Imperium: Ends of Empire (IC)

[Revlona]

Nailara bint Zufara
January 25th of Imperial Year 19,923
Nova Terra, Imperial Palace District

---

The vaulted ceiling stretched high above the assembled tables, with the intricate mosaics and murals that adorned the domed surface appearing like angels painted upon the sky. Grander than any other structure in the galaxy, and saturated with a storied history stretching back through humanity’s illustrious history, the Imperial Palace was a monument to the Imperium’s achievements as well as a testament to what it could achieve. Nailara could hardly believe that it was located in the midst of Nova Terra, within the densely populated heart of humanity’s empire. She couldn’t have imagined feeling further away from Falnora.

It was all that Nailara could do to maintain her composure and focus on the proper etiquette while eating her food, rather than gaze around gawking in disbelief at her surroundings. Fortunately, her sheepish grin could masquerade as a polite smile, burying the overt signs of her excitement. Despite being no stranger to wealth and lavish lifestyles, the banquet took her breath away. Every dish was deliciously unique, representing the best that the Imperium’s range of worlds and cultures could provide, while the drinks were similarly vibrant on the tongue.

And then there were the other attendees. To be present meant that they were someone of import on a galactic scale, and Nailara had been able to recognise more than a few of them. Flowing gowns made from the finest silk, to uniforms adorned with galleries of glistening medals, the mingling guests added a whole additional layer of vibrancy to the celebrations. Their casual laughter and conversations made the experience feel even more surreal to the young woman, still struggling to fully believe the whirlwind of events that had led to her even being present.

Or rather, why she had been brought.

Slowing in her meal, Nailara hesitated before she risked a stolen glance towards the head of the table. Even among the esteemed guests of the hour, the Crown Princess captured the attention of the room. Nailara could feel her chest skip when she looked upon the near-mythical figure, her eyes lingering as if to look away would break the entire mirage.

Nearby sat the looming figure of the Patriarch. Bakahim dissected his meal with a calm efficiency, his bulky figure causing him to loom over those immediately seated beside him. The head of the Zufaran dynasty eschewed the popular fat-trimming treatments that were practiced among the wealthy, instead using his bulk as a visible display of his wealth. Nailara had heard that he would have been unable to even stand were it not for the biomechanical enhancements that had been grafted onto his body.

Wondering why her grandfather had sat her so far away from his own place at the table, but aware that her gaze had already lingered for a little too long, Nailara turned her focus back to her meal. Taking a sip from her goblet, her chest tightened as it dawned on her that she was being tested. Seated where she was, alone but perfectly in view: were they trying to see how she’d handle being thrown into the midst of one of the Imperial family’s social functions?

Idiot. She thought to herself. Of course it was a test. The whole journey to Nova Terra was a test for her. And so far she’d sat more silent than one of the servants, gaping at the palace walls and her plate like a tourist. What kind of an impression would that make, to all the eyes that were doubtlessly evaluating her performance? A poor one, no doubt. Unless Nailara did her best to rectify the situation.

“The food truly is amazing.” She declared, flashing her kindest smile towards the older woman beside her. “I can scarcely even recognise half of the dishes.”

The meal: a shared topic for conversation, at least. Even so, Nailara cursed herself for picking such a forgettable and mind-numbingly bland topic. She’d had to start with something, and it didn’t help that she recognised the woman that she’d turned to address.

“I am Nailara bint Zufara, of the Zufaran dynasty. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

---

“She is a capable young woman, I assure you.” Bakahim said, his gravelly voice addressing Valeria. “Well educated and in a good state of health. A fine partner for the young prince, by any reasonable metric.”

The older Patriarch spoke plainly by the head of the large serving table, speaking casually of business while partaking in the festivities of the day. He’d dispensed quickly with the pleasantries, having stripped them down to the barest of necessities. He was a busy man, and pointlessly cordial words were rarely an effective use of time. By the same token, he knew that he was hardly the only one that Valeria planned to speak with that day and he had no desire to waste the Crown Princess’ time any more than his own.

Of course, most of the groundwork had been laid well in advance. Bakahim’s agents had broached the potential engagement months ago. Conversations had continued through the appropriate channels, hammering out details and discussing both sides’ lingering concerns. Ultimately, Bakahim saw the arrangement as one of great mutual benefit. He was sure that the palace had been looking for a way to improve the prince’s maturity in the eyes of the wider public, and a marriage would remove a potential thorn from Bakahim’s own domain.

While the bloodline connection to the Imperial family was a powerful incentive, Bakahim knew better than to tie such a bond too tightly, lest other noble families cry foul. But Nailara’s heritage was the perfect combination of sufficient historical prestige to avoid any appearance of the prince marrying below his station, while not being so prominent as to make other influential families feel threatened.

“Her father’s death also cuts her immediate ties to my own bloodline. It should help to avoid the unwanted appearance of any divided loyalties.” Bakahim had little doubt that the Princess’ own agents had made certain that he wasn’t seeking to implant a spy in her midst. Despite his history with the woman’s father, he understood the need for caution. Especially with times as they were. “I will of course publically revoke any inheritance between future children and my dynasty, should you wish.”

Alora eyed the girl who had spoken to her and smiled politely. She did not recognize the girl and could not see a family crest upon her clothing, but the way she held herself and was dressed spoke of a higher standing, perhaps equal to Alora own as the head of a Great House. With this is mine she continued to smile and answered her, “A pleasure to meet you Nailara,” She said.

Alora recognized he family name though it held little meaning to her. Her dynasty held sway over a swath of territories in the eastern rim, she knew of it mostly because her home was often compared to their capital world, both Paradise planets of exquisite beauty. The girl must be an heiress, or perhaps not, she did not introduce herself as such after all. Maybe a second daughter or distant cousin given to opportunity to show herself off for marriage at the biggest venue. Either way it mattered little to Alora.

“I am Alora Fiora Vas Calmora, Lady of Calmora and High Queen of the Jewel Worlds,” Alora said. She spoke normally, her tone perhaps more controlled than most peoples, but her words carried weight to them. The weight of authority and responsibility, she was used to being obeyed and expected it of those who stood below her in the ladder of imperial immediacy. Alora let it slip out a little more than she had meant to, it had been a while since she had been outside her realm, reforms and war took up much time after all.

[Bentus]

-snip-

Nailara bint Zufara
January 25th of Imperial Year 19,923
Nova Terra, Imperial Palace District

---

“I must confess that I recognised you, your grace.” Nailara smiled sheepishly at the admission. “My home of Falnora is also a gaia world and I have heard amazing things about Calmora. It is my belief that we could learn much from what your people have achieved.”

She had felt a flutter of vertigo as the other woman strung out a list of her titles. Feelings of excitement and nervousness competed for attention in the girl’s chest, manifesting themselves as the grin on her features and an earnest eagerness in her tone. Nailara knew that polite small talk was her safest option at an event like this, but she’d curse herself if she didn’t take advantage of her good fortune of sitting next to the High Queen.

“I studied your reforms when I began my mayorship. We have bountiful resources and are of course popular with off-world visitors, but Falnora has far more to offer than just that. Calmora has proven that the designation of a paradise world doesn’t mean that its people can’t contribute to the Imperium beyond catering to tourists.”

Lord-Mayor. Nailara was glad that she’d omitted the title from her introduction. It would have felt laughable to have even implicitly tried to compare it to the authority wielded by the woman opposite. Even so, she spoke with a passion behind her words. Her demesne might have been far smaller than Lady Calmora’s - a small region on a single world with a fraction of the population of the Jewel World’s capital - but Nailara still felt the weight of that responsibility.

“You kept your identity secret during your studies, right? I think that is a splendid idea! I can only wish that I could have had such an opportunity.” The girl hesitated for a moment, considering her next words before allowing her curiosity to get the better of her. “I have to ask, have you found that your opinions on governance have changed during your rule? I read some of your earlier writings and they came across as rather…” A hint of nervousness crept into Nailara’s smile as she tried to come up with a word that wouldn’t come across poorly. “...unorthodox?”

[Imperialisium]

January 27th, 19,923 Imperial Calendar
Kisuct System, Semi-Autonomous State of Sora

The Vyreg have been a scourge upon unchartered settlements and isolated colonies for generations. Ever since contact with the Galactic Imperium during the reign of Karelus I, first Emperor of the Koralin Dynasty in the later years of the 7th Millennium of the Old Calendar. First believed to be a mindless, voracious, species of insectoids. Imperial punitive campaigns seemed capable of purging the nuisance system by system until several massive incursions began late in the reign of Karelus I. Leading to the first of fourteen coordinated Imperial attempts at exterminating the Vyreg species. Each time the Vyreg menace returned to prey on newfound colonies and settlements in the South-Eastern quadrant of the Galaxy. Even in successive conflicts launched by Ludveg I and Siegan I of the Koralin Dynasty. It was not until the middle of the Kysteria the First's reign that the core worlds of the Vyreg, now determined to be a collection of hives clustered in a Trinary system half-shielded by strong gas clouds, were discovered and in the Thirteenth Vyreg War the forces of Kysteria purged those worlds of the Vyreg. Putting untold billions of the species to the blades of a vengeful Humanity. Mankind unleashing deadly biological gene-coded weapons, chemical barrages, and even the sanctioned use of Nuclear bombardment. Kysteria's great grand daughter via her clone and successor, Amadira I, who would be the final monarch of the Koralin Dynasty, Kysteria II, scattering the Vyreg's to the fringes of the Galaxy in her Xenodical purges which saw the extinction of at least eighty-one separate Xenos species.

