Chief Minister. Morality is too expensive these days, and Arctur will make his pilgrimage for the Phosadhah soon, as is tradition. But, your view of the army is a good one. Everybody wins, not too many would be sore. I hope.”
“I like to flatter myself that I am at least a part-time idealist; but I would contend that idealism isn’t always the same thing as naivete. Mometh knows there come times when we must dirty our hands doing things we would be more comfortable not confessing to the priests in the political arena if we wish to thrive, or even survive. Still, I believe a good magister must aim for the ideal of justice if she is to aid in bringing order and the rule of law to humanity, even if she must occasionally make compromises. Pious men might prove manipulable if need be, of course. In this respect, I’d say you’re a part-time idealist too. Who would you prefer for the position?”
“Well, I’d trust you a good deal. But I’d prefer a competent magistrate…”
“My dear, I’d happily fill any role you and your son see fit to give me. I wouldn’t mind the prestige that comes with the title, and I believe I could discharge the duties admirably. I’d joke about offering the position to Nikias, but he’d be awful and this ultimately is no laughing matter. Still, I have rather become attached to judiciary, almost as if it were my own child. We could probably find someone else for the role, but we are starting to run out of potential houses to whom to offer the position -- the Holts, Martellians, and Arslands are too lowly in your estimation, so likely the Ferics and D’Horti are as well. We’re installing Ahlmachts, Potemkins, and Lazens in the military command. The Argemones are either too old, too young, or too strange. What do you make of the Relstorians? I’m skeptical of loading the counsel with too many of the richer families, but Alsterian always seemed to have a good head on his shoulders.”
“I don’t care much for the status of the new magistrate, just their ability and loyalty. I admit, I haven’t been keeping up with the rumors lately -- who would fit that bill, would you say?”
“Marianna D’Horti is a capable woman with whom our family has had many business dealings. Her understanding of contract law is comprehensive and she’s always held up her end of our bargains. Your skepticism aside, the Arslands I believe to be trustworthy and upright. In contrast to the treasurer position, this is not a job I would entrust to one of the more mercantile houses. If you deem neither acceptable, you could do far worse than Alsterian Relstorian.”
The Empress Dowager sighed. “You’re not wrong.”
“Nevertheless, I sense some reluctance on your part. Please, tell me your concerns!”
“I suppose I’m just wary of change.”
“I can’t blame you for that! I fully trust in your ability to make well-informed decisions, and I’m glad you’ve been willing to humor the ramblings of an old friend.” Apollonia pauses pensively, “You mentioned how tedious the deluge of letters from and audiences with disingenuous well-wishers begging for cabinet appointment has been; still I imagine it would be easier to secure the position if I formally offer my services to your son. I’ve been meaning to commision an appropriate coronation gift, both because it is only proper and because it might help me stand out from the crowd, and I would love his mother’s advice. I thought I’d give him a new dueling saber -- a hilt fashioned with the Imperial Eagle in gold with stylized inlaid ruby feathers, emerald eyes and onyx talons, its wings forming the crossguard -- fashioned from the finest steel. Every young man loves a proper weapon. Christos willing, he’ll only ever have cause to use it for ceremonial purposes.”
The Empress Dowager smiled. “He’d love that, he always was enamoured by martial pursuits.”
“Excellent! I’ll discuss designs with my master artisans, and be sure to include a rendering of it when I write. You do have my sympathy my dear; I can imagine how irritating all of these obsequious fools offering their services must be to both of you, but soon enough it’ll be their daughters they’re throwing at him -- though I imagine he’ll very much enjoy that part at least. As silly as I was at that age, my Alex has somehow managed to be more foolish still -- totally charmed by the most wretched girls -- all of whom are some infernal combination of low-born, duplicitous, vapid, or simply crazy, but who just so happened to be lovely too. It’s hard for a mother to bear, though I do try to steer him in the right direction -- though I fear trying to force him into my ideal match would just alienate him. I think deep down he knows he’ll need a sweet, appropriately high-born girl with whom he can converse and trust if he is ever to be happily married. I'd obviously veto anyone sufficiently unsuitable and probably smack him silly if I caught him flirting with one of the Talven girls or the Argemone Oddity. Still, without at least the spark of affection a marriage, no matter how politically advantageous on paper, can lead to plotting and ruin… I was furious with my own mother when she arranged my pairing with Olaf, but it evaporated when I saw him tall and muscular in his Naval uniform.” Apollonia giggled a bit, “I hope you'll find a compromise that works for both of you, and I can offer a sympathetic ear if the process becomes hard to bear. I'll even promise to spare you entreaties on behalf of Sophie or Di.”
“The ride never stops, Appy, every elector will throw their daughters at the poor boy. I was part of his father’s… orbital bombardment, too. I know what it’s like to be in the firing squad for some poor lad in a uniform.” She smirked. “But yes, this’ll be important. We’ve got to balance political gain with personal affection, since, like you said, a loveless marriage or an elector’s daughter as a mistress could cause quite some issues. As for him being interested in a daughter of a… disreputable house, all we can do then is pray. I plan on arranging a soiree for the heirs of the Symvou sometime within the year, after Arctur visits the Phosadhah and the cabinet is filled. It’s awfully tiring, don’t you think? I’m used to it, but it’ll never not be a bore.”
“Provided he hasn’t fallen head-over-heels for the scheming jezebel, I imagine some gentle motherly guidance might still be possible.... Oh! My dear! Firing squad!” Apollonia giggles knowingly. “I’ll be sure to have Di dress appropriately. Cheer up my dear, overseeing an Empire may be tiring, but the future of all of humanity will change based on the decisions you make these next few years; a sobering, and hopefully uplifting thought! Oh… listen to me! I sound like some stuffy priest. All this talk of politics is starting to bore me too. Now, tell me is the Phosadhah really that boring? He can’t be worse than Lady Arsinoë! By Christos, I had a perfectly demure dress on the other day, and she flashes me a look as though I was strutting about in the court completely naked! Just because my family can afford a nice gown doesn’t mean she gets to act all sanctimonious!”
“Ah, pay no attention to the old whore!” The wine must be kicking in. The Empress Dowager never could hold her liquor well. “In fact, I tire of all this. Appy, my dear,” she grinned, as if about to drop a punchline to a joke. “Let us indulge in our guilty pleasure-- being vapid!”
“Don’t need to tell me twice! Now… If I were to have a discreet fling, which Admiral would you select for me?” And with that, the conversation turned away from politics and governance and toward silly gossip well into the evening, until both ladies, exhausted from their drinking stumbled off to bed. For her part Apollonia felt that she had made strong cases for families she believed she could work with, and hoped she had gotten through to her old friend. The next day, she consulted with artisans to come up with a model for the sword she had proposed, and sent the Emperor the following message.
Congratulations on your coronation! As Imperial Magister for your father, I had the privilege of seeing first hand what a just and honorable man he was. As distraught as I was at his death, I can only imagine how difficult it has been for you and I offer you my condolences. When I saw you, in spite of your loss and the enormous pressures upon you, at the coronation stepping up to the challenges of ruling this vast empire with dignity and grace, I was proud to have cast my electoral vote for you and know that your reign will do your father proud. In honor of the occasion, I have commissioned a sword to be forged for you and I have enclosed an artist’s rendering for your perusal. The hilt and crossgaurd shall be fashioned from gold inlaid with rubies and shall be in the likeness of the Imperial Eagle with its wings spread.
I would humbly like to request that you consider me when forming your Imperial Counsil. I have 13 years of experience on the council and believe I have accumulated the skills and knowledge to help you rule the Empire with wisdom and charity. I would happily accept reappointment as Imperial Magister, but believe I would make an excellent chief minister as well.
Looking forward to helping you achieve years of prosperity and glory!
Grand Duchess Apollonia Dikaios
Later that day, her Nephew Elias arrived to visit his aunt, fresh on leave from the Imperial Naval Academy.
The Grand Countess of the first family of the Southern Frontier, Lady Scheherazade Morgiana Arsland
((private))
To: Konstanz Yerund, Field Marshal of the Southern Frontier Army
Your Excellency,
With the Emperor's impending visitation to The Phosadhah's hermitage later this year, it is my duty to, on behalf of my husband, offer you the support of House Arsland in securing the peace and security of the sector in the coming months. It is with no embellishment that we state that no House has greater influence in the Southern Frontier than ours, and as patrons of the one true faith we feel a special obligation to ensure that nothing should happen during the Emperor's pilgrimage to cause the Ekklisenia to lose face. All of our resources at your disposal this year should you desire them.
Ave Imperator,
Lady Arsland, Grand Countess of Ksitigarbha
----
To: Irminia Vullo, Grand Admiral of the Southern Frontier Battlefleet
Salutations Grand Admiral,
I hope this message finds you in hale and hearty health. I know our humble corner of the Frontier is not to everyone's tastes, but what we lack for civilization we more than make up for in hospitality. In honor of the coronation my husband and I would be delighted to host your officers for a small celebration. It is the least we can do to thank the brave sailors who keep the shipping lanes safe from piracy.
It was a beautiful day at the Imperial Naval Academy, and the sun shone pleasantly in its many courtyards casting a warm light on the players seated around the table. A pleasing breeze fluttered through the courtyard, so the cards were clutched tightly or weighted down with glasses or small piles of solars. Birds twittered from the trees, making faint echoes against the tall marble buildings that surrounded the square. Whether or not the players found the large sum of money in the centre of the table pleasant depended, of course, on the cards they held.
