Gazing at the stars [Closed; ATTN: Old Tyrannia]

[Greater Tezdrian]

Quod est ante pedes nemo spectat, caeli scrutantur plagas.
-- Ennius

Greater Tezdrian was not the empire she once was. A vast, far-flung empire had evaporated in the ceaseless turmoil of war, death, and rebellion that marked the nation's fall from an Imperial pinnacle. Few but historians could recall the various wars which Greater Tezdrian had engaged in; how much territory was won or lost or how many pints of native blood had soaked foreign beaches. Unilisia, Stoklomolvi, Sremski okrug, The Black Plains. These names shone brightly from dusty pages as friend or foe, but none remained. None except for Old Tyrannia. Yes, Old Tyrannia was the most steadfast friend which the Imperial Realms would ever see. In good times and bad Old Tyrannians stood shoulder to shoulder with their Tezdriani counterparts; often fighting and dying with each other or for each other's causes as the need required. But it was only recently with the latest descent into madness and anarchy that the two nations were brought closest. Old Tyrannian intervention was swift and smooth and her once most magnificent ally now sheltered under the benevolent wing of the Emperor.

But that was the past. This was the future. Greater Tezdrian prospered as part of the larger Old Tyrannian network and although Empress Ling's name was still on the stamps and the letterhead it was the grandiose Lord Anicius Sestius Vaticanus, 12th Baron Sestius Vaticanus, High Commissioner of the Tyrannian Government to the Imperial Protectorate of Greater Tezdrian who signed both her stipend cheques and the paycheques of each and every government official. In lieu of sprawling colonial hinterlands the Tezdriani chose to build upwards to the stars -- the better to accommodate the colossal population of over six billion. Soon the entire country was developed with generous financial aid into one gargantuan city, the formerly independent cities of Iu, Azteka, et al. now distinguished primarily through tradition and habit rather than any reality of separation. As the years passed Greater Tezdrian gradually became a centre of finance, business and culture in the Tyrannian orbit of nations as aristocrats from the Mother Country did business there and the culture homogenised. Romanitas slowly overwhelmed the various fractious ethnic groups that had made up the island until, eventually, her people, language, and customs differed only slightly from their cousins in Old Tyrannia.

The collective memory of a people, however, persisted. Never could their be said to be animosity against Tezdrian's colonial masters or indeed any perception of colonialism. Old Tyrannians were allies -- better yet, friends -- and were hardly oppressors when they had merely offered a helping hand. But just as a proud man even formerly reduced must eventually stand alone, so too with the Tezdriani. It was time for the formal protectorate to end, and everyone knew it. The old remnants of the Chaos-era Workers' Soviets still occasionally made noise with sporadic acts of terrorism but for the most part the country was contentedly secure with no threat to an orderly transition of power. "The Empress", or more specifically the functionaries who operated in her name, lodged a formal notice with Lord Vaticanus that Greater Tezdrian was ready to re-negotiate her status and he dutifully obliged. After a few days of perfunctory talks it was announced that Tezdrian would be granted full and formal independence as the Fascist State of Greater Tezdrian, under a constitutional government and the benevolent hand of Prince Publius the Younger, the Count of Corvinium -- soon to be Emperor of Greater Tezdrian after his marriage to Her Imperial Majesty. Announcements were made, speeches written and dinners arranged, and soon it was time for the deed to be done.

Formerly Venko the capital, now the Venko district of the wider civitas, was still charmingly European in it's appearance and retained it's place as the elegant centre of administrative power. For the celebrations it was bedecked in flags and streamers, banners and ribbons as an air of festivity soaked through the atmosphere. Church bells rang in eager anticipation of a coronation and a new emperor -- in a new era which mirrored the coming of the era of Christ. All that was left was to wait. And wait they did, the Empress and a gaggle of officials at the airport waiting to welcome the arrival of the Tyrannians once more as they did during the time of chaos. This time though, it was different. Look to the stars, for a new sun was rising.