The Vyregs would be little more than a nuisance until the time of Valerius I, over five millennia after the age of Kysteria II, when the Vyreg now having adapted to using technology, began to resurface as a nomadic species. The Imperial military spending the better part of the Emperor's reign systematically tracking down and purging no less than one hundred and seventeen separate Vyreg fleets. Reducing them to a species on the cusp of extinction or banished to unknown regions of the Galaxy...

The first sign that something had penetrated the edges of the Kisuct system was the presence of a gravitational anomaly. The Hive Fleet's inertia drives, allowing it to sling shot from system to system, registering on instruments throughout the Kisuct system. Traveling at just shy of the speed of light the Hive Fleet began a slow deceleration over the course of two solar days. Their route half masked by using celestial bodies like outer gas giants and planetoids to confuse tracking systems. Their mass and composition of their living ships giving off mixed signals as metallic asteroids or debris that had entered the star system from the interstellar void.

Moving rapidly down to the speed of 65% of the speed of light the Vyreg's began their favored tactic of jamming. Strong electro-magnetic signals spawned from their living ships sensory organs projected like a cone towards the world of Kecit. Their first target. Blanketing the world in static and interfering with inter-system communications. By then the local government would know something was amiss and it was here that the Vyreg would begin their next tactic. Launching billions of spores. Capsules held in a strong metallic-biological resin which would be flung at the planet. Entering the worlds atmosphere, overwhelming defense batteries by the sheer volume and spread of these spores. Those that survived would hatch and release their bio-fluids into the surrounding area. Forming a puddle dozens of meters wide which would begin breaking down biological matter while simultaneously unleashing warrior and infiltrator type Vyregs. The Infiltrators appearing as oversized centipedes which would seek out and seek to invade a host's body. Connecting to their spine and taking over their body. While the warriors, ten limbed, two-part, insectoid creatures with razor sharp legs and claws capable of rending steel. Armored in a mesh alloy and in their small mandible like hands they clutched weapons which fired hypersonic spikes. The third phase of a Vyreg invasion was simple. Slaughter and consume. Reave the population and vital materials both biological and material before moving on.

For the people and defenders of Kecit, it would be a nightmare.

January 28th, 19,923 Imperial Calendar
Nova Terra, Xevara Lancellum residence

The Emperor's Summons did not come immediately. Indeed, one could wonder if it was indeed the will of the Emperor or that of his Executor, Crown Princess Valeria, that caused the arrival of three individuals at the entrance to Xevara's residence on Nova Terra. The Viceroy only receiving a short notice mere hours in advance of their arrival. The xeno imperial governor of the Oversector Elysium would find a trio of individuals at her door. A young man in the livery of the Imperial Palace. Wearing the white, black, red, and purple garments of the Imperial Palace colors. He introduced himself as an Imperial Herald. While behind him, stood two individuals in the livery of the Imperial Security Bureau. The men behind bore shield belts around their waists, sword and side arm at their hips, their uniforms the stark black of the Security Bureau. The silver sigils of their office, an all seeing eye, on their caps and shoulder sleeves.

"Lady Xevara Lancellum, Imperial Viceroy to the Oversector of Elysium, esteemed and honored subject to the Tsaraj-Emperor of the Known Universe. Who has charged me with delivering a summons for today, the 28th day of the year Nineteen Thousand Nine-Hundred and Twenty-Three of the Galactic Imperium's reckoning. Do you, Viceroy, accept?"

It was more or less a foregone answer. But formalities were such, and should Xevara indeed accept, then she and a small coterie of aides would be whisked off to the Imperial Palace. Not just any part either. The Inner Palace. The Throne Room. The centre of the Galactic civilization. The Heart of the Galaxy's greatest Empire.

[Antimersia]

Nova Terra, Viceroy Lancellums’ personal apartments
January 26th of Imperial Year 19,923 (25,709AD)

Xevara had slept well, awaking fairly refreshed from the celebration the night before. She had retired before it had become too late, as her first meetings began in the mid-morning. She enjoyed an exquisite breakfast as a servant held a small holo-projector up for her. She glanced over the headlines of the major news stations for a short while, though any news that was truly impactful she would have heard about it before it went to the press. After a short time of skimming the news, she switched to personal correspondence. A few updates from her government in Elysium, all very run of the mill. A few others, but only one that really caught her attention. A missive from Ferlon IV of the Great House Mensjen, inviting her aboard his ship to discuss some matters before he departed. She could guess what those matters were.

House Mensjen were Terranists, extremist zealots who believed non-human species should be exterminated. It was a fringe religion, but zealots were zealots. They had made a great deal of fuss about her appointment to the position of Viceroy, and all for nothing. That a Terranist would want to speak to her was amusing to say the least, and most likely it meant that his talk with Princess Verina hadn’t gone well, and that did make her chuckle. However even if she had felt the desire to go and speak with Ferlon, which she didn’t, she was far too busy to be able to leave her residence. Not only thanks to the dozens of meetings she had scheduled, but also because she wanted to be present and ready to go whenever the Emperor summoned her.

Still, she sent a quick but polite reply, declining the offer and more or less telling Ferlon that if he wished to discuss business then he was more than welcome to make an appointment, like everyone else had too.

The reply felt more like being spat in the face than it did a polite and cordial decline. Ferlon IV nearly lost his temper in the course of hearing the message. But he cooled himself, realizing that an offer to enter the ship of a Major house, known for being largely Terranist, was likely more of a non-starter than he originally realized. He thought for a moment, deciding not to simply bow to her conditions, but yet to at least show he is willing to work with her. He replied to the Viceroy and suggested that they both meet on a neutral ground. Perhaps at a Nova Terran restaurant, on the thirtieth of January. His hope being that while he refuses to give in and come to her, he can still show willingness to compromise by making it a formal suggestion of an appointment to meet with her. Once he is happy with the wording of the missive, he sends it off back to the Viceroy, eagerly awaiting what he hopes will be an appointment confirmation.

[Bentus]

-snip-

January 25th of Imperial Year 19,923
Nova Terra, Imperial Palace District
Cowritten by Revlona and Bentus.

---

Alora smiled at the girl’s obviously subdued excitement, she wondered if this is how she had been when she was younger. It didn’t surprise her that she had actually recognized Alora, even if the Jewel Worlds wasn’t what it was long before, they were still a powerful player in the Imperium.

She stopped a smile when her reforms were mentioned as well, though that was mostly at the name of her fief. “Falnora” sounded so much like her home planet that for a moment that’s what Alora thought she had heard. She wondered just how she had used Alora's own reforms in a mayorship though, perhaps she meant her anti-corruption and pro meritocracy edicts. That was odd, she was much more well known for her reformation of the fleet and ground forces, a total overhaul of ships, armor, weapons, and the NCO position.

Alora began to wonder if the girl's words were actually more than flattery now, almost all with two brain cells to rub together knew of her reforms if they knew who she was, but very few actually knew much past her military reforms. This girl had piqued her interests and continued to do so when she mentioned her writings during her time at the academy, something she had almost forgotten about herself.

“It’s the Calmoran family's way of ensuring meritocracy rules, we can not have a High King or Queen be supreme leader of the fleets and guard who was favored and pampered during their schooling.” Alora said, unsure how to respond to the girls statement about her writings.

“However I was unaware that anyone had read those documents at all. But to answer your question, yes my opinions have changed.” She said matter of factly, not looking at the girl as she continued, a part of her mind wondered if she had a disappointed look on her face.

“Democracy in and of itself will more than likely fail, a mass of individuals who allow emotions to guide their choice of leader. Perhaps the best dressed or best looking candidate for example. No, democracy is doomed to fail…unaided that is.” She said before pausing.

“What such an institution needs is a firm but fair guiding hand, something which can help lead the people without making the people think they’re being led. Allow them to choose their leaders while limiting their options to those most fit. My classmates would be horrified by my words, but that is how you help a democracy to survive, because even an unaided democracy is better than tyranny.” Alora said, looking at the girl once more now.

Nailara had been listening intently to the High Queen’s words, nodding along as was appropriate and polite. But her smile wavered as the woman continued.

“I see, but surely it is folly to structure a system of government over a facade of transparency? Even more-so than structuring one with no transparency at all, I mean.” She tentatively argued.

It wasn’t that she necessarily disagreed, or that she didn’t find the idea of democracy entrancing in its own way. But Nailara never grasped why even its proponents seemed to insist on half-measures and restraints. If democracy truly was such a powerful way to rule, then why would it need so many extra layers of checks and balances compared to the norm?

"If a guiding hand is necessary in any case, all the ceremony of democracy seems a bit immature. Not to mention wasteful."