Midshipman Hamid Reza, having just finished his first semester at the academy, certainly liked it. He had discovered an uncanny talent for the game since he had been roped into playing it shortly after his arrival on Terra, a talent which he had used to win large sums of money from his comrades. He didn’t really need the money, of course, coming from such a wealthy family, but it allowed him to spend as he pleased without much worry. Compared to Fatimeh or Mahmud he was the very model good fiscal planning, yet extra money never hurt anyone and certainly not on Terra, where prices could be much higher than the Eastern Frontier. Even if the money hadn't been useful though, Hamid had to admit that he got some small satisfaction out of showing up his friends.
Hamid sat in his chair with one leg stretched out, and calmly allowed his eyes to wander over the other players. Tactus was a midshipman third class, one year ahead of the rest of them, and he leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. His house was an old one, from the northern core, wealthy, to be sure Hamid thought, given how much Tactus would throw around in games like these. He was out on this hand though, his better sense evidently having prevailed, and so he was simply watching the rest of them.
Micha was sitting forward, frowning and scratching her sandy-haired head, staring intently at her cards as though she could make them change by sheer force of will. She was a good-humoured young woman but not much of a card player, far too expressive about the cards she was holding in Hamid’s opinion. Still, she bought drinks and her father was a well-connected Admiral, so no one much minded if she wanted to lose a few hands every now and then.
“I believe I’ll stay with you,” said Micha, as she tossed a small stack of solars onto the table. They landed with a casual jingle, more money than most people made in a month. Hamid absently added up the total in his head, wondering what it might buy him. Micha always got a little quivery when she really held good cards and he figured that she must simply be bored of sitting out, rather than actually thinking she could win.
Midshipman Charles, seated to Hamid’s right, was the only real threat at the table. The poorest of the group, son of a minor noble on the Northern Frontier, he was actually good enough at the game to give Hamid a challenge some days. Charles stared down at his cards. “I’ll go as well” he said, licking his lips as he matched the bet. Hamid figured that to him, the amount of money they played for actually mattered.
Hamid leaned back further. “Then I raise you twenty solars or so.” He shoved a small stack into the centre of the table and Tactus sucked air through his teeth, seeming to appreciate the stakes of the game.
Micha threw her cards down like they were on fire and sighed. “Damn you Reza,” she laughed, and leaned forward to see what Charles would do.
Hamid stared straight at him, giving nothing away.
“He’s bluffing,” rumbled Charles as he looked down at his cards again.
“Don’t do it, plebe,” said Tactus, but Hamid knew he would. Among nobility like them, he had to give the impression as if he could afford to lose. Charles didn’t hesitate and pushed his own solars in, doing his best to look careless, but Hamid couldn’t miss the beads of sweat on his forehead.
“Now lets see your cards.” Charles said, trying his hardest to sound confident.
Hamid enjoyed the tension that built in the moment before cards were shown. He supposed that the feeling was almost addictive, win or lose, victory or defeat, all revealed in a single instant. Of course, the actual outcome had been decided much earlier when the cards were dealt and plans were made. This was just when everyone else got to see it too. He took his time laying his cards onto the table, one by one, watching Charles’ expression change with each one. “Oh, look. I have a full system.”
The younger midshipman’s face was wonderful as he gave a sigh and frowned. “I was sure he was bluffing,” he said as he threw his cards away in disgust.
“Every damn time Reza, how do you do it?” asked Micha, sipping her drink, eyes closed and head tilted back.
Hamid shrugged. “It’s all about knowing your opponents.” He took the hardlight solars from the center of the table and dropped them onto his credit chit where they disappeared into his account. Charles looked on, teeth gritted, and Hamid almost felt bad, but he didn’t. He had not made Charles play with them, and he did not make him keep coming back. Still, he would have to be sure to buy the young man’s drinks next time they went out.
“Well, I have to be off,” stated Hamid, standing up and gathering his things, looking up at the sun and figuring it to be around noon.
“Mm, before you go,” Micha said with a wave of her hand, “the noble scions of House Lazen are throwing something of a party I hear. We should go.”
The others voiced their agreement, but Hamid had no real desire to go himself. His thoughts were already on his run, then fencing practice after that, followed by further study of the multitude of campaigns that had encompassed the disarmament rebellion. He nodded anyway, “Of course, I’m sure it will be...fun.”
Ida stretched as she walked out of her room on her bare feet. It was early in the morning, well, early for her, in truth it was around ten or so and the members of the household was just getting up. She had been out the evening before, at a rather fun party no less. She didn’t get home too late, but everyone was already asleep by the time she went through the front door. Ida could smell the food, letting it fill her nostrils as she closed her eyes and let her mouth water.
“Good morning, sleepy.” She heard her mother say. Karoline sat at the breakfast table, already having prepared for three as she sipped her coffee, reading over the morning paper as she was already fully dressed and ready to leave when they had finished eating.
“Haven’t left yet?” Ida asked, in truth slightly annoyed her mother was still here instead of letting her wake up on her own and taking in the morning sun.
“I wanted to take the chance to talk with you, I have an important announcement.” Karoline put down her paper, smiling at her daughter for a moment, “But not quite yet.” Karoline took another sip of her coffee, “There’s a friend in the kitchen.” She told Ida with a warm smile “Go see.”
Ida raised an eyebrow, looking suspiciously at her mother for a moment. Ida had a rough idea of who waited her as they had texted earlier in the week, but that didn’t stop her from running over and hugging Christoffer as she saw him, making the young man lean down to embrace her as she stood on her tiptoes.
“Finally awake eh?” He asked, before he turned back to food he was preparing. Christoffer and Ida were close, very close. He was a few years older than Ida, but the two had practically grown up together. Christoffer had once been in front of Ida in the line of succession. It would take a few years after Ida was born to change that fact, as both of their parents reach a settlement. It allowed Ida to become the heiress to the title, of course Imperial approval was granted as well. But to settle any outstanding issue, Christoffer’s father was given a large portion of the stakes in the various Holt enterprises.
Both of Christoffer’s parents had died in an accident when was young, making him inherit their wealth, and making him an extremely wealthy individual because of it. To top it all off, as he was not the main heir, or the head of the house, he could divert his attentions to what he wished, raking in the money while his interests were maintained by the main house. Well, as long as the house didn’t sink the various enterprises.
Christoffer handed her a plate with bacon before sending her back to the table with it. Despite Christoffer’s otherwise relaxed lifestyle with little care, there was something which always ticked Ida off about him. Actually, there were two, and neither were really his fault. The first was his height, he was tall and there was no denying it, and it infuriated her. She was short and she looked like a near midget next to him. The next annoyance, which she had begun noticing more and more recently, was that her mother seemed to confide in Christoffer far more than in Ida herself. It infuriated her to no end that Christoffer would always know what was happening far sooner than she would, especially as it often concerned her own person. She had tried once, twice, thrice times to get him to tell her, but every time he disappointed her, or she disappointed herself by asking.
Ida could not help but sigh as put down the bacon and Christoffer came in with the plates of sausages and eggs. Karoline was smiling as she poured them both coffee along with a glass of orange juice as they both sat down and began to dig in. Christoffer would always wait for the other two to finish picking and selecting through the food before he himself selected what to eat, and as he slowly began to move food onto his plate he was the first to speak up, directed at Ida. “I heard you made new friends at the gym.”
“Spying on me?” Ida asked with a small smile as she took a small piece of the scrambled eggs with her fork.
“A Raza no less.” Christoffer commented, “Friends in high places.” He smiled at Ida with that annoying smug of his, the same annoying smug he always had when he tried rile her up.
“How did you know?” Ida just asked him before sighing, she knew the answer to her own question the moment she had asked it, “Mother.” Was all she added before looking at Karoline who sat with a warm smile towards her daughter, “And you knew how?” Ida asked her mother.
“A mother has her ways.” Was all that Karoline said before sipping at her coffee.
“So how is the Grand.” Christoffer stopped himself, thinking for a moment “Khamum?”
“Khanum.” Ida corrected her cousin.
“Ah right.” Christoffer said, biting down on some bacon before licking the juice off his finger, “it’s one of those damned hard titles to remember.”
Ida just shrugged, “She was doing well from what I heard.”
“Heard?” Christoffer instantly picking up on it as Karoline had a quiet laugh and turned to the young man.
“It was not the Grand Khanum she met.” Karoline commented, making Christoffer raise and eyebrow in between his bites, “It was her cousin. That young strapping gentleman.” Suddenly giving Christoffer a grin and a very enlightened expression.
“Mother!” Ida just proclaimed, knowing full well what they both thought, she had lived with the both all her life and it didn’t take a scientist to figure this one out.
“I said nothing.” Karoline added, looking at her daughter as they all took a few more bites. Then as they just sat there eating, the entire atmosphere in the room began to change as Christoffer and Karoline looked at one another and a worrying sense began to creep over Ida, knowing full well something unpleasant was coming.
“I spoke with Vladimir VI Potemkin, the Grand Baron, yesterday. It was a most fruitful conversation.” Karoline began as Ida sat there looking at her mother, an annoying flare sparking up in her eyes. Christoffer only barely cutting off Karoline before she began again.
“You are to be married to his oldest son.” Chris just said short. Karoline was angry, the way he had just blubbered it out making him shrug, “Bad news are best delivered in a short quick burst.” Christoffer just finished, sipping his orange juice, knowing full what was about to come.
“And I was to have no say?!” Ida ‘asked’ with all the politeness she could muster, though no doubt the servant girls on the other side of the penthouse heard her.
