Requiem for a Monster

[Treznor]

He stared at the document in front of him for a long time. He knew he’d been staring at it for longer than he should have, knew he needed to do something besides sit and stare it. It wasn’t as if he could just wait a few minutes longer and its declarations would no longer be true, that he could safely pass the responsibility off to his father like before. That life was no longer possible. He couldn’t hide in his father’s shadow any longer.

Tears welled in his eyes, making it impossible to see what he was doing. It didn’t matter; he’d read the document dozens of times already and its contents hadn’t changed. He’d burned the page into his brain. It would haunt his dreams for years to come.

“Highness?” a voice said softly. “I’m sorry, Highness, but you have to sign it. We can’t wait any longer.”

Marcus Treznor wiped the tears from his eyes and glared at Ben Vitner, the Minister of Imperial Intelligence, his father’s most trusted lieutenant and for all intents and purposes the second-in-command for the entire Empire. Part of him was grateful for the interruption, glad to have an excuse to focus his attention somewhere else for just a moment. “Do you think I don’t know that?” he spat.

Ben’s expression didn’t change, nor did the softness of his tone. “I know you do, Highness. But time has run out and we need this signed. The Empire needs an Emperor.”

“My coronation isn’t until next week,” Marcus grumbled, but he picked up the pen anyway. Still he hesitated, the tip of the pen mere millimeters away from the paper.

“The coronation is a formality, Highness,” Ben reminded him. “You are the Emperor now. That document makes it official.”

The tears returned to Marcus’ eyes. “What if I’m not ready?” he whispered.

“You’re ready, Marcus,” Ben said, using the familiar address for the first time. “He knew you were, and so do I. You can do this.”

Marcus choked back a sob and scrawled his name on the sheet. It was sloppy and unprofessional, but he didn’t care. He’d just signed his father’s death certificate. History would just have to forgive him.

Ben gently pulled the paper from underneath the new Emperor’s hand. “Thank you, Majesty. When you’re ready, the guests have begun to arrive for your father’s wake. Your mother is expected to touch down in the next five minutes.”

Marcus struggled to focus on him. “What are we going to do without him, Uncle Ben?”

Ben paused and the first expression of genuine sorrow flickered past his face. “The best we can, Majesty. Just like we always do.” He seemed poised to say something else but shook his head and closed the door behind him.

Marcus took advantage of the solitude to give vent to his fury and grief. None of the furniture survived.

---

You are cordially invited to the wake of Devon Treznor, Emperor of Treznor. This memorial service is an opportunity to gather among friends and family to pay respects to a man who was arguably the most infuriating son of a bitch to grace the world stage. Dinner and drinks will be served to all who attend.

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

“Are you feeling alright, Naiya? Is there anything you need?”

“No, mama. I’m just fine, grazie. What about yourself? Would you like me to ask for some fresh ice water?”

“I’m quite capable of getting myself a bottle, bambi. And you, signore?”

“Nothing for me, thank you.”

Such was the carefully polite conversation aboard the shuttle on the flight over to Devonton. Each person wrapped up in their own concerns, while putting on the face they thought the other wished to see.

Thinking back to the discussion they’d had when she first arrived home, Naiya couldn’t help but feel anxious. No, Marcus had never been judgmental with her, simply protective. And with everything else he had on his plate, she wasn’t sure how he’d react to everything he’d have to understand about her at some point in the near future. And there was so very much to try and explain.

The young woman sat next to her mother, across the way from her Midlonian advisor and one of her personal guards, both dressed in the uniforms she’d had designed to set them apart from her mother’s. She glanced occasionally at Aeturnus and DeSanti, the latter of which made sporadic check-ins with the others on the shuttle, and back home over Spook.

Nathicana meanwhile, was worried about her son, Marcus, and how he was handling things. It concerned her that he’d chosen to go through with this memorial, true. But given the need for solidifying his claim, and keeping the nation stable, she understood it was necessary. She had already determined that she would take great pleasure in tearing up the death certificate herself once that bastard showed up, no doubt grinning shamelessly over the fuss he’d caused. It would be just like him.

She knew Naiya was keeping a close eye on her, as was Calabrese. That said, she was keeping a close eye on them as well. And this new advisor her daughter had brought back as well.

The Imperatrice was not convinced there was ‘nothing more going on’, as she’d once been told. That said, aside from a young woman needing a strong male figure in her life, someone she felt safe confiding in, depending on perhaps, she didn’t have absolute proof. Still, she could do worse. And perhaps the fact he’d admitted to being this ‘something else’ fit better with what her daughter might need in the end than other possible options. She hadn’t been able to dig up anything that indicated he was a potential threat. At least he wasn’t a damned Ardan.

That said, he had seemed fairly solid as well, damn his ginger hide, and his agreeing to this ... arrangement with her daughter. The thought of having Nadia for an in-law of sorts, official or otherwise, still set her teeth on edge.

Once landing time was announced Naiya could see that her mother was increasingly agitated. She half thought to have DeSanti touch base with Calabrese, who was in another part of the shuttle coordinating with their counterparts in Devonton. But as they touched down, Nathicana calmed, taking on her familiar imperious demeanor, waving off any attempts at assistance as she stalked towards the exit ramp.

Her own guards accompanied her of course, with Naiya and her small entourage following close behind. She too chose to walk without assistance, the black of their dresses blending in almost seamlessly with the uniforms of their guards. Calabrese slipped in next to Nathicana, his silver-headed cane at his side. Gauging the woman’s mood, he walked on in silence, glancing over occasionally. Nathicana simply walked forward, her eyes focused on an indeterminate point somewhere ahead.

A low-ranked flunky practically materialized to greet them with a flawless accent. “Buona sera, Imperatrice,” she began, then stopped as the Dread Lady brushed past her without a glance. The young woman straightened and looked around, her eyes betraying her confusion about what to do next. Naiya chose to have pity on her.

“Mi dispiace,” the young woman said, smoothly looping an arm with the Treznor woman, and walking along with her. “My mother, you understand, yes? It’s difficult. What can I do to help coordinate?”

“Grazie,” the flunky replied in obvious relief. “Minister Vitner had hoped to be here to meet you all in person but affairs of state made it impossible. He asked me to escort you to the palace and see to your needs. My name is Lauren.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Lauren. I’m Naiya, though you probably knew that already. It’s no trouble at all,” Naiya assured her, smiling slightly in spite of the situation. A smile always seemed to help put people at ease, after all. “I believe if there is a good supply and ready pitcher of ice water waiting, that will be a good start - again, I’m sure your people are quite familiar with my mother’s habits.”

“She’ll be in good hands, principessa. And for yourself? Some mango juice or a mocha gelato? Something for your escort?”

That gave Naiya pause. She had to remember it was her brother’s nation she was in now, not Devon’s. The shock of being actually welcome here was not an easy point to accept.

“Oh. That ... that would be lovely, thank you Lauren. Ah, let me see ... well, some fresh fruit is always nice,” she said, remembering her advisor’s enjoyment of apples. “Really though, you needn’t fuss over us too much. My mother aside, I think we may be one of your less troublesome groups.” The last was delivered with a slightly broader smile, and a lowered voice.

“It’s no trouble at all, principessa.” Lauren flashed a smile that was brilliant from her white teeth. “It’s my job to make your visit as pleasant as possible under the circumstances. We’ll have a variety of fruit waiting at the palace as well.”

“And I will be sure to pass on to Ben and Marcus what a fantastic job their people have done to make us feel welcome,” Naiya assured her. “It is appreciated, even if mama has a hard time showing it just now. No doubt, it will be remembered when she has time to reflect.”

[Lutvikkia]

A deligation from The Fifedom of Lutvikkia arrives. Disembarking from the aircraft are as follows.

Drudge Illieus Hillann - Lutvikkia Ambassador Relations
Deputy Head of the Guard - Grinnga Vouforth
Daniel Galldiy - Minister of Foreign Relations
Bill Cruze - Chief of Staff
Harrod Brenson - Head of state

Drudge Illieus Hillann approches the assembled deligates.
"On behaf of the greatful nation of Lutvikkia, we share in your loss. It is never easy on a normal day, but for this to happen amidst the crisis, compounds the loss."

[Sakkra]

"So they're holding a .... wake? That's one of those human customs, right?" Emperor Kraah scratched at a space between his scales. He wasn't sure how to take the news of Devon's disappearance, but usually in the Herpetological Empire they don't usually hold the memoria without the guest of honor present. "Yes, Emperor. To honor those who have passed or presumed as such." His personal aide set a rather oversized cistern of wine before him. Kraah raised his spines a bit and lowered them again. "Hrrrmmmm .... Well, it's not my place to dictate how other folks go about their affairs. But that pain in my aft-end was one of the few humans of position who could unclench their buttocks and have an honest good time." He fixed a Ghaan quill on his index-claw, dipped it in some ink and scribed out a message.

To the Honorable Marcus Treznor

Your people and mine haven't had much of a chance to acquaint with each other as of yet, and it's not an ideal occasion to do so, but I and a small retainer will attend to pay our respects to one of the few humans who didn't blanch at my personage or threaten me with an oxygen-destroyer. I look forward to our meeting, and to hear tales of others who had the skin on their rump singed with Hizzoner Devon's antics. And we'll try to keep it down to a dull roar; no promises.

We'll be arriving on the I.S.N. ship Mak'Haavra in one cycle's span by Sol 3 time.

May you walk on warm sands
Emperor Kraah
Herpetological Empire of Sakkra

Kraah strokes his tendrils on his chin with a pair of fingers. "That man is going to have some upheaval to deal with, sure. KHees!" The personal aide snaps to. "Yes, Emperor?"
"Have my ship loaded with drums of strong drink and meat for roasting. I'm not going off-planet on an empty gut! Heave to!" Khees let's out a low sigh. "Yes, Emperor."