“Not true, for example. Constitutional monarchies have been successful example of such guiding hands for thousands and thousands of years, on almost every level of the spectrum they have been fairly successful. From more authoritarian monarchs to the figure heads. I would personally argue for a system more in the middle, with the guiding hand having set powers without the risk of tyranny.” Alora said, smiling at the girl before her.

It had been a very long time since she had a good discussion on politics, even longer since it had been with someone who seemed as intelligent as the girl in front of her. She would have to look into the girl, she could use a mind like hers if possible, hopefully she was just some cousin’s cousin that could be missed. She grinned at that.

“I see.” Nailara said, although the slight scrunching of her face indicated that she was still not entirely convinced. “Pardon my manners, but would you consider reforming the Jewel Worlds to more closely align with such a view? The changes that you made to your military are well-known. But compared to your earlier writings on governance your actual policies seem to be far more limited in scope.”

“I would, but I also understand that such change takes time and if done incorrectly would not survive past my life span. If I forced my vassals into this new agreement which curtailed much of their power they might rebel against me, which would force me to put them down. And if they didn’t rebel against me they would surely rebel against any heir of mine after I die, strike in their time of weakness. I have made some inroads into convincing both my vassals and people of such a thing but…my success with the nobles of my realm is limited, they don’t see a reason to change anything, especially with how successful my reign as an absolute monarch has been.” She said, frowning at her own lack of success.

Nailara blinked in surprise, wondering for a moment if she’d misheard. “Surely you must be exaggerating, your grace.” She said, masking her confusion at the Queen’s words with an inoffensive smile. “The nobility of the Jewel Worlds must understand their responsibilities and your right to rule. To react to such moderate reforms with violence seems a bit extreme.” It was the kind of barbarity that Nailara could only imagine occurring on the rim, not in one of the Imperium’s more civilized regions.

“They fear change as most nobility do.” Alora said simply, wondering how she might put it to allow her to understand a ruler’s point of view.

“Think of it this way dear, should I introduce a reform which curtails some more minor powers of the nobility in my realm. Simple things really, they would probably accept it as is, but they would start thinking about what I might do next, and that would very quickly lead to them viewing me as an enemy.” She said matter of factly. “They would react with hostility to any of my reforms no matter how minute, the same if I came out with a large reform which introduced democracy no matter how small.” She said.

“At the simplest levels they are humans and want to look out for themselves and their kin. They would see my reforms as a direct threat to their comfortable positions.” She said, leaving off with a smile which she hoped would put the young woman more at ease.

“As nobility, they should be more aware of their responsibilities to the realm.” Nailara said, a muted frown marring her features.

She grasped at what the Queen was describing, but couldn’t fully unravel some of the contradictions forming in her mind. The aristocracy were supposed to be enlightened rulers. It was frustrating to hear that some noble families were using their power to stand in the way of progress within the Queen’s realm.

“And without the support of your nobility, your hands are tied when it comes to local reforms.”

Nailara hesitated.

“Is that why you have focused on strengthening your military, then?”

She didn’t outright state what was on her mind. It was one thing to focus on the armed forces if other options of development were unavailable, but if the Queen was concerned about opposition from her vassals… Nailara knew better than to speak plainly, but she wondered if the Queen was playing a far longer game than she could have imagined.

Alora smiled at both the spoken and unspoken questions posed by the younger woman, she was very bright and once again a part of herself was found trying to figure a way to enlist her services.

“My military reforms were just that, reforms to an outdated yet extremely important apparatus of my realm. They have always served as the spear and shield of the Jewel Worlds and shall continue to do so, against all enemies foreign and domestic.” Alora said with a small smile.

“They have no equal in the region, much money has gone into their training, equipment, and other needs and they have been tested both at home and away and have performed beyond even my expectations. Should the need arise for them to one day secure the worlds against rebels then I have no doubt they would perform admirably in that task, should the day come.” She said, grimly wondering whether the day would come, whether her plans would ever come to fruition.

Nailara frowned at the non-answer. The Queen’s response had been deliberately worded, and the woman’s sly smile made the girl think that there was more that she was leaving unsaid. None of that came as any surprise though. Nailara would have been shocked if the High Queen had blatantly revealed that she was preparing herself for a violent confrontation with her vassals. But this was a shadier side of politics than Nailara was accustomed to: double-meanings and unspoken threats of violence.

“I’ve been told that the Jewel Worlds’ navy truly is magnificent.” Nailara said. “Although I must admit that I have never particularly studied the intricacies of war.” She paused for a moment, before continuing. “But I often wonder what we might achieve if humanity pursued other aims with the same vigor that we pour into military pursuits. What is it that we’re so afraid of that we dedicate untold trillions to warships and arms? The Imperium brought peace to the galaxy centuries ago.”

“Did the imperium do that though? That’s the true question. Humans, and from what I can tell xenos, have a nature of conflict. We fight, with words and with steel that is our nature.” Alora said, contemplating.

“So did the Imperium bring peace to our galaxy or did it simply make it easier for us to fight one another?” Alora said, posing the simple yet deep question to the younger woman.

“Maybe it accomplished both?” Nailara countered, although she felt discomforted by the other woman’s words. Was this really how the upper echelons of the Imperium viewed the galaxy at large? “My home is part of a protectorate. We rely on the Emperor’s forces to provide us with protection, and have done for generations. As a result, we have no need to maintain our own standing army.” She explained. “It may be wishful thinking, but perhaps if more of the galaxy was governed in such a way, we’d all be able to turn our attention to less destructive pursuits.”

Ah youth, Alora remembered a time so long ago now it felt when she could be so naive. “Protectorate, the valiant men and women of the Imperial Armed forces protects your home, but from what? I thought the Imperium brought the galaxy peace.” Alora said to the younger woman gently yet not mockingly.

“And what if your protectorate decided it wanted to be a little more autonomous, maybe raise a small local defense force or ignored a decree or two that wouldn’t benefit you? Would the Imperium protect you? No, they would put you in your place. Perhaps purge your family and place a new one in its stead or just split up your protectorate among more loyal hands,” she said matter of factly.

“No, the Imperium did not bring peace, wars are raged every day. Hell, the imperium is probably waging some unknown war right now, in some fashion or another. People are dying as we sip wine and eat fine food in this peaceful galaxy of ours,” She said, raising her glass and sipping at her wine.

Despite where she was, and all the eyes that might be judging her every move, Nailara felt her jaw drop. She struggled to believe what she’d just heard, and hastily glanced around as if to check if any of the other guests had overheard the High Queen’s comments. As the initial shock subsided, Nailara felt an anger rising in its stead.

“With all due respect your grace, you smear my family’s good name and do your own reputation a disservice.” Her brow furrowing, Nailara’s grip tightened on her cutlery. She did her best to keep her tone level and polite, even as the woman’s words brought back memories of her father’s funeral. “Nor am I so foolish as to believe that being peaceful is the same as being defenseless.”

Before Nailara could say anything more, or allow her emotions to get the better of her, a voice echoed out from the head of the table.

"The Emperor extends his warmest wishes and appreciation in all of your coming!"

The Crown Princess had stood from her chair, lifting a glass to the eclectic mix of attendees spread out before her. As if spurred to action, a raucous applause lifted from the tables and smothered any continuing conversation. Nailara joined in with the clapping, breathing a silent sigh of relief at the excuse for a swift end to her conversation with the High Queen, especially after the uncomfortable turn that it had taken. Standing from her chair as the attendees made to retire, she bowed towards Alora.

“Thank you for speaking with me, your grace. It was an honor to make your acquaintance.” There was much more that Nailara wanted to say, to ask. But she was thankful that she could instead bite her tongue and stick to pleasantries.

Alora smiled through the polite insult she, had heard far worse, offered by the girl before nodding once as she made to leave.

“Likewise, it’s been very good to meet you, very informative,” she said, not elaborating on just what that meant.

[Segmentia]

Nova Terra, Viceroy Lancellums’ personal apartments
January 26th of Imperial Year 19,923 (25,709AD)

The reply came quickly enough and Xevara rolled her eyes. The head of the Mensjen must be downright desperate for this meeting, whatever it might entail. Deciding to humor the man, Xevara agreed to a lunch meeting on January 30th, though the location would be a Meosian restaurant, the best on Nova Terra and one she herself frequented when she was on the planet. If Ferlon refused, well, she would enjoy a nice lunch. If he accepted it was a slight visual victory in her favor.

The rest of the 26th and 27th were spent in dozens of meetings. On the 28th she received the summons. As soon as she was given the advanced notice she canceled her meetings for the day and began to prepare. She dressed in her finest dress and prepared her aides likewise. One didn’t receive a summons from the Emperor and not present their best. She was ready well in advance of the Herald's arrival, and upon accepting the summons she and a handful of her best aides were whisked away to the Palace.

Xevara was calm and collected, even as they arrived in the Inner Palace and were escorted towards the Throne Room. She was given a refresher of proper protocol and then they reached the door to the throne room. Taking a steadying breath, they were ushered inside, her aides keeping a respectful distance behind her.

