Syrenrei

Rise to The Top: Medieval Intrigue RP

"We all have our struggles," Silke said graciously towards Duke Valdemar in regards to his son, "and life lessons that must be taught to us several times over before we learn to honor the virtues." It was a truth that sounded a bit bizarre coming out of the lips of someone so young. Loss had aged her considerably. Without a mother, despite all the staff they had at their home, she had to step into the role of family matriarch. Much of the court had become gradually aware how much her steady hand guided Count Johann Kasper and Lord Vincent Kasper.

With the duke and king monetarily distracted, she leaned forward and spoke more quietly to Galt, allowing the ambient noise of the room to create a veil of privacy for them. "I'm curious what further ambition you have for yourself," she told the newly christened count. Her gaze was calm and steady as she studied him. Even if he elected not to answer, she hoped he might react, and through body language she might glean if he wished for more or if he was truly satisfied with his title, wanting nothing more. Silke wasn't absolutely confident she'd read him perfectly nor that he'd respond in a meaningful way; however, it was worth a try.

Out of the corner of her eye she caught more people staring at them. Not all of them were as obviously hostile as Vildraven, but it brought to mind she ought to warn Galt. It was a delicate topic to navigate. She was unwilling to delve into how many romantic overtures she had rejected outright. There were enough proud men that kept her refusal to herself that she was a court oddity without any negative connotation. If she were to allude to the true number, though, there was a chance she'd evolve from an endearing enigma to a troubled spinster. Silke had to thread the figurative needle as carefully as was possible.

"There's a confession I must make before we continue. Vildraven is not the only man I've rebuffed. Happy as I am to keep you company this evening and facilitate introductions to whomever you desire, my prolonged presence may make certain lords... displeased," she stated. Galt was a shrewd man. The hint ought to give him an inkling of what he was suggesting. If nothing else, it would make him more aware of the nature of the gazes upon his person, and why his peers may be less friendly than the ladies or older gentlemen of the aristocracy.

Royal staff stopped by their table to refill drinks. Silke had drained her wine and had another generous serving poured into her empty cup. For better or worse, she had learned to hold her liquor with her father and two elder brothers growing up. Her mother would have disapproved, but the combination of Silke's silver tongue, pragmatic approach to managing the Kasper family, and ability to men her age drink for drink had helped bridge a surprising amount of social divides.

Rise to The Top: Medieval Intrigue RP

The king's entrance did not draw her attention as much as perhaps it should have. She respected the man, and held his governance in high esteem, but she had seen him plenty of times before. Galt was comparatively much more interesting. He was an unknown quantity and she was keen to discern what rumors already circulating the court were based in truth and what were the result of wild speculation. There also little that the attention of their monarch could do for nor she for him; she was without ambition for higher status and he would not have granted it to her as a woman.

Having already resigned herself to a very short private conversation with Galt, Silke was disappointed but not surprised when they were interrupted by the king's summons, and was prepared to step back so the new count could present himself. The proffered arm, however, took her entirely by surprise. As a woman who prided herself on her powers of perception, she was ashamed to admit that she hadn't anticipated his reaction, and that his wish for her to accompany him was unexpected. Internally she cursed to herself. There was no opportunity to explain herself. If she rejected him at that moment, it would reflect badly on them both, but to accept could have far-reaching consequences personally and politically.

Silke hesitated. Taking his arm filled her with dread for the discussion they'd inevitably have later regarding their respective intentions. She didn't know how many times she had to gently refute a man's romantic overtures. Since being honest about her reasons was not an option, she would get to know a suitor long enough to find an excuse, one sturdy enough to dissuade further attempts, that she would then present as proof of incompatibility. Most titled lords had egos large enough to handle being turned away and she did not feel guilty for doing so. Arguably a lady telling them, 'No,' did them more good than harm. There were a few, though, that tugged at her heartstrings, genuinely distraught over what they believed was defects in their person.

They were greeted by the king, who said the same predictably pleasant things he always did, and Galt had the sense to bow when she curtsied. A smile was planted on her lips, face belying none of her inner turmoil. Out of the corner of her eye she could see less composed members of the court watching them. Older, more gossipy matrons were visibly smug in the knowledge that no one, not even the elusive Silke Kasper, could avoid potential matches. Her peers were besides themselves with glee at the exciting story of Count Harrowmark, a newcomer hero, making such an impression on their mysteriously unattached friend. It was the gaze of the younger gentleman, those who saw her as challenge to be conquered, or who were chafed at her rejections, that worried her. Fortunately, many men whom she had turned away had moved on and found their happiness, and some others never cared to make advances on her, but there were plenty that were glaring or barely concealing their contempt.