[Midlonia]

Royal Yacht Midlonic, off of the coast of the Empire of Drona (Aka Empire of Treznor)

The Midlonic was the floating royal palace of the Greater Kingdom, and the preferred place of residence for the Midlonian Royal Family. At 400ft long it was also one of the largest vessels directly owned by the Midlonian Crown.

Henry, today was stood at the long gallery, looking out across the sea before him. The wind blew and ruffled his red hair. The smell of sulphur had been steadily increasing for some time now, and a royal footman, complete with long tailcoats and immaculately white uniform and gloves stood next to the Midlonian King and bowed respectfully.

“Sire, the air quality is degrading significantly due to our approach to the coast, I’ve been asked to escort you inside.” The footman said quietly, his voice raised only as high as needs be.

Henry was wearing a full suit, complete with black tie and neat, crisp white shirt. It was necessary, and there was none of the usual pomp and circumstance that would normally surround something like the Midlonic travelling to a foreign country as it was right now.

He had seen the Jaipur lurking far away in the distance, the destroyer was normally a constant companion and it’s appearance was a sign of support from the Midlonian state towards that of Drona. All flags were at half mast in respect. The Jaipur herself would remain in non-national waters, and was falling behind already.

Henry had never met Marcus’ father, he’d never had that particular pleasure but the son was a good friend of his and his family. Indeed the children had even begun to call him ‘Unca Marcus’ at times.

Ellanor, or Ellie, with her bright red hair looked a lot like her father, only the pointed teeth, which showed when she smiled to him betrayed her ghoul parentage. She was stood at the door of the gallery pulling at the frilly edge of her mourning dress.

“Is Unca Marcus going to be sad?” Ellie asked as her father came over, knelt down and kissed her on the cheek.

“I’m afraid so, yes. He might not show it, but he will be.” Henry said quietly. “Just like I was when Grandad left.”

“But that meant you got to be King too, I remember the videos of that.” Ellie said with another smile. “You were happy there.”

“That’s because mummy was there, and she was helping me through things.” Henry said with a slight smile as he stood again and patted her hair before taking her hand. “Come on, we’ll go see Julie and mummy.”

They headed out of the gallery and down the stairs, before crossing the atrium and headed up the private staircase. It was private in the sense that it was guarded, and generally off limits to guests aboard the ship.

The two soldiers, one human, one Porphyrian stiffened to attention as he and Ellanor passed them and he opened the door onto their private suite of rooms.

Sarah and Julie were in the bedroom, Julie sat in a similar dress of black with frills sat perfectly still as Sarah combed out her own long hair. She turned and smiled to Ellie and Henry.

“We’re nearly there.” Henry said as he gestured for Ellie to sit next to Julie, she pulled again at the frills, and then finally sat down, her pony tail swinging behind her.

“Grey told me,” Sarah said as she smiled to him again in the mirror, then set the brush down. “Just such a shame our first visit had to be...”

“That, sadly, is the nature of our job, you too now.” Henry said with a slight smile.

“I think you should leave the gallows humour here, dear.” Sarah said as she stood, her own black dress dropping and shifting slightly along with her hair as she did so. “All things considered.”

“I know. I know.” Henry said and then smiled to his daughters. “Right, best behaviour please, I know you might get bored, but you must ask me or mummy politely to be excused, ok? So no using data slips either, keep them in your pockets until later, ok?”

“Ok dad.” Ellie said as she pulled again on the fringe.

“Yes dad.” Julie replied before they both leapt up off of the bed. “Will Unca Marcus be sad?”

“Very sad, poppet.” Sarah said with a sigh and a slanted smile. “So give him a hug when you’re allowed to, ok?”

“Ok mummy.”

Mr Grey knocked politely on the door. As ever his clothing was immaculate and his demeanour perfect for the occasion. He bowed slightly, a slight incline from the head, all that was necessary for him here in the suite.

“Your majesties, the shuttle is ready.”

“Thank you Grey, we’re on our way now.” Henry said with a nod as he took Sarah’s hand, and she took Ellies. Henry took Julie’s gently and they all walked back along the main corridor of the suite. They were soon at the back door of the Midlonic, the shuttle, a common type used by both the Commonwealth and the Greater Kingdom sat squat and imposing on the decking.

“The air smells funny.” Julie said as she wrinkled her nose.

“I know it does, it’s all the factories where people work.” Henry replied. “Now all aboard, here we go.”

They went up the set of steps and boarded, the door hissing shut behind them. Four members of the Life Guard regiment were there, polished golden helmets and deep red uniforms done immaculately. All sported beards of an exacting length and same deep, chestnut brown.

The shuttle trip was in near silence, simple, quiet conversation between the family and the guards. It landed without fanfare, and the guards headed out first. They stood two on each side as the family followed suit, there was a surprising quiet at the palace, in spite of it being in the capital of Devonton, a weird moment of tranquility.

Another flunky was due any second to see to the needs of the Midlonian Royal Family, and escort them to whatever accommodations necessary.

[Reploid Productions]

Firefury's office - Arpia

"Wat."

There's no denying the orange reploid's tone, the monosyllable for all of its flat brevity conveying a much wordier intent, something more along the lines of, "I am disinclined to believe this message or that the man is in fact dead. He is too damned clever, cunning, and lucky to end up dead."

"I'm inclined to agree." Tsume replies to the actual statement as well as the implied commentary with a slight tilt of his reptilian head. The mechanical dragon knows Firefury's particular quirks and habits, the benefit of many long years serving as her second-in-command; he'd long since become extremely fluent in what he jokingly calls 'Queenie-speak.' "However, the fact remains that the boy at least has chosen to recognize it."

"I know, I know." Firefury slips her helmet off and sets it on the desk as she flops into her chair. "Good Goddess, I remember when the kid was just a tot, and now he's all, like, I mean-"

"All grown up and head of an entire nation?" The drake suggests.

"Yes, that!" The reploid confirms. "How much longer until we get one of these types of things from some of our other allies? When'd they all get so... old?!"

Tsume surreptitiously glances over at the agitated reploid. Firefury had been uncharacteristically edgy and excitable since the kidnapping and attempted coup by the Tiyanis. It was irrational; Azair was being dealt with, and the questionably legitimate heir's adopted parents had been gunned down in the rescue. There was an easy enough way to shut down any future such claims if the Lady Shogun Before the Empty Throne would just accept it and make it formal. The entire 'running things for an absentee Imperial line and not actually claiming the rights of Empress' deal had been a sop to the Nekoa loyalists during the Dividing War's aftermath; loyalists who by now had largely died of old age. It was long past time to just go an make official the obvious, the establishment of the first Amahira dynasty since... well, it had been a very long time since the Amahira clan had held such sway, to say the least.

That is an argument for another day. Tsume heaves a silent sigh. "They're only human, Queenie. It tends to require somewhat extraordinary efforts to fix one of those up when the parts wear out, and that's assuming you can even get a repair crew on it in time."

The intentionally bad joke more than falls flat as Firefury whirls her chair to face Tsume with a waspish and irate look plastered on her face. "I know that! You don't think that I-"

She's cut off by quite a few pounds worth of force impacting her across the face with a dull clang as Tsume finally hauls off and slaps her out of it. "Get a hold of yourself! This is not like you, and you have actual business to attend to." The black dragon growls at her. "You are a head of state as well, and you have your duties, both to Devon and to Marcus. If I have to smack some sense into you, by all that is holy and a few things that aren't, I will smack until my arms fall off!"

"I-" The orange reploid practically deflates against the back of her chair. "Ugh, I needed that, Tsume. Thanks."

"Just doing my job." The drake relaxes now that it's evident that Firefury's burst of temper is past. "And speaking of my job, I assume as your Secretary of Foreign Affairs, that you'll want me as part of the Shogunate's delegation at the memorial service."

Firefury nods absently. "I guess I should be there, too, if we're going to be all proper about it, probably Naj or one of the other Keepers, too. Has intel found anything about how things went down?"

"Nothing to contradict the official story, no. The circumstances seem a bit fishy, but we haven't got anything to indicate it was staged or part of some elaborate coverup." Tsume shuffles through some data on a notepad. "And regardless, if the death was faked, would it even be our place to reveal that and risk destabilizing Marcus' claim to office? You know full well how transitions of power in non-democratic governments can go all pear-shaped over something stupid, after all; and I personally don't see the boy's hand in Devon's apparent demise in any event."

"I guess that's a good point." Firefury huffs in annoyance. "If it was a ploy, that bloody damned bastard could have at least told some of us so we wouldn't feel bad about the whole wake and stuff!"

"Tsk, this way reactions at the service will be properly convincing." Tsume wags a claw at her. "So, shall I go compose a response?"

"Yeah." Firefury sits back up straight. "Tell Marcus that we'll be there and I for one refuse to accept that his dad has actually kicked the bucket, the bastard's probably loitering around one of Nathi's villas or something right now!"

"'The Shogunate delegation will consist of three, possibly four people, and our condolences for his loss.' Got it." Tsume translates.

ALTIMIT Broadcaster
Encryption: Standard
Broadcast type: Diplomatic
To: Marcus Treznor
Return transmission band: OPEN
IDENT: Tsume Dragonis - Reploid Productions

Our deepest condolences for your loss, the world is a dimmer place for Devon's passing. The delegation from the Shogunate will include the Lady Shogun, myself, one or two of the Keepers, and a small security detail.

Know that should the need arise, we will do whatever we can to assist in this difficult time.