[Antimersia]

In orbit of Nova Terra
January 30th of Imperial Year 19,923 (25,709AD)

"You're actually going to this restaurant? A non Human restaurant, to met a non Human Visceroy, and do what? Beg for her help in this Senate motion of yours?" Ferlon V asked, almost enraged by his father's stated intentions.

"Yes, I am going to this restaurant, no I will not beg for anything. You truly do not understand diplomacy if you think pride should be your only consideration, boy. It has it's place, and its has places it should never be. In your own way, is at the top of that list." Ferlon IV replied, educating his son. Although it seems clear that the lesson is not being absorbed well into his thick skull.

"The Minor Houses will not like this." The son replied, trying to make a point that his father could not refute.

"Those same houses didn't like that I became the head of House Mensjen either. And yet when they rebelled, I squashed their pathetic attempts. And House Mensjen now wields a Super Capital Ship within its ranks. And your very life is owed to that military victory. I have no doubts that any such further attempts would be squashed just as easily. So to be perfectly frank, Ferlon, I could not care less about the opinion of the Minor houses on this matter." Ferlon IV replied sharply. "Now then, I want you to go back to Crux. Our homeworld has been absent of its House leaders for too long already. Maintain things for a bit longer until I can return."

"Yes, father." Ferlon V said begrudgingly as he left his father's room on the ship. Ferlon IV then began preparing a message, confirming his intention to appear at this lunch meeting. Sending it to Ms. Lancellum's office just as he finishes dressing. He intends to bring a pair of House Mensjen guards with him. Even a place as close to the Emperor as Nova Terra has crime. And he would never want to be so careless as to risk going out without a single guard by his side. All three of them enter into a surface to orbit craft and head down to the right district of the city. Ferlon IV would be on time for this meeting, it is the gentlemanly thing to do.

[Imperialisium]

Xevara's Imperial Audience
Nova Terra
Imperial Palace

There are none who could say they've ruled Galactic civilization for as long, and consistently, as that of the scions and descendants of the Saint-Emperor. The House of Valkoroi Rhoiamyno. For over ten thousand Nova Terran years they have ruled the Galactic Imperium. Masters of the Milky Way Galaxy beyond the measure of their forebear Dynasties and the ones who established the Celestial Throne on Nova Terra from origins unknown. It is this Imperial Dynasty that has shaped the second half of Imperial history more than any tree of Emperor's and Empresses before them. Their servants are Legion, and their might considered the equal to the combined power of the Great Houses; yet, as the Imperium is increasingly beset by threats within and without some may doubt the ability of one dynasty to rule an Empire of twenty-five million worlds.

The Imperial Palace was an edifice unto itself. Its main complexes from the old Augustian and Koralin Palace-Fortresses to the harsh imposing strongholds of the Belastar Emperor's. To newer palatial additions in the long reign of the Valkoroi Rhoiamyno Dynasty. The Palace District itself stretched across the entirety of an old Nova Terran continent. Encapsulating within the District the last of Nova Terra's natural fauna and flora. Its last Sea and carefully curated reserves from other parts of the world long since replaced by thousands of levels of hyper-urbanite construction. Indeed, such was the extent of the care to preserve the Throne World's pre-city planet epoch that entire stretches of Imperial Garden's and Forests are domed to protect the priceless plants and animals therein from the outside. Others are open air to the Nova Terran sky and if one stood within the preserved Imperial Mountains, far as anyone on the surface can get from light pollution, you just might make out the faintest of stars. The faded memory of a long-gone Nova Terran sky.

Xevara was taken more or less along a linear flight path over the outer defenses of the palace manned by soldiers of the Nova Terran Legion. Thence across to the inner defenses manned by the Imperial Guard. Still soldiers of the regular Imperial Army tasked with the defense of the Palace. Finally, to the Celestine Palace. A central complex erected by the Saint-Emperor and housing the Celestial Throne in its innermost sanctum. The Celestine Palace was adorned with electrum, suns, dragons, eagles, lightning bolts, and all manner of strange creatures supposedly native to the Ancient Colonies of Mankind. The Original Twenty. Some, even, supposedly showing depictions of Lost Terra. How or why such a thing could be depicted, even if the legend is that the artisans were dictated the details by the Saint-Emperor himself, was uncertain; and at best Imperial Historians guessed that the depictions were merely fanciful guesswork wrought by the artisans imaginations.

Landing at a small auxiliary landing pad Xevara was met by a pair of Praetorians who merely, silently, turned and led the way. Bringing her into the winding, vast, byzantine, yet intricately organized, interiors of the Celestine Palace. Everywhere she looked was architecture blending half a dozen ancient Human styles. All lined with marble floorings inlaid with gold. Gemstone crusted pillars twinkling like a billion stars. Rising to the glowing beauty of the ceiling paintings in laid with silver, semi-precious and precious stones, gold, and crystals. The raw eminence of wealth of such a building was imposing to say the least. Even to the Viceroy of an Imperial Oversector.

Moving through the palace for a solid hour they finally arrived at the Gates of the Throne Room. A hallway lined with statues depicting Ancient Gods, Goddesses, and Heroes. The doors themselves made out of the Gold-Silver Electrum material of the Praetorians suits. Ancient Solarian wrought material. Priceless. A quartet of Praetorians were waiting outside and none turned their helms to look at Xevara. There, she waited for a solid five minutes before the doors yawned open and there, across a vast expanse of mirror polished flooring, sat the glory of the Celestial Throne.

Its magnificent crystalline smooth construction was truly of scale as it went from chair to fanning out across an entire back wall of the room. Inside it its polished transparent glass like material there was lights and colors. An entire cosmos of captured stars and nebula. Belts and Arms of Galaxies. Drifting and swirling across a frozen time captured for eternal memory in that ancient glass. Xevara would have a hard time prying her eyes from its entrancing form to make out the figure of the Emperor standing before it. Staring too, into its expanse.

A Praetorian indicated for her to cross the threshold with a wave of his gauntlet covered hand. And for Xevara to step across the threshold she would find herself in an impossible silence. So still as to be maddening. Yet, as she approached and the Emperor turned to acknowledge the Viceroy's presence she would feel it. A presence. The presence. The Throne. As if alive and sentient. In the back of her mind, consciousness, at the corners of room and vision she could now hear audible sensation. The closer she approached the Throne the voices, faint and whispering, in tongues she knew not, speaking. Like the ghosts of the empires past.

"Viceroy Lancellum, a pleasure to have you here this evening," said the Emperor with a side long glance.

[Parcia]

Imperial Academy at Raithon
Garden

The Afterparty

The Graduation ceremony had gone off well. The parading of the graduating students in near perfect military steps down the main garden avenue, the pomp and party afterward was fun, the sipping of champagne and eating of fine cakes and foods added to it.

Something was different though, someone was missing. Alester Corwin strolled down the dimly lit garden path with his joint in his lip, a light drag expelling some smoke into the warm evening air as the light and sounds of the party behind him began to drift away. Most inhalants were discouraged, but not directly prohibited at the academy, as proper experiences had shown that certain individuals worked better when blitzed out of their skull.

As he took another drag he heard someone speak. “A fine breed, cultivated on Pallanor V if I remember correctly. I gave you a stock of it when you left.” The calm tone of his father drifted across the air as the High Lord of House Corwin seemingly melted out of the shadows of the rose bushes next to him and for just a moment Alester was on edge.

The smile on his father’s face let him ease up and smile in return, offering his father the joint. He shook his head warmly and began to walk alongside his son. “How was it? It's been nearly a year since we spoke, and the final year at Raithon is infamously brutal.” Alester paused for a moment, the last standard year playing back in his head like one big motion blur.

“Difficult, but rewarding. I passed everything as best I could and made the top ten of the class. His father replied to this with a soft slap on the shoulder and a hearty chuckle. “Good, Good. Far better than I did during my time in the academy.” “Father, you didn’t go to an academy.” Alester shot back rather cautiously. “Indeed I did not, my academy was the Command Bridge of the Bellar and my classes were on how best to use her to hammer the Beauclerc fleets. Damn fine education it was.”

They walked a little while longer in a comfortable silence until Altair broke the silence. “So what now?” The question perplexed Alester and so he asked in return what his father meant. “Well, you’ve graduated from one of the most pristine Military Command Schools in the wider Imperium, I don’t plan on getting off my chair for another 20 years, you’re sisters are all handling various other aspects of our house for the time being and I’m not as cruel as to force you in to a military command just yet, least that’s what you want.” Alester thought for a moment.

“A Columbia. I’d want my first command to be a Columbia.” Altair paused. “An escort, sub kilometer long warp escort? I could get you a Berlin or a Halberd, hell even a division CO or XO aboard a Saipan...but a Columbia, why?” Alester was about to get into the detailed ethics and morals behind his choice when he felt something off.

The hair on his neck stood up and he snapped his head over to a flash of movement he barely had any time to barely process before his own hand was raised to intercept the incoming fist. The sharp stab of pain as the knife pierced his palm and came out the otherside fully brought him to the current moment and Alester yelped in pain.

He reached for the dagger on his belt, only to feel more pain as he jerked his right hand downward in the attempt to reach it. For the first time in his life, Alester felt the sheer mortal terror one feels when confronted with their own mortality, when confronted with their quickly approaching death.