Galt asked if Silke could sit with him. If she hadn't been such an exemplary courtier, she would have either laughed, vomited, or fainted, hopefully not all at once. For half a second she fervently wished she could sink into the floor and disappear. It was equal parts amazing and terrifying that he unconsciously navigated from her from minor crisis to disaster, blissfully ignorant all the while, yet maintaining perfect precision for creating as much calamity as possible. Her arm stiffened against his as she tensed and braced herself for figurative impact.

Mentally a stream of very unladylike words described her feelings on the situation.

And then, because fortune itself must despise her with the intensity of a thousand suns, it came to bear that she was taking Vildraven's seat. The ducal son was not the sort that liked to share. Galt's appearance in his father's life in the form of a young, dashing savior, must have made him unsettled to say the least. As the eldest son, heir to a fortune and an enviable title, he had a rampaging sense of entitlement. Silke was confident that Vildraven would be wretchedly jealous of Galt for being so adored by the duke, having the praise of the king, and being touted as an icon of courage and selflessness.

As luck would have it, he was also someone whom Silke had rejected (twice since he did not take her first refusal seriously). She sucked in her breath as Vildraven's tantrum was cut off by the two men whose approval and affection he most craved, and their eyes met briefly before he retreated into the mass of well-dressed lords and ladies. It wasn't over. Everyone else might have considered the matter settled, but she knew Vildraven well enough to know that he would fight to the bitter end to take back what he believed had been stolen from him by Galt. Unfortunately, that included her, and there was nothing she could do to stop what had been started.

When they finally sat down at the table her stomach, which had lurched into her throat minutes earlier, had resettled. Silke recognized that Galt was not the best at small talk so she led the conversations with Valdemar and his majesty, all while managing not to seem as if she were doing so. For the duke she inquired about his recovery after his ordeal, congratulated him and his wife on a recent anniversary, and complimented on their taste in attire, admiring the duchess's exquisite jewelry. The king and she chatted about a hunt he held a fortnight ago and a couple pieces of artwork he had commissioned and placed in the royal gallery. She was going through the motions, smiling brilliantly, and being her charming self, and quietly trying to find a solution to her romantic predicament.

Picking up a piece of bread, Silke listened quietly as Galt was finally afforded an opportunity to answer her question from earlier. There was an intensity to her gaze and a sympathetic turn of her lips as he stumbled over his sentences. He was no master deceiver. The facts, as he presented them, didn't quite add up. As a man of poor, unremarkable background, there was no reason for the bandits to take him prisoner, and Galt failed to pro-actively insert rationale. Master manipulator that she was, she knew that for someone possessed of a sharp wit, this omission could damage him- it would be better to have a fabrication prepared if he came under a verbal interrogation. "Quite curious they'd tie you up," she remarked, leaning in, a playful twinkle in her eye conveying she'd caught the slip. "You may want to... polish that portion of your retelling before you recount it again," the noblewoman suggested.

As if on cue, that damnable Vildraven, who had been seated on the other side of her to preserve the seating arrangement to the best of the royal staff's ability, cleared his throat. He had not been eavesdropping since he didn't care about Galt. His interruption was merely to gain Silke's attention to aggressively reassert himself. Groaning under her breath (she was in close enough proximity to Galt he likely heard her), she leaned back in her chair and turned her head toward the insufferable ducal son, a more stiff smile plastered on her face than had been there a second prior.

"Lady Silke," he began, "I would be honored to be your escort for the rest of evening. Surely Count Galt had other ladies of the court he would like to meet after he's had a chance to dine." It sounded like a gracious gesture, advantageous to them both, but she wasn't naive enough to take the bait.

"How very generous of you, Lord Vildraven, but I must decline," she replied sweetly, though her eyes were as cold as ice. "I've already promised Count Galt to facilitate certain introductions." It was a bold-faced lie that she delivered with aplomb. There was no dip or flinch in her voice, her body language remained as still as when she was honest, and it was utterly indistinguishable to anyone other than herself and Galt as a falsehood. Silke realized she was taking a risk exposing her gift to her companion; however, being trapped with Vildraven as her escort was the least desirable outcome.

"How dare you-," he growled in a low tone that did not carry to the rest of the table.

"Careful," Silke chided cheerfully, "for my brother Vincent is watching, and I'd hate for him to misinterpret your actions as hostility. He has a short temper and is quite skilled with a blade," she added, feigning concern for his well-being so adeptly that Vildraven was unable to distinguish if she was sincerely worried about his health. "Why, he's looking over here right this moment," she said as she gave a small wave to her family.

Rise to The Top: Medieval Intrigue RP

When Silke saw her brother queue to speak with Galt, she had allowed the tiniest hint of a frown to tug at the corners of her mouth. It was not that he had done anything terribly unexpected; Vincent was a proper gentleman who took his courtly responsibilities very seriously. The ghost of displeasure had been at the notion that a new count might meet her brother before any other member of the aristocracy. In her opinion, it would have been a shame if the hero's first exposure to nobility (omitting the duke) was someone so impersonal. Vincent was exponentially worse with women, of course, but she couldn't remember anyone, male or female, complimenting her on his charms.

