In the year 3201 Emperox Pyxis Solanum Rona, The Eternal Rose was crowned X. Emperox of the Empire. Read more about the events around the coronation ceremony and the declarations of fealty below.
Coronation Ceremony[]
[Scene: Imperial Prime - The Imperial Palace, The Cathedral of the Messiah]
The streets and skies of Imperial prime are a congested hive of activity, even compared to its typical bustling nature. Moving throughout the planet is near impossible, partly due to the sheer density of people and ships clogging every thoroughfare, and partly due to more deliberate efforts of those responsible for making sure nothing stands in the way of God’s will being enacted this day.
Aqualian guards form imposing blocks of uniformity amidst the dense crowds of citizens eager to get a better look at the festivities. Their raiments are ceremonially appropriate, but leave few questions asked regarding their practical capabilities should trouble arise. Interspersed among the crowd, maintaining order and echoing the unspoken threat of their cousins, hundreds of Crux officers make themselves seen, with hundreds more working behind the scenes to coordinate the security efforts. Reticulum wielders move unseen through it all, their full numbers and positions unknown even to themselves. The warriors go as they please, keen minds and keener blades lying in wait for the Emperox's enemies.
The extensive planetary security is all in defense of this hallowed place and the incomparable instruments of God’s will inside. Today is the most important day of the century for The High Church of Messiah-as-Emperox, and every possible effort is being expended to ensure it goes perfectly.
Just like the attendees, the Cathedral itself is finely decorated for the occasion. The whole building is saturated with the colours of the Imperial house. Orange and blue banners bearing the House sigil line the exterior, flowers of the same decorate within.
[A detailed description of the Catherdral can be found here.]
As the clock strikes the tenth minute of the tenth hour of the day, the crowning of the Emperox was set to begin.
The High Exarch leads the procession bearing the Imperial Crown, with the Council of Ten behind and flanking the Emperox bearing the ten signs of office, and reciting a formal benediction:
- Faith - The Canon (An official copy of the Sacred Texts, abridged)
- Propriety - A Set of Pauper's Clothes
- Justice - The Sword of Justice
- Fortitude - The Shield of Fortitude
- Wisdom - The Writings of The Arhats
- Temperance - The Half-Full Cup
- Diligence - A Golden Quill and Ink-pot
- Charity - A Purse of Gold
- Integrity - The Book of Law
- Hope - The Golden Lamp
The majority of the following congregation is comprised of the most esteemed members from each of the Noble Houses of the Empire, a spiritually invaluable assembly of the most powerful people from across the Sector, all gathered to witness the momentous ceremony being performed by the Church. The Houses of Aquila, Crux, Eridanus, Fornax, Lyra, Pyxis, Reticulum, Serpens, and Triangulum were each divinely entitled to attend, their most exemplary of nobles afforded the privilege to see history in the making.
And just as the eyes of the Empire are all centered on this building, the eyes of this room are centered on the approaching precession of the Church, as the High Exarch’s words are echoed by those following.
Audi vos o filii Dei!
Hear Ye O Children of God!
Qui tamen Vicarium pro Divino, de Messia, et humanitati Salvatoris, accedit!
The Vicar of the Divine, the Messiah, the Savior of Humanity, approaches!
Sit nomen Dómini benedíctum ex Divino, nam omnia elegerunt in servum eorum.
Blessed be the Name of the Divine, for they have chosen their servant.
Beati esse filii Dei: quoniam ipsorum est rex/regina tuus inventus est.
Blessed be the Children of God, for their King/Queen has been found.
Hoc audiant omnes celi et terræ nostis,
Let all the heavens and all the earth know,
Si hic est Salvator venit!
The Messiah has come!
The High Exarch leads the procession to the side entrance of the cathedral, knocking 10 times on the heavy wooden doors of the cathedral, once for each of the Aspects of Virtue.
Faith. Propriety. Justice. Fortitude. Wisdom. Temperance. Diligence. Charity. Integrity. Hope.
Upon the final knock, the doors begin to open and the gathered Exarchs step forward to take their place behind and around the throne.
Artwork by Lev
Led behind them, with careful, practised steps, is the new leader of the Empire. Dressed in the ceremonial vestments of the Church, she is led to the Imperial Throne set before the main altar. She exudes calm grace as the procession approaches its destination, each slow step the product of a full month of constant, vigilant practice under the High Church in preparation for this day. For many among the assembled crowd, this is the first time they have beheld the one who has come to be chosen by God.