“You can hardly refuse a Potemkin.” Her mother said flat, “And I have already agreed on your behalf.”
“Unfreaking believable.” Ida uttered under her breath, “Yea, I refuse, I am not going to marry one of those dark, dull and grim military bastards.”
“Come on.” Christoffer said, smirking slightly “Those dark gloomy military men will be clay in your hands, they always are below that dark exterior. A pot of clay to fold into any shape or form you desire.”
“Tried many have you?” She instantly snapped back at her cousin, only to make Chris chuckle as he ate away. “Fuck you.” Ida just added at his laugh before she got down from the chair and stormed out the room, Karoline calling out for her to come back this instant.
Christoffer and Karoline would sit there, returning to their breakfast and both sighing as she left. It would take several minutes but Chris would be the first to speak once again, “You are playing with fire.”
“She will calm down.” Karoline responded, making Chris laugh.
“We both know of what I speak, you don’t seriously expect this marriage to happen do you?” He asked amused.
“And why should it not, they are both more than respected. It is a natural match.” She sipped her coffee. Chris knew that his aunt knew, he also knew that she would, at least as of yet not entertain the idea. Her own smugness and self-confidence was the only thing in which she almost rivaled her nephew.
“And every single electoral house will be against it, the court will be against it, the Imperial family will be against it.” Chris said, “They make for a perfect match, a perfect match for an overgrown elector and a government coup. The Emperor already owes us money and the army has a fondness for the Grand Baron. It is a direct threat to the Crown, both the crown itself and its independence for influence, it will ruin the status quo.” Christoffer laughed once again. “Even without my shares, it will make House Potemkin the far richest and make them have the far widest influence. No one will approve.” Before forming a grin, “I’m impressed, you reached higher than even I had expected.”
“We have ways to smooth over the Crown, a bit of debt forgiven here, a bit of forgiveness there.” Karoline said self-assured, “But since you are so wise, oh Loki, tell me, how will they stop it.”
“That’s easy to answer, first they will try and split them apart, have the engagement broken. Should that fail, they will try and coerce Ida into giving up her title and abdicating. Which probably benefits to all, even if it is full of drawbacks.”
Karoline cutting Chris off, “Benefits for you most of all.”
“Perhaps.” Chris confirmed, should he come into his inheritance, he would not be too upset, and regardless. It would still, in the end, be a political match between two houses, but far more stomachable than the current one. “And finally, should they fail to coerce her into that, well, then we get more bodyguards.” Christoffer stood from his chair, reaching over and taking Ida’s plate before stacking it on his own and taking the one Karoline handed him, “Just make sure she doesn’t fall for the blooded oaf before this is all over.”
The Grand Prince sat in his study in a secluded wing of his favorite palace, Zweitelbazschloss, where he stayed most of the time, if not on official duties. From there, he could watch as his guard walk in their fancy, and richly decorated uniforms. He had handpicked all the guards himself, and he was sure that they were fiercely loyal.
He opened up a map of the part of the Galaxy that was colonized by civilized races, as he sometimes coined the race of Homo Sapiens Sapiens. He looked for, as he had done so many times before, opportunities to expand the buisness and the wealth of his family. He could hear what he described as haunting music (folk music) from somewhere in the palace, obviously extremely loud. "Someone must have opened the door to this wing. I do not enjoy this." He said to himself, whilst he lighted a cigar. He closed the Galatic map, stood up and walked to the windows, and looked out at what was basically his property. A city his ancestors had built, repaired and occasionally rebuilt. He was day dreaming when his son, Alexkandir, knocked on the door, and entered.
"Father, there are news from Terra." As Nicholus didn't respond, Alexkandir repeated, albeit louder. The Grand Prince looked at his son.
"My son, what news could it possibly be?"
"Cabinet positions. The Emperor has himself appointed nobles from five esteemed houses, to serve his bidding."
"Let me take a look." Alexkandir handed the letter to his father, "Hm, this is most interesting. Bad choices, most of them if you ask me. Grand Countess Holt in charge of finances. isn't she twenty years old?"
"She is father." The Grand Prince sighed heavily and relighted his cigar.
"I shouldn't be surprised, he is just a boy after all, his Imperial Majesty."
"Oh, I have also other news from the House of Holt."
"Really?" His father said intrigued, "Say forth."
"She has apperently been promised to oldest son of Grand Baron Potemkin."
Nicholus was dumbfounded, "What. Has everyone in the House of Holt lost their minds? I know that they are new to the aristocratic scene. But Grand Baron Potemkin oldest son is, as far as I have heard, a cold hearted, and gloomy military man. Surely a bad match for a young girl."
"Come on father, it could be worse, she could have been promised to a commoner."
"Aristocratic marriages is not a joke in this universe Alexkandir, and you better remember that. Now, I need some time to gather my thoughts, but before you go, can you tell me what this haunting noise is?"
"It is my dear little sister, your daughter, Anni, who is holding a ball, they are currently dancing to the most delightful tones of the lower classes."
"Who gave her permission to do that?"
"Your wife, my most beloved mother."
"You may leave now, ensure that all doors are closed behind you, I'd rather not listen to more of that music."
And with that, Alexkandir left the study, and the Grand Prince smoked his cigar while looking out of the window again.
Buttoning his black shirt as he stood with his toothbrush in his mouth, it did make Christoffer look at the very least, slightly silly as he was getting dressed, but screw it. He finished the last button before going out and washing his mouth, getting rid of the toothpaste and some of the minty taste from it. He grabbed a similar black tie, small in width as he strode past the hallway and into Ida’s room, the latter not noticing him at all as she sat writing a letter. Chris quietly moved until he stood over her, looking down and most certainly invading her privacy as he could not help but smile slightly, “A letter to the Emperor, not often one declines his gracious offers.”
“Don’t read my letters.” She said sharply, looking up at him. Ida had clearly not forgotten or forgiven his part to play in her betrothal, or more appropriately, his lack of informing her ahead of time.
Chris however, could only sigh, as he walked over to her wardrobe and looked through it, eventually picking out a dark blue dress. “It’s beautiful.”
“That’s why I bought it.” Ida returned to her letter after her remark, “Now put it back.”
“Much rather that you put it on, we have a party to go to.” Christoffer responded as he laid it over on her bed.
“I don’t remember agreeing.” Ida didn’t even bother to look around, felt so much simpler trying to just ignore him, rather than looking at his smug face.
“One can hardly refuse the invitation of an Electoral house, even if it is House Lazen.” Chris commented, which finally made her turn around, “You have thirty minutes.”
“Ugh, fine, now get out so I can finish this letter.” She commanded him, his smug staying there for a moment before she yelled at him to get out.
The party itself seemed rather lively, the drinks poured, the snacks aplenty and more importantly, at least to Christoffer, the game table was there along with the group he needed. He couldn’t help but smile as he approached them, greeting each and one of them while Ida looked fuming once more as she knew she was in for a night of gambling. And best of all, they had already found a table.
It was the usual group. Cassius, Riard, Emil, Henrik and Patrik. Cassius was the oldest, even if he did not look like it next to Patrik and Emil. Cassius had strands of grey hair and a fairly relaxed attitude as he leaned back, his wife standing behind him. She was a lucky man, especially as his wife’s temperament was a calmer one, and could forgive him when he lost slightly too much money. Then there was Emil and Patrik, both of them with white hair and Patrik prematurely balding, they were quiet, but good sports. Then Henrik, he was in his mid-thirties, newly wed with a child on the way. He was of minor nobility, but wealthy all the same so he could afford to lose, though he was one that rarely lost more than he earned. Finally there was Riard, Christoffer’s target for tonight, the youngest of the group and the most hot-headed. Riard was nineteen and his father was rich, even by high society standards, money that Riard often used. He was reckless, a poor gambler and out to impress the rest. Behind him stood a slightly older woman who appeared to be in her late-twenties, a very attractive woman as well with blonde hair and blue eyes, though it was clear his gaze fell on Ida when Chris and her appeared, only to have Ida roll her eyes as Christoffer sat down.
The first hour went well enough, Chris made a net gain, just like Cassius while Patrik was losing quickly and Riard was following shortly behind him. It went up and down here and there, with both Cassius and Chris throwing a few rounds to keep the others from leaving and especially too keep Riard here long enough so that he did not just march off. Christoffer did have to give it to the Lazen family, they could throw a party, even if neither Christoffer or Ida would grace the dancefloor, even if the latter wished it more and more. Instead she would have to content with looking over her cousin’s shoulder as he continued playing. After a few more rounds, and a few more drinks, they were most rudely interrupted “Room for one more?” the man asked as he approached them, taking an appraising glance at the table’s occupants. It was a young lad, younger than Riard by the looks of it standing in his fleet uniform.
All the men at the table turned to him, glaring up and down at the young officer, most of them tilting their heads. “I’m out, not as if I have more to lose.” Patrik said, “My wife is going to kill me.” Patrik had been looking for a good reason to leave for a few rounds, so he quickly grabbed it now that it appeared in front of him.
“Oh come on Patrik, one more game.” Emil said, but Patrik just shook his head and took his coat. The chair being pushed out for the young naval officer.
The young man clapped Patrik on the back as he moved in to take the seat. He leaned in and took one of the unopened bottles from the table then sat back, one leg stretched out. Even with his dark skin, the flush on his cheeks was evident. “Name’s Hamid, good to meet you all.” As he spoke he opened the bottle and took a quick drink. A Raza, Christoffer thought to himself and one after the one, the group introduced themselves.