He didn’t have much time to dwell on it as more movement caught his attention and, in an instant, his father had sprung into action. His attacker’s left wrist was seized and wrenched outward off the knife while Altair Corwin’s left elbow was brought down on his attacker’s wrist, hard enough for the cracking of their arm bone to ring out across the courtyard.

The attacker gave a quick inhale of breath and nearly let out a scream were it not for his father’s follow up punch to the nose, at least the face mask covering it. The strike threw them back onto the hard stone path and he met his father’s eyes as he tapped the wrist communicator on his arm and spoke a code phrase “Aleahili”. He recognized it as a code phrase in the House Battle Tongue, one meant to trigger an alarm for the House Security Forces.

The look in his eyes, the fire that raged behind him...it scared Alester more so than the thought of dying.

More movement caught his attention and his father took up a bladed stance in front of him as more attackers melted from the shadows and foliage. Six more in total stood out and drew short blades and knives.

His father barked out in a low growl, in the House tongue, “Khudh , 'atlaq alnaar jydan.”. Hanging in his father’s left hand, concealed behind his back, was his auto revolver. He took it in his left hand and cocked the hammer.

His father tensed as the two nearest came at him first and ripped off his cape, chucking it at the attacker as he lunged and intercepting the other in hand to hand, expertly intercepting his short blade at the wrist and wrenching it free. Alester took his moment, lined up the shot, and fired the pistol. The .357 jacketed hollow points his father preferred were no subtle things, and neither was the jerk of the assassin’s head as the round impacted and promptly sprayed the rose bush behind him with grey matter and skull fragments. Alester stared for a moment longer as his first kill burned itself into his mind.

“Up, now! Stay on the ground and you die here!” His father roared as he grappled with the assassin. Getting to his feet and leveling the revolver on the nearest attacker he fired off two shots as a thrown dagger narrowly missed his face, it’s edge slicing his cheek. He saw his father reverse his grip and bring the assassin's own dagger to bear on his throat, struggling to force it into his windpipe.

The heir scrambled into his feet and took aim again as attacker number four raised to strike his father from behind. Before he could shout a warning his father wrenched the assassin around 180 degrees, driving the knife into the man’s throat while his ally sliced open his light armor suit.

Wrenching the dagger clean through the remainder of the man’s throat while shoving the sputtering body forward into the arms of his ally. Now armed with a dagger and a fallen short sword, his father set in to engage the last two standing in a swirl of blades that Alester couldn’t really keep up with. The pain began to set in as the attacker he drove off before with pistol fire emerged from the bush a lot closer than he’d like. He spawn and point fired the last 3 shots into the man as he charged the house heir and fell on him. They tumbled to the ground and Alester started to panic as the man landed on top of him. He managed to roll him off and began to bludgeon the assassin before he paused and realized the man had taken all three shots to the chest and was limp.

Getting up he looked up to see his father take a stab to the shoulder as his own blade sank into the assassin’s heart. He also saw the other fallen attacker throw off his dead colleague, take on look at him and his father before scrambling towards him, bloody dagger in hand.

Alester raised the revolver and pulled the trigger only to be met with an empty click and another bolt of sheer panic. He scrambled backwards trying to retreat only to stumble and fall on his ass. The man was upon him in an instant, his blade only caught by Alester’s own arm catching his, leaving it hovering over his face and beginning to inch closer as his own strength waned.

They locked eyes and Alester met his through his mask. They were bloodshot, red and yellow in the distinctive fashion of someone hyped up on combat stims. He was losing the fight and the knife inched closer to his face. The heir to House Corwin began to feel that mortal terror again as he realized his life would end here, on the greatest night of his life, on a world far, far away from his own.

His body fought back against his growing resignation and Alester felt his hand slam up against the attacker's face, the knife still embedded in his hand catching the face mask and stabbing through the soft plastic mesh. The assassin groaned in pain as Alester pulled it free and slammed it against his face again, ripping open his cheek flesh and spraying the younger man with fresh, warm blood.

Acting more the instinct of a wounded animal Alestor brought his palm on to the attackers neck, impaling the man in the process. He repeated this again and again, with the man giving a pained groan that soon turned into sputtering and gurgling as he destroyed his throat with each strike. After half a dozen or so stabs the men finally gave one last sputter and went limp on top of him. Alester stared into his eyes as the life drained from him, pupils glazing over..

Pushing the dead man off him, he stumbled to his feet and saw his father take on the last assassin in one on one combat, their blades meeting multiple times. Something was off though. His father was sluggish, slowing, his robe torn open where the assassin’s blade had cut him earlier. Alester caught the tell tale dark bluish tinge as what he knew to be a fast acting toxin took root in his father’s muscles. He was poisoned and his foe knew it.

Something else caught his eye, a molten red streak as what he knew to be a Crash boat drew closer rapidly.Feeling a wellspring of hope, he began to sluggishly run forward towards the two as they dueled. He heard them speak to each other in hushed tones, exchanging words as quickly as they exchanged blades. It was a strange tongue, one that he caught bits and pieces of, it was similar to the house Battle Tongue but using a much older dialect, less a segmented set of battle phrase and codes and more a fluid language, like that spoken by his mother.

He wound his arm back and chucked the empty revolver at the man. He missed, he figured he’d miss, but it was his last hope to distract him...and it worked.

The Glint of metal must have registered as some kind of thrown blade or knife as the man reflexively brought his parrying dagger to deflect it, only to be caught by surprise as it caught the trigger guard and its momentum spawn it around the blade and impacting his face. It was just enough of an opening for his father to lunge forward and bury his short sword in the man's side.

He jerked, gasped, and turned his eyes to Alester’s, muttering something as his father stabbed him in the chest with his own dagger to finish him. “Lucky move, little bird, foolish, but lucky.”

Alester dropped to his knees as his father wrenched his blades from his fallen foe’s body, letting him drop to the floor unceremoniously. The Boat landed just a few moments later, crashing through shrubbery and ornately decorated trees before coming to a stop a short distance away, the matt grey armor of the Fed-A-Bedawii reflecting little light as they stormed the path and secured the area, shields humming as stray leaf fragments landed on them.

His father spoke in rapid Bedawiin as they hooked a shield to his robe’s belt and he activated it. Alester’s vision began to blur as he came off his adrenaline high, as the pain in his palm began to intensify and he realized just how long he had been bleeding. His Father was beside him as he clutched his hand, using his robe to wrap around his hand and speaking to him as more crash boats landed near and deployed more Bedawiin commandos. As he began to drift in and out of wakefulness he witnessed the sleek frame of a Wolfhound class heavy destroying broke the lower atmosphere and held position over them. He finally keeld over and drifted into the void as the Academy Security forces arrived in a squadron of drop ships, the last sound he heard besides the whine of turbine engines and repulsors being his father’s angry yelling at the Academy staff.

[Segmentia]

Xevara's Imperial Audience
Nova Terra
Imperial Palace

Pictures never did anything justice, nor video, not really. And so it was with the inside of the Imperial Palace. There were entire volumes by famous authors describing the grandeur of just the hallways. Xevara had never bothered with those books, if she was being honest, how boring of a read it would be. Besides, she had always expected she would see it in person one day, and now she was. The Lancellum’s were wealthy, insanely so, so much that even the Great Houses of the Imperium were lower on that particular pecking order, except for the most ancient of them perhaps, the ones who had been with the Imperium for even longer than the Meos species had been. Her family had been a ruling family of the Meos species since even before willingly joining with the Imperium, and as the Meos species itself had been propelled into never before seen prosperity, so too did her family. And it had been that way for nearly twenty thousand years. But the palace was something else entirely.

Xevara found it slightly funny as well, being escorted by the Praetorians and passing them in their silent vigils. She was a fair bit taller than them, almost towered over them honestly, but she had never felt quite so vulnerable. They had an unseen edge to them, the way they stood and held themselves. She had seen it in veterans and mercenaries that were worth their price, but it was quite amplified here.

And then came the throne room itself. She did indeed find it hard to focus on anything other than the throne itself, and as she approached the Emperor she felt incredibly uneasy. She was being watched, but by more than just security. The silence of the great nothingness was louder than anything she had ever heard, in an odd way. But as she drew nearer to the Emperor and the Throne the whispering began, ancient and haunting. There had always been stories of those who went into the actual Throne room and neared the Throne would have nightmares for weeks afterwards, and most dismissed them as exaggeration and overexcitement of having actually been in an audience with the Emperor. But now she expected that it wasn’t over exaggeration at all.

Xevara came to a halt a few meters from the Emperor, after he had spoken, and bowed at the waist. She had been informed bowing from the waist was the proper form for such a meeting, though she need not go to a full 90 degree bow. “Your Imperial Majesty, I’m honored by your summons.” She replied.

By all the accounts she had heard, Emperor Baldor was a humble man, not one for much pomp and ceremony from what she had also seen of his few public outings, but a more relaxed atmosphere would be for him and him alone to affirm. Until such a time, she would follow the court customs to the absolute best of her ability. She didn’t want to be remembered as the Viceroy who lost her position after barely a year.