[Old Tyrannia]

Novum Latium City
Old Tyrannia

It was early morning in the glittering capital of the Tyrannian Empire. Here was a bright jewel in the imperial crown, a work of art as much as it was a city, and a time capsule as much as it was a work of art. With its marble colonnades, domed churches and paved roads this capital had not been greatly changed for hundreds of years. The Tyrannians were a conservative people, their artistic tastes changing little since the days when the Empire was founded, the last Roman viceroy proclaiming himself imperator following the fall of the Western Roman Empire. Since then an almost unbroken line of imperial monarchs had ruled Tyrannia. Each one had left their mark on the city; its many statues, triumphal arches, temples, churches and palaces a testament to their wealth, power and will. The Imperial Government had strictly enforced laws intended to prevent the beauty of Novum Latium from being obscured by modernist monstrosities. No towering skyscrapers were there here. The ancient skyline of the capital was unmarred, and almost every building in the city centre was a hundred years old or more. The peripheries were a different story, but still all new buildings were required to conform to the classical style.

As his Bentley drove down the road towards Novum Latium International Airport on the western fringes of the capital, Prince Publius Romulus Lepidus, Count of Corvinium, looked out of the window and marvelled at the beauty of the city he was leaving behind. He was a dignified, muscular young man, clean-shaved and bespectacled with his dark hair slicked back. He possessed the characteristic aquiline nose of the House Romula. He was taller than his father, the Duke of Opsopolis, and in both appearance and personality was said to more closely resemble his uncle the Emperor. He was intelligent and inquisitive, if orthodox in his outlook. He knew all too well that the glittering state of the city, decked with bunting for the special occasion, was a sham. Beneath all the marble and gold leaf Tyrannia was a country in turmoil; several years ago the economy had plunged into recession, undermined by years of profligate spending by the government and the financial strain of the aging population; the stock market crash of 2013 had dragged the Tyrannian economy into recession. Now the economy was finally growing again, and tough austerity policies had cut the deficit to a tenth of its former size; but a debt of over 3 trillion solidi still hung over the Imperial Government, and the recovery was weak. The intervention in Tezdrian had been the last major event of what Tyrannian historians referred to as the Third Expansion of the Tyrannosphere, a final huzzah before Tyrannia cut back its military expenditure and ceased to play an active military role on the world stage.

The intervention and subsequent reconstruction of Tezdrian had been hugely costly to the Empire. Economists had described it as suicide for a country teetering on the brink of economic ruin, but ideological concerns had won out over economics as the Tyrannians panicked at the possibility of losing an important ally to socialism so soon after the Anti-Communist Alliance's dissolution left the Empire highly isolated. Thus the Empire had swooped in and imposed an imperial protectorate on its old ally. Greater Tezdrian's years as an imperial protectorate had seen the one-time colonial superpower thrive economically, its cities expanding and its economy growing while the new motherland languished. It was true, of course, that Tyrannian businesses had benefited greatly from the opportunities to invest in the growing economy of Greater Tezdrian; but now the protectorate was ready to stand on its own too feet, Tyrannia would benefit far more, no longer needing to prop up and protect the re-emergent state while still benefiting from trade with it. On top of that the spread of Tyrannian culture to Tezdrian had strengthened ties between the nations; as always the Empire was keen to export its cultural influence to the nations within its sphere of influence, building Orthodox churches and opera houses, teaching Tyrannic Latin to a generation of Tezdriani students and introducing Tyrannian fashions and designs to Greater Tezdrian. Most significantly of all, Tezdrian was to gain a Tyrannian-born Emperor; Publius.

As the car pulled up, Publius stepped out and looked around the runway. The sleek, black private jet of the Imperial Family waited nearby. Publius smoothed down his suit as he walked towards his waiting family. The first people he saw was the Crown Prince, Julius, and his Prussian wife Princess Morgana. The heir to the Tyrannian throne was younger looking than Publius although they were around the same age. He had grown a small beard in an effort to make himself look less youthful, but to no avail. His hair was worn the same way as Publius', his slim figure and gaunt face with high cheekbones and an aquiline nose giving him an aristocratic look. He failed, however, to match the imposing appearance of his father. Publius wore a dark blue suit with a purple cravat and a long coat the same colour as the suit, decorated with several medals. His wife was stunning in a black stola, over which she wore a silver faux-fur coat. Her dark hair was plaited and she wore a beautiful silver diamond necklace around her neck. Publius shook his cousin's hand and bowed slightly as a mark of respect to the future Emperor of Old Tyrannia, then bowed to the princess and took her outstretched hand, planting a small kiss on it.