“Sure you can afford it, boy?” Cassius asked, looking at the young man with a hint of pity.
“Quite,” he said easily, taking his credit chit from his pocket and placing it on the table. “Though I’m sure you’ll all end up wishing I couldn’t.”
Hamid just made Cassius laugh as the rest ordered to refill their drinks, the first hand being dealt out, everyone keeping their poker face, or at the very least trying to as some gave away hints. Hamid would be the first to place down a bet, a large one at that. Cassius didn't give much away in terms of his reaction, he never did, perhaps he had learned to be stoic after all the years with his wife. As Hamid had predicted, Riard outdid his bet whereas Christoffer added in but raised no higher. A very small frown on Chris’ lips, barely visible. Ida on the other hand raised an eyebrow as Hamid stared at her briefly.
Hamid met Riard’s raise with a serious look on his face, taking another drink from the bottle as he did. “You all play better than the boys at the Academy, you know?” He said casually.
Henrik had already gone out and Emil followed, the rest raising and staying, “That’s because they are boys.” Riard said, not really much different from a boy himself, smirking as the girl ran her hand over his shoulder.
Hamid smiled slightly, raising a small amount. “Maybe,” he admitted, placing his cards down on the table.
Cassius smirked, Riard was furious and Christoffer just sighed as they all placed their cards and Hamid had won the round.
Hamid grinned as he collected his winnings and started shuffling the deck again. “But if boys cannot beat me...and neither can men…” he spoke slowly, seeming to muse over the idea, “can women?” He asked the question, his gaze falling on each of the three women who stood behind the table, meeting their eyes in turn.
Cassius chuckled, looking at his wife who just shrugged with a short smile, polite, but it was clear that the game didn't interest her. Ida offered him a smirk, quite liking the idea, while the girl on Riard’s side was just about to speak before he cut her off by her date, “No they can't.” Making most of the others either sigh or roll their eyes.
Hamid laughed, legitimately amused. “Well surely they’d do better than you. I knew your damned hand as soon as it was dealt.” He waved his hand at the bottle in front of him. “Why don’t you have a drink and let her try her luck, you look like you need one.”
“She doesn’t have any money.” Riard commented, in fact pushing the drink near him further away, “Now are you going to play?”
“Very well,” Hamid sighed as he shuffled the cards, dealing them out to the table once again.
Cassius once again kept a stoic face, Riard looking slightly annoyed, while Christoffers lips heightened into an extremely small smile while Emil mainly just looked at Hamid, trying to see what kind of figure he was. Chris went first, going in with a large bet once again, followed by the others. It was time to draw in Riard now that he was already on edge.
Hamid took his time when it came to him. He frowned at this cards, shrugged, raised his eyebrows as if seeing something surprising. He scratched his thin beard thoughtfully, then sighed. After a few moments of this he met Chris’s bet and raised it by half again. “You only live once, yes?” He asked no one in particular before taking another long drink.
Chris followed, raising it further and so did Riard while the rest bowed out.
“I call,” Hamid said with a nod and threw the money in with an easy flick of his wrist, before laying out his cards. Riard, once again having lost, clear on his face was fuming once more while Chris laid out his cards. Hamid winning again, while Ida laid a comforting hand on Chris’ shoulder, a hint of a smile more than happy he was losing.
Riard stood up, “Cheater.”
“Do you insult my family’s honor sir?” Hamid glowered, his mood darkening suddenly as he half raised from his chair.
“As if it has any.” Riard responded, making Chris chuckle slightly, this was so perfect; Hamid could not have come along and helped more if he knew what he was doing.
“Sit down and shut up.” Cassius said, while placing a hand over Hamid’s wrist to stop him from rising further.
“Fuck off old man.” Riard just responded, finally making Christoffer speak.
“Sit down already, I lost far more than you have.” Christoffer’s remark only making him the target of the fight
“Fuck you, no you haven’t.” Riard responded.
“Sure I have, I actually lost my money, you lost daddy’s money.” Chris just finished, taking another sip from his drink, “Go sleep it off.” Throwing him a key, “Opposite street, 51st floor, number 31.” Riard was seething but eventually left, dragging the girl with him.
Christoffer turned to Cassius, “You got to love him when he gets that one drink too many.”
Hamid took a deep breath as he threw himself carelessly down into his seat, then thought better of it, standing up again, rocking slightly. “Gentlemen, I think I’m done for the evening, thanks for letting me sit in,” He said sourly as he grabbed his chit and the half empty bottle off of the table. “G’ luck to all of you.”
After he had left it didn’t take long before Ida made her excuse as well, what was it with her and Reza men. Oh well, no matter, Chris thought to himself as he looked as his watch and played for another thirty minutes before excusing himself, promising to be back shortly, which he would, as he made for the exit and went across the street, getting his bag at the hotel reception where he would leave it again when he left the hotel. Then taking the elevator all the way up and knocking at the door, only to be met by the stunning blonde from earlier in black lingerie while Riard was sleeping as a stone on the bed.
“Perfect timing, he just passed out.” Agenon said as she looked over at Riard, “The drugs worked like a charm.”
“Beautiful.” Christoffer commented as he entered and put on his rubber gloves, grabbing Riard’s bag before digging out his laptop and putting it down on the coffee table as Chris relaxed back into the couch as he connected the laptop with his own. “So how was his first day?” Chris asked Emily.
“Perfect, he loved it.” The he being Agenon’s young son. “You want a drink?” Emily asked from the kitchen.
“Sure,” Chris responded, “So is he staying at a friend’s today?”
“I wish.” Agenon sighed as she handed Chris his drink, while the latter worked through the various passwords on Riard’s laptop. “He is with his father.” Agenon added.
“Sounds dreadful.” Chris responded, having gotten through the passwords as he began to transfer the virus onto Riard’s laptop. “When will you have him back?”
“On Tuesday.” She sipped her glass, looking through her wristband and opening up the news.
“Not too bad then.” Christoffer responded, finishing transferring the last files before he began packing it all up again as he turned to her, “Now he just needs to connect it to his system at home and we are golden. The rest is up to Eight.” Chris said as he stood up, going back with Riard’s laptop as he grabbed his own bag over the shoulder and a drink in one hand as he walked to the door, hearing her call out.
“Enjoy the evening.” Making Christoffer wave back a single time as he went to the elevator and back to the Lazen party, just in time to see Ida leave a gaming table with the young Reza. At least she was in a better mood than when they arrived.
When you’re the scion of the galactic aristocracy, people expect you to be better than everyone else. From culture and style to education and aesthetics, the elite spare no cost to ensure their progeny live up to those expectations. But when you’re born to rule, the rules no longer apply; so by day it may all be pomp and circumstance, but by night? Hair is let down and the drink begins to flow.
Hoping as she was that the Princess Imperial might deign to attend, Seraphiele had been careful to strike a balance between decadence and elegance. The fountain of champagne that had made it’s appearance at previous events hosted by the twins was nowhere to be seen, although champagne was, of course, readily available. Elaborate sweets, cakes and other desserts served equally as decoration and snack.
Sariel had left organisation to his infinitely more enthused sister, but nevertheless rose to the occasion in his own unique style of velvet jackets, flamboyant cravats, and fashionable lateness; he always found that period when only the first few guests had arrived incredibly awkward, guiltily leaving it to his sister to play primary host.
The night had worn on, only briefly greeting the host as they arrived, Ida and Christoffer at least had only greeted the host briefly. But now there seemed to be another calm, which quite frankly was an interesting atmosphere as more people had gotten drunk, especially the young ones. Though it was good to be back here, having done his duty for the night as he walked next to Hamid with a drink in hand. “So you are the would be admiral that my family is to provide with a fleet.”
“Excuse me?” Hamid asked, taking a second to process what had been said. “Oh, um, I suppose, but I intend to earn my fleet.”
“Is that why you wear the uniform to a party?” Christoffer asked, himself wearing the same black outfit from before. “Or do the ladies just love a man in uniform?”
“Some do, I’m sure of that,” he said with a smile. “But it was really just that we came straight from the Academy.”
“And here I thought the academy was for young aristocrats to waste away at.” Chris going over to the bar and ordering a refill as they stood there, looking over the dancefloor.
Hamid followed after him, ordering another drink for himself as well. “Waste away? Hardly,” he scoffed. “The Academy is the only hope for noble children far down the line of succession, or merchant families looking to gain a title, I suppose,” he chuckled at the last part, not having sobered much since they had played cards earlier.
“You’re at an event like this aren’t you? Can’t all be hard work.” Sariel turned to the new arrivals at the bar, “Sariel Adler, of house Lazen,” he proffered his hand, smiling slightly. “It seems I will be your junior next term.”
Hamid shifted his glass and shook Sariel’s hand. “Hamid Reza. You throw a fine party,” he looked around appreciatively. “And you're coming to the Academy? They say the first semester is the worst of it, so keep that in mind.”
“My sister and I both will be attending Navy, though I had perhaps hoped to tread a different path. And... They say? You didn’t find it too bad? Or do they go easy on the scions of the great houses? I can’t say I would welcome that, although taking it easy would be appreciated - how are we to find time to entertain all our new acquaintances?”
Hamid chuckled. “No, it wasn't so bad, just more running and fencing than most nobles are used to, plus all the reading. Why it's almost like work, in a way.” Hamid leaned in a little conspiratorially. “Not so much that it kept me from getting good enough to beat his was at cards mind you,” he motioned over his shoulder to Christoffer.