[Imperialisium]

Xevara's Imperial Audience
Nova Terra
Imperial Palace

Pictures never did anything justice, nor video, not really. And so it was with the inside of the Imperial Palace. There were entire volumes by famous authors describing the grandeur of just the hallways. Xevara had never bothered with those books, if she was being honest, how boring of a read it would be. Besides, she had always expected she would see it in person one day, and now she was. The Lancellum’s were wealthy, insanely so, so much that even the Great Houses of the Imperium were lower on that particular pecking order, except for the most ancient of them perhaps, the ones who had been with the Imperium for even longer than the Meos species had been. Her family had been a ruling family of the Meos species since even before willingly joining with the Imperium, and as the Meos species itself had been propelled into never before seen prosperity, so too did her family. And it had been that way for nearly twenty thousand years. But the palace was something else entirely.

Xevara found it slightly funny as well, being escorted by the Praetorians and passing them in their silent vigils. She was a fair bit taller than them, almost towered over them honestly, but she had never felt quite so vulnerable. They had an unseen edge to them, the way they stood and held themselves. She had seen it in veterans and mercenaries that were worth their price, but it was quite amplified here.

And then came the throne room itself. She did indeed find it hard to focus on anything other than the throne itself, and as she approached the Emperor she felt incredibly uneasy. She was being watched, but by more than just security. The silence of the great nothingness was louder than anything she had ever heard, in an odd way. But as she drew nearer to the Emperor and the Throne the whispering began, ancient and haunting. There had always been stories of those who went into the actual Throne room and neared the Throne would have nightmares for weeks afterwards, and most dismissed them as exaggeration and overexcitement of having actually been in an audience with the Emperor. But now she expected that it wasn’t over exaggeration at all.

Xevara came to a halt a few meters from the Emperor, after he had spoken, and bowed at the waist. She had been informed bowing from the waist was the proper form for such a meeting, though she need not go to a full 90 degree bow. “Your Imperial Majesty, I’m honored by your summons.” She replied.

By all the accounts she had heard, Emperor Baldor was a humble man, not one for much pomp and ceremony from what she had also seen of his few public outings, but a more relaxed atmosphere would be for him and him alone to affirm. Until such a time, she would follow the court customs to the absolute best of her ability. She didn’t want to be remembered as the Viceroy who lost her position after barely a year.

The Emperor merely nodded at the platitudes with a small smile, and a slight tilting of the head in respect to the Viceroy's own station. Baldor wasted no time in speaking, directly, with surprising lack of formality, "Valeria informed me about the plan regarding the exportation of produce to Nova Terra. I agree. However, there is another concern which arises should a sizable market share of Nova Terra's agricultural demands be present in one region of space. That of its security." Indeed, tens of thousands of worlds traded with Nova Terra and possessing a market share beyond a fraction of a percent was sizable. To have something in single or double digits was very rare and gave great economic potential. But with it comes the risk of ten thousand opponents sharpening their blades to take out such a competitor.

"It is at the recommendation of Valeria that you be made an Imperial Executor and Military Director. She seems to have faith in your abilities and does not doubt your loyalty. So perhaps I must not doubt her," Baldor turned with a wry smile to Xevara, "at least as much as I do of late." Baldor was speaking in between the lines to Xevara. Valeria was heir presumptive by being the still present eldest child. Yet, Verina had such political and theological backing that it would be clear blows would be traded between the sisters over the future of the Galactic Imperium, and that of all civilization. Baldor was following Valeria's decision as a nod to her needing to do so as a likely future Tsaraj-Empress.

The voices in the throne picked up their pitch in Xevara's mind. Thoughts of power and splendor. Images which she has never seen shot into her mind, and out again to be forgotten moments later, it was a horribly entrancing affair to be so near something so alien to her mind. Even more so than Human's were. That they could have built something so hypnotic in power could be nothing short of terrifying.

"Your duties, by direct order of your Emperor, will be to keep the supply line to Nova Terra secure, and safe, from any and all who would seek to disrupt it. You shall have full autonomy on the requisition of Oversector resources for establishing security throughout your territories and supply lines. Do you have any protest or comment on this development, Executor?"

[Bentus]

A cowrite between Imperialisium and Bentus.

---

The Gardens were almost more beautiful during the day. Looking out over what could only be described as a pond, Nailara couldn’t help but smile at the landscape around her. Every tiny detail fit together like a flawless painting, from the gentle fountain in the center of the water feature to the immaculate hedges that made the small cove feel decidedly intimate. From where she was sitting, Nailara wouldn’t have been able to tell she was inside one of the palace’s great domes without gazing up to see the glass panels criss-crossing the sky. The internal climate was kept delightfully perfect, going a fair way towards helping to preserve the illusion.

But even as she looked out over her gorgeous surroundings, Nailara had to resist the urge to wring her hands. A tea spread had been laid out on the small table before her, but the single cup she’d served herself was already starting to go cold while she waited. She’d been told that the prince was running late by the palace staff, which had served to only heighten her already frayed nerves. Concerns that she was dragging him away from some other important engagement layered atop worries about how their first face-to-face meeting would go.

It didn’t help that the amount of time and effort that had been focused on preparing her appearance that morning felt ridiculous. As if to match the more casual setting of this part of the Gardens, Nailara’s flowing gown from the night before had been replaced with a more relaxed dress. Although she’d had to hold back a laugh at the description of the elegant ensemble as merely a sundress. A veritable team of servants had picked and pruned at her for more than an hour, ensuring that every little detail didn’t appear either too formal or too unkept. Nailara had to admit that she’d been stopped by her own reflection afterwards, but it all still felt a little bit overdone. If this was supposed to be a casual encounter with the man that she was meant to marry then wouldn’t it have been better to do it without all this additional fuss?

Nailara was about to allow for a sigh to escape from her lips when she saw the Imperial Seneschal emerge from behind a hedge. Feeling her chest tighten, she did her best not to let her prior nerves show on her features.

“Lady Nailara, may I present Princes Romeran and Rheman of House Valkoroi Rhoiamyno. Rightly fourth and fifth in line to the throne of the Imperium.”

“Third,” chirped Romeran quickly at the Seneschal. His words bear no remorse or concern for the disappearance of the eldest sibling of the reigning Emperor of the Known Universe. Evidently, as one might imagine there seemed to be no love lost among the younger male heirs.

The Imperial Princes, true to their likeness, would have been identical. Save for the fact Romeran was taller ever so slightly while Rheman had a rotund look conceived by his history of hedonistic gluttony. Not corpulent, but obviously overweight and heavy around the midriff. Something which Imperial Medical Chirurgeons no doubt spent much time controlling. A fight between the Emperor’s physicians and his son’s insatiable desire to eat sometimes up to sixteen courses in a day.

A glint of electrum, swirling gold and silver, almost bronze except the color was so unique and ethereal to the naked eyes as to be uncanny. Nailara would see one of the Praetorians. The silent bodyguards of the Imperial Palace and the Celestial Throne. By extension the Emperor and his scions. Yet, one could argue that that was of secondary importance to the protection of the Throne itself. Why the Praetorians never left the Palace in any significant force for centuries. Even in the campaigns of Baldor’s early years he was only accompanied by at most one hundred of the Solarian armored and equipped warriors. A scarce faction of the rumored ten to fifty thousand warriors which garrisoned the inner Palace. None could be for sure, and counting their number has so far been completely fruitless, for even the method of their recruitment is unknown to all outside of their own order. The fully armored warrior merely stood silently off to the side. His helmet's ruby eye visors disguise who he would be looking at. His bulk was impressive, standing head and shoulders above them all. Putting even the height of a spaceborne to shame.

Yet, while they were stretched and elongated by human growth due to low or lack of gravity. This warrior was entirely proportional. In his hand a curious staff-like weapon was clutched. Made out of the same material as his armor. Threaded with arcane energies forbidden to even the most esteemed of the Galaxy’s engineers. Elegant aquila gilded sword at his hip. White leather strips formed a skirt in the style of an Ancient Empire from Terra.

However, despite all of this impressive scale the warrior’s armor was not awkward or even oversized in appearance. It was efficient in ergonomics, and so silent in movement that Nailara and the Princes probably could not have even surmised the location of the Praetorian if he did not wish to be seen. The warriors' scarlet cloak drifted ever so slightly in the internal weather patterns of the gardens.

“Come now Romulan, your pause is rude,” stated Rheman quickly, “Lady Nailara, a true pleasure.” An attempt at a bow was followed which Romulan imitated with infinitely more grace.

“A true pleasure. My sister spoke quite highly of you.” Rehearsed line? Lie? In truth it had been accurate. Valeria had personally spoken to Romulan and Rheman before they were to ‘chance’ upon Nailara in the gardens. She had been stern and remarked that any foolery reported to her would make it back to father. A fact that sent a shiver down Prince’s spines. Father would have them shipped back to Odin once more.

“Oh no, the pleasure is all mine. And you weren’t rude at all, Prince Romulan.” Nailara started, catching herself as the pair of scions addressed her. She had to tear her gaze away from the towering golden warrior that had walked in silently behind them. Even after seeing them the night before, watching over the celebration’s attendees, she was still taken aback to see one of the Emperor’s Praetorians so close. Pushing herself to her feet, Nailara curtseyed. “And I am honored that the Princess would speak of me so.”