"You're a little late, cousin," teased Julius. "Having cold feet?"

"Don't be cruel, Julius my dear," chastised the princess with a slight Germanic accent. "Cousin Publius must surely be nervous."

He was, but he did not intend to show it. He walked with his cousins towards the plane where he was greeted by two soldiers. The rest of the family were already on board. And it was a large family- Publius was to be wedded and crowned in full sight of his parents, the Duke and Duchess of Opsopolis, his uncle and aunt the Emperor and Empress of Old Tyrannia, his cousin Julius and Julius's wife, his aunt Aeliana, the Princess Imperial, and her quiet, rarely seen adopted son Ruvius, and last but not least his younger brother Prince Marcus. Publius ascended the ramp leading up to the plane; as he stepped on board, he was struck by the realisation that this was the last time he'd be stepping on Tyrannian soil as a Tyrannian prince. Henceforth, if he ever returned to the land of his birth, it would be as a visitor from a foreign land, a foreign head of state. The thought was disconcerting.

Prince Publius looked around the plane. His parents and brother sat nearest the door; his mother, a large woman in a blue stola decorated with glittering diamonds, waved and smiled. Her eyes were red and puffy. His father looked as stern and distant as ever, giving an unsmiling, curt nod. Marcus smiled and waved at him sympathetically, and Publius responded in turn. On the opposite side of the plane, his aunt Aeliana sat with his adoptive cousin, Ruvius. Aeliana smiled and her son gave a shy wave. Julius and Morgana brushed past him, Morgana placing a hand on his shoulder briefly in a gesture of support. He turned right, and there before him sat his uncle, Gaius Romulus IV, Emperor and Autocrat of Old Tyrannia and its assorted dominions and territories beyond the sea, King of Southwestern Kinitaria and Northern Venezue, Vicegerent of Christ on Earth.

The Emperor had not been well. He was more gaunt than Publius remembered. His dark hair was greying, his hairline receding to highlight a prominent widow's peak. His chestnut coloured eyes were as bright an intelligent as ever, however, peering out over a prominent nose. The Emperor wore a black tuxedo with a purple cravat like his son, Julius'. His chest was adorned with medals, and the collar of the Order of the Imperial Eagle hung about his neck. He wore his wedding ring, a plain silver band, and a golden signet ring. A golden laurel wreath crowned his head. To his left sat the Empress, Numeria; she wore a green dress in the European fashion, decorated with diamonds and rubies. A darker green shawl was draped over her shoulders. A silver tiara graced her head, and she also wore large diamond earrings and a pearl necklace. Several rings sporting large and beautiful gemstones adorned her fingers. One hand rested on her husband's leg, and his hand was placed tenderly over it.

"Your Imperial Majesty," Publius intoned, bowing deeply, "I am honoured by your presence."

"Take a seat, Publius," said the Emperor. His voice was rougher than the last time they'd spoken, Publius realised. The Emperor went on, "I hope you are prepared for our arrival in Tezdrian."

As he took a seat across the side-table from the imperial couple, Publius responded, "of course, domine. Uncle. I have been studying Tezdrian's customs and history, learning as much of their languages as possible, and familiarising myself with the details of the new Tezdriani constitution."

"Yes," responded the Emperor, "but are you prepared? You're about to be married, my nephew. Not only that, but you are about to become an emperor- not the emperor, but an emperor. In the eyes of barbarians, at least. Though the Tezdriani are rather civilised, and were even before becoming a protectorate. They are a delightful people, a proud people."

"Is... Is it true Tezdrian is one huge metropolis now?" asked Publius. He loved spending time away from the city, in his father's and uncle's country estates, hunting ornithomimosaurs in the forest and sailing on the Empire's many great lakes. The thought of being trapped in a concrete jungle for the rest of his life was disturbing.