Great, more military men, Christoffer thought to himself as he extended his hand out towards the young man that had joined them, “I told you you did nothing at the academy.” Chris smirked before turning his attention back to Sariel, “Careful about this one, give him an easy start and he will think he owns the world.” Before catching himself, “Oh, of course, Christoffer Holt.”
“Pleased to make your acquaintance.” Sariel took Christoffer’s outstretched hand “Well, I am sure the fates of more than one unfortunate world has been decided at these tables,” he indicated the aristocrats still engaged in with their games of cards, “What better way to earn your spurs than take some swamp of a planet gifted by daddy and make something of it.”
“If you've got the mind for that sort of thing,” Hamid added. “You hear so many stories about insane plans of that sort failing spectacularly.”
“Your family has interests in the… eastern core? If I recall correctly? I imagine you’d know more than most about insane planets.” Sariel smiled wryly “Although I can only dream of an assignment like that from my family. Navy is something of a tradition.”
Hamid nodded. “I see. The House of Reza has few soldiers, but for all the insane planets I've seen I never could wrap my head around properly exploiting them. The Navy seems… simpler.”
“I can only breathe relieved that my house has avoided such a tradition. You military types always so dark and gloomy.” Chris added in, sipping on his drink as he watched the two.
“I still seem gloomy? Damn, I had hoped the velvet had helped and doesn't this cravat just scream joviality?” Sariel sighed. “My great uncle is very… not so much gloomy, more stiff, and he is navy to the core. Truth is I don’t particularly want to join, so I envy you somewhat.”
“See, gloomy all the same.” Chris remarked over his mood before sighing quietly as he looked at the young man, “I promise you, there is not much to envy, so I can hardly figure out what it is.”
“Still, a shame to be forced to do something you don't want to.” Hamid observed, finishing his drink and placing the empty glass on the bar. “Your sister feels this way too?”
“Yeah, it really is. Don’t you ever feel that our whole lives are planned for us? That we are just going to end up like the rest of our family? Aren’t we entitled to some freedom?”
“The only thing you are entitled to is spending your parents’ outrageous wealth, a drug problem, and the occasional psychotic breakdown.” Seraphiele slapped her brother on the back, grinning. “I apologize for my brother, and no, no I don’t feel the same way.”
“Finally a bit of a cheerful mood.” Chris extended his hand for Seraphiele, “Christoffer, pleasure to meet you.”
“You’re the first person I’ve met who considers a drug problem cheerful,” her grin became somewhat mischievous, “though I have it on the highest authority that the gentleman three to your left might be able to help us to find out, should we be so inclined.”
“I'm plenty cheerful, you're still just pissed I took your money Christoffer. And,” he cleared his throat and turned to the new arrival. “Hamid. Nice to meet you.”
“Hardly.” Chris chuckled for a moment, “Sariel and Seraphiele, will you look at that. So you are the twins.”
Seraphiele stuck an arm round her brother “Are we that much of an anomaly to be worthy of comment? But yes twins we indeed are.”
Christoffer shrugged, “The names are a bit similar, and one does hear the rumours of these parties. It seems I attended a conservative party by mistake”
“Ah it is a tradition in our family,” Sariel grimaced, “to name children for the seraphim; you tend to get a lot of -iel endings.”
Seraphiele pouted “Is this not bawdy enough for milord? I can only apologize for false advertising, but as my uncle always said, ‘If you aren’t satisfied, then take action.’” Her eyes held a hint of challenge, but the mischievous smile still played across her lips.
“We could ask that man for some stims,” Hamid offered, nodding his head in the direction that Seraphiele had indicated earlier.
Chris grinned for a moment as he looked at Seraphiele before turning to Hamid, raising a hand. “I’m addicted to enough depravities as it is, I don't think I could stomach another.”
Seraphiele signaled the barkeep for a drink before resting her chin in her hand. “One can only wonder what depravities the gentleman was expecting to find at an event hosted by a virtuous young lady such as myself.”
Chris lowered himself so he was on eye level with Seraphiele, “Not even your darkest fantasies will compare.” Before straightening himself once more, looking at Hamid and Sariel, “So are the proud young naval officers hooked on stim?”
Seraphiele was tempted to respond with ‘Try me’. but had the sense to keep her pert lips sealed, given her plans for the evening.
“Just trying to enliven your night, though from what I hear they can become something of a problem when campaigning up in the frontier.” Hamid said plainly. “So maybe one day.”
“I find Mazu gives a cleaner high, but it’s pretty hard to come by. Stim is ok I suppose.” Sariel motioned for a refill. “So you chaps have known each other for a while?”
Christoffer raised his hand to look at his watch, “Yea, about two hours.” Smiling as he said it and tapping his glass on the counter for a refill as he had just finished it.
“Already feel like old friends though, eh Chris?” Hamid smirked.
Christoffer tilted his head slightly looking at his newfound friend with a smile, “I see someone wants to be invited back for cards.”
“I’ve bills to pay, you understand.” Hamid said before looking at the twins. “If either of you play come see me at the Academy by the way, we'll make room for you in the group.”
“I generally don’t, but I’d be glad of a friend who can show us the ropes.” Seraphiele smiled warmly.
“I, on the other hand, do and am thinking that in spite of winning? your last game, are not prepared to offer your friend a rematch? Most unsporting, don’t you agree Chris?” Now it was Sariel’s turn to sport a mischievous grin.
Christoffer chuckled, “Evidently three people are now trying to leave me homeless.” He sipped his drink while weighing the options, “But yes, it is a most grievous injury.”
“I gave you two hands,” Hamid said with mock indignation. “What more do you want for me?”
“How ‘bout best of three? what’s your buy-in?”
Hamid sighed. “I'm too drunk for this… five hundred solars.”
“Starting low are we?” Chris commented at the remark.
“Would you like to lose more?” He asked.
“Tsk tsk tsk.” Was Chris only response
“I’m in for five fundred. The intoxicated haze only makes it more interesting.” Sariel looked at his opponents slyly, “we can raise all we want.”
Chris nodded, “After you.” Before looking at Seraphiele “Or ladies first?” he questioned if she would join.
“Thank-you, but I will let you boys get to it. Another time perhaps.” Chris only feigned hurt at her comment before looking at Sariel to get a move on to a table.
Seraphiele watched as the three of them made their way over to a card table. Not bad, she thought to herself, two great houses in one.
Lady Dionysia Dikaios and her cousin Elias strode into the party, fashionably late. Eli, a freshman at the Imperial Naval academy, was wearing his uniform. Di, as usual, was dressed to attract attention, and carried a cute accessory bag. Eli was exhausted from his long flight from the Western Core and hadn’t even wanted to come, but Di had come barging into his room going on about how boring her sister Sophie was for never wanting to go to proper parties, not letting him get his snooze in. Eli had always had a soft spot for his cousin and agreed to go, especially when he heard it was being hosted by Lazens (That family practically owns the Academy, Di!) Entering the room, Dionysia spotted Seraphiele at the bar and dragged Eli along to offer proper greetings.
“So you’re Seraphiele Adler! Nice gown you’ve got there, simple… elegant, I like it. Thanks for inviting me… and letting me bring my boring Cousin Eli along.” She turns to the bar tender. “I’ll take a Corpse Reviver, and some scotch on the rocks for my cousin here. So, what do you guys do for fun up north, when the aliens aren’t attacking at least?”
“Why thank you! It’s a local designer from home, nothing special.” Sera twirled her glass. “You just missed my brother; he went off to play cards. They’re lacking a fourth if either of you is so inclined. As for fun up north with aliens, well, my dear cousin, Kiera, once captured one of the unholy beasts for experimentation - the creature… machine, whatever, escaped and the resulting hunt was certainly…. ‘Fun’.”
“Cards? Excellent! Who else is playing?” Elias chimed in. Dionysia turned and ordered several more cocktails.
“Hamid Reza and Cristoffer Holt were just here, my brother, Sariel, induced them to a third round.”
Elias smiled. “Hamid Reza! I’d rather not lose my entire collection of solars tonight.”
“You’re such a scardy-pants, Eli! I’ll happily relieve these fine gentlemen of their winnings, after I get them suitably drunk, of course. Thank you for having me, come and find me later and I’ll show you all the solars I’ve won off your brother!” Dionysia strutted off to meet the card players.
“So, I hear everyone in your family has to go to the Academy,” offered Eli. “Will you be going soon? It’d be nice to know someone with real connections; my family’s mostly a bunch of poets, except my dad.”
“Yes, both of us will be attending Navy next semester. As for having to go… yeah we kinda do. They say my great great grandmother disowned her eldest son for refusing to go, although,” she lowered her tone conspiratorially, “they also say said son wanted out of the family to marry some common whore… so y’know; who knows?”
“Perfect! The Academy’s not so bad. If you’re going, you should definitely get to know Hamid Reza - an amiable fellow, and a card shark. Care to spectate? I, for one, would love to see the look on Di’s face when she realizes exactly how badly she’s outclassed.”
Di, in the meantime, strode confidently into the room, bearing a tray with four cocktails, and sat down at the card table. “My name is Dionysia Dikaios, and I’m here to rob you blind, gentlemen.” She distributed the cocktails. “Deal me in next round!”
Hamid clapped loudly, appreciating her confidence, before taking one of the drinks. “Finally a woman who’s not afraid to play! Hamid Reza, at your service. Take a seat,” he said as he motioned to the free space at the table.