She gestured to the table spread. “Please, don’t let me keep you standing. I -” It was a practiced gesture, but Nailara caught herself. She found her eyes brushing over the princes’ features. She’d seen them countless times before: on statues and holographics depicting their likeness. To meet them in person felt almost surreal.

“Truth be told, I’m supposed to say that I prepared this myself. But I feel like doing so would just leave a poor taste in my mouth.” Pausing for a moment, the corner of the girl’s mouth twitched upwards into a more genuine smile. “I doubt that I could make such an exquisite meal even if my life depended on it. Though I suppose that’s all the more reason for it to be a shame if it went to waste, wouldn’t you say?”

Rheman was the first to respond, quite emphatically, “A certainly delicious arrangement. Alas, do not sell yourself short Lady Nailara.” Moving to seat himself first, Romulan barely hid a smirk as he pulled out a chair for Nailara. Allowing the woman to seat before himself. The other twin took his seat last. Rheman was already beginning to eat when Romulan responded, remaining on topic, “I am sure you would be able to pull together such a table spread if the demand arose.”

Nailara thanked Romulan as she took the offered seat. She tried not to dwell on the thought that the Imperium’s prince had just deigned to treat her so, lest she feel the need to visibly pinch herself then and there. While Rheman was being polite enough, Nailara couldn’t deny that her attention was being drawn more to his brother. Partly due to Rheman’s attention seeming to be more on his food than on conversation with her, but mostly since Bakahim had made it clear that Romulan was the main focus of efforts to marry her into the royal family.

“Perhaps if I was sufficiently motivated.” Nailara responded with a smirk, thinking that the Prince was perhaps being a bit too generous with his praise. “And the situation warranted it, I suppose.”

Romulan was certainly pleasing on the eyes, although Nailara did her best to let her gaze drift. He had a welcoming smile, although held himself with a posture that was at once both aloof and self-assured. His jawline was reminiscent of the Emperor’s, and while he wasn’t as well-built as a soldier, there was a toned definition to the young man’s muscles.

She was getting distracted.

Nailara took a sip of tea to try and fill the brief silence, using it as an excuse to tear her glance away from the prince. She considered continuing with the small talk, before deciding to simply do away with it lest her nerves ultimately got the better of her. “I trust that you know why this meeting was arranged, your Highness?”

Romulan was about to speak when Rheman abruptly cut him off, “Oh come now, brother, I know the face you’re making. Give the Lady the honest truth.” Rheman looked at Nailara, “The reason I care more for this food than the conversation, and do not take this the wrong way, is that I have a familial directive to ensure Romulan obeys my dear elder sister.”

Romulan shot a look at Rheman. One which told that he had not been privy to this familial order. Yet, there was only one person, nay one man, who could do such a thing to the Imperial Executor and that was the Emperor himself.

Romulan gulped visibly and took a sip of his tea before speaking in a more plain tone. “Yes, I am aware that this arrangement is in pursuit of a marriage prospect. Our Fathers are indeed old friends and he is eager to put his younger sons to use.” Ignoring that Rheman merely nodded while assaulting the next morsel of food like his Father had entire planets in his early days.

“Truth be told, I know how arranged marriages go, I am not as ignorant as some might think, and I fully expect no true feelings will transgress between us. Yet, the value of such a union is apparently well worth the effort by our progenitors. Now, I dare say that answers your question, surely enough?”

“Indeed it does.” Nailara noted the curious exchange between the two brothers, but didn’t understand why Romulan seemed to have reacted with such discomfort.

She tried to mask her own unease at the older prince’s words, even if deep down she shared some of his concerns. Arranged marriages were more common than not within the convoluted web of Zufaran political alliances, and plenty of her cousins seemed to be more than happy with their arranged partners. And yet, none of those cousins had the opportunity to become part of the royal family itself. The thought had lit an ambitious fire in Nailara’s chest from the moment it had been planted in her head.

“The logic does seem to be sound. And I’m pleased to hear that our families believe that we’d make a good match.” Nailara shifted, allowing herself a sheepish smile as she continued. “But honestly, this all still feels rather surreal. I always wished to visit Nova Terra someday, but I never expected that I might be betrothed to an Imperial prince.” She turned to look around at their surroundings, as if to breathe in the Imperial Gardens in case they all turned out to be a mirage she’d dreamed up. “I understand that you must have plenty of suitors to choose from, but I would be honored to aid you in your duties as your wife. Both in service to the Imperium, and to yourself as a member of the royal family.”

“In truth I–.”

“Romulan.” Rheman cut off Romulan’s reply with a shockingly terse glare. Romulan sighed for a moment before adopting a warm smile.

“Yes, however, the others were as expected. Idle daughters of corporate oligarchs or ambitious houses old and new. The Zufaran peoples have always been staunch allies to the Imperial cause and given the competence, which I no doubt see you get from your lineage, you possess it would be most welcoming for you to become my wife. I trust my abilities to be your husband would match.”

Romulan’s face reddened ever so slightly as he finally reached down to take food and drink. Intending to use both to mask his unease than sate any appetite.

“I’m pleased to hear that you think so highly of my family and I.” Nailara said, unable to entirely keep a flustered grin from her features. “And I have little doubt of your own abilities, your grace.” She felt her mouth suddenly grow dry. Hastily, she tried to elaborate. “I mean as an inspiration for the rest of the Imperium, of course. Your competence.”

There was an awkward silence as the princes ate, leaving Nailara plenty of time to feel mortified at the words that had slipped out of her mouth. She glanced around for any inspiration on a way to shift the conversation back onto safer ground. Her gaze settled on the stoic sentinel still standing motionless off to the side of their little garden cove. The golden warrior was gigantic, appearing like an impassive statue with his unflinching helm and armor. Or at least, she assumed that he was a he. Were women even allowed to serve as the Emperor’s personal guards? She wasn’t sure.

“Would your guardian care to partake in some of our meal, perhaps?” Nailara offered, offering what she hoped was a polite smile towards the praetorian. “I’m sure that we will have leftovers, and it’s the least I can offer as thanks for his efforts to protect you both.”

The Praetorian did not move. Nor did Romulan or Rheman attempt to back Nailara up on the offer. Instead, Rheman remarked, “The Praetorians do as they will, and none have ever taken the offerings of those not of their ranks.”

Indeed, the Praetorian remained still and unmoving. Not even the slightest change of grip on his weapon or shift of stance. Just a silent electrum statue.

Nailara blinked in surprise at the unexpected response, but masked her confusion with a smile.

“I see. I didn’t mean to intrude upon their customs.”

She didn’t understand, not really. But Nailara thought better of pushing the matter despite the nagging of her own curiosity. From the way the Prince had spoken, it was almost as if he himself was as excluded as she when it came to the mysterious Praetorians. But how could that be, when they were meant to serve as the honor guards for the royal family?

“Well, in that case I suppose we better dig in. It would be a shame for anything to go to waste, wouldn’t you say?”

[Segmentia]

Xevara's Imperial Audience
Nova Terra
Imperial Palace

Xevara had never truly been stunned speechless with shock in her life, other than perhaps when she was a child. It hadn’t been a shock when she was accepted to the premiere university on Nova Terra, it hadn’t been a shock when she went to work for the Galactic Banking Corporation, or even when she was asked to sit on the board of Imperial Combine. Not even her affirmation to the position of Viceroy had shocked her. These things had been planned and worked on, meticulously, and their success had more or less been assured when they had been put into motion. She had the smarts for the university, and her family had the money. Her university years had more or less been working towards a position with the GBC. Granted she had been surprised when Imperial Combine first started asking around about her, checking her out for a position, and asking to sit on the board of Directors had been a pleasant surprise certainly, but it hadn’t left her speechless. Her appointment to Viceroy had been in play for nearly a decade once she had been selected as a nominee, with herself, friends, and contacts all working to get the proper vote once it came up, and with Imperial Combine and the GBC throwing their weight behind her it had been more or less assured.

For the second time today she was stunned, first from the grandeur of the inner Palace, and now this. It had hit her like a mega-haul freighter. She had risen to standing after her bow, listening intently as the Emperor spoke, ignoring the voices from the throne as best she could.

"It is at the recommendation of Valeria that you be made an Imperial Executor and Military Director.” Those were his words, and she was so shocked it was as if someone had punched her in the head, his words all but fading out into a mumble after that. She actually felt her mouth fall open in surprise. It stayed like that for a few moments until she finally regained control and snapped it shut, trying to not look like a total idiot before her Emperor.

The thrones whispers became declarations, power and splendor, her ambition literally reaching the absolute peak of what was possible within the Imperium, the only step higher was that of the title of the man standing before her, and it was as much an outlandish idea as it was treasonous so it wasn’t one she gave even the smallest bit of thought to.