~Tsume Dragonis
~Secretary of Foreign Affairs
~Immortal Shogunate and Affiliated Territories of Reploid Productions

[Treznor]

Marcus stood in the library, his eyes scanning the forest of books that his father had gathered here. This wasn’t a library for show, this was a library for reference and pleasure. He himself had read a great many of the books in here although not all of them; he wasn’t old enough for that achievement. He wasn’t sure if his father had successfully read through them all, but he had many memories of the old man wandering about the room with a book in one hand and a glass of scotch in the other. Part of him was tempted to get a glass for himself, but it wasn’t smart. As hard as it was to get drunk, he didn’t need his inhibitions lowered right now, even a little bit.

Ben says I’m ready for this, Papa, he said silently to the walls. Am I? You talked about handing the reins over to me for years but you never did it. It took a goddamned catastrophe before you’d give up your power. Was it because you couldn’t let go or because you couldn’t trust me? Maybe both?

He took a deep, shuddering breath and exhaled slowly. He couldn’t break down in front of a crowd; it wasn’t seemly for a head of state to burst into tears, however young he was. He’d learned a dozen different methods for control but they all seemed to fail him. It had already been a rough day and it promised to get worse.

He heard footsteps outside and was able to identify some of them; his mother and his sister, Zio Cesare and Lauren. A few more he didn’t recognize but presumably had been cleared by security. No one got near the Dread Lady without being vetted by four separate agencies from three nations. He turned and schooled his face to immobility.

The door opened, and Nathicana was the first to enter. Cesare held the door as she walked in, her own face a mask of control. Close behind was Naiya. She looked first to her brother, glanced at her mother who had paused several steps into the room as if giving herself a chance to measure his mood.

Naiya didn’t need any further confirmation. She quietly walked past her mother and straight over to her brother, to offer him a gentle hug of support while the guards took up positions outside, and Cesare and her advisor waited quietly just inside the door. Marcus hesitated only briefly, then wrapped his arms around her and lost what little control he’d held onto previously, tears streaming down his face as he sobbed into her hair.

“I’m so sorry, Marcus,” she said quietly, offering what support she could. For a moment, she was tempted to do more, but held back. There were some things she simply shouldn’t try to meddle with. Natural grieving was one of them. “We’re here for you, you know that, yes?”

He nodded, beyond words for the moment. He squeezed her tight and felt something in his chest loosen just a bit.

Nathicana watched her two children from just across the way, several things going through her mind. Nothing seemed to have changed, at least between the two of them, even though she knew they had. She had hoped to avoid shaking him up like this just before he had to face his other guests, which was why she’d hesitated. Now she was second-guessing her choice. Perhaps he needed that release, perhaps it had made things worse ... nothing to be done for it now either way.

She gave the two another few moments, then walked over to join them, putting an arm around each, and kissing her son’s cheek. “Is there anything we can help with?” she asked, knowing full well Ben likely had everything in hand.

Marcus lifted his head and sniffed, but a rueful smile crossed his lips. “Make him come back?”

Nathi blinked at that, and nearly said something she instinctively knew she would regret at some point later. Instead, she shook her head gently, and smiled. “In a heartbeat, Marcus."

He nodded again and pulled her into their embrace, sharing his tears with her a while longer. When he finally let go he felt stronger, better able to meet the demands of the day. “Thank you for coming,” he whispered so they could both hear.

“Family,” Naiya said simply, as Nathicana hugged both of her children comfortably tight in confirmation, then as mothers often do, started fussing with his hair and straightening his jacket.

“If you need space at any time tonight,” she reminded him, glancing up meaningfully while leaving the rest unsaid. Naiya quietly disentangled herself to let her mother see to it her brother was presentable, instead offering him a tissue from her handbag to help.

Marcus withdrew to accept the tissue and dry his face before blowing noisily into it. Naiya felt a gentle hand touch her shoulder to get her attention. She turned, one brow arched up, as she closed her handbag again.

Lauren held up a tall glass of fine crystal filled with colorful liquid. “Your mango juice, principessa. There’s fruit and gelato in the corner.”

Naiya smiled warmly, accepting the glass with a grateful nod. “Molto grazie, Lauren. You’re too kind. Mama, can I get you anything? Marcus?”

Nathi glanced briefly in her direction, then stepped back from her son, eyeing the results with a critical eye. “Actually ... I’ll have a scotch, per favore. Just this once.”

“Molto bene, Imperatrice,” Lauren replied with a quick curtsy and turned to the bar to pour a drink.

“Make that two, Lauren,” Marcus called after her. “I’ll join my mother, but just the one.” He took a deep breath and turned back to his family. “Thank you again.”

His ears twitched as he picked up more footsteps approaching the door. Ben this time, along with more people unfamiliar to him. Ben knocked politely and stepped in. “Majesty, the delegation from Lutvikkia led by Drudge Illieus Hillann. Security reports that King Henry and family have arrived and are coming directly to the library.”

“Thank you, Ben. Please show them in.” Marcus took a deep breath and accepted one of the glasses Lauren was offering them. “And it begins.”

“You’re among friends and family, Marcus. You’ll do fine,” Nathicana reminded him gently but firmly, after murmuring a quiet thanks to Lauren for the drink. Naiya exchanged a brief look at her new security advisor who was, with Cesare, allowing the family their space before the others arrived.

“I’ll make my introductions when you’re ready,” the young woman said, looking back to her brother. “There’s no rush on our end. I’m here for both of you. Just let me know how best I can help.”

[Reploid Productions]

Given Tsume's efficient handling of things, it doesn't take long before the RPDC-Queen's Wing II is loaded and ready for departure. Indeed, the only delay comes from among the Keepers as they decide which among their number will accompany Firefury. That Najoedo, the Eldest will attend is something of a no-brainer, and eventually it's one of the youngest of the old group, Oduh, that gets the last spot on the grounds that the outgoing young (well, young by Keeper standards, anyway) man had fond memories of a beach party years ago where he'd met Marcus. Of course, getting the two Keepers from their respective posts to the capital takes a little time, delaying the delegation's departure for a short time.

The delegation's arrival is certainly among the stranger looking (until the Sakkrans arrive, at least!) Firefury with her standard orange armor, with the addition of a black sash draped across her shoulders and a matching armband fastened to her right arm, with the six-foot long Tsume a half-step behind, the mechanical dragon's black armor polished to a dull shine and a matching sash wrapped at the base of his neck and over his chestplate. The two are flanked on either side by the two Keepers: white-scaled Najoedo alongside Firefury, the ancient man draped in the flowing toga-esque robes that pass for formal attire among the half-human tailed-and-winged Keepers; and copper-scaled Oduh along Tsume in matching attire, both men carrying their sacred blades strapped to their belts, the hilts tied with black bands to match the reploids' sashes. The usual routine of greetings and escort at the landing pad is handled mostly by Tsume, Firefury opting to let the drake handle the formalities before they're taken to join the mourners already in attendance.

Najoedo and Oduh both near visibly startle as soon as the group comes anywhere close to the library where Marcus and the others are, but in an instant both settle into back into their properly solemn expressions, opting to take their surprise to a more private channel, with Firefury openly giving them both slightly confused looks until Tsume tacitly elbows her.

"All-Seer's name, what is that?!

"Be calm. It is likely the girl you told me about years ago. Najoedo's telepathic response is a cool contrast to Oduh's surprise.

"Told you what?! And keep it down, it's not like you have to shout!" Compared to both the Keepers, Firefury's mindvoice is muddled and of an uneven 'volume', showing her lack of experience with the medium.

"The Imperatrice's daughter. Oduh had noticed when he met the girl that she possessed some talent with the Arts, untrained and raw as it was at the time." Najoedo responds to Firefury's temper with the same steady calm. "That we can both sense that same talent now speaks of considerable change since any of the Keepers saw her last. It will be interesting to find out what may have led to such a drastic change."

Firefury snorts under her breath, earning another pointed look from Tsume, who has been left out of the silent exchange.

The Shogunate delegation may not be the last to arrive, but they're still far from the first, likely earning some stares from staff members who hadn't seen Keepers or mechanical dragons before.

[The Garbage Men]

Sometimes, there are people that you need to sit up and take notice of, and then there is Devon Treznor. Whatever your opinion of the man you could not doubt the impact that he had on the galactic area around Sol.

The Reploids, The Dominion, Sakkrans, Midlonians and Lutvikkian delegations had already been set to send delegations to this ancient death ritual. Some obviously would attend just to make sure that the man many considered a “Monster” was actually truly dead.

Whatever the truth about the final resting state of the former Emperor, there is now a new Emperor. A new person that needs to be schmoozed and with whom the benefits of The Garbage Men Corporation be espoused.

In normal marketing situations a number of potential marketing squads would have been sent out, however this was more than a normal marketing situation. It was also a diplomatic situation involving a Head of State. It was only proper that The Garbage Men send its own Head of State, or at least the closest thing that it has to a Head of State, their CEO and owner, Trevor Desorté.

To the Emperor, Marcus Treznor
Empire of Treznor.

I would like to extend my deepest condolence for your loss. The death of your father leaves a rather large set of shoes for you to fill but I believe you have the capability to pick up and continue on from where he left off.

I wish to inform you that I am making my way to attend the wake, if there is anything I can do in the meantime or if there is anything that you would like to discuss then I shall be available during the wake.

[Northrop-Grumman]

If there was anything that Siri hated being forced into attending, it was most certainly any sort of funeral-related function. Oh, one would be correct in assuming that no one actually liked such things, but most could find it within themselves to accept the death of a friend or loved one and could use that time together to celebrate and reminisce about their life. She, on the other hand, was not particularly keen on being constantly reminded of how quickly death can seize one’s family and how much of it was outside of one’s control; that was something that she was all too familiar with, regrettably.