Christoffers eyes just looked at Hamid for a moment, the blue colour reflecting in the lighting before he looked over at Sariel and shrugged, taking the glass.
Di purchased 50,000 solars worth of chips, and extended her arm for Hamid. “Charmed.” She produced a sachet of white powder from her bag. “On Hira, we share with friends. Just amoda, nothing too crazy. I consider it the champagne of chemical compliments - subtle. Just a little boost of energy, makes everything a bit more lively.”
“Deal when ready, Hamid, just don't stare at her for too long.” Christoffer said as he sipped the drink he already had.
“Screw off Chris,” Hamid said as he began passing cards out around the table. “And while I appreciate the offer, alcohol has been serving me well tonight, shouldn’t change course now.”
Di glances at her cards, and casually buys in. She sniffs some amoda from the back of her hand and offers her sachet to Chris and Sariel.
Chris matched and raised with another 300 solars while he raised a hand to decline the sachet, “Sorry, but not the high I seek.”
Sariel shrugged and accepted Di’s offer before matching the offer.
“And which sorts of highs do you prefer, master Christoffer? If it’s the thrill of collecting interest, I may have joined the wrong table!”
As they spoke, Hamid pushed a small pile of chips worth 1,000 solars towards the center of the table. “Raise,” he said simply.
“Clearly bluffing!” Scoffs Di, once again matching the bet.
“I shall collect due interest.” Christ commented, “Especially as Hamid barely looks at the cards anymore.” He chuckled, hesitating for a moment before raising with another 150 solars.
“The cards aren’t what’s important,” Hamid said, smiling a little as he took a drink then matched the bet.
“Is it not?” While Hamid may be keeping his smile small, Chris was grinning at the comment.
“The cards determine whether you win or lose, silly! My cousin said you were a shark! I know you’re bluffing now!” Dionysia once again matched the bet.
Sariel smiled wanly. “I agree, the cards aren’t particularly important. And again, I’ll match.” He glanced at Dionysia. Chris stared at both of his male friends for a moment, chuckling lightly before raising with another 100.
“Truly, all that matters is knowing your opponents, if you do, the cards hardly matter at all.” Hamid said this as he gathered another 1,000 solars worth of chips and threw them forward. “If you knew me, you’d know if this was a bluff.”
“We’ve only just met, Lord Reza! I hope I’m not so transparent as that!” Dionysia once again matched. Chris matched, but raised no further.
“I will once again match the offer.” Sareil said quietly.
Hamid chuckled as he fanned out his cards and took another drink. Chris smiled, “See, some is still down to the cards.”
“That is because we all play like drunks with money we do not need,” Hamid said, quite amused as he collected his winnings. “If 2,000 solars meant anything you might have been more hard pressed to match my bets based on nothing.”
“It is pocket change, I won't deny.” Chris commented as he mixed the cards before dealing all out a new hand. “But it is better than forcing any of you into poverty.”
“I’m positively shaking,” Hamid joked, looking down at the cards he had been dealt for just a moment.
Di was raising 250 solars just as Eli strolled in. He took a quick look at the table and deduced the outcome of the previous hand. “No surprises there, my lord Reza!”
“I tried to warn them.”
“Dionysia isn’t really the listening sort.”
“In fairness, Chris’ hand was hardly nothing,” offered Di. “Sariel and I were the ill-advised ones.”
“A calculated risk.” Chris shrugged, finishing his drink before raising with another 5,000.
“You want me to risk nearly everything I’ve won?” Hamid asked, then sighed and matched the bet.
“You boys don’t scare me with your pissing contests! I’ll match!”
Sariel raised an eyebrow at his cards. “Mmm. I’ll fold I think. Sorry lads and ladette.”
Chris chuckled for a moment, “I need a refill.” he said as he folded and stood up, smiling to himself with a small chuckle, “Will be back in a moment.” as he left them at the table.
Hamid smiled at Di. “Best of luck,” he said as he laid his cards down slowly.
“Again? I shouldn’t have doubted you, Eli! Tell me, is the Imperial Naval Academy as boring as the University on Hira? All we do is read a bunch of dead philosophers and theologians -- at least you get to learn to wield a sabre!”
“We do indeed, that and a lot of running. The classes themselves are fascinating as well though, at least to me. Standing in a simulation of Iskander’s command bridge at Eden IV can’t possibly be boring, can it?” Hamid asked, finishing his drink.
Chris sighed, “And they are on military matters.” He told Ida as they walked back into the room, Ida looking rather small next to Chris before the latter found his seat and she stood back in her dark blue dress.
“So what consumes the world of Christoffer Holt?” Sariel asked. “If I didn’t know better I would say he lost his first love to a dashing officer in a fine uniform.”
Chris opening his mouth to speak before Ida cut him off, “Sleep and drink.” She smirked at the group before Chris shook his head.
“Largely banking, interest payments, calculating risks and rewards, investments, so on.” He corrected his cousin.
“Rather a different sort of strategy than the sort we’re accustomed to, eh Hamid?”
“Rather a more boring kind of strategy!” Cut in Di, “I’d prefer wielding a sword, and cutting down the dashing officer who stole my love away. I’d wager our dandy Sariel here has the right of it. Perhaps you’d like to introduce us to your companion, Christoffer?”
Chris leaned back, looking at his company thinking over it until she spoke up “Im Grand Countess Ida Holt, Christoffer’s cousin.” Ida turned her attention over to Chris, “A cousin who you promised to escort home about half an hour ago, but it seems you are going to be moving little any time soon.”
“Dionysia Dikaios, recently short 10,000 solars, at your service. And if the rumors I’ve heard are correct, congratulations on your recent engagement!”
Ida just offered her a polite smile, “Thank you.” Before turning to her cousin “Well Chris, if you are not going to be done soon, then I am heading back to the party. Have fun.” She told them all as she turned and began to walk out.
Hamid stood up quickly. “Actually Ida, I can escort you if you’d like. I’ve fencing practice early tomorrow and must be heading back to the Academy myself.”
Sariel smiled at Hamid “It was a pleasure to meet you, I am sure we will meet at Navy in a few months.”
“Oh, but we’ve only just met,” Dionysia complained. “I’d love to hear about how you met your husband to be!”
“No need, but thank you.” She turned to Hamid, “I will contact my drive, he should be here soon. Perhaps Chris is done by then.” Ida said before turning to Dionysia, “Perhaps next time, after I have had the pleasure of meeting my husband.”
Hamid bowed his head respectfully. “In that case I will be off. It was wonderful to meet all of you, and should you wish to attempt to win your money back, I would look forward to playing with you again. Farewell,” he said as he walked out of the room.
“I’ll wait with you for your driver!” Offered Dionysia, “Our card game seems to be breaking up, and none of these gentlemen have had the courtesy to ask me to dance!”
Ida had offered her a short smile, leaving it up to Di what she did as Ida left the room and went over sitting in a couch while waiting for the driver. Di followed after Ida, bringing along more drinks, and sat beside her on the couch.
“Then the rumors are true, and your match was arranged?” Di offered a cocktail to the grand countess.
“Most of our marriages are.” Ida commented, taking the glass, “Thank you.”
“Fair point. But if it were me, I’d want something stronger than that drink if I was going forward with a marriage to someone I’d never met! Luckily enough for me, my own mother hated my grandmother for arranging her marriage. I imagine as a result, she’s been kind enough to promise me she’ll consent to any man I chose, provided he’s at least vaguely acceptable, whatever that means. I suppose I’ll learn if I chose someone less than vaguely acceptable.”
“We can't all be as lucky.” Ida commented, sipping the drink, “But there is little point to continue sitting and crying over myself and my sorry state, it has been decided and there is not much more to it.”
“Decided by whom? You’re the Grand Countess!”
“By my mother.” Ida smiled, “Some battles can be won and others cannot.” Ida sighed, “Besides, the Potemkin heir is not the worst match.”
“A military man, I hear. With any luck he’ll look nice in the uniform. He is definitely worth meeting, but he’s hardly the only suitable match in the galaxy. Perhaps your mother might prove amenable to negotiation if you managed to produce a similarly advantageous pairing of your own choosing, however. And, no, I wouldn’t inflict an idiot like my brother Alex on you. I hear the emperor will be hosting a soirée at some point in the near future. I bet you’d have a lovely time, and there’s no telling who you might meet!”
“Yes mother, let me break off this great match in hopes of prancing around so that his Imperial Majesty may choose me, worst case another Potemkin is just around the corner.” Christoffer said as he sat down next to Di, the three now taking up the couch with Di in the middle of the two, “Besides, what was it the countess dowager said, if you don't like the Potemkin heir, he has enough palaces that you need never see one another. Some of the best married couples hardly ever spoke.” Chris smiled, a drink in hand as he relaxed against the couch, “It was something along those lines.” While Ida rolled her eyes.
Di giggled a little. “Well, when you put it like that… still, when exactly are these nuptials scheduled?”
“As of yet to be decided, though the lovebirds are to be introduced to one another in about two to three weeks, I forgot the exact date.” Chris responded,
“Yes, I have that joy to look forward to.” Ida added.
“Oh boohoo, you have to marry one of the finest heirs in the galaxy.” Chris countered
“And your children would inherit both domains eventually? Or would the succession rules change for the Holts?”
They both shrugged before Chris spoke up, “The finer details still need to be discussed with Baron Potemkin, and the Imperial Court. Should nothing be hindered, Ida and Potemkin’s children will inherit both titles are the assets of house Holt which are not mine.”