Thankfully, Lady Frescea was quick-witted and light on her feet as she seized the opportunity to approach Vincent Kasper and take him by the arm. From a short distance away, Silke could see her brother's lips open and close as he tried to articulate an argument. He had been figuratively cornered by the time he had regained his composure enough to speak. By then, the duke had wandered off, the line had dwindled to nothing, and there was no queue for him to return to. It was incredibly satisfying seeing her plan so perfectly executed. Even her group of count's daughters and baron's daughters intuitively understood what was happening and naturally melded away as she took her first strides away from them.

The room was a veritable kaleidoscope of colors. Silke wore a gown of deep cerulean blue, embroidered at its edges with delicate silver and white embroidery, that hugged her slim figure. The precise hemming of her skirt just above the floor, as well as her smooth, elegant gait, gave the illusion of her gliding rather than walking. Her hair, a deep chocolate brown that matched her eyes, had been swept back from her face into an elaborate braid for the occasion, then decorated with sapphire ribbons and tiny white flowers. While she could not compete with the most beautiful women in the room, she enjoyed dressing well. Clothes were both the weapons and armor of a courtier.

Silke had been watching and evaluating Galt silently before her approach. Everyone knew he had saved the duke's life, but she was interested in far more details than her peers. Her father, brother, and most of the people in the room were content to know he knew how to wield a sword, dismissing the rest as unnecessary. That answer did not satisfy Silke. Quietly she studied him and noted that he had a more fluid stride than a knight, that his gaze drifted away from the duchess's face when she spoke, and that when the conversation was not so stiff and formal, he had a palpable charisma.

"Vedrick," she said, her voice as warm as if she were greeting the oldest of friends, "I do hope you haven't been too hard on the count. The very best of us struggle to match your level of composure and refinement." From nearly anyone else in the room the comment would have sounded more akin to a passive-aggressive jibe than an earnest compliment, but Silke spoke with a sincerity that made it clear she was praising the royal aide.

Redirecting her attention towards Galt, Silke leaned forward and took the hand the hand that had just been withdrawn, clasped it, and gave a firm shake. "There is nothing wrong with a little deviation from protocol. It'll be our little secret," she added with a mischievous conspiratorial whisper. No one was looking their way other than Vedrick. Truth be told, even if someone had seen the gesture, they wouldn't have been scandalized. Since establishing herself as a darling of the court, her few eccentricities were overlooked, or they were acknowledged with a good-humored laugh and shake of the head.

For a lady of her station, Silke's grip was surprisingly strong. Similarly strange, whereas ladies had perfectly smooth skin from their luxurious lifestyle, her fingers had small callouses from her secret archery practice. The count's daughter kept the handshake brief, unwilling to discuss the abnormality he might discover, and flashed him another bright smile that was a sharp contrast to the other maidens in attendance. They saw him as an eligible bachelor and so they were coy and flirtatious. Silke had no intention of every wedding. Galt was a fine man, as far as she knew anyway, but she was not meant for grand things such as a happy marriage.

"It is nice to meet you, Count Galt," she greeted. "It must be quite overwhelming to have so many new faces and names to commit to memory all at once. My father is Count Johann Kasper," she added helpfully, pointing to where he stood across the room, waiting for the king's entrance and in close proximity to the duke. Silke was a blend of both her parents' physical traits, and it took a close look to see the resemblance between her and her father. Vincent Kasper, however, took after him heavily to the point their resemblance was remarked on frequently.

"I was hoping you might regale me with the story of your rescue of the duke." Her countenance, while still warm and inviting, had a soft intensity. Her request was not a flippant attempt at casual conversation. No matter how he answered, Silke would pay rapt attention to every word, every description, every detail, and analyze it thoroughly. She had her suspicions about this man. Perhaps if she asked a direct enough question, she might be led to a response that would tell her whether or not he was worthy of her cause.

Rise to The Top: Medieval Intrigue RP

"Rather easy on the eyes for a lowborn," Lady Margerie whispered with a giggle. There was a small group of young women, all of roughly the same marriageable age, gathered together to bear witness to the coronation. Despite being daughters of counts or barons, they were acutely aware they would only be granted a title if they took a husband with such stature. This fact made Galt an attractive prospect to all but one of the present company- not that she would admit it. Silke had become quite adept at feigning interest in male nobility to maintain the pretense of normality. She smiled and nodded in agreement, though her interest in the newly appointed man was not in the least romantic.

"What do you think of him, Silke?" inquired Lady Frescea. The entire group turned to look at Silke expectantly with anticipation of how she might respond, as they did every time there was a new man in the court.