But, she was the only would who had the availability to attend; others were preoccupied with issues that could not be delayed for any length of time and required constant attention, while others did not have the seniority for such events, and some simply had not known Devon in the slighest. Siri, though, knew him from multiple NDA functions and the Christmas party she hosted a number of years back, had the availability in her scheduling, and was the singular head of the entire Grummian government now that her husband had retired.

So Siri O’Neill, the Chairwoman of Northrop-Grumman (or whatever title you could find to attach to her name as the government reformation process that dissolved the Corporation had not focused on what titles to give people yet), had been the one that was to attend. The rather short elf had arrived in a mostly unmarked personal shuttle – no flags, fancy coloring, or anything else of that nature, just a registry number etched onto the sides – and accompanying her was no one, actually. She was not the sort that required guards or security – besides, such things tended to be expensive and annoyingly intrusive – and also did not need an entourage of attendants, ambassadors, or whoever along with her.

Furthermore, plain and conservative attire had been her choice for the day; she had elected to wear a full-length black dress that left merely her hands and head exposed with no accompanying jewelry, aside from her wedding ring. It was overly simplistic, yes, but that was her preference for attending any function where she had to dress up, much less for a somber function like this. No need for the hazardous dangling metal implements all over or for the gaudy look either. Siri would have preferred to be somewhat more comfortable and armed or armored, but these were friends and meandering about the place dressed up like you’re prepared to kill or be killed would probably not be the best of ideas right now. She was among friends and allies after all.

[Midlonia]

Henry had drawn ahead slightly of his own family, his arms folded behind his back and head bowed down slightly. The palace was pleasant in its own ways, and the ever present location of various staff members and guards was an encouraging sight.

Henry was slightly worried for his friend. He had always shown a devotion to his father that Henry had respected whenever the two had met, Henry himself of course lost his father seven years ago. The transition had not exactly been smooth and his own inexperience and youth meant that he had actually taken down a government and caused massive instability that the country still felt the occasional shockwave from, a political party had fallen to pieces from the fallout, and seen a decidedly right wing, nationalistic shift in its politics.

Of course, here things were different, the Empire itself was a dictatorship, and that posed its own problems. As much as the Greater Kingdom insisted on calling it the Empire of Drona, there was no escaping the fact the people within that Empire people referred to it as The Empire of Treznor. Namely the one man and a small set of people beneath him that had turned a democracy that had been weak and rife with corruption into one of the great powers of the world. “Upstart” didn’t even begin to cover it, when one considered history.

The problem was it meant a lot of that mythos lay with one man.

He was missing, presumed dead.

Now, there was an inexperienced Emperor, mysterious circumstances regarding the previous one’s death...

Things did not bode well, and the rushing for a memorial and Marcus’ succession confirmed it to Henry in many subtle ways.

Finally he reached the library, Sarah and the children catching up and standing with him. He nodded to the lackey to open it for them, and he did so, both doors opening to reveal the gathering so far.

Henry crossed the distance between the door with a few strides, Sarah and the children behind him by not very much. Henry’s face was somber and he extended his hand out to Marcus.

Marcus’ eyes were red and his cheeks were puffy; he’d obviously been crying recently but he was smiling easily as he spoke with the representatives of a foreign nation. When Henry approached him he made a quick apology and turned to the newcomers.

They stopped in the middle of the room, but Marcus’ arms remained at his sides. Marcus eyed the outstretched hand, then stepped forward and engulfed his friend in a hug. “Thank you, I’m glad you could make it.”

Henry was slightly surprised by the hug, but soon recovered and gave Marcus a brotherly pat on the back with his own. “As am I.” He said quietly, his hand squeezing Marcus’ shoulder. They stepped back to a more appropriate distance from each other. “I am sorry for your loss, these days are always... surreal.”

Tears returned to Marcus’ eyes but he didn’t try to fight them as he had earlier. “I didn’t want to make the announcement. I didn’t want to...but we have an Empire to run. It’s important that we show continuity, and with Papa lost in space we lost hope that he’d be recovered long ago. He’s always...it’s just...he’s come through worse before. Mama tells war stories about the two of them defying death together. No one can believe he’s really gone.” He wiped at his face and grinned sheepishly, but it was an honest grin. “I’m sorry. It’s going to take a while to get used to.”

“Yes, you will eventually.” Henry replied with a slight smile and a nod, before pulling a kerchief from one pocket, embroided with little doves. “I remember my mother telling me what dad did during his reign, some of it as bad as me during my teenage years, like standing on the bow of the Jaipur as he entered that city while it still burned. The risks he took, the gambles he made. Yet in the end...” He shrugged a little. “The Empire needs stability as you say, and it definitely needs a Treznor, your father knew you could do this.” Henry smiled broader this time. “Hell, I know you can do it my friend. If or when he turns up you can show off how good an Emperor you are, even make him take the penny tour to show off your great achievements.”

Marcus shook himself. “I’m glad you brought the family. Hello Sarah, Julianne, Ellanor. Are you hungry? We have some snacks in the corner and a full bar for the adults. I’m afraid I’m limiting myself to only one scotch today, but that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy yourselves. There’s more food out in the ballroom if and when we drift in that direction.”

“Thank you Marcus, I’m sure the girls would like a little something, won’t you?” Sarah said as she looked down to the girls. Both nodded in unison and Sarah took them over to the corner to pick out a couple of things to eat. They each took an apple and also took a bite of them in unison. They were similar and yet different, Ellie with her red hair and freckles, Julie with her more delicate looks and blonde hair, yet they both seemed to behave alike.

Henry himself ordered a scotch and took a sip as he smiled to the children.

Marcus snagged a diminutive woman and settled his long arm around her shoulders. “Have you met my mother? Henry, this is Imperatrice Nathicana D’Aquisto of the Dominion. Mama, meet my good friend King Henry of the Greater Kingdom.”

Nathicana turned and settled in next to her son, her blue eyes taking in Henry at a glance, before she smiled slightly and extended her hand. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, your Majesty. I hope the trip here went well for you and your family?”

“It did, the seas were mercifully calm.” Henry said as he bowed his head in respect, then took her hand and gently touched his nose to the back of it. “Julie still suffers from sea sickness.”

“Do not!” The blonde headed girl called out, causing Sarah and Henry to chuckle.

“She’s not quite got her sea legs yet... damned if she doesn’t have her mother’s hearing though...” Henry commented wryly with a slight smile.

“Good hearing can come in handy,” Nathicana answered smoothly. She had her own benefits in that direction, and rarely failed to take advantage of them. “I appreciate your coming, and your friendship and support of my son.”

“It’s always good to support a friend.” Henry replied. “Especially in trying times such as these.”

“To friendship then?” Nathi said as much as asked, glancing between the two and raising her own glass slightly. “Of the many things to drink to today, that is one of the more lasting I think.”

“To friendship, indeed.” Henry said, raising his glass.

Marcus debated whether or not to fetch a glass of water, gauche as it might be to toast with it. He decided it wasn’t worth bothering and nodded his agreement. “To friendship,” he echoed. “Henry, since you’d already met my mother have you met my sister Naiya?”

[Sakkra]

The I.S.N. Mak'Haavra wasn't a new ship by any means. It was fairly old, but reliable and dry unlike the newer ships of the line with their liquid oxy/nitro solution throughout that you had to swim through. Kraah didn't want to show covered in wet togs. The smell of musty leather is usually a big distraction at any occasion. And it wasn't a sentient ship in the slightest; it barely had redundant dog-brain technology at its disposal. But as stated before, it was reliable and spacious enough. Empress Sszeera insisted on coming as well, if only to stifle Kraah's more excessive indulgences.

Currently she had the Emperor of over 20 billion subjects standing stock-still like a mannequin. "Hubs, I need to make sure everything fits well. You've been putting on weight around your center. And your tunic is showing signs of wear; we'll need to make a new one for your gut." Kraah was getting visibly impatient as his spines stiffened. "Dash it all, this is no time to play dress-up" he mumbled not-too-loudly. Some application of leather softener on his black tunic and waist wrap was applied and let to dry while Sszeera stepped back and admired her work. "That looks fine, but we'll need to do something about your wardrobe when we return home. Or maybe while we're on Sol while we're at it? Yes, I like that plan. Something new and more current, yes."

Kraah could see the wheels in her head turning as she began mentally planning a shopping safari all over the planet. He held up a hand brandishing two claws. "Put a damper on that for now. The shuttle is ready to take us into Treznorian space, and I need to make sure our symbiotids are in order. The air there is fairly harsh." He checked the canisters containing the nutrient-gel that kept the symbiotids viable, and seemed satisfied while Sszeera inspected herself in a reflective surface for a moment. "Just remember to be gentle on the boy. He's not his father and may be very sensitive right now."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Reptavian dropship that had been refurbished into a personal shuttle landed at the Treznorian airfield after receiving clearance. The hatch slid open silently and two Grasswalker escorts emerged first, gently scanning the area for telepathic intrusion. Finding none, they stood to the sides of the hatch as Kraah and Sszeera stepped out. The trip to the castle at Devonton went sans hitch and fairly silently as Sszeera adjusted her humidor and filtration symbiotids on her nostrils, and fussed with Kraah's a tad to his protest.

They stepped out of their escort vehicle, and looked about. "Hrrmmmmm.... pretty quiet. I suppose it's to be expected." His claws made a staccato clacking sound as he walked; Sszeera's slightly less so as she took position on his right. "This is a solemn occasion for them; can you expect any less?" The pair didn't particularly notice if any of the citizenry or staff were looking askance at them or not; that was the job of their escorts. Kraah wore his simple black leather tunic and waist wrap with a head covering over the top of his skull and down his neck. Sszeera wore much the same, except her waist wrap ran further down and was slit on both sides, looking more like a gown. "We should make our greetings first before the ceremonies begin, yes?"