Ida shrugged, “There is still the possibility that I shall be forced to abdicate, in which case it all falls to Christoffer.”
“In which case, I should perhaps introduce you to my beloved sister, Sophie! But… out of sheer curiosity, if the Emperor, or even, say, Alecsander Myusc were to sweep in and declare his undying affection for you…”
Ida was considering the question but Christoffer was the one to speak up, “The engagement is public, it would be improper to break it off just because a shinier man came along.”
“Ah, your word is your bond. Spoken like a true businessman. Maybe it’s my uncle I should introduce you to. There are graver offences than impropriety of course, and if the offer were sufficiently shiny…”
Chris grinned as he leaned in and almost whispered into her ear, “And you would do anything for a pretty necklace?” Before he leaned back once more.
Ida offered a small smile but looked away from them both, “Perhaps, but I suppose I will know once I have met this Lord Krasnya.”
“My uncle extracts enough stones to make me as pretty a necklace as a lady could hope for; he can’t, however, fashion an automaton suitable for marriage, affection, and… well… I shan’t blaspheme. Still, you’ve parried my hypothetical fairly well… And for all I know, Lord Krasnya might turn out to be perfectly handsome and charming.”
Ida gave a nod to Christoffer before she stood up, “That's my cue.” Chris said, handing her the drink, “If you are not yet ready to blaspheme, you need more to drink.” before standing up “Hopefully we can do this some other time.”
Ida looked at Di and smiled, “Thank you, and I hope so.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A few weeks later somewhere on the Northern Frontier
”So that is Lord Krasnya?” Christoffer asked as Ida handed him her bag, coming out of the hotel where they had met as she was now finally ready to head home.
“Indeed it is.” The two of them stood there for a moment, looking at the man in military uniform walking down the street before getting picked up.
Chris took a moment longer to look at the lord before he opened one of the back doors of the car and threw her bag inside, looking once more back at the car which picked Krasnya up, before finally commenting, “I thought he would be taller.” And getting inside the driver’s seat as Ida sat next to him.
“Likewise.” Ida leaned back in the seat and looked out the front window.
“So?” Chris slightly poked at her with his words as he took off and headed for the spaceport.
“So?” Ida questioned him, obvious to what he referred to as her own mind was still being made up on the issue.
“Was he everything the rumours led us to believe?” Chris questioned, glancing over at his cousin curiously.
“Not quite.” Ida responded, leaning her head against the palm of her hand as looked out the side window of the car.
“Do tell.” Chris took a left turn, speeding slightly up as he overtook some of the cars.
Ida sat in her own thoughts for a moment, “He was..” She was thinking of what to say, “Surprisingly talkative.”
“Oh?” Chris uttered with interest while Ida just shrugged.
“I had expected him to be closed off, cold and barely talking, yet he was not.” Ida shrugged again and leaned back once more, “He was actually talkative, or perhaps I should say he was talkative after he began to talk. It took a bit of time, but he began talking. He was quite calm and relaxed, he even seemed happy about the informal introduction.” Ida sat for a moment, lost in her thoughts. “I don’t know, I had expected different, I had prepared for different.”
“Oh God.” Christoffer quickly responded, an amused grin on his face, “You actually like him, that brooding army officer.” He quickly glanced at his cousin, “You actually do.” Returning his eyes back to focus on the path in front of them. “I grant you, I did not see that coming. Well well.” Ida just shot him an angry glare, “Relax.” Chris quickly tried to calm her, “I won’t tell your mother, even though the satisfaction she would gain would be near unimaginable.”
“Please don’t.” Ida chuckled, “But who knows, it wasn’t as bad as I had feared, I think he even managed to make me laugh. I guess it could be far worse, he brought me a present. “
The Reza estate on Terra was a sight to behold. A mass of sheer-walled buildings, domes, and towers all made of bright white stone surrounded by elaborately landscaped water gardens. When Christoffer Holt arrived servants in bright clothes of yellow and orange led him through the gardens, past the grand foyer and down the hallway where they opened a pair of magnificently carved wooden doors.
Lady Fatimeh Reza’s dining chamber was fabulous to behold. Cloths of silver and crimson, gold and purple, green and blue and vivid yellow, rippled in the gentle breeze from the narrow windows. Screens of filigree marble adorned the walls, and every inch of ceiling was carved in the most minute detail: geometric patterns of frightening intricacy, all painted in glittering gold and silver, vivid red and blue. Heaps of pristine cushions were tossed about the floor, as though inviting passers-by to sprawl in comfortable decadence. Coloured candles burned in tall glass jars, casting warm light into every corner, filling the air with sweet scent. At one end of the marble hall clear water trickled gently in an eight-sided-star shaped pool. There was more than a touch of the theatrical about the place. Like a Queen's boudoir from some ancient legend.
Fatimeh, Lady of Reza, was herself the centerpiece. Looking every inch the noble Lady, she sat at the top of the long table which was inlaid with swirls of dark wood and chips of bright ivory, polished to a high sheen. Dressed in a pristine white gown, shimmering silk with just the slightest, fascinating hint of transparency. A small fortune in jewels flashed on every inch of tanned skin, her hair was piled up and held in place with ivory combs, excepting a few strands, curling artfully around her face. It looked very much as if she had been preparing herself all day. And not a moment was wasted.
She smiled wide, displaying two rows of perfect teeth, when the doors opened for him. “Welcome Lord Holt. Please, sit,” she implored, motioning to the opposite end of the table.
He approached her, his blue eyes looking her over with curiosity. He was rather out of place here, wearing black, as he did so well. Shirt tucked into his pants as it followed his figure upwards, a belt sitting neatly around his waist, the only thing not of black being his watch. A rather poor choice of clothing, she thought. Looking around with his eyes at every step he took to take in the building, it was impressive, that was for sure. He stood at the end of the table, looking down over at “My my.” He noted first, “What intimacy one can have here.” referring to the large table between them before smiling up to Fatimeh, “Thank you, my lady.”
“I must apologize for my attire, but it is so much more comfortable in the heat,” And indeed it was hot in the dining room, almost unnaturally so, much warmer than it had been in the cool gardens with their gentle breeze. “I have become so accustomed to it that the slight chill of Old Alvania keeps me away most of the year.” She continued to grin at him and motioned to the seat to her right. “You may come closer, if you like.” They almost always do.
It was warm, he certainly would not disagree with that as he looked upon her, tilting his head slightly to the side, “The jewelry does seem a bit too much.” He said before deciding looking at her eyes, “I would much rather you came up here.” He motioned slightly the the chair besides him, a polite smile on his lips.
Lady Fatimeh laughed, an easy, open, friendly laugh. She got up from her chair and swept towards him, bare feet padding on the cool marble like a dancer. A breeze from the windows stirred the flowing garments of her dress and a sweet scent of spice filled the air. “You drive a hard bargain Lord Holt. I can see why your family has had so much success as of late.” She said melodiously as she glided into the seat next to him. To say nothing of the ignoble way that you throw around money.
He shrugged, “It doesn't take too much, just grab for what you want.” He said as he looked into her eyes, “But I do grant you, I cannot fathom how it is so unbelievably hot in here.”
“Imagine if you wore a jacket,” She mused playfully. “I must say, I was surprised, and just a little hurt, that I had not had an audience with any of your family when you did such a favor for my brother. It makes me seem a bad host.”
“I am sure you have ways to remedy it.” He looked at her with a grin, “Perhaps a glass of ice?” Breaking to the heat so soon? A shame. He said before leaning back, “I do hope you have not taken it to heart, I personally did not meet most of your family. Well I still haven't.”
As if on cue, a servants came through the large wooden doors, placing a steaming bowl of soup in front of each of them along with glasses and a bottle of wine. “Ice, please,” Fatimeh said without taking her eyes off of Christoffer. “Ah, but some important Holt has met another important Reza almost entirely. Your cousin has spent time with both my cousin and elder brother, and you have both shared an evening with my younger brother. It seems, as in so many things, I am the last.” The flickering candlelight shone on her jet black hair, flashed on the golden bands around her long neck, as she poured wine from the long neck of the bottle into both of their glasses.
He took the wine glass, raising it in front of his lips and waiting for her, looking at her with a warm smile, “Jealous?” Hardly. His warm smile slowly turning into a grin as he waited for her reaction.
Her eyes met his as she set the bottle down, and she gave a tiny knowing smile. “It cannot have escaped your notice that I am not like the rest of my House. I take no interest in business or war. So what do I have if not politics?”
He had a quick chuckle, taking a sip of the wine, “I can think of several things.” I have no doubt you can, and you would certainly not be the first. His eyes finally breaking for a moment looking at the soup, “Are we to succumb the the heat together, and surely there must be something I can do to ratify the mistakes of my house.”
She took her own sip of the excellent wine and held Holt’s eye. “Can you?” She asked, amused. “Do not worry my lord, we may walk in the gardens once dinner is finished, you will cool quickly.” As she spoke the servant returned with a short glass of ice water, beads already perspiring on the outside. Just enough. “Honestly though, Azar runs the House and the business, Mahmud will speak for us in court and great noble halls, and Hamid will command entire fleets. I scarcely figure.”
He took a healthy sip from the water before trying the soup, turning his attention back on her, “But I don’t understand. Surely you have by the far the most important task of any of your house. All the rest seems to pale in comparison”
“Do you think so?” The lady gave an artless shrug. “I suppose I have some passing influence.”