"Oh, I'm sure they still have some greenery around," responded his uncle dismissively. Publius nodded.

"I think I'm ready... No. I am ready. I have waited my whole life to serve God and my country. I never expected to serve another country, but it is all the same. Unum sit alterius, ambo sunt idem; the interests of Tezdrian are the interests of Tyrannia."

The Emperor nodded, satisfied. Publius fell back as the plane began to make its way up the runaway; he felt a knot in his stomach as it took off. He looked out of the window and saw his homeland falling away beneath him, the River Vitae reduced to a thin trickle of water, the first city of the Empire a patchwork of grey. He steeled himself for what was ahead, then turned away from the window to meet the smiling face of the Empress.

"Would you care for some tea, Publius?" she asked sweetly.

---

Venko District
Greater Tezdrian

Publius looked down in wonder at the sprawling metropolis that awaited below him. Skyscrapers far bigger than could be legally raised in the capital of the Tyrannian Empire rose up from the ground towards him. It seemed as if the city went on forever, disappearing over the horizon; there were scattered areas of blue and green amongst the black and grey urban landscape of Greater Tezdrian, but it was clear that this city-nation had pushed nature to the peripheries. Here, man ruled uncontested. It was hard to imagine, since the humans far below were no more visible than fleas, teeming in their billions in the streets of this ancient empire, newly invigorated and ready to step back out into the light of the world. His new country, glorious and terrifying in equal measure.

The jet dipped towards the runway. Publius braced himself for landing, sucking on a boiled sweet as his ears popped painfully. The Emperor was looking out the window serenely, a calm, almost bored look on his dignified face. There was a small thud as the plane hit the runway. Publius glanced again out the window, and saw teeming crowds awaiting his arrival, all keen to catch a glimpse of the Emperor of their motherland, and the young prince who was to become their own monarch- or co-monarch. Publius realised he was soon to meet his new wife, the famed Empress of Greater Tezdrian, for the first time. It was an odd thought, going to marry someone he had never met. It was odder to think that this was common among the nobility; it seemed so strange when one thought of the practice in such terms. Arranged marriages were quite preposterous, he decided. But this particular marriage was his lot, preposterous or not, and as a wedding present he was gaining an entire nation.

The plane stopped. An air steward undid his seatbelt for him. He was offered a glass of wine by his aunt Aeliana, who had apparently been out of her seat long before the rest of the imperial family had registered that they were no longer moving. He took it gratefully, and drank. She smiled.

"I thought you might be in need of some additional courage. Just don't drink too much," she joked. "We would hate for you to cause some offence to your new subjects on your first day in Tezdrian."

He was guided towards the door. The Emperor and Empress would disembark first, as was their right as the highest in precedence among the imperial family. No one outranked the king of kings, ruling over rulers. Next would come the Crown Prince and Princess. He would follow, then his aunt, then his parents, and then finally his brother and adoptive cousin. It was comforting knowing he would not be the first to leave the plane. As the Emperor stepped out in front of him into the blinding light of day, a great cheer went up welcoming him to the protectorate. Uncle Gaius looked so strong as he descended the stairway, no longer appearing frail or ill as he waved to the crowds. Julius and Morgana followed; the German born princess took his hand on the way out, giving it a squeeze and mouthing good luck, before exiting the plane with her husband's arm around her waist. Finally, it was his turn.

"You'll be fine, Publius," his father whispered to him from behind. "Just be yourself. You look every inch an emperor."

Publius looked down at his black suit. He felt more like a banker than an emperor. He wore a white cravat and a cream coloured shirt, with a black velvet waistcoat. At least he looked smart. Taking a deep breath, he stepped out onto the platform and waved. A chorus of cheers washed over him, and as he walked down the stairway he produced a genuine smile for the crowds of adoring onlookers. His new subjects.

A mob of dark-suited officials awaited at the bottom, among them an attractive woman around his age, maybe somewhat older. Emperor Gaius Romulus IV had taken her hand and kissed it chivalrously.