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

Naiya had done what she could not to draw attention to herself. It was something she’d become used to growing up, and it wasn’t difficult to shift gears back in that direction here. It was still somewhat disconcerting being here, in what had been his home, his domain. There were touches of the man everywhere, some obvious, some less so.

It wasn’t difficult maintaining her decorum either. Part of her did feel badly that things had ended as they did, that now, there was an absolute permanence to the realization she’d come to. There would never be an opportunity at any sort of reconciliation. Not that it had been likely had he lived, but at least then she could pretend things might at some point be better.

What pained her was seeing her brother in such distress, and seeing her mother locking herself up so tight that something, somewhere at some point had to give. It was difficult as well to maintain the proper distance and demeanor around her official advisor, though they’d long since worked out and discussed the hows and whys of it all. She’d become too used to his familiar presence and comfortable company, and circulating through the guests without him felt odd.

Nearly as odd as she herself had been feeling as things progressed as they did. The loose black material of the empire waist dress amply hid any telltale signs and wasn’t at all out of place for the occasion, but she had to acknowledge that wouldn’t last much longer, and explanations would be required.

Cesare observed the family from his position near the door, keeping his thoughts to himself for now. Naiya seemed to be the best in control, unsurprisingly. Though he didn’t think less of the boy for his show of emotion. It was only right, considering. Dominion folk were not strangers to deep emotions after all. It was actually comforting to see that all the time with his father hadn’t created a more cold monster in the end.

Once others began to arrive, he nodded to the principessa’s advisor, knowing that he would be keeping a very close eye on the young woman, by all accounts. It was unlikely that anything would happen here, not with her brother in charge, but still ... it never hurt to maintain a proper situational awareness. The one he was most concerned with was Ben. And once things began, that was the man he would be keeping his eye on as much as possible while meeting and greeting when appropriate.

Aeturnus was in the full black of his uniform, complete with facial coverings this time. It was part of him and a habit that he had clearly adopted from his long life with the Lost. Cesare nodded to him and he in turn looked to the Chancellor and inclined his head slightly. He had adopted a relaxed pose by the door, arms folded behind his back, his eyes watchful of the small gathering so far. Nothing had seemed particularly out of place and he was confident of his own abilities and Naiya’s. His gaze fell regularly to her without moving his head, he could sense on the very cusp of her being that she felt out of place here, and that was not exactly unsurprising considering all that had gone on between her and Devon.

‘When there’s a quiet moment,’ Naiya said to him at one point, relying on their private means of communication. The irony was not lost on her, given where they were, and the methods her mother and Devon had relied on. She kept the smile those thoughts elicited to herself. ‘I would like to introduce you to my brother. I just don’t want to throw too much at him at once.

‘Of course, I take it I won’t be introduced as just an advisor then, if it requires a quiet moment?’ He replied, his glance falling to her for a moment, before moving on.

‘Let’s see how he ... adjusts to things as we go,’ she answered as truthfully as she could, her eyes meeting his briefly. ‘You know how some brothers can be overprotective, yes? This tends to be a Dominion trait, and he’s always taken it seriously, bless him. He’s never been awful, mind. Just a big brother looking out for his little sis. He just has so much on his plate right now. I worry for him.’

‘Then we shall see how it goes.’ Aeturnus replied, his head tilting slightly for a moment. ‘I can let him land a punch or two, if you like, if it comes to that.’

Her gaze shifted back to him, eyes widening for a moment before she remembered herself. ‘It had best not come to that,’ she said simply, thoughtfully nursing her juice while she went back to scanning the gathering.

One couldn’t miss the Sakkrans, impressive as always - not to mention intimidating. Siri O’Niell she knew at least by sight and reputation. She appeared just as formidable as her mother had described her, knowing all too well that height had nothing at all to do with ability. When she caught sight of the Reploids as well - and both Queenie and Tsume both no less - it dawned on her that they weren’t just there to support her brother, or even her mother, but to remember and honor Devon. Of course it was for him, in his memory, but seeing it first hand was an interesting experience.

The Keepers had her senses twitching. She remembered one from when she and Marcus had been very young. That could be trouble, depending, given how sensitive they were. She wasn’t quite sure how she was going to make certain explanations, in spite of the fact it would all have to come out at some point. It seemed her brother had his hands full with his concerns and troubles. She might have a few of her own, now that she stopped to consider it.

Trevor Desorté was another that made her twitch, but for other reasons entirely. There was something off about the man, but without being rude and intrusive as she’d promised herself she would not be, just what that was would have to remain a mystery for now. In any case, it wasn't appropriate for her to take the lead here, so for the most part, she kept to the background of things.

Another door opened, a different one from where the guests were arriving. Naiya’s attention turned, curious about who was using that entrance. The fellow who stepped through was tall, blond and blue-eyed and about as physically different from...him as could be. And yet from his bearing and military uniform there was only one person he could be. Naiya debated whether or not to approach Devon’s bastard son Nicholas. She wasn’t sure if he shared the old Emperor’s prejudice.

After another moment’s hesitation, she decided her course of action. The only way to know would be to go and see. And if there were any chance of at least a civil discourse, an event like this was most likely the best bet.

“I see you’re no longer playing footie,” she offered as an opener, noticing how much taller he was in person than on television when she’d watched he and her brother play. “And I don’t believe we’ve officially met. Naiya D’Aquisto.”

It was a simple intro without the titles and all the rest, and extended along with her hand in greeting.

The officer looked startled, clearly not expecting to be approached. Then she saw comprehension in his eyes as he took her hand and grasped it firmly. “Oh! Marc’s twin sister.” He stopped and frowned. “Half-sister, sorry. I’m a little confused. How does that work?”

“It just works,” she said, smiling and shrugging slightly as she shook his hand with a firm yet still ladylike-enough grip of her own to suffice.

“Right. Sorry. I can’t exactly talk, since I’m also his half-brother. Nick. Captain Nicholas Roshenko at your service.” He seemed to have forgotten he was still shaking her hand. “I’m sorry, my father never mentioned you and Marc and I don’t talk that much. It’s a pleasure to meet you. So you caught one of the times I played for the Olympians?” There was a very slight sibilance to his speech that made his words almost musical.

Naiya’s expression didn’t betray so much as a smirk at the confirmation that Devon had not spoken much about her. It could have been worse, really. Constant denigration or the like. She simply smiled a bit more broadly, hoping to put the man at ease. “We never missed a game if we could help it. You were an excellent player,” she confirmed. “I wouldn’t worry too much about all the ins and outs of our slightly odd familial arrangement. We may not be related by blood, but as far as I’m concerned, you’re more than welcome to the family. You aren’t the only one with a slightly different angle on it, after all.”

He seemed to relax slightly. “Thanks. I still feel out of place here; I never grew up with anything like this and I didn’t have that much time to get to know everyone before I was off and in the army again. It seemed the best choice at the time. So...can I get you a drink? I see the bar over there.”

“It’s my first time here as well. Mama’s approach to living arrangements is somewhat less ostentatious,” Naiya explained, feeling more at ease herself, though still noting all those odd similarities and differences between Nicholas and his father that kept giving her perception a skip. “I wouldn’t mind a refresher on the juice, thank you. Shall we?” She noted he hadn’t released her hand from the earlier shake, but she found the additional confirmation that she wasn’t considered evil incarnate a welcome change.

He stared at his hand as if it had moved of its own accord, then let go of her hastily. “Right! Yes! To the bar. I think I need a drink or five.”

She grinned at that, nodding in the direction of the bar as she stepped towards it. “Lucky for you, they aren’t charging.”

[Tsaraine]

To say that Tsaraine was isolationist would be something of an understatement; for nearly two decades now the world's premier Soundly Governed state had kept itself to itself. Its extrasolar colonies provided it with all the resources it could need; its fleets provided it with all the defense it could need; the extrasolar diaspora provided it with all the space it could need; its people were as loyal as only the Education Division could make them. Why, then, need the Mother Country sully itself with the affairs of other nations?

Debt was one reason; the Tsarainese honored their bargains, kept their promises, and continued to support their allies in the Non-Democratic Alliance through that organization's peaceful elder years. They would hardly cast aside the nations and the people who had extended their hands in friendship when the Mother Country was brought low; and so Rene Seingult, Arkhora of the Ascendancy from its terrible nadir to its star-spanning renaissance, had come out of retirement to honor the passing of one of the first allies of all.

With her was the man to whom command of the nation had fallen (or, more accurately, who had clawed his way up to the post); Serrakhen Inkharent, Lord Protector of what was now the Greater Commonwealth - the iron circlet of the Lords Protector suited him better, he said, than the amber-and-gold Arkhor's crown. The Lords Protector had been kings in all but name, during the latter years of the Commonwealth, and when the calamitous Obsidian Event had devastated the country and propelled Rene Seingult to the position of dictator of a wasteland, well, she could take whatever title she liked; but even she had picked the relatively mild Arkhora - High Lady - rather than Rekhaine - Queen. As Serrakhen liked to say, he had not a drop of royal blood in his veins, no noble clan to his name, and would not dare presume to his illustrious predecessor's status. Rene, having retreated to a very private retirement in Clan tsaIngult's ancestral holdings, was content to let him call himself what he liked.

Serrakhen had dispensed with the Arkhora's royal yacht as well, opting for a much smaller diplomatic shuttle. In respect to the Treznorians, its flags (those, at least, the new Lord Protector had not changed) were at half mast. Trusting to the new Emperor's security, neither of them had opted to bring their own guards; Rene was no longer ruler, and Serrakhen, apparently, was not so paranoiac as his elders.

