Lyselum. Seated on the far western side of the continent upon which it sat, nestled in a large bay which jutted in from the curving coastline like a nose and sitting on gently-rolling hills which surrounded the water, it had served as the capital of the Kingdom of Lyselum for time immemorial. Based on its geography, it had also been a natural center of trade for both seaborne and airborne commerce, and this economic wealth had bred artistic and cultural wealth as well. This continued wealth expanded upon itself over the centuries and millennia, and the people who benefited the most of it were the royal family of House Lyseli. Even under kind and gentle rulers, who kept taxes low, the sheer wealth of the inhabitants of the city brought millions of credits into the royal coffers; when the poor and cruel rulers took the throne, it only increased the royal revenue. Lyselum became a center of international trade and culture, and its universities were the envy of foreign academics. The Lyselis began to spread this wealth throughout their province, expanding cities, building up infrastructure, and fostering culture and education aross the land, from the ocean to their eastern borders. Yet the Lyselis were not satisfied. This wealth could only continue to increase for so long, and even though the outer limits of the city itself expanded outwards, the Lyseli kings knew that there would be a terminal point, when the city and indeed the province could no longer expand. It was not a question of if; it was a question of when.
So the Lyselis put their money towards another venture: military. The Lyseli family can be criticized for focusing on their legacy, and indeed even their words, “Ancient is our Power,” speaks to their claims to descend from the captain of the Starward Destiny. Historians and pundits have said that this is a weakness, that they should focus on the present, but the greatest plans take many years to hatch, or so the Lyselis would argue; they have evidence on their side. The initial plans which would eventually lead to the Lyselis conquering the entirety of Gylif were born centuries before the first Lyseli armies ever marched beyond their own borders. Money was put into technological advances, into training and expanding their military forces, and laying strategic and logistical foundations for their future conquests. It showed during their opening wars, especially during the long and brutal conflict against the Lyselums, rumored to be an ancient offshoot branch of the Lyseli family. The Lyselums were powerful and well-trained militarily, but in the end were no match for the Lyselis, especially after the death of their duke, and the Lyselis’ first victory was won.
Over the next nine centuries, war after war expanded the holdings of the Lyselis, but foresight again proved to be valuable. They knew that in the culture of Gylif, the long-standing Great Houses were all well-liked by most of their people and indeed tied to their lands. A foreign power coming in, usurping them, and putting themselves in charge would be viewed negatively by most, if not all, and dissention would ferment. Perhaps not immediately, but over time, grudges and anger only gets worse, not better. And so the Lyselis ensured that each former kingdom was granted a measure of self-rule; enough so that they were not overly resentful, but with enough oversight and control that ensured that they were still subordinate and loyal to the Crown. Rebellions were crushed quickly and efficiently, loyalty was rewarded handsomely within the Kingdom, and in the end even more wealth flowed back westward to Lyselum.
Here now, the master of all the wealth which made Lyselum what it was, was Laurent Lyseli, King of Gylif, the Lord of Lyselum, and Ruler of the Planet. He stood on a balcony in the main throne room of the ancient Lyseli fortress, known simply as The Stone, leaning forward with both hands on the railing and looking down at the throng of people below, Lords, Ladies, and attendants all. His graying hair was combed sideways on his head, his matching beard trimmed tight and close. He knew the importance of appearance, and this day, as any day, was as important as ever. Thus he was dressed accordingly, in a rich blue outfit, pants and a jacket with a high collar, all trimmed in silver lining with silver buttons and silver cuffs, and silver piping curling up along both of his sleeves. Atop his head sat the golden crown of Gylif, set with blue precious stones and gleaming pieces of silver specially engineered to catch the light and sparkle even when he stood still. To finish it all off, he flashed frequent smiles at whoever happened to look up at him, a warm, disarming grin which would make even the most hardened men laugh and every woman giggle.