To most of the aristocracy, she knew she was a beloved enigma, one they never tired of trying so solve. She was slightly taller than most of her sex and slender, but while she was beautiful in her right, she did not stand apart from her peers. There were ladies of her age and younger that were prettier, perhaps because they had brilliant blue eyes, golden blonde hair, or tiny button noses. It was her demeanor that drew attention to her more than her appearance ever would or could. She carried herself with a composed, elegant confidence, and listened with a patient intensity when duchesses prattled on about inane topics. Silke always seemed to remember details of the lives of her companions, paid meaningful compliments in most conversations, and picked up on subtle social cues, such as when a subject ought not to be discussed. Since her debut some years ago, she had become popular for her personality, and attracted a crowd wherever she went.

The curiosity about her, however, that Frescea, Margerie, and the rest wanted to solve was why she had not wed. Suitors had presented themselves to her, but she had declined their overtures both kindly and firmly. When pressed on the matter, she always sidestepped an answer, or gave a vague dismissive response. The ladies of the court were mystified and were excited by the challenge of finding her a match, especially since she had proven herself to be a matchmaker when she was so inclined, and helped facilitate at least three proposals.

"I think he's interesting," Silke said after a brief pause. "Anyone who earns the title of count is quite interesting, don't you think?" she explained with a smile. It was a bit of a non-answer, but to the ladies gathered around her, they took it as a sign of possible romantic interest, which had them quite excited.

After the king and the guest of honor left the grand hall of the palace, chatter had broken out among the congregation as they waited for the ceremony to conclude and the revelry to begin. While the arrangement during the coronation proper had been relaxed, allowing Silke the flexibility of standing or sitting with whomever she pleased, it would be more challenging to approach Galt during the feast. Protocol would dictate she sit with her father, Count Johann Kasper, and with her brother, Vincent Kasper. She chewed on the edge of her bottom lip as she was temporarily lost in thought. Ideally she'd talk to him without her family attached at her hip, neither of whom would be particularly friendly. Johann worried about any man that might 'steal' her away from the household while Vincent held all men to impossible standards and was endlessly abrasive to potential suitors.

"Frescea," Silke began sweetly. "Do you think that perhaps you could distract my brother long enough, should an opportunity arise, so I may speak with Galt? I promise to put a good word in for you if you do," she promised, knowing that the flaxen-haired woman was enamored with her brother. Vincent didn't reciprocate with her or anyone else; he was awkward and stilted when he spoke to women. When they were growing up, Vincent and Abelard had seen Silke one of them, an "almost boy" that could run just as fast as they did and scale any tree. Once the Kasper boys became men, they realized they couldn't treat ladies like they treated Silke, and the eldest Kasper still struggled with knowing how to relate to the fairer sex.

"I would be honored," Frescea replied quickly, "so long as you make an excuse to invite me to dinner in exchange."

[MxF] (Mature; 18+) Looking for Long Term Partner

After a year, it is that time again. Looking for another partner, maybe two! Definitely interested in other folks' plots or making entirely new ones if none of the ideas here suit.

Hope to hear from some of you!

[MxF] (Mature; 18+) Looking for Long Term Partner

Tentatively re-opening this thread because I am down to two active RPs and I'd like to have three!

If you are interested, please PM me and let me know what concept(s) intrigue you as well as what YOU are looking for in a RP. I'd love to have someone contributing their own ideas to our story, not chained to mine alone, and it's also better if we know what we both want so there isn't a conflict months later because there is a misalignment.

I'm also open to re-starting any RPs that have come to a stop for any reason, so let me know if you were a partner and our RP died.

Last note: I really flourish in interpersonal conflict and am not looking for anything TOO dark. I am not great a non-magical combat, so keep in mind a gritty, melee-heavy, action epic where every NPC is against us, nothing good happens, or we are struggling to survive is not at all my strength or area of expertise. I'm more interested in mystery, romance, drama, politics, and magical shenanigans!

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

In the time that Rene spent watching the space battle unfold, Solae had been giving greater context and detail to Bouardine and Bel'sian of what she knew about the conflict. The Kalderi woman had been shocked, horrified, and distressed to hear the lengths to which an ambitious duke and his minions might go in a quest for power. The diplomat considered withholding or sanitizing the more graphic recollections, yet she knew it wouldn't her audience any favors to gloss over or prune the abhorrent facts. It was for their own good that she swallowed her trauma and clinically discussed what had occurred with a level of detachment her mother would have been proud of. Bouradine was more eager, not out of interest in the self-styled emperor himself, but because he was trying to digest the nuances of their situation. The coup affected more than his personal life. Every merchant with any connection to the Eastern Cross would be affected by the conflict. With no indication the rebellion could be squashed anytime soon, he needed to brace himself for losing his livelihood, and possibly needing to shift temporarily into a new career.