The Lord Protector, now in the latter half of his forties, was as tall, lean, and bony as any Tsakh, and wore the official red-trimmed black coat, red sash, and many ribbons and medals of the leader of Tsaraine. Many of those medals dated back to achievements or accolades of the Lord Protectors - Serrakhen, again, declining to claim the honors of the Arkhora - though they were not, of course, the originals. Beside him, Rene had dispensed with almost all her previous fineries, bearing only the twin blades permitted a Clan lord, and the traditional women's coat, longer than Serrakhen's but just as black. Her hair was very white, these days, with only a touch of iron at the temples. She carried a cane, now, though her back was straight - despite all the surgeries and the medicine, the spacer's bone loss from her youth had never quite recovered.

"It has been a long time," she murmured to Serrakhen. "Shall we see how many of them recognize me?"

[The Most Glorious Hack]

The Hack's diplomatic corps had always been... inconsistent. Sure, bonds were tight with their one-time rivals in the Federation, but outside that inexplicably unbreakable connection, the government had always been willing to treat friendly nations much like people treat folks they knew back in college: friendly, but not exactly keeping up with the latest news. In fact, despite membership in the NDA and despite various personal ties, only one man in the Oligarchy even read updates from allies. The Hack wasn't so much isolationist as... blase... about the world stage.

---

Calvin "Coolidge" Drzka peered at his terminal when the news came out. "Huh," he murmured to himself. As usual, he sent an update up the line to the Nominal Head of the Oligarchy, and, as usual, he then set about taking care of matters himself. He wasn't an especially verbose man (his nickname being something of a chicken-and-egg affair), but he wasn't about to let things be handled in a half-assed manner. After all, such things Left To Chance. If there was one thing the human from Hali knew, it was how to be Proper.

Transport would be a bit of an issue, though. Ever since the government shrugged off, well, governing, things like expense accounts were something of an anachronism. The thought made him smile; after all, he was a Man From Hali. If there was one thing the sprawling northern quarter of the Hack knew, understood, embraced, it was anachronism. But more importantly, he was something of an old hand at something far more useful than expense accounts: favors. Frankly, expense accounts were just a lazy man's favor anyway.

---

While he waited for his ride to arrive (and honestly, arranging so that Caloris owed him a favor was still a matter of pride for the man), he checked himself in the mirror. Oh, it wasn't vanity (that would be Improper), but one must always be sure one's tie is straight. And that one's buttons are polished and one's shoes are brushed. To say nothing of making sure one's jacket reveals just the right amount of one's vest. He had just finished squaring his fedora on his head, completing his outfit, when he heard the soft hum of a ship landing. He strolled out of his little house and met with his ride.

"Habakkuk. Shall we?"

The LiME nodded and escorted Calvin on board. And then, the hyper-advanced android in a brown robe, and the human who looked like he just stepped out of a portal from the 1940s set off to attend a funeral.

[The Garbage Men]

To say that Trevor’s personal shuttle was luxurious was quite an understatement, when someone had the extravagant personal wealth that he and his family did spending as much as he did on a shuttle was hardly worth considering. However still a shuttle was still a shuttle, space, supplies were in short supply, but time that particular resource was in abundance as it flew through the almost void that made up space.

Trevor was almost at his destination, as he turned towards and entered the bathroom area. His movements were purposeful and precise as he manipulated his tie, fluffed his coat ticked the final checkbox in his mind as the craft came to rest.

He was wearing the traditional block clothes that one usually wore to a funeral event, at least within human custom, the only splash of colour was a sombre dark brown shirt that sat unobtrusively on the black coat and tie.

The utter inane dullness of the next 30 minutes passed without incident as the usual protocols were handled for a shuttle containing a VIP to land for the Treznorian Wake. Vehicles and other constructions passed by but they contained little interest to the CEO. What did hold his interest were the people already gathered by the time Trevor arrived and entered the location of the wake.

Most of the guests that he saw, he had expected. He had expected reploids turn up, but those two? He obviously had not spent enough time around reploids to get a proper grasp. It seems that their host, the new emperor of Treznor, had not made his entrance though so that gave him the opportunity.

However, while it appeared he was completely alone it was not quite accurate.

“There is no need to be afraid of large crowds.” Trevor was seemingly talking to himself as he was still making his way towards the reploids.

“I know, but you can stay on my shoulder if you’re worried about getting stomped on.”

“Alright, I will give you some time, some. If you do not come out of there of your own free will when that time is up, I will make you.”

“Glad we’ve got that sorted.”

It was only a few more steps until Trevor had arrived to where the reploids were standing, rather larger than he but he showed no signs of being physically intimidated.

“A rather sad occasion for us to meet. I’d been looking forward to meeting both of you for some time but I would have rather preferred a rather happier occasion. I am Trevor Desorté, CEO and owner of The Garbage Men Corporation.”

Trevor had given a slight respectful bow as he finished his introduction. He knew Tsume and Firefury partly by reputation but also some research. Their companions however he did not know, presumably some form of guard. While he could himself have bought a guard he found that in most cases hindered his ability to engage with people and if people felt that they had a personal connection to him, they had by extension a personal connection to the corporation and therefore would most likely support the corporation operating within their borders.

Though, for now Trevor had a personal desire to connect with these reploids even though it was also “good business.”

[Britmattia]

To say the Kingdom is a formal society is to miss the point, you can't be any other way if you have divine right and warrior aristocracy as the basic principles of your culture, formality is both procedure and reinforcement of your ethos.
So, to Owen, first of that name, King of Men, the fact that Devon Treznor's chosen heir has elected to hold remembrance for his father in a semi-private setting is profoundly unnatural.
Weird, even.
In the Kingdom when the King dies the country shuts down, everyone goes into mourning and the funeral is about as public as it is possible to be, followed by an immediate and even more formal coronation to ram home that whilst the old boss is dead, the new boss is the Chosen One and enjoys the full (and weighty) support of every relevant institution.
Continuity and tradition are important for rulers, even more so for those who do not draw their legitimacy from the ballot box, Owen is mildly concerned that Marcus's priorities are perhaps not what they should be, but discussion between his counsel, his consort and himself had agreed that, iffy priorities or not, the combination of ruthlessness, drive and ambition that characterised the boy and his family should see him through.
For now.
Still, it's odd to be attending a wake and not a state funeral, emphasis on the state, but then foreigners are strange. That's why they're foreigners. If they weren't strange they'd stop being so obstinate and plead fealty to the King of Men like rational people and stop being foreign and instead just become an other ethnic group with its own restaurants and funny writing.
An elbow finds the King of Men's ribs and he stifles a grunt and looks down at the elbower, who smiles back up, drawing one in return from the grim mien that is Owen to the world.
"You were wool-gathering my love."
A flexing of finger tips serves for both acknowledgement and a tiny shrug. He was wool-gathering, the death of Devon Treznor means change is afoot, change is not something to be welcomed at the highest echelons of government when so much relies on personal interaction, knowledge of which way a person is likely to move, or order his people to move, in a crisis.
The issue is Owen, and his nation, avoid foreign entanglements, they join alliances for the practical purposes of having other people at hand to trade with and, should it be necessary, help in giving the unrighteous a good kicking. This doesn't really require tremendously much involvement once the initial talks are done, which is how the Kingdom likes it.
But now it finds itself with the leaders of its allies replacing themselves in job lots, the new men and women may be just as capable, just as unreliable, or not, as their predecessors, but the thing is the Kingdom doesn't know if they are.
Owen doesn't know. This matters. The King must know all, or nearly all, else how can he steer a course?
Hence, here, now, he and his wife, are standing in this pleasant room surrounded by strangers, old acquaintances and those somewhere in between, to show respect, but also to get an understanding of how the universe has changed, back here at its centre.

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

Nathicana - Tsaraine

So many faces. So many familiar, others less so, some entirely new. And aside from the brief torrent of emotions she’d felt at seeing her children together, here of all places, and her son breaking down for a moment in his grief ... she felt cold.

Occasionally she looked to the entrance, or eyed other doors half expecting to see the one face she hoped would magically appear, even if she was determined to beat him within an inch of his life once he did.

The bastard had been constantly in her thoughts. In her head, if she were honest. They’d been talking that way for so long, the voice she heard so matching his, it only seemed natural to answer back as she always had. Part of her noted it was likely her own paranoia being voiced through that filter. Part of her was comforted by it. She wasn’t crazy after all. Simply grieving in her own way, that things were happening as they were. That her son was forced to take this step when it was clear he didn’t want to. That her daughter was headed where she was, and damn the consequences.

That he had, in many ways been right. And wasn’t here to offer her that knowing look and insufferable smile.

Damn him for leaving her to deal with all of this. If only they’d found something by now. A body. Wreckage. Anything that offered proof. Perhaps then she could move forward as she was expected. But they hadn’t. And here they were, all gathered to celebrate that son of a bitch's life and accomplishments. Even her anger felt icy.

It was difficult to decide where she ought to go. It was as expected as moving on was, and there were again, so many faces ... there. One she hadn’t seen in a very long time, and hadn’t expected to see face to face any time soon. She took a slow sip of her drink. For a moment, she was overwhelmed by memories. That taste on his lips, the smell as he unstoppered a decanter and poured himself a glass. Curled up with him on one of the couches, quietly talking while they each nursed their drink of choice.

Nathicana blinked rapidly, pausing mid-stride and took a steadying breath. Foul stuff, she’d always said. But so very much him.

Dev, you bastard.

There was no answer. The Imperatrice straightened slightly, then strode with purpose through the room to greet the pair from one of their oldest allied countries.