"It is, as always, a pleasure to see you cousin," he said. "Ah, and here is the man of the hour- Empress Ling Tan, may I present my nephew, the Count of Corvinium; Prince Publius Romulus Lepidus the Younger."

[Greater Tezdrian]

Vae, puto deus fio
-- Vespasian

Tyrannians knew how to make an entrance. All the better, Ling thought to herself. Today was a good day; she knew who and where she was, and why she was here. Days like this were rare and fragile, and one had to make the best of them when they came. Her hand shook like a leaf when Gaius kissed it -- an unfortunate side-effect of her illness which the medication only exacerbated -- but she managed a gracious smile at her old comrade in imperium. He stepped aside before introducing her to her future husband, Prince Publius. In the space of a second she appraised him: young, inexperienced, but a man with steel. Memories suddenly welled up within her. A husband -- or was it her father? -- left behind in Kyrilanga, flashes of colour and light. Was that blood? An airplane.

Enough.

She gave a forceful shudder and looked her fiance in the eye. "Huānyíng lái wǒjiā, qīn'ài de wèihūnqī," she said, rather despairing that it came out as little more than a whisper. He raised an eyebrow in incomprehension and a nudge from one of her advisors brought her to realise she was speaking in her native Old Tezdriani rather than a language anyone recognised. That had been happening much more often, even in her times of lucidity, as the insanity gradually stripped away her sense of time and place. In a moment she regained her composure and flashed the Tyrannians a brilliant smile before embracing her betrothed.

"My darling! I thank the gods for your safe arrival," she said after having hugged him, now firmly grasping him by the shoulders. He looked caught off-guard by the formality -- they all did, even her rather unflappable advisors, except for the Emperor himself -- and she could only grin inwardly. Not an invalid yet, she thought. Taking him aside to chat about the weather and the flight as the rest of the two delegations congressed with one another, she observed their surroundings. Lord Vaticanus appeared to be briefing Gaius on the affairs and prospects of the country while other members of the Imperial Family smiled and waved at the still-cheering Tezdrianis. They didn't know that it was in many respects her appearance as well as that of Publius that pleased the masses so. She was rarely seen inside the palace let alone out of it, and the Tezdriani people -- who imbibed her personality cult along with their mothers' milk -- were overtaken with joy at her appearance in a state of health.

As various functionaries looked at their watches and coughed it became time for the group to move on from the tarmac and into the waiting convoy. While they walked, she and the Prince arm in arm, she kept an eye on her own Imperial counterpart. How different were the Tezdrianis and the Tyrannians, she thought. Their Emperor was the centrepiece of the world, lord of ages. Never had the Imperial throne been broken though several times dynasties had been deposed. Tyrannian emperors lived, reigned, and died, the ceaseless monotony of time lending each new Emperor the weight on antiquity. What of her? With strange aeons even death may die, and die she had; many times. And each time her nation moved on, into another form and another future, until her inevitable return. She herself wasn't sure she could die, not anymore. The Ctan had perhaps made sure of this in her long hours and years in their custody. Now her life, her reign, her soul, was just a long and glimmering twilight. She knew she would outlive her husband. She knew she would outlive their grandchildren. And perhaps in that time when all her nation and it's billions were eventually snuffed out by the hand of time, like a flame blown out in a temple, she would be there too.

But for now it was time for a meal.

[Old Tyrannia]

Venko District
Greater Tezdrian

Empress Ling's informal welcome had caught Prince Publius off-guard, but he took it in his stride and managed to produce a convincing smile. He happened to have learnt a few phrases of Old Tezdriani while preparing himself for his new role, but although Publius was a talented linguist, he did not comprehend what Ling had been saying; it was a dead tongue after all, used only in a ceremonial context. Once she switched to Latin, the accompanying change in her demeanour surprised her fiancé, but remembering the rumours about Her Imperial Majesty's mental state he understood and made no fuss as she embraced him. Her adjutants seemed as taken aback as the Tyrannian Imperial Family and their army of assistants and bodyguards, but the Emperor showed no sign of noticing the outburst. He simply turned and began talking to Old Tyrannia's High Commissioner, Lord Vaticanus. Ling pulled Publius aside and began to chatter about the weather, but Publius simply nodded and smiled politely, his attention drawn by his uncle's conversation with the severe, pinch-faced Tyrannian official as they quietly discussed Tezdrian's economic prospects and diplomatic situation. Publius was so intent on listening that he almost failed to notice his future wife's attention was also drawn by the Emperor and Vaticanus, her eyes following them even as she innocently asked him about his flight. It occurred then to Publius that being crazy didn't necessarily mean one couldn't also be clever.