Rosaria tired of the conversation quickly and excused herself. She was, after everything, still a grumpy teen who had her sleep interrupted. Once she was certain that the decision had made to return to Ranal Pindi, she found the rest of the discussing boring, a repetition of things she already knew or was ambivalent about until she was better rested. Mia promised to provide her a precise transcript and/or recording for her review in the morning. Solae swore she heard a touch of disappointment when the girl turned the offer down emphatically.

Yarue and Dasin remained, though she honestly couldn't suss out why they were reluctant to find a reason to return to their private quarters. Undoubtedly they knew from her dress and posture that she was still injured, as did Bel'sian and Bouradine, though the Syshin had more attachment to her and would have been more bothered. Mentally she wondered if they were actually intrigued by some new facet of her story, if they were uneasy because of her injury, or if they felt some misguided guilt in what they perceived to be a failure to keep her safe. Twice now she had a brush with death- and both were because of her own weakness and foolhardy choices. It seemed that she was a greater threat to herself than anything else in the known universe. She might have joked with her bodyguards if she thought they might see the humor rather than expressing annoyance and frustration.

"So these P-E-A..." Bel'sian started, glancing to Bouradine and Solae to confirm that she had the acronym correct, "they are what this man seeks? And he can not use them without you?" The expression on her face was one of confusion, more than when they had described their other perils and problems. The duchess could empathize that the 'alphabet soup' could be confusing for a non-native speaker as she herself had struggled with slang, abbreviations, and other linguistic hurdles unique to foreign tongues. Though they had not spent terribly long on Ranal Pandi, she also suspected that their technology was very different in how it was designed and what uses it served.

"Yes, as far as we know. I'm no expert," she admitted with a soft, congenial smile, "but to the best of my knowledge, there's no way to 'hack' a PEA, though there's been no lack of trying. There are hard-wired fail-safes that I was told my embassy superiors told me would make it melt down irreparably if it was compromised in any way or too many access failures were detected. It could have been hyperbole or it might have been true. The Stellar Empire has been known to take drastic actions with expensive and crucial assets." Solae could remember how excited she had been when she was approved to use the PEA. At the time of Tan's assault, she was still doing what almost everyone considered 'grunt' work in translating correspondence and helping ensure that missives made it to the appropriate recipient. No one had truly anticipated how precious they would be the the looming coup.

"I do not understand," the Kalderi confessed, perplexed.

"Communication is vital, and a PEA is the only way for anyone to send messages from the Sector without using ships, which I am sure you can imagine take much longer. They chased us- or rather I should say they chased me- because if I was captured, they could prevent word from spreading of their treason," Solae elaborated patiently. The Syshin were all too aware of how crippling a broken line of communication could be. Their race had never advanced sufficiently with their technology to be able to correspond with communities on planets within the same sector, and with the empire being so guarded, they had never been able to rally in a meaningful way. Those oppressed on Zatis had no way of reaching out to those on New Concordia, which was one of the many reasons that Dasin and Yarue had joined the Bonaventure's crew- so they would have the means to find and speak with those they had lost.

After a short pause, Rene still engaged with the terminal at which he said, the aristocrat inquired gently, "Is it not that way with your people? You mentioned they are slow to act?"

Bel'sian made a gesture with her hands that the others in the room intuitively understood to be akin to shaking the heads for humans to indicate this was not the case. "The Kalderi have ways to communicate with each other quickly," she said, purposefully vague since she was uncertain how much could be safely divulged. "Decisions are not so swift. Everything we do is communal, but there may be disagreements on what is best for our community, and so it takes much time to reach resolution. There are times when we are split evenly between choices and we must study an issue at length before a consensus can be reached."

"It is a different kind of bureaucracy," Bouradine added with a shrug and sheepish smile. "You see a bit of it with the art," he pointed out, so as not to make it seem he had gleamed a secret flaw of the Kalderi from Bel'sian alone. "Art's beauty is subjective because not everyone has the same taste. A lady might prefer a painting in muted tones, a gentleman impressionist jewel tones, and another only collect sculptures. If you have a husband and wife come to the shop to pick a decoration for their home, they have a different perception of what is best for their communal dwelling, and it's hard for them to articulate. Nuances, shades of grey where the right and wrong is less clear, or there isn't a clear right or wrong, gets them just as tangled up as us, they just aren't as selfish as our nobles, no offense your grace."

"I agree with you," Solae smiled, this time more genuine. "I take no offense because I know I am unconventional at best. I was born a marquise, but I honestly had never held the ambition to ever set foot in the Capella courts. Hopefully, this new station will afford me an opportunity to help the Syshin free themselves from the shackles of injustice." Rene stood at that moment and walked over to them briskly, his face betraying that something was very wrong, though only his lover seemed to notice the subtle clues of his anxiety. As he referred to matters to be discussed, she sighed rather heavily.

"We will rest. Thank you, Duchess Falia," Bouradine said with an awkward bow of his head. Taking Bel'sian's arm, he exited the room, whispering in her ear, perhaps trying to shed some light on the social insinuation of such an interruption or reassuring her. After the long day they had, somehow she felt that the Kalderi was the more calm one in the relationship compared to her human paramour.