“Rene, it has been far too long,” she said, more than happy to share a brief embrace between friends if the other woman were willing. “And Lord Protector Inkharent, if I remember correctly? Thank you both for coming. Had he known this was what it took to pull so many of us together, no doubt he’d have engineered this stunt years ago.”

It was meant in jest of course, in reference to his often irreverent attitudes. It still managed to sting.

----- ----- -----

Cesare - Northrop-Grumman

Cesare hadn’t seen Ben in some time, which was both a comfort and a worry all at once. Surely the man was busy with keeping an eye on the arrivals and making sure everything was running smoothly in the background, but still.

Naiya had of course managed to touch base with one of the more potentially volatile situations, but thus far, there had been no sparks. His brow furrowed slightly at the looks exchanged nonetheless. Gods be damned, between her and her mother ...

Marcus had settled somewhat as more guests arrived, and it was good to see the settling influence some seemed to have on him. The lad had a long ways to go, true, but if he could keep himself focused, he’d been given all the skills and tools he needed to bring it all together. So long as he didn’t get carried away with those idealistic dreams of his, at least.

Nathicana seemed somewhat distant, but that was to be expected. It was better far than the alternatives, granted. Massetti was keeping an eye on things at a comfortable distance. They had little to fear here, but there were other factors involved, so they had each come with their ‘token’ guards. He still wasn’t sure quite what to think of Naiya’s new advisor. The man seemed solid enough. He had a deucedly impressive service record, and nothing to suggest he was anything but what she claimed him to be. Still. The man made his shoulder blades twitch, and not just because of where he came from, and who he was - which in most cases, would be enough.

Most of that could wait for now at least. There were things to be seen to, people to greet. And the one who stuck out in his mind, was Siri O’Neill, Chairwoman of Northrop-Grumman. That had been an interesting relationship, diplomatically. And though they had attempted to assist where they could, the situation there remained in flux.

Straightening his jacket, he made his way over to her, bowing with his usual flourish, using his decorative cane for a bit of support.

“Chairwoman,” he said, offering his hand. “It’s an honor to have you here. I trust the trip wasn’t too unpleasant?”

[Midlonia]

Aeturnus, Naiya, Marcus, Nicholas, Henry and Sarah

‘Keen, isn’t he?’ Naiya's advisor noted from across the room.

‘He is rather easy on the eyes, and the ears - which is surprising, considering his father,’ She replied while waiting for a fresh glass of the juice. ‘I’m not sure what you’d call him exactly, but he’s Devon’s son. My brother’s half brother. And now, if I understand the situation, doubly orphaned, regardless that he’s no longer a child. Poor man. I don’t get the impression his time has been easy here either.’

‘Were I capable of jealousy...’ Aeturnus replied, his eyes flicking across to watch them before returning to the small crowd. ‘Uniform suggests he’s... a Leftenant? Same rank as yourself.’

‘Captain Roshenko,’, Naiya replied with some amusement, leaving it at that.

“Henry, since you’d already met my mother have you met my sister Naiya?” Marcus said just as the other two had reached the bar.

“I have, as a matter of fact. A couple of times now. Once after her first jaunt into the desert where she picked up her advisor.” Henry nodded taking another sip of his drink as Sarah and the girls rejoined him.

“We had a wonderful dinner with her at the Doge’s palace when the Crown Group had their board meetings in Devras last week.” Sarah said before she gave Marcus a brief hug, and then kissed his cheek. “Though it seems she is preoccupied with the officer at the bar.”

Marcus followed her gaze to see who the officer was, and his face reflected a brief torrent of emotions. “My half-brother, Nick. Allow me to introduce you. Nick!”

Nicholas turned and waved without swerving in his course toward the bar. “Marcus, hi. Come join us. I need a drink.”

Marcus trotted after him and smacked him on the shoulder. “We have staff for that, dolt. Come here and meet some friends of mine.”

Nicholas adopted a look of long suffering. “Marc, you’re surrounded by friends. This is a wake, not a board meeting. Have a drink and ease up.”

Marcus glared at him. “Don’t sass me. I’m not above pulling rank on you.”

Nicholas sighed. “I knew I shouldn’t have worn the uniform. Fine.” He turned briefly to snag a passing servant. “A bourbon on the rocks, please. Keep them coming.”

“Thank you,” Marcus said dryly. “Henry, Sarah, please meet my erstwhile brother Captain Nicholas Roshenko. Nick, this is King Henry of the Greater Kingdom and his lovely wife who has thus far refused to dump him and run away with me.”

“Smart lady,” Nicholas observed as he extended his hand.

“Roguish charms only get him so far.” Sarah replied before taking Nick’s hand and shaking it. The girls, who had remained quiet before going over to the windows to look outside. They both knelt on the low windowsill staring out, talking quietly among themselves.

“One has to have a certain staying power.” Henry replied with a quirked eyebrow before sipping his drink. “My dear wife is not that kind of woman.”

“I’m worse.” Sarah replied with a smile, causing Henry to look at her with a quirked eyebrow.

They were interrupted by Lauren handing Nicholas his drink and whispering in Marcus’ ear. He nodded and turned back to the group. “You’ll have to excuse me, but I have more guests to greet. I’ll be back in a bit.”

Nicholas took a long pull at his bourbon and watched his brother’s retreating back. “Have you known Marc for long?”

“About...four, five years now?” Henry said looking to Sarah for confirmation, she nodded. “About that, we met in Luxa, remarkably... strange place but entertaining to say the least.”

Naiya, by habit, chose to watch the interplay quietly. She came to her own conclusions about a few things there, not missing the emotional flux in her brother at his first glance. Complicated. That more or less summed up their entire oddly-mixed family, right enough. It was as good an opportunity to mingle as any, really. And there were a number of people she ought to assist in greeting, if nothing else to help take the pressure off her already flustered brother.

“Henry, Sarah,” she said to the monarchs, greeting each in turn with a pleasant smile and an offered hand, which was readily taken by them both. “It’s good of you to have come - and good to see you again so soon, even if it’s under these circumstances.”

“It’s a shame our first visit to the empire had to be like this.” Sarah said with a nod as she pulled some of her hair from her eyes and tucked it behind her ear, she slid an arm into Henry’s at the same time. “How are you, Naiya?”

“Quite well, thank you. But I’ve interrupted introductions,” she replied, extending her hand again to Nicholas. “It was a pleasure meeting you finally, Captain. I hope we have the opportunity to speak further later. Henry, Sarah - you as well. I’m going to go see to some of the other guests. Take good care of this one for us, yes? It may be easy to forget in the rush of things, but he’s lost a father as well.”

Nicholas seized Naiya’s hand and brought it to his lips before releasing it again. “The pleasure was mine, Princess.”

Henry nodded and smiled to her as she left, glancing once and smiling over her shoulder at the group before melting again into the growing crowd.

Nicholas turned back to the dignitaries before him. “Five years? So you’ve known him longer than I have. Have you tried calling him ‘Marc?’ I do it to twit him; I think a tyrant ought to have someone to take him down a peg now and then.”

“I find our own tabloid press happy to do that for me.” Henry said with a slight chuckle. “I think the first time he saw some long range pictures of us three on a beach together he about blew a gasket. Don’t think he quite got the twin ideas of celebrity and notoriety with a free press snapping at your heels constantly.”

“I’m curious about your uniform, personally.” Sarah said. “Old habits, infantry?”

“Our father would have a conniption if...” Nicholas paused, deciding not to complete that thought. “I was born and raised in the Argonath Union; you may have noticed my accent. Mother never told him who my father was, and I enlisted in the army to pay for higher education. I was a sergeant there until I had to resign to take care of my mother. Before she died she finally confessed who my father was and told me to come here. It took a while, and they didn’t believe me at first, but once he got confirmation he took me in and made me welcome. But I still needed something to do so we decided I’d take a commission in the Imperial army. Thus: old habits.”

Henry’s head dropped a little when Nicholas didn’t finish his sentence, he looked up and smiled again when he carried on.

“Ah, I did notice the accent, yes.” Sarah said. “Though I will admit I haven’t heard of the Argonath Union. The Imperial Army is quite famous for it’s defensive nature, hope the lack of adventure isn’t too boring, unlike some other armies I can mention...” Sarah looked to Henry then.

“It kept us entertained during our service.” Henry replied dryly. “I don’t recall you complaining then.” He gestured to Nicholas with his drink. “I will admit, this memorial has a lot of... feeling of parallels. My own father neglected to mention the terminal cancer he suffered from. I am sorry for your loss, twice over.”

“The Argonath Union of Light, a tiny place out in the Pacific. I’m not at all surprised you’ve never heard of it; we’re very isolationist. Surprisingly progressive for all that, but as the name suggests the country had some deeply religious origins and suspicion against outsiders remained after the religion lost its grip.”

“As for the wake, it seems to fit what I could tell of my father’s sense of humor. He genuinely wanted people to stand around and talk about what a bad man he was. I could never pin him down. He took more interest in my welfare than I expected, but I saw firsthand how ruthless he could be. There’s a lot more politics in this army than the one I came from before.”

“The nature of his power,” Henry noted with a shrug. “Or was anyway. That is the way of most dictatorships, or even absolute monarchies, the rule of law comes at the end of a gun barrel. Or if you’re the Radiant Empire enough bureaucracy to kill people.” He raised his hand palm outwards. “Not that I am preaching our way is better, I am aware of what Drona was like before Devon. For all the man’s faults, he created something that will last. He also knew about family, such as his could be and seemed to care greatly, his interest in you proves that.”