"Your duties, by direct order of your Emperor, will be to keep the supply line to Nova Terra secure, and safe, from any and all who would seek to disrupt it. You shall have full autonomy on the requisition of Oversector resources for establishing security throughout your territories and supply lines. Do you have any protest or comment on this development, Executor?" His words were clear in her head as her shock began to pass. No doubt its traces were still on her features and the Emperor could no doubt spot them quite easily.

She stood there for a few moments more, trying to conjure up words that wouldn’t just come jumbling out of her mouth.

Any protests? She had essentially just been named, what, the sixth most powerful being in the Imperium? She couldn’t even remember a time when the title of Executor had been granted to someone outside the Imperial House itself, certainly no time in recent history, and certainly never an alien. Her own self-admitted ambition wouldn’t let her protest such an immense rising of status, certainly.

Comments? Well she could think of quite a few comments.

“I…I am beyond honored by the trust your Majesty and the Crown Princess have in me.” She stammered. She felt like a school-girl being called in front of the entire class, and it was only the Emperor and her. And the Throne.

Her typical, self-assured grin started to reform on her lips. “I almost can’t comprehend the words you just spoke, my Emperor, I don’t think I’ve ever been quite so shocked in my life.” She was careful with her tone, of course. He was still the Emperor, and she was still just one of his trillions of subjects, even with the fancy titles she held. “This is going to make a fair number of people quite upset.” She mused, wishing she had a strong drink right now, her mind already turning, ideas and numbers sorting themselves out. Without needing Senate approval for military matters, she could bring her projected schedule forward by months, hell, years even.

[Imperialisium]

Xevara's Imperial Audience
Nova Terra
Imperial Palace

Xevara had never truly been stunned speechless with shock in her life, other than perhaps when she was a child. It hadn’t been a shock when she was accepted to the premiere university on Nova Terra, it hadn’t been a shock when she went to work for the Galactic Banking Corporation, or even when she was asked to sit on the board of Imperial Combine. Not even her affirmation to the position of Viceroy had shocked her. These things had been planned and worked on, meticulously, and their success had more or less been assured when they had been put into motion. She had the smarts for the university, and her family had the money. Her university years had more or less been working towards a position with the GBC. Granted she had been surprised when Imperial Combine first started asking around about her, checking her out for a position, and asking to sit on the board of Directors had been a pleasant surprise certainly, but it hadn’t left her speechless. Her appointment to Viceroy had been in play for nearly a decade once she had been selected as a nominee, with herself, friends, and contacts all working to get the proper vote once it came up, and with Imperial Combine and the GBC throwing their weight behind her it had been more or less assured.

For the second time today she was stunned, first from the grandeur of the inner Palace, and now this. It had hit her like a mega-haul freighter. She had risen to standing after her bow, listening intently as the Emperor spoke, ignoring the voices from the throne as best she could.

"It is at the recommendation of Valeria that you be made an Imperial Executor and Military Director.” Those were his words, and she was so shocked it was as if someone had punched her in the head, his words all but fading out into a mumble after that. She actually felt her mouth fall open in surprise. It stayed like that for a few moments until she finally regained control and snapped it shut, trying to not look like a total idiot before her Emperor.

The thrones whispers became declarations, power and splendor, her ambition literally reaching the absolute peak of what was possible within the Imperium, the only step higher was that of the title of the man standing before her, and it was as much an outlandish idea as it was treasonous so it wasn’t one she gave even the smallest bit of thought to.

"Your duties, by direct order of your Emperor, will be to keep the supply line to Nova Terra secure, and safe, from any and all who would seek to disrupt it. You shall have full autonomy on the requisition of Oversector resources for establishing security throughout your territories and supply lines. Do you have any protest or comment on this development, Executor?" His words were clear in her head as her shock began to pass. No doubt its traces were still on her features and the Emperor could no doubt spot them quite easily.

She stood there for a few moments more, trying to conjure up words that wouldn’t just come jumbling out of her mouth.

Any protests? She had essentially just been named, what, the sixth most powerful being in the Imperium? She couldn’t even remember a time when the title of Executor had been granted to someone outside the Imperial House itself, certainly no time in recent history, and certainly never an alien. Her own self-admitted ambition wouldn’t let her protest such an immense rising of status, certainly.

Comments? Well she could think of quite a few comments.

“I…I am beyond honored by the trust your Majesty and the Crown Princess have in me.” She stammered. She felt like a school-girl being called in front of the entire class, and it was only the Emperor and her. And the Throne.

Her typical, self-assured grin started to reform on her lips. “I almost can’t comprehend the words you just spoke, my Emperor, I don’t think I’ve ever been quite so shocked in my life.” She was careful with her tone, of course. He was still the Emperor, and she was still just one of his trillions of subjects, even with the fancy titles she held. “This is going to make a fair number of people quite upset.” She mused, wishing she had a strong drink right now, her mind already turning, ideas and numbers sorting themselves out. Without needing Senate approval for military matters, she could bring her projected schedule forward by months, hell, years even.

"Upset, yes, furious, assuredly. Murderous? Inevitable. But that is why a Legion of Tsaraj'kar will be deploying to your oversector. To see that stability is guaranteed and that my trust in my daughter's nominations has not been mistaken." At that Baldor turned back to the throne and waved a hand, effectively dismissing the new Imperial Executor from the Throne Room. The high elegant doors to the rear of Xevara yawned open like a waiting maw. Ready to swallow her whole back down into the depths of the Imperial Palace. There, the same party which had rendezvoused with the then Viceroy were standing. There they would take Xevara with them back to the shuttle and thence out of the Palace district. Returning her to the luxurious apartment home that she provisioned for herself when on Nova Terra.

[Segmentia]

Nova Terra, The Goddess’ Bounty
January 30th of Imperial Year 19,923 (25,709AD)

When it came to Meosian cuisine, The Goddess’ Bounty was the premiere location on Nova Terra. It was an exclusive location, reservation only, and almost prohibitively expensive as all the ingredients were directly imported from Meos. It was where Meosians went to conduct the highest level of business talks and negotiations. Treaties that had ended thousands of years of inter-family rivalries had been negotiated in the private dining booths and rooms, each one having a Privacy Shield that could be activated by the occupants. Xevara had been here hundreds of times throughout her life, since her days in private university on Nova Terra. She would be sad at the prospect of not being able to dine here as often as her duties as Viceroy would be keeping her away from Nova Terra for longer and longer durations, but thankfully her own kitchens were just as well, if not more so, stocked as the ones here.

Sitting in her private booth, Xevara awaited the arrival of Ferlon IV. She was honestly still surprised that he had accepted the terms of the meeting, given his Houses reputations. But all that was in the back of her mind, and had been since the meeting with the Emperor. Sometimes her mind would wonder from the meeting and what had come from it, and then she would see one of the Tsaraj'kar that was part of her personal security detail and it would come rushing back to her.

Imperial Executor.

The thought of it still sent a chill down her spine, both from the thrill of the unexpected elevation and also because in the back of her mind she recalled the whispers of the Throne. Xevara smiled though, sipping at a glass of Meosian wine as she waited.

When Ferlon IV did arrive, he and whatever company he had brought would find Tsaraj'kar warriors just inside the front entrance, and see the distinctive clad warriors scattered throughout the restaurant, mostly at any doorways into the dining area, as well as three of them standing guard at Xevara’s personal booth. Naturally his company and himself would be scanned, and only two of his own guards would be allowed into the restaurant proper, and even then not even allowed near Xevara.

[Antimersia]

Nova Terra, The Goddess’ Bounty
January 30th of Imperial Year 19,923 (25,709AD)

With his son off-world, Ferlon IV could breathe ever so easier. Having to babysit his boorish and uncouth heir took more of his energy than he cared to admit. But with him headed home to Crux, he was free to focus on his goals. Even if they did require entering restaurants of non human origin. Ferlon greatly preferred human cuisine. In his experience, he had noted a rather large amount of raw food in non human cuisine that he found off putting. Himself being a fan of roasted bovine above all else. But personal taste must be throw aside in the world of negotiations and politics. So meeting in a non human restaurant was hardly a pill to swallow if it meant furthering his goals.

The restaurant itself has such a Tsaraj'kar presence that one might think a member of the Emperor's family is dining here this afternoon. Thankfully, after the Tsaraj'kar scan Ferlon IV and his pair of bodyguards, they take no issue with allowing the pair into the establishment. The hostess herself was a rather large woman of the same species as Xevara. Meosian, as Ferlon believes it to be. He is only aware due to research he had done on Xevara herself before arriving today. He is nothing if not prepared. As the non human hostess leads Ferlon IV and his two guards, it can be plainly seen that she is uncomfortable in their presence. No doubt his family's reputation has reached her ears. Something that Ferlon is not particularly proud of.

As they all arrive at the table, where the surprisingly large Xevara sits, the Tsaraj'kar halt Ferlon IV's guards from entering the booth with him. The guards are clearly unhappy, but Ferlon calms them, not wanting to lose two guards to such a simple squabble. He enters the booth and stands beside the table briefly. His own height, and Xevara sitting, make his eye level raise just above Xevara's as he looks slightly down into her eyes. He maintains an almost expressionless appearance while greeting the Visceroy. "I appreciate you meeting me. I can imagine my House's name is not one that inspires much confidence in you."