"Are you healed?" Yarue asked pointedly.

"I need more time, but I'll recover," Solae promised with a charming smile under which she hid her pain. Yarue was dissatisfied and stretched his mouth into something akin to a frown but thought better of arguing. Without another word he and Dasin exited, the latter of which cast a concerned glance before they departed.

Rene summarized for Solae what he had learned, since neither of them believed it wise for her to watch the recreation of the battle itself. Proud and dignified as she was, she was still weak and weary from her ordeals, and the trauma was so fresh that they could not jeopardize her mental health spiraling further if she bore witness to the destruction of three battle ships. By the end of his synopsis, her shoulders sagged in discouragement, and she couldn't hide the despair that was painted across her delicate features. Since they first started running from the former Duke Tan, she had pinned all her hopes on getting to a PEA so that she could call the empress and be saved. The small flicker in her chest was snuffed with cold, dark reality that there was no one else that would be coming, no reinforcements, no one capable of raining retribution on the depraved, power-hungry man that had murdered everyone she ever knew and loved.

"We should consider staying with the Kalderi if they will shelter us," she finally said. There was no interest in the empress's locked correspondence. Whatever was sealed inside did not appeal to her in the present. She was no general, there were no soldiers, they had only enough arms to defend themselves, and their ship wouldn't win in firefight with a small, two-man fighter, much less anything more grand. It was hard to see how any information or advice the empress could impart would be of benefit. She had been buried alive hours ago, not yet a full day had passed, and now she was grappling with a future that was wretchedly bleak. "They are the only place we could be safe," Solae added softly. If Capella was compromised, there wasn't a world on which she could be confident they wouldn't face co-conspirators of Tan's.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

By no means had Solae expected this to be an incredibly easy task, but she would by lying if she didn't admit to herself that she wasn't incredibly frustrated, and quite discouraged, at the information that was being presented to her. She didn't have the time or luxury to host a series of debates with the Kalderi leaders thoroughly explaining the merits of allowing more individual expression within a society. Clashes of cultures took years, decades, potentially even centuries to resolve depending on how disparate they were. Ancient Earth, the birthplace of humanity, had a history steeped in conflict over cultural differences, some of which persisted today. Most planets were a melting pot of the people who had settled them and changed over time, but some had become pockets of traditions stretching back millennia, and were fiercely protective of their customs and values.

"Mia, I'd like you to start compiling data," Solae instructed, knowing that the AI was monitoring her vitals and would raise the issue of how the stress was affecting her unless she was prevented from being able such concerns. Internally the diplomat was trying to calm herself. While she knew the nightmare was nonsense, all her fears and trauma lumped together into an impossible scene, it had a lasting effect on her psychology. The diplomat struggled to focus on resolving the problems rather than feeling defeated by them and all the ones looming ominously in their future.

"Understood, Duchess Falia," Mia purred, making some of the small gathering in the room look uncomfortable as she continued. "What would you like for me to compile?" she queried in a breathless, sultry tone.

"I'd like a history of the use of proxies, starting with more modern usage, and particularly when two rivals are competing for the affections of a lady love interest." It was a rare thing in the present day, but anecdotally it still took place occasionally when certain women encouraged their suitors to engage in contests to prove their superiority. Naturally, the more proficient combatants were partial to duels and feats of physical prowess. "Work backwards from today to the most ancient records to which you have access, and once that is completed, expand the search to examples of using proxies in larger conflicts and those unrelated to courtship."

"A parse of my databases indicates matches in excess of a million such examples with those parameters," Mia responded after a brief pause, no doubt due to the search to estimate exactly what size report would be produced by the request. This answer did not surprise, Solae, and she suspected that Rene was similarly nonplussed. Billions of people, over thousands of years, was such a large source that it was inevitable that unless they slapped on the most strict of limitations they would end up with a colossal amount of matches. The Kalderi would spend hours, days, maybe even weeks depending on how thorough Mia was and how many they recruited to study the findings.

"Thank you, Mia. Give as much context as you can for the fifty most recent examples of modern rivals competing for a love interest utilizing proxies. You can be more brief for the rest, but I want it to be as exhaustive an accounting as possible before we return to the Kalderi," she decided. The more precedent she could prove for having Rene or the Syshin standing in as a proxy for Bouradine the better; besides, it was a tried and true tactic to give an overabundance of evidence to support a claim. The Kalderi, like all intelligent beings, were more likely to make concessions rather than comb through an analyze thousands upon thousands of historical accounts.