As the chosen representatives of each Noble House take their seats on the sides, the High Exarch takes the Imperial Crown and momentarily places it above each of the ten Aspects of Virtue, invoking the full Latin description of the Virtue. Once the full circuit is complete, the High Exarch places the crown on the altar and offers the following prayer.
"Dominus protector et hominum genus, quandoquidem ad servum tuum bona haec dona virtutum tuam. Dona eis legis vim brachii tuo uti adiutorio, et tuae propitiationis abundantiam: ut qui pópulo tuo Sapientia et iustitiae. Alleluja! Alleluja! Sit laus Deo!"
"Lord and Protector of Humanity, grant this thy servant the blessings of thy virtues. Grant them the strong arm of thy law and the beneficence of thy mercy, that they may guide thy people in Wisdom and Justice. Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Praise be to God!"
The High Exarch reaches up and replaces the emblem of the High Church that stands behind the altar with a holo-image of the new Emperox taken during their sequestration. He then takes the crown and approaches the Emperox from behind, holding the crown above her head, and asks:
"Will you, Emperox Pyxis Solanum Rona, Beacon of Hope, Warden of Hearts, Salvation of the Lost and Defender of Home, protect and defend the Empire of Humanity, even at the cost of your own life?"
"Ero (I will)."
"Will you preserve and bolster the Virtue of the Sector, seeking always the Wisdom of the Divine, so that Humanity retains the grace and favor of God?"
"Ero."
"Will you guide these assembled Blessed Nobility, in Justice and Faith, that they in turn may provide guidance for those under them?"
"Ero."
"Will you do all these things as long as ye shall live, or until God sees fit to select another?"
"Ero."
With these words, the crown is placed on the new Emperox's head, and the assembled nobles proclaim:
"Veniunt. Veniunt. Princeps humani generis Salvator tuus veniet. Sit laus Deo."
"They come. They come. The leader of humanity, the Savior has come. Praise be to God."
With the coronation concluded, the Emperox takes her seat on the Throne for the first time, and the procession begins to file out of the throne room. As the assembled onlookers leave, however, the Emperox and clergy remain. While the celebrations begin outside of the palace, a planet-wide festivity that will last for the next ten days, the new Emperox and her advisors will hold Court, beginning the first diplomatic meetings of her reign.
[End Scene]
(Expand on the right to read more.)
Fealty Declaration by House Aquila[]
[Scene: Imperial Prime - The Imperial Palace, The Throne Room]
The procession of Aquilans enter into the throne room in a march akin to a military formation - their heavy footfalls reverberating throughout the massive hall. At the head is the Speaker of the Convocation, Promagistrate Primus Evocatus Dux Diomikato Aquila Africanus Tacitus, dressed in resplendent robes of red and gold and embroidered with the symbol of the Aquilan Eagle. Just next to him was Aedile Aquila Valdés Binçent, chosen Emissary to the Imperial Court, who carries a large box draped in red cloth. Behind them both are a number of Praetors and Legates dressed in their own extravagant uniforms and many of whom wield ceremonial swords. And then behind these leaders of House Aquila is the Praetorian honor guard: starting with two Signifers carrying the banner of the house and the flag of Diomikato, followed by another line of standard bearers each holding a banner for every active legion, and finally furthest back is the rest of the honor guard with each soldier wielding the famous Praetorian spears.
Promagiastrate Africanus led the march in silence, his face was unflinching as he gazed upon the throne and the exalted being who sat upon it. He and the Aedile Valdés ascended the small elevation as they left the rest of the Aquilan procession to stand below. As the two representatives stopped to stand before the new Emperox, a military command was shouted from below. At once all of the Praetorians knelt upon the floor, followed by the Convocation members. Back above, only the Aedile knelt as Africanus turned to regard the gathered masses and spoke:
“I swear to serve the Empire fiercely and faithfully. To stand before all its enemies. To protect its people whatever the cost. If my oath is broken let me be blinded to god's grace and cast asunder. With Honour and integrity I serve the Imperial Legions. On all that I hold sacred I swear my allegiance to the Empire. My life for the Legions, for the Empire and God. Ferociter Fideliterque.”