Beside Laurent, flanking him on his right, stood his son, Tilyr, dressed in a fine dress uniform of bleached white, his left breast dotted with medals, and with golden epaulets and a golden and blue sash draped across his left shoulder down to the right side of his waist. At his waist he wore a golden belt, from which hung an ornate blaster pistol on one side and a ceremonial blade at the other. His dirty blonde hair was cropped close against his head in a military fashion, and his steely blue eyes scanned the Lords and Ladies and their attendants below carefully and deliberately. He was a military man, through and through, and though these proceedings bored him, one look at the occasional lopsided smirk he gave off would tell anyone that he was pleased to recognize several military officers from various provinces with whom he had sparred in exercises over the past few years.
On Laurent’s left side stood his daughter, Keira. Like her father and brother, she looked her finest on this day, dressed in a magnificent blue gown with a silver stripe running across her chest and down to her ankles, standing several inches higher from her heels, and wearing eye-catching jewelry to match. Her hair was done up behind her head in a style that would be copied across the planet as soon as the holonews sent their videos out; she was a trendsetter, that much was obvious, and she reveled in it. She stood cockeyed to the crowd, one hand supporting her on the bannister, and appeared to glance only occasionally downwards to blow a kiss, wave her hand, or wink. Only she and her brother knew that she was carefully identifying and reading everyone who saw her, all the while playing her role as the court maiden.
Laurent looked down at his Lords and Ladies, coming from across the Kingdom here to Lyselum, as he had requested, for a Grand Council to discuss the new ambassadors. He had attendants who were keeping track of everyone who arrived, but he liked to keep a count himself, and attempted to make deliberate eye contact with each of his vassals as they entered his hall. There were still several missing, but Laurent was content to wait; he had set a relatively late starting time for the Council, and there was plenty of time until then. A Grand Council was a proceeding which had been established at the conclusion of the Conquest Wars which won the Lyselis the throne. They had created the event as part of their appeasement of the defeated Houses, allowing them to bring grievances before all the Great Houses in the Kingdom in the throne room of the King or Queen and have all the voices of the Houses be heard at once. Any Great Lord, or the Monarch, could call a Grand Council, allowing the Great Houses to bring forward their issues with the Monarch without fear of reprisal. In the past it had served various purposes, from trying to weaken the King to trade issues, but never before had it been summoned for something like this, something which would shake Gylif to its very core, and change the course of the planet’s destiny forever.
“What are you thinking, father?”
Tilyr’s voice snapped Laurent out of his thoughts of the future. He turned his head to smile at his son and said, “About this.” He stood up and extended his hands in a sweeping gesture. “About all of this.”
“This…nonsense?” asked Tilyr.
“The arrival of the ambassadors to our world is a great event, my son,” said Laurent. “Never before has something like this happened. People believed that the tales of the Republic, of the Starward Destiny, were just that: tales, myth, legend. Now we know that there is so much beyond our own system, a whole galaxy that we have been separated from for millennia.”
Tilyr scoffed. “You don’t need the Lords and Ladies here to decide what to do,” he said. “You want to rejoin the galaxy, so do it.” He swept his own hand out. “Who cares what these people have to think? You are the King.”
Laurent shook his head and smiled. “I am, but there are still rules to be followed.”
“Nonsense,” said Tilyr. “What have your efforts been for over the past years if not to get rid of those rules, those ‘protocols?’ This could seal your power over the planet. You could make a decision now, choose the Empire or Republic, and forever put the Houses where they belong: truly subservient to us.”
“That is not my way,” said Laurent. “And it should not be yours. A King has much responsibility. True, to join this community we will eventually have to be united completely as a planet, but we cannot do that today, or tomorrow. It will take time. You know our words. That power did not come overnight. It came over thousands of years. Now it will not take thousands of years to consolidate our power on Gylif, but it will take time. You have to step back, watch the players, and do your dance with destiny.”
Tilyr nodded, but clenched his jaw and said nothing as he turned back towards the hall below. Laurent did as well. His son would make a good King one day, he knew, he just had to help him get there.