"Unfortunately, all I can do for you is ensure that Miss Bel'sian is treated fairly, and that her partnership with Bouradine is recognized and honored. I'm not here to command anyone," she said, mostly to the merchant that technically could be considered under her jurisdiction, "but I strongly recommend you stay with them for your own safety for the time being." In the back of her mind she hoped the couple could also pave the way for other unorthodox pairs, or that they could at least broker better understanding between the species, though she was not overly optimistic that either the merchant nor his female companion were either willing or able ambassadors for such noble efforts. Not everyone wanted to be such a mediator and among those that did, there were many that failed spectacular, some of which she had observed in the embassy at which she had worked what felt like so long ago.

"For our safety?" Bouradine asked, puzzled. "Does this have something to do with that soldier that crashed near our camp?"

"Maybe," she sighed, not meaning to be cryptic, but not having all the answers herself. The marine had been in critical condition when she had been pulled out of the medical pod. Solae was reluctant to wake her and try to wrestle a coherent story out of the brave woman until she was in a better place with her health. "The former Duke Tan of the Eastern Cross has declared himself emperor and launched a coup against the empress of the Stellar Empire. Because of his betrayal, I was made the Duchess of the Eastern Cross," she explained, watching as color drained from Bouradine's face in horror at the implications. "The former duke is very ambitious man who I sincerely doubt will honor the treatise between the Stellar Empire and Kalderi. He's power-hungry and ruthless and that, combined with the fact he's had several victories without any resounding defeats, will make him emboldened to take risks."

"Do you... think he will come to the Kalderi?" Bel'sian inquired anxiously, her wings fluttering behind her back nervously.

"I think it would be foolish to believe he won't try," Solae sighed, silently taking Rene's hand as there were small tremors that traveled through the fingers, indicating just how terrified she was of the horrors that unfolded on New Concordia being visited upon their peaceful neighbors. "We came for help and to warn the Kalderi. As incompatible as they might think we are, for their own protection we must persuade them to see how dangerous he is. He is a tyrant who will try to reshape everything in his image, and I can assure you, that your communities will not be preserved or spared."

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

Surprisingly, Ten had not thought to pack many blouse and skirt combinations that could be utilized for 'formal attire.' There was a lovely pantsuit type ensemble, spectacular gowns, and casual wear for traveling and exploring (since it had been made clear to the criminal mastermind that they did such things), but he was not apparently a fan of the ensemble they were looking for. Solae laughed and made a joke about how he would probably lightly chastise her for failing to be fashionable. Too physically tired and mentally exhausted to worry about her clothes, she settled on a basic white and blue blouse intended for the pantsuit and one of Rene's fatigue pants, which were large enough to fit over the apparatuses on her legs. It wasn't what a duchess would typically wear, but she didn't care much about keeping pretenses. Bel'sian had already seen her buried alive and Bouradine was allegely much more worried about what her plans were than if her garments were technically appropriate under the Stellar Empire's etiquette guidelines.

"Mia, please call them in," the diplomat said as stared at her pants with amusement for about the tenth time since she unilaterally decided she would borrow his extra pair. "What do you think? Never thought I'd get into your pants this way, did you?" she said with an impish eyebrow wiggle and a laugh. Humor was one of the many way she dealt with her trauma. There was no therapist to be found and she didn't want to impose her feelings on anyway. Rather than worry her companions, she deflected and joked, as if she wasn't horribly broken inside.

"Yes, Duchess Falia. Bouradine and Bel'sian will be along in a moment," Mia purred as if too was able to be consoled by the apparent change in Solae's behavior from a sobbing, terrified mess to being reluctantly authoritative, jesting, smiling.

"Oh, my apologies Mia, but please call all of them except the soldier. If she's still resting, she ought to remain that way. I'd like Yarue, Dasin, and Rosaria here as well. It'll be tight quarters, but it should be a short enough meeting that it won't be much of an issue," she explained for the benefit of Rene rather than the AI. He looked perplexed, but if he had an objection he almost certainly knew that the computer would defer to Solae's judgment if she could find an excuse to do so, and there wasn't a threat to the noblewoman's health in having a few more people in her audience.

"I understand, Duchess Falia," Mia replied with what sounded like a touch of hesitance. It didn't matter. If she had to figure out how to walk down the hall herself, she would do it. Being a leader was not simply making decisions and dictating what others ought to do. In her mind, she needed to keep them involved, and solicit input when necessarily. The plot she had in mind for resolving matters with the Kalderi had several possible solutions and they involved more than herself and the star-crossed couple.

They had to wait a few minutes as everyone was roused from their naps, Rosaria particularly grumpy as she hadn't settled down for the night all that long ago. While the soldier was absent, her conditioned had improved in the past few hours, and Mia was all too happy to report that she was no longer deemed 'critical.' The marine wouldn't be healed for quite some time with the medical supplies they had on hand, and they had no plan exactly what they would do with her, but the good news was welcomed. With such a bleak forecast the smallest ray of sunshine was worth noting with excitement.