“Of course I do, after all, you have to entertain me.” He said in the most self assured smug, looking at her jewelry before giving a small sigh, “May I?” So forward.
She raised her spoon to her mouth, taking a delicate taste of the soup. “May you what?”
“This.” He said, standing up before untying some of the jewelry that covered her and letting it fall to the floor.
Lady Fatimeh raised one thin eyebrow, still smiling as her eyes flicked to where it hit the floor. “And why did you do that, my lord?” Not that I expect anything less, men look to show their power wherever they can.
“I felt like it.” Was his only response as he sat back down and took a spoonful of soup.
“I see,” She said as she put her elbows on the table, and her chin on her hands. “Is it how you mean to ratify the mistakes of your house?”
“We do have to start somewhere.” He took another spoonful before stopping, damned heat. Leaning back and taking another mouthful of the ice water. “I have a few things in mind.”
“Oh, do share, please,” She said eagerly, her chin nestling further into her hands.
He shrugged, “You shall have to earn it first.”
“I believe it is you that owes me, my lord, not the other way around. I have brought you into my home shared my table with you as my guest. How is it that I should have to earn what you have already freely offered?”
He chuckled, sitting back in his chair, “It’s far more fun that way.” Giving her a playful smile. He did however sigh for a moment looking at her, nodding “But fine, for now I shall ratify a part. I shall be your genie. You have 3 wishes.” Now that is interesting.
“So many?” She asked, smiling. “In that case I have heard a most unsavoury rumor. They say that your dear cousin might not accept His Majesty’s offer to become Chief Treasurer. If this is true, I would ask you to convince her otherwise.”
That made Christoffer laugh, “I shall try.”
“Let us be honest with each other, my lord.” More or less. Lady Fatimeh spoke softly. “I want what you want. Neither of our Houses are so old as to have even seen Iskander and it is a difficult thing, to gain power and position without respect. And yet, between the two of us we are quite a force. Your cousin would control the empire’s purse strings twice over, while my House supplies the fleets with their life blood and now will hold the courts as well. We have a great deal of power and I would see things stay that way.”
“There is one great obstacle you have yet to tackle.” Chris commented, taking another slurp as he finished the ice water. She sat back, eyes locked to his. “Ida’s upcoming marriage to Pavel Potemkin.”
Lady Fatimeh positively beamed at that, her perfect teeth on display once again. “My lord you are as smart as they say. You have brought us to my second wish. That engagement, such as it is, must be broken. From what I know of your cousin she will not weep over its ending and there is no reason to bring a third House into matters. Convince your aunt that my brother is a better prospect, it should not be hard. And Ida has already spent a night with my brother, so I doubt she will complain overly much.”
“Careful Icarus.” Christoffer shook the glass as it was empty, waiting for a new one as he looked at her, “In fact, Ida is quite taken by her husband to be from what I know, they seemed to get along remarkably well.” He leaned back once more, “As for your brother, would you have me lie to my aunt?" Tell her whatever you like, why should I care?
“Come now, my lord. Pavel is the quintessential Potemkin, a heartless thug. If your cousin is truly taken with him then I am Christos Apokalyptikor.” She sipped her wine, glancing to the door for a moment as one of the servants entered to refill Christoffer’s glass. “As for your aunt, what lie?”
“Ever considered that my cousin lusts over men in uniform just like you lust over men with dark hair and blue eyes?” And the pool of arrogance grows deeper. He took a sip of the water. “And everything you just said. Pavel is a better match and you know it. He has a prominent military career, a noble house, a rich house and most importantly, he is the heir.”
“If she prefers uniforms then have her marry Hamid, I care not,” she waved her hand. “As for Pavel being the better match, that might perhaps be true if you ignore what the other Houses think. You call me Icarus but it seems that House Holt, so very young, has a reach that exceeds its grasp. They will see you as empowering the Potemkins and they will not approve. Yet who could comment on a union between Rezas and Holts?” She smiled again, twirling the stem of her glass between her fingers. “But of course, there is more to it. An elector cannot hold two titles and Pavel certainly will not forfeit his so it will fall to Ida to make that sacrifice, leaving your lordship’s line in suddenly good graces. It should comfort you to know that my brother is similarly ambitious.”
“Suddenly?” He merely asked, “You seem to forget that even without the title and remainder of the inheritance, mine is quite larger than most others.” And yet for all that, you lack their nobility. He commented as he took a sip of the wine instead. “But I won't deny it. Should it come to it, Ida will most likely need to abdicate her position, leaving her wealth as well as title to it’s rightful heir, me.” He looked at her far more seriously, “So why should I go against the happiness of my cousin, and my own interests?”
“Why must we be coy my lord? Your cousin’s happiness is not with Pavel, no matter how much you insist that it is. I sincerely doubt anyone’s happiness is with him, so let us ignore that. To speak to your own interests, as I said, you and Mahmud are cut from the same cloth. He will have Azar’s title, of that I am certain, and then you will have yours. Or you can enjoy the long wait for Vladimir to actually pass. I hear some Potemkins can live to 150.” She cleared her throat delicately. “Moreover, I do not believe that wishes usually involve this much debate.”
“Everyone has wishes, and most do not come true.” They do when made to a genie, which you clearly are not. Christoffer said, “And I am a patient man, at least if me and your brother are of the same cloth, I can easily say no to this offer. He would not forsake the Holt title and its worth for that of his family, not when the Holt title comes with far more wealth.”
“Wealth not in his hands, but in Ida’s,” Fatimeh corrected. “Do you think he is without power in our House? He would take less in his own hands than live under someone else with more.”
“Ida’s abdication is likely upon the marriage to Pavel, not fifty years down the line.” Chris sighed, “Forgive me, but I do not see the merit in your plans, you seem a far riskier horse than that of Potemkin. I am not opposed to your brother or his ambition for a title, or even the damned premiership, if I did i would have stopped the meeting between him and Ida. We may even find common ground in the future, but in this we shall not.”
“Then I wish you the best of luck in dealing with those who will not approve of this union.” Fatimeh said, the smile still warm on her face, but her eyes were as hard as diamonds. She did not much like to be brushed aside, as though she were an ant. “And I hope that Ida enjoys her husband-to-be.” Perhaps she will give him a whole brood of grim-faced little children, wouldn't that be something.
He politely smiled back, “It is an interesting decision to make here and now. One would have thought that should the marriage falter, and those that wished to see them apart actually tear them apart that you would have warmed up to line your candidate in line for marriage afterwards. But I suppose not.” He stood up and finished his glass of water, “My lady.” So sensitive? And we were just getting started too. A shame.
“I trust you have a list that you intend to move through should things not go your way, and I doubt that my words would change it.” Looking up at him she took a long sip of her wine. “I’m sorry that we could not have that walk through the garden my lord.”
“Likewise, it would have made such a lovely trip.” Chris sighed, “Perhaps we can have it when you come to your senses. You have after all just make the mistake of an upstart.” Childish, but then, what else can once expect.
The doors opened and two servants entered the room, “Lord Holt will be leaving now,” Lady Fatimeh said pleasantly, turning back to her soup.
He was already walking out on his before he stopped and turned, “Do dull my curiosity, what was the 3rd wish?”
“Irrelevant, good day my lord,” she said without looking at him, the room having suddenly become unbearably hot.
Evram Paulos Sestane Kristophe Ahlmacht, Grand Marquis, Lord, and Eminent General, sat at his massive desk, expertly sculpted from a dreadnought's pitted battle-steel hull, and regarded the stack of data-slates before him with a mixture of dread and resignation. Some of his less discreet cousins regarded the desk, salvaged from the Intemperate after it suffered irreparable damage on his tour as flag lieutenant, as pure vanity from a man who hadn't seen combat in decades. Few of them knew that some of the coilgun scars post-dated the Intemperate's tragic loss in the Kaiser Drift.
But then, Evram hadn't survived his War of Assassins to succeed his less-than-beloved uncle by being wasteful, nor by indulging himself in indiscreet gossip. And so, while his noble colleagues danced and dined in the civilized south, he remained waist-deep in the minutiae of governance. He would have plenty of time to play the game of perfume and posturing later. For now, attention had begun to drift back to the northern conflict, and he had to secure the House's position.
He considered his cousin Avrit, whose plot against him had matured nicely and attracted even a few disloyal members of the House who really ought to know better. If only Avrit knew that his mistress had been in House Security's employ since her teens. If only he suspected that his barber was recording him.
He contemplated allowing House Security to nip the not-yet-ripe plot in the bud, then set it aside for a moment. If Avrit showed this much false promise to his enemies, then he'd attract even more in time. Better to deny them at the very precipice of success.
One of his relatives would succeed him someday. He just wished that any of them showed any promise. Maybe it was time to contemplate more ancient, time-tested methods of succession...
Hey everyone. I'm afraid I'm gonna have to end Ambition for the moment. I don't feel like interest was lost, nor I have lost interest, it's none of your faults. I was unprepared for and underestimated the workload of the school year, so I simply picked a bad time to start it. This game would've been very hands-on for me as a GM, and I just don't have the spare time to do that -- I barely have enough time to play the games I'm in in the first place.
But this isn't over.
Save your histories, bios, whatever. Ambition will come back, probably within 6-12 months from now. All I need is time, which I'll have by then.
Best of luck with school Rolman! Guess this gives me ample time to write for all the responses that I desperately needed to.
In all seriousness, I'd be more then happy to play when the game comes back, after all, the Roylands have yet to spread State Education throughout the Empire!