The delegation remained in position as their oath ended. Then Valdés moved forward, still on their knees, and offered the box. They removed the shroud. As the red cloth fell to the floor, the gift was revealed: Inside the glass box - whose base was carved of ornate wood that depicted the War for Human Prosperity in intricate gold leaf patterns - sat a large skull. That of an ancient alien species long dead.
The Emperox’s eyes widen and she shifts slightly on her throne, as though the response she had mentally prepared was suddenly not applicable and has found herself quickly in need of another. For just a moment, an expression flashes across her face, lids lowering and brow furrowing. The instant passes, and a sliver of a wry smile finds her lips.
“And this is…?” Her long pause invites the Aquilans to explain, either for her own education, or perhaps theirs. A silent offer for a chance to share aloud exactly what they were presenting. The already silent throne room becomes a deafening vacuum, pregnant with tension.
Aedile Valdés still kneeling beside the gift raises their head, staring directly at the Emperox. “Your Majesty, this is one of the holiest relics in the possession of House Aquila,” while speaking their voice is loud enough for those gathered to hear but clear they speak solely for the benefit of the Emperox. “It is one of only two specimem of a terrible foe, vanquished long ago during the days of Arhat Mars and the First Emperox, a foe that threatened the burgeoning colonies of our fledgling Empire. Tales are told of its skill at arms, their ferocious warriors that harrowed our ancestors time and time again. But ultimately defeated, by the skill and ingenuity of humanity, by a unified and dedicated people and by the grace of God.” The passion and intensity in their voice filled the chamber before now once more becoming hushed and reverent.
“It is kept to remind us all of the sacrifices,” Valdés continued, “that House Aquila made in those early days, the blood that was spilled by our ancestors to ensure the survival of this Empire. The other specimen sits pride of place in Aquila’s section of the Crepido vault on Andophael. We hope for you that this is a testament of House Aquila’s dedication to the Empire. A symbol of our willingness to sacrifice for the greater good of all humanity. A symbol of the great victories we share with the Empire and our desire to see many more won.” Valdés finishes, glances at the gift once more and lowers their gaze, bowing to the Emperox again.
“I’m pleased to see that the Empire can always rely on House Aquila to never shy away from bold choices.” The smile becomes a playful smirk as she considers the Aquilan delegation for a moment, before addressing the wider room once again.
“The Imperial Legions and House Aquila’s loyalty to the throne should come as no surprise to anyone within the Empire. Their diligence and dedication are as stalwart and immovable as the Legions themselves. While their unequaled connection to the Throne means their loyalty can always be relied upon, that doesn’t mean it should ever go underappreciated.”
She stands.
“House Aquila, there is nobody among our vast Empire better equipped to safeguard its people, or dutifully facilitate its wrath. I am pleased to know the Legions of the Empire will continue to be used for the protection and prosperity of the Empire and its people. May God guide your weapons and protect your soldiers as you lead the march through these trying times with an unshakable hope in your hearts.”
Letting the echo of her voice, the rising of the Aquilan delegation, and crash of their answering crisp salute complete its reverberations through the room, she pauses. Allowing herself just a moment to appreciate the impeccable display, then speaks more softly, addressing her next statement directly to the Aedile.
“Please begin the appropriate preparations to take your rightful and divinely deserved place in my Imperial Court.”
[End Scene]
(Expand on the right to read more.)
Fealty Declaration by House Crux[]
[Scene: Imperial Prime - The Imperial Palace, The Throne Room]
As the presentation of House Aquila concludes, the delegation from House Crux steps forward. The first to approach is Fürst Crux Jazani Katharina, chosen representative of Prince Hektor and his Council and Primeborn of the Jazani family. They step with cordial restraint and intent, as a practiced dancer would, the pace carefully measured but elegant.
Their dress whispers and trails a few inches behind, layers of deep, transparent gold, purple and black silk chiffon woven through with intricate patterns of flora over the thicker fabrics underneath. A tight bodice is neatly concealed, drawing the flared hips of the dress inward at the torso before it flares out again in the long layered, virago sleeves to either side of the low, florentine neckline. Light, golden metals cut upwards from the shoulders, seemingly drawn up and out of the torso like rays of the sun, the innermost angling behind the Fürst’s head in a high standing collar mimicking the angular neckline. The four lower sets beside the first are each smaller than the last, until the lowest only encircles the upper arms in hexagons. Their hair is dyed a dusty white, drawn up in an updo of rising curls and waves that seems taller than the Fürst’s own head, blooms of Vesperlight and other small flowers tucked neatly in a bunch to one side. From each ear, a large, golden hoop dangles, the golden symbol of House Crux slowly swaying within each.