"I'll be brief," Solae began, an unusual way to start any sort of gathering, much less when you were a duchess. "We need to return Bouradine and Bel'sian back to her world and the Kalderi, however" she quickly added when the pair looked stricken with fear and disappointment, "we will not allow their relationship to be dissolved simply because another suitor wants to stake a claim. I propose rather than have Bouradine fight for the right to be her mate, we rely on the time-honored tradition of a proxy." Yarue knitted his brows together and the linguist took a moment to translate into his tongue since his comprehension was not perfect when it came to the the Stellar Empire's common language, especially when they delved into complex concepts.

"What if they refuse?" Bouradine quickly responded, so nervous he was practically sweating at the mention of a confrontation.

"Using proxies has more than one precedent. Think of the simple use of ambassadors," she said, gesturing to herself. "It's impractical to demand that the leader of a culture, world, even a city be all places at once, so they will appoint others to speak for them and with their authority in their absence. The logic is very similar with using a proxy. We would argue because Bouradine is not familiar with their culture and customs, he is authorizing someone better prepared to act on his behalf."

"But don't they require the actual person to do the... I don't know what it is, duel?" Rosaria countered, a little irritable, cranky, and groggy as she stifled a yawn.

"Traditionally I believe so; however, we have options there as well. We can demand a thorough explanation why it must be Bouradine. After all, he has the resources to hire people to protect Bel'sian, and it's an antiquated notion that a mate has to have battle prowess. Should that fail, we could point out that they have already accepted the human tradition of humans standing in the place of other humans for private agreements, such as when I arrived and spoke for the Stellar Empire on a whole. It's not the only approach I can think of, but I think it's our best approach," she said with a reassuring smile.

"Can a Syshin be a proxy?" Dasin asked after a moment's pause. "Humans buy Syshin all the time to make them act for them," he pointed out. Solae saw the logic, but she was pretty sure his motivations were because of how personally offended he was that a female wouldn't have the agency to be with whomever she pleased, regardless of whether certain males felt snubbed. His culture was so centered on consent that the Kalderi had unintentionally provoked them with the way they spoke as if the female's opinion was not the only deciding factor.

"I haven't had enough time to study Kalderi culture, so you'd have to ask Bel'sian, but... in our ancient past a woman could chose a champion that would defend her and fight for her since she was not supposed to do so herself. We could try to convince the other Kalderi that you are Bouradine's champion or, alternatively, that you are Bel'sian's, and represent her ability to chose for herself, though I suspect it would be a much harder sell," Solae contemplated thoughtfully, torn on what was the best way to tackle the issue. One thing was for certain- very few Kalderi would stand a chance against a Syshin. Where the Kalderi had flight and superior technology, the Syshin were towering figures, that were stronger, faster, and tougher than a human, which was what made them so appealing in underground gladiatorial rings.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

As Rene returned to the bed and wrapped his arms around her, Solae was slowly soothed out of her violet mid-nightmare thrashing, the tactile reassurance soothing away the panic induced by her horrifying dreams. The diplomat's wailing ebbed to a quieter sob and shifted into silent tears before dissipating entirely. Her night terrors' grip on her was loosened by the physical presence of his reality. Visions of being trapped under impossible mountains of rock simply could not be sustained when she became subconsciously aware she was being embraced. Corpses and taunts dissolved into nothingness. She wouldn't soon forget the troubles that plagued her, but their torment would fade long enough that she could rest or function outside of reliving them over and over. Once she was cognizant, having such an incident would likely propel her into admitting they could use a professional therapist if they intended to rejoin civilized society again and not be irreparably damaged by their trauma.

"I'm tired," she breathed groggily as she started to wake. Brushing hair out of her face, she remained where she was pressed next to him, apprehensive that if she moved even an inch away that she would return to the phantom realm of death in which she had been entrenched. "I'm tired of running from him," she explained with a sigh. There was no need to divulge a name as only man represented the threat to their life and chased them across the universe doggedly.

"Sir Rene," Mia interjected in her typical sensual tone, though there was the barest hint of disapproval as if she had witnessed Rene's race for his gun and couldn't help but make her displeasure known. "I can summon the others for an audience with the duchess when you are ready." Technically, Solae still could not make the decision herself. Standard protocol was at least twenty-four hours must pass before she could accept directives from someone who had been compromised by the use of pharmaceuticals or illicit drugs. Her mistress was coherent but she was bound by the technicalities.

"I need to talk to Bouradine and Bel'sian," the linguist groaned, not moving from her position of being curled at her lover's side. Knowing she ought to do something and convincing herself to actually lift herself from under the covers was another matter. Fortunately she had adapted to the bizarre combination of numbness and sensation in her legs and did not find it as jarring a hours before. The synthetic braces silently accommodated her as she restlessly bent them at the knee and stretched them out. "Pants are out of the question," she added with a sigh. A social faux pas was the least of her worries... assuming, of course, she found the motivation to do anything more than dose with Rene holding her.