When they finally walked towards the waiting convoy of cars that would carry them to their dinner venue, Ling linked her arm with Publius but kept her eye on his Uncle Gaius. Publius watched his parents, his overweight mother tottering along with her nose held high as if in disgust at the very ground, his father, medium in height and of more slender build than his elder brother Emperor Gaius, looking rather like a deer caught in the headlights. More natural and graceful in her manner was his aunt, Princess Aeliana, who was interrogating a terrified looking Tezdriani official on the state of the country, her son by her side glancing around furtively. All kept to a respectful distance behind the quadruplet of Publius, Ling, his Uncle Gaius and his Aunt Numeria, showing respect for the sovereigns of Old Tyrannia and Greater Tezdrian and their consorts. Publius was to share a car with Empress Ling at the head of the convoy. The Tyrannian Imperial couple took the next car, and the other royals had their own. Publius gave the crowd a final wave as he helped Empress Ling into the car, then climbed into it himself. A chauffeur closed to door behind him. He assumed they would be heading to the Tezdriani Imperial Palace for the official state dinner. He was looking forward to it, hungry as he was. He turned to the Empress who was sat looking out the window to his left.

"It's very delightful to see you, my dear," he said. "I do hope I meet your expectations."

The car began to move.

[Greater Tezdrian]

Ling smiled and laughed.

"Oh, of course darling. You're simply marvelous. The cream of the Tyrannian breed."

He nodded and she thought she could see a hint of redness in his cheeks. Blushing, how cute. He didn't actually say anything. Neither did she, and she didn't ask whether she met his expectations. She knew she did. The cosmopolis slid past them, a forest of glass and steel which dully reflected the gray marble skies. As they drove past the imposing vastness of the Imperial Palace, her fiancee turned to her and gave a quizzical glance.

"Are we not dining at the palace?"

She looked at him with a raised eyebrow, "No darling, I'm afraid we will be dining out in public this evening. I thought you knew."

A look of concern and surprised appeared on his face before quickly vanishing and he shook his head. She didn't know what the customs of the Imperial court were in Old Tyrannia, although she probably should have, and she reflected on whether he or his family -- more importantly, his uncle -- would think of the exposure. She was surprised he didn't already know, to be quite honest. Ah well. He said something that she didn't quite catch in the course of her musing.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I asked where we would be dining."

The motorcade pulled to a stop in front of one of the thousands of skyscrapers, and she paused before answering to look out the window. They were here. She decided not to answer him then and waited for her door to be opened before stepping out. Security surrounded them as the Tyrannian royals got out of their cars, evidently as confused as their favoured son. Ling quietly cursed her protocol man for neglecting to have them informed. She was all for surprises, but there was still such a thing as simple courtesy. She resolved to have the protocol man dealt with.

Letting the Prince take her arm, she walked with him along a plush red carpet into the restaurant. The La Vie en Rose was an elegant establishment and a maître d'hôtel was waiting in white tie in the lobby. Bowing deeply to the Empress, the Prince, the Emperor and everyone else, he wordlessly ushered them into the dining area. At Ling's specific instruction the restaurant had remained open and although a number of tables had been set aside -- one main table for the two Imperial couples and Publius' parents, and then a few others for the various aunts, uncles, cousins and functionaries -- there were still diners enjoying their meals upon the Imperial entrance. A immediate quiet and stillness descended on the establishment, before all except the waitstaff rose and prostrated themselves on the ground.