Nicholas nodded unhappily. “I had hoped to have more time to understand him. He was a complicated man. I can’t believe he plastered his face and name over the entire Empire, but at the same time he didn’t live the way all this frippery would suggest. I had to fight him to keep from getting special treatment in the army; it would have completely undermined my command but then he was willing to ship me off to Jewel where my life was at risk.” He took a deep sigh. “I regret that I didn’t meet him sooner. I can only imagine what Marcus is going through.”

“A lot,” Henry noted quietly. “He needs to stop acting like he isn’t ready, and fast. I dislike speaking ill of someone, but named empires tend to be... fragile.” He looked down at his drink. “Iraqstani scotch is definitely a lot stronger than what I am used to.”

“I wasn’t aware Jewel was so dangerous.” Sarah said with a quick look to Henry. “I was always given the impression it was the Empire’s premier colony.”

“It’s both,” Nicholas replied. “It’s both a colony and an occupation. The Emperor went before the Triumvirate council many years before to report that the aboriginal natives they’d thought were too primitive turned out to have basic sentience after all. They had been worshiping the dinosaurs before we came along, and now they’re worshiping us. Gods only know what they make of the Sakkran researchers working among them; they’re not used to gods that talk back. But part of their religion involves sacrificing themselves to their gods and sacrificing the god in return. So between clearing out dinosaurs to make way for new settlements and the cave rats themselves, there’s a respectable attrition rate for peacekeeping forces assigned to Jewel. My tour there ended two months ago, just after our father went missing.”

Sarah nodded. “I was an outbacker at one point, a while ago. I know what... displeased native flora and fauna can be like. You don’t particularly want to be in the way of migrating sand dragons.” She glanced to check on the girls, who were helping themselves to more snacks. “Has there been any news on what actually happened?”

Nicholas shook his head. “Not that I’ve heard, but I’m not privy to the inner workings of the Imperial government. I’m explicitly excluded from the line of succession, which suits me fine. What I do know is that the Imperial method for FTL travel has always had its quirks, so ships have gone missing from time to time never to be heard from again. It’s also supposed to be impossible to intercept en route, so all they can do is investigate the possibility of sabotage before it ever left our soil. So far there’s been no evidence to suggest foul play. The universe might have played its last practical joke on Devon Treznor.”

“I’m sure there are plenty who would say fitting.” Henry shook his head. “It must still be hard on you both though. I think he’ll need all the family he has in the near future. Friends too.”

Nicholas nodded and sipped at his drink thoughtfully.

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

Naiya - Britmattia

Things had gone much more smoothly than she’d anticipated. So far at least. The day wasn’t over, and there was ample time for things to go pear-shaped. That said, there was also ample time to try and help settle minds, and smooth ruffled feathers. Perhaps.

Naiya had been subconsciously muting the by now familiar ability to get a fair ‘read’ on surface moods from those around her. At an event like this, they were bound to be more readily present. Between that and her steadfast rule for herself that such things shouldn’t be investigated without cause, and even then, with due care when it came to most people, it was almost second nature to push it to the background.

One didn’t have to be prescient however to notice the concern in the bearing of the Britmattian King. She was aware of some ... misgivings on their part. And again, she found she couldn’t blame them. As she’d mentioned before, she would simply have to prove herself as time went on. What they chose to see, to accept, was up to them.

She makes certain to approach openly, from an angle they can see her coming from in advance, and her smile she keeps subtle, showing no teeth much as her habit among the more predatorial races such as the Kzinti.

“Your Majesties,” she says, stopping an appropriate distance from the pair and offering an appropriate bow between their comparative stations. “If I might welcome you on behalf of my brother, and mother. Naiya D’Aquisto of the Dominion. I know they appreciate your effort in coming. Can I offer you something to drink?”

[Reploid Productions]

Firefury & Tsume - The Garbage Men Corporation

Firefury has been somewhat distracted since arrival, and so it's Tsume that responds first, offering one claw-tipped arm forward in the traditional handshake offer. Despite the obvious sharp points, it's also obvious that the mechanical dragon has padded the dangerous bits, likely to prevent any awkward accidental lacerations. After all, accidentally ripping someone's hand up is never a good thing for international relations.

"Mr. Desorté, a pleasure. I'm Tsume Dragonis, head of foreign affairs for the Shogunate. And my inattentive companion is the Lady Shogun Firefury Amahira." The last is accompanied by the drake giving the orange-armored reploid a stealthy thwack across the back of her legs with the end of his tail to get her attention back on the present. "And I would also like to introduce you to Najoedo, the Eldest of the Keepers; as well as Oduh, also one of the Keepers."

The two winged humanoids both offer slight bows in greeting, taking care not to smack into anyone with their wings or tails. What exactly they are keepers of is left unsaid, however Tsume's tone of voice indicates that the position of Eldest is of some considerable significance. Despite being called the Eldest, Najoedo doesn't physically look as though he's much past thirty, though anyone taking a close enough look at the demihuman would likely see something downright ancient in the man's eyes.

"Yeah, not the best of times for anybody." Firefury finally joins the conversation. "I just hope that the official transition of power to Marcus goes smoothly. The last thing anybody needs is for civil unrest to get going."

"Goddess, I remember seeing him when he was this high-" Oduh speaks up while gesturing a short height with one hand, his voice still heavy with his archaic accent despite all the years of working with the modern language. "Time truly does have wings."

"I am the last person you should be speaking to of how time passes." Najoedo chides the younger Keeper before joining the conversation as well. "Sadly, there is a time for everyone, though it often comes when we least wish for it. Devon's demise is still a fresh wound, but it will heal given time. I am certain that should young Marcus require assistance, that those who knew his father will gladly provide it."

[Tsaraine]

Nathicana - Tsaraine

Rene embraced Nathicana stiffly - she was not, by nature, a demonstrative or even particularly affectionate woman. Something about growing up under her mad uncle's benign neglect, followed by the demands of rebuilding the nation ... she'd told herself, for decades, that there simply wasn't time for personal attachments. These days, she suspected that a different woman would have made time. Still, this was the Imperatrice, one of her oldest allies, a woman she'd personally given the twin blades of a Clan lady ... Nathicana rated a hug if anyone did. And she would be hurting, right now. Rene had never really mourned, herself, for her uncle's death - he'd been mad, after all, had been driving the nation to ruin even before the Obsidian Event - and she discovered, suddenly, that she couldn't remember if she'd cried after the deaths of her parents. But grief was a thing that people felt.

"Indeed it has, Nathicana," she replied, and added, quietly, as they embraced; "I was very sorry to hear of your loss. He was a good man."

Serrakhen bowed politely to the Dread Lady, in the Tsarainese style - right fist to left shoulder, an inclination of the upper body, the degree suitable for one head of state to another.

"An honor, Dread Lady," he replied. "I regret that I never personally met the Emperor, but the Commonwealth stands beside you still, now as always."

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

Nathicana - Tsaraine

"If that statement alone doesn't bring him back to clear his 'good name', I don't know what will, Rene. He was a right son of a bitch, and we all know it," Nathi replied wryly, drawing back to a more respectable distance.

"But thank you, both of you, for your presence and for your support, as well as your condolences. It means a great deal, and I know Marcus will appreciate it as well. The loss has hit him hardest of all, I think. Devon doted on the boy, you know. And he, well ... you know how he was. I think we all just thought he would always be there. Meddling, maneuvering, and generally being a pain in my ass."

Perhaps there were some who weren't familiar with this side of the Dread Lady. But those who had known her long enough, and away from the more formal diplomatic venues, would well understand her more casual dismissal of her own pain, and the decidedly unique and often volatile relationship she and Devon had shared.

She waved down one of the staff who was serving drinks with her usual imperious air, while looking back to her old friend, and the new leader who had taken her place. "At least let's get you both something to drink. These things are intolerable without some sort of refreshment.

[Tsaraine]

"He was pragmatic," Rene replied, "Willing to make the hard choices - "Never let your ethics get in the way of doing what's right". So he was a good ruler, at least - you knew him better than I did, personally, of course."

Such pragmatism had always been greatly admired in Tsaraine - an admiration which had, perhaps, permitted a great deal of ruthlessness over the centuries. But they had had hard years; the current generation had little understanding of the cold pragmatism surviving the Obsidian Event had required. Which was one of the reasons Rene had stepped down, and Serrakhen had stepped up; the nation required a lighter hand, these days. Serrakhen's task was not to ensure Tsaraine's survival but to maintain its cohesion, a task for which an iron grip was counterproductive.

"A light beer, please," she told the server. "In Tsaraine we would have ghanikhta, for this," she remarked to Nathicana, "And then of course everyone would become very drunk. Which is perhaps not ideal - at least not this early in the evening."

"Nothing for me," Serrakhen said. "I don't touch the stuff, personally."

[The Garbage Men]

Trevor Desorté – Tsume & Firefury

Trevor gave a slight nod to the Keepers to acknowledge them and gave them a silent but quick assessment before providing a response to the Shogunate.

“From what I’ve seen of the Treznorian Empire, I would doubt that a simple, straightforward succession of a new emperor to the throne such as this would result in any civil disturbance. “

He nodded along with Oduh as the Keeper spoke giving Najoedo the opportunity to scold his subordinate.

“You’ve all must have known Devon and Marcus for quite some time. This is then just as personal for you as it is a matter of state. Life, as they say, never ends it’s a continual cycle. One person’s life ends and another life begins. Which I can’t imagine would be better demonstrated by Devon and Marcus. One’s life as an Emperor ends and another life as an emperor begins. It’s just the way the universe works.”

He spoke with a tone as if he was pondering the meaning of life and other deep philosophical questions.

“Events like these always remind people of their own mortality and that can be a good thing, depending, of course, on how you view things. Though shall we go to pay our respects to the young emperor? If anyone needs the comfort of close friends it would be him."