The Palace of the Regent, In the City of High Sepulchrave, On the Moste Revered and August Moon Cathedra, in Orbit of Far Valyrius, In the Throne System, Capital System of the Grand Duchy of Agamenos
She sat on the balcony adjacent to her private solar, at a small table set for two. She sipped ocha-leaf tea and looked down over the white marble towers and verdigrised roofs of High Sepulchrave.
The massive blue-white orb of Far Valyrius hung over the metropolis like the eye of God, bathing it in deep cerulean radiance.
Her gaze wandered over the panorama spread before her, pausing on the immense, pink-granite dome of the Sector Diet and the twisting spires of the Spyndlebrood Palace beside it, where the Grand Duke dwelt, mouldering in senility.
To the east rose the vast Temple of the Hyades, a towering ziggurat that climbed even higher into the dark azure skies than the spires of the ducal Palace. As she watched, the Temple lit its morning fires, each of its uncountable tiers bursting into successive golden radiance.
Above, airships and pleasure drogues lumbered lazily across the urban skyline like contented fish in calm seas, careless of the smaller craft swarming around them.
High Sepulchrave. Capital city of seven star systems. The place from which uncounted billions were ruled.
Ruled, at least in part, by her: Katarine Valacious Pauline Hildegaard von Grindéhook, first of her name, by right of birth Countess of all Odros and Margravine of Garyth-on-Valyrius, lawfully elected Protector of the Realm, and – most significantly- Regent to the Grand Ducal Throne.
She was tall and slim, severe in both her features and bearing, and wore the starched blue uniform of a naval officer, replete with gold trim. A single medal shone on her chest, the Imperial Order of Lord Admiral Hyrophylies, the single highest naval honor awarded by the Sector Diet or the Grand Duke. She had other decorations, of course, but unlike the majority of her caste she had no need nor urge to parade her accomplishments. Boasting was the habit of the frustrated and weak.
A chime dinged softly, signaling the arrival of her guest. The details of her appointment were sent directly to her neuro-uplinks over the palace noosphere, but she waved them away with a slight shake of her head. She knew who was here, and why.
“You may come out,” said the Regent.
The door to her solar slipped open and a short, slender man stepped into the dark blue light of the Cathedran morning. He was dark skinned, with close cropped hair and startlingly pale eyes. He wore a simple but finely tailored black suit. A cigarette of tarric root smouldered between the fingers of his left hand. The faint silver tracery of high-end bioaugmentics crawled up the right of his neck and ended at his temple.
He stopped short of the table and bowed.
“Your Undisputed Excellency,” he said. His soft voice trembled, as though he were unwell, but he moved with an effortless, precise grace. His hands did not shake.
“Pallansour.” she replied, her dark eyes meeting his pale gaze. “Sit.”
Synthetic arms extended from the underside of the table and utilized their delicate manipulators to pour the Regent's guest a cup of tea, which he did not sip.
Vidyous Pallansour took a draw on his cigarette instead, and exhaled a cloud of twisting, spicy smoke.
“Well?” she asked.
“It's as we've feared,” he said.
The Regent leaned back in her chair and folded her arms, frowning, her dark eyes sweeping back over the city. Somewhere in the floating gardens a level below them, a songcrab began to croon and twitter amorously.
“Who's been told?” she asked.
“Me and you, Your Excellency. The scouts themselves know, of course- those who managed to return alive, anyway, but I've detained them in Silence Chambers. No one else knows. I came straight here.”
She nodded. There was a long silence before she spoke.
“Worlds will burn, Pallansour. Even if we do stop them in the end.”
The small man shrugged slightly. “That is likely, Excellency.”
“And before that, in the time before they arrive... you and I are going to have to shed a great deal of blood.”
Pallansour gazed across the table at the handsome, grim woman who ruled- as much as anyone did, anyway- the last bastion of civilization in the entire quadrant.
“Oceans, Excellency.” he said in his wavering, sad voice. His eyes, for their part, remained quite cold.
She sat on the balcony adjacent to her private solar, at a small table set for two. She sipped ocha-leaf tea and looked down over the white marble towers and verdigrised roofs of High Sepulchrave.
The massive blue-white orb of Far Valyrius hung over the metropolis like the eye of God, bathing it in deep cerulean radiance.
Her gaze wandered over the panorama spread before her, pausing on the immense, pink-granite dome of the Sector Diet and the twisting spires of the Spyndlebrood Palace beside it, where the Grand Duke dwelt, mouldering in senility.
To the east rose the vast Temple of the Hyades, a towering ziggurat that climbed even higher into the dark azure skies than the spires of the ducal Palace. As she watched, the Temple lit its morning fires, each of its uncountable tiers bursting into successive golden radiance.
Above, airships and pleasure drogues lumbered lazily across the urban skyline like contented fish in calm seas, careless of the smaller craft swarming around them.
High Sepulchrave. Capital city of seven star systems. The place from which uncounted billions were ruled.
Ruled, at least in part, by her: Katarine Valacious Pauline Hildegaard von Grindéhook, first of her name, by right of birth Countess of all Odros and Margravine of Garyth-on-Valyrius, lawfully elected Protector of the Realm, and – most significantly- Regent to the Grand Ducal Throne.
She was tall and slim, severe in both her features and bearing, and wore the starched blue uniform of a naval officer, replete with gold trim. A single medal shone on her chest, the Imperial Order of Lord Admiral Hyrophylies, the single highest naval honor awarded by the Sector Diet or the Grand Duke. She had other decorations, of course, but unlike the majority of her caste she had no need nor urge to parade her accomplishments. Boasting was the habit of the frustrated and weak.
A chime dinged softly, signaling the arrival of her guest. The details of her appointment were sent directly to her neuro-uplinks over the palace noosphere, but she waved them away with a slight shake of her head. She knew who was here, and why.
“You may come out,” said the Regent.
The door to her solar slipped open and a short, slender man stepped into the dark blue light of the Cathedran morning. He was dark skinned, with close cropped hair and startlingly pale eyes. He wore a simple but finely tailored black suit. A cigarette of tarric root smouldered between the fingers of his left hand. The faint silver tracery of high-end bioaugmentics crawled up the right of his neck and ended at his temple.
He stopped short of the table and bowed.
“Your Undisputed Excellency,” he said. His soft voice trembled, as though he were unwell, but he moved with an effortless, precise grace. His hands did not shake.
“Pallansour.” she replied, her dark eyes meeting his pale gaze. “Sit.”
Synthetic arms extended from the underside of the table and utilized their delicate manipulators to pour the Regent's guest a cup of tea, which he did not sip.
Vidyous Pallansour took a draw on his cigarette instead, and exhaled a cloud of twisting, spicy smoke.
“Well?” she asked.
“It's as we've feared,” he said.
The Regent leaned back in her chair and folded her arms, frowning, her dark eyes sweeping back over the city. Somewhere in the floating gardens a level below them, a songcrab began to croon and twitter amorously.
“Who's been told?” she asked.
“Me and you, Your Excellency. The scouts themselves know, of course- those who managed to return alive, anyway, but I've detained them in Silence Chambers. No one else knows. I came straight here.”
She nodded. There was a long silence before she spoke.
“Worlds will burn, Pallansour. Even if we do stop them in the end.”
The small man shrugged slightly. “That is likely, Excellency.”
“And before that, in the time before they arrive... you and I are going to have to shed a great deal of blood.”
Pallansour gazed across the table at the handsome, grim woman who ruled- as much as anyone did, anyway- the last bastion of civilization in the entire quadrant.
“Oceans, Excellency.” he said in his wavering, sad voice. His eyes, for their part, remained quite cold.