She tugs at the lapels of a perfectly tailored and cut black bridge coat, the chest adorned with all manner of honours and ornamentations. Between the lapels, an engraved, pearl-white breastplate bearing motifs of the Mother of Mercy can just barely be glimpsed, shimmering in the light like a sliver of the moon. Over her shoulders, a black, fur mantle rests, carefully placed, soft as snow and snug to the Strategos’ neck, even beyond the cold of Heira.
Beside the Strategos is Oberster Richter Ibañez Adrian, lead Richter of Imperial Prime and the chosen representative of the Judiciary for the Coronation. He is shorter than the Strategos, but holds himself with enough noble pomp for both of his peers. His thick beard and carefully curled mustache, brown flecked with gray, are both meticulously groomed, and he advances forward with the air of someone swirling a glass of brandy, nonchalant and imperious all in one.
His suit is luxurious, a fine, black weave laced with subtle, silver stitchings and garnished with an expertly starched and tied purple cravat. Underneath, the deep purple silk of a fine dress shirt peeks between lapels. The cufflinks at the wrists catch the light, small silver scales layered one over the other, and the glimmer of the chain of the Richter’s pocket watch, tucked neatly out of view. Behind, the deep purple lining of the Oberster Richter’s black, velvet half cape, hung carefully over one shoulder, shifts and shimmers with each step, and his polished, dark cane, more part of the ensemble than necessity, strikes in time, the gold capped tip against the stone. He adjusts the top hat under his arm, matched perfectly to his attire, and sniffs the air as though to test its quality.
Following the chosen representatives are a small selection of Primeborn, a long, tightly sealed container on a grav platform hovering between them, covered in a draping cloth of finest purple silk. Each is dressed in deep purples and blacks, their eyes turned earthwards in deference, and each wears both a golden pin bearing the pearl inlaid sigil of House Crux and another pin with the crest of their family.
Behind the Primeborn follow a small selection of the JES and the House Guard, including Scharfrichters and Inquisitors, unarmed in the presence of the Throne, but each fully armored, the deep purple of their glass-fronted helmets concealing their faces from view. The sigil of House Crux is projected and visible front and center on each helmet, and one of the Guard in the center of the rest carries the banner of House Crux, the black cross emblazoned large across the purple fabric.
Fürst Katharina steps forward, a strong breath pulled into their chest as they prepare to speak before the newly coronated Emperox. A long, deep bow is given by the entirety of the Crucian delegation, Katharina leading, and the Fürst turns their face to meet the gaze of the Emperox for the first time.
“Emperox Pyxis Solanum Rona, The Eternal Rose, Beacon of Hope, Warden of Hearts, Salvation of the Lost and Defender of Home,” Katharina begins, their voice measured and practiced, as one who had recited these words to themselves a thousand times. “It was not so long ago that House Crux stood against the betrayer who claimed the Throne you now hold. In thirty-four years, we have not knelt before the Emperox. In thirty-four years, we have not bowed before the Throne. Today… House Crux kneels once more.”
The Crucian delegation, in a single motion, as if as one, kneels before the Emperox, all faces turned earthwards until Katharina raises theirs again to speak.
“It is our duty to protect those you now shepherd, to be the arm of your word and the scribes of your will. The greatest treasures, and the longest shadows, are within the Empire itself, and as the heart of Pyxis seeks to wander, to explore and find anew, the heart of Crux seeks to remain, to hold steadfast at the dawn and through the night. House Crux swears fealty to you, oh, Emperox. May your reign be long and prosperous, an age of Hope, a flame born from the ashes.”
Two of the Primeborn behind place their hands against the silk-covered container between them and push it gently forward. Katharina steps aside to let them up beside her, and the cloth is slowly withdrawn to reveal a case, finest, polished wood inlaid with golden sigils of the House of Pyxis. Despite its old appearance, the case is heavily secured, the only key turned over to the Wardens of House Pyxis before entry. A clear, reinforced glass window is set into the lid of the case, and through it can be seen the gift brought forward by House Crux.
The pommel of the sword within is a weave of glittering steel and softened pearl, its turns and patterns disappearing beneath the white of the hilt, a wound cloth as soft as silk but as strong and effortless to grip