Murmured recognition of Domina, Basileia, or Huangdi drifted from the lips of her subjects depending on their ethnicity and she acknowledged them with a quiet cough, at which all the patrons rose, seated themselves, and carried on with their meals. Feeling slightly embarrassed at the customs of her land, Ling avoided the eyes of her fiancee or future relatives as they took their seats. A waiter came by and she ordered Bouillabaisse as the others pondered their menus.

[Old Tyrannia]

La Vie en Rose
Venko District
Greater Tezdrian

Tyrannians did not kowtow; for a Tyrannian citizen, to prostrate oneself before another was to sacrifice one's dignitas, bringing grave dishonour upon oneself. Nonetheless, the Tyrannians were quite familiar with the custom, having readily adopted it in Tyrannic East Asia as a sign of submission and respect for the Emperor and his viceregal representatives along with various other local traditions. Most were also aware that the custom was an aspect of Tezdriani culture. More shocking to the Imperial entourage was that the Empress and her court had decided that the official welcome dinner for Prince Publius would take place in a restaurant, in full view of other diners. It was inconceivable that the Emperor, the Vicegerent of Christ on Earth, the Son of Heaven, the King of Kings Ruling over Rulers, would eat in the presence of mere commoners. Almost as inconceivable, Publius mused to himself, as it would be to a Tezdriani that a Tyrannian citizen would refuse to prostrate himself before the man his culture taught him was the mouthpiece of God and ruler of the world. It would take a while to get used to this new culture, with its different set of taboos.

Tyrannia's Imperial family almost uniformly ordered the finest available Tyrannian wine, while Publius casually asked his fiancée to choose a native Tezdriani drink for him to try, keen as he was to assimilate into his new homeland's culture. The Crown Prince and Princess of Old Tyrannia were sat at another nearby table along with Princess Aeliana, Prince Ruvius and Prince Marcus, Publius' younger brother. The Romuli's impeccable breeding must have been showing itself today, because none of Publius' family seemed overly phased by the fact they were eating in a public establishment. Even his mother behaved herself, although she could not refrain from gushing to Empress Ling about how proud she and Publius' father were that their son was to be an emperor.

"I always knew he was destined for greatness," the Duchess droned. "We named him after my husband, the Duke, you see. Publius Romulus Lepidus the Younger. I just knew from the moment I first held him in my arms he would be as great a man as his father!"

"You flatter me, my dear," purred Publius the Elder. "A sovereign is higher than a mere prince of the imperial blood. Publius has surpassed me, as every father hopes his son will. I don't mind saying that my eldest son has more of my brother and sister in them than of me."

"Now you flatter me, brother," the Emperor of Old Tyrannia chimed in. "I wish to take no credit. Your son is a credit to our house, and the achievement is entirely yours. But let us embarrass the groom no further. My dear cousin," he said turning to Empress Ling, "I am keen to hear how well my subordinates have served you in rebuilding your nation. Greater Tezdrian seems to be thriving, but if there is any way in which you feel my servants could have better aided your people I would like to hear it. It is of the utmost importance to me that Tezdrianis remember their time as a protectorate of the Tyrannian Empire with fondness, and I have little tolerance for incompetence among my servants."

An interesting question, thought Publius. What must they think of us? We spent a fortune to rebuild Tezdrian even while we struggled with a huge deficit, and yet wherever we go we look down on the locals, even those we regard as civilised like ourselves. Tyrannians were, fundamentally, a race of chauvinists. Even as they rebuilt Greater Tezdrian into a power that could stand independently, they had not failed to exert their own cultural influence over the nation, not always in a subtle manner. The Tyrannian Orthodox religion, the Tyrannian opera houses, even the public baths... All quintessential symbols of Tyrannian culture that the Empire introduced in every territory it brought under its jurisdiction. Publius had even seen an imposing granite statue of his uncle the Emperor as they had driven to the restaurant, of the type erected by the Tyrannians in triumph across their vast imperium. Notably, however, this statue had Emperor Gaius Romulus IV dressed in the toga picta and wearing the corona radiata upon his head, rather than dressed as a classical Roman general and wearing the laurel crown of victory as was typical in conquered territories. Tyrannia did not perceive Tezdrian as a conquest; if it had, then it would never allow the Tezdrianis their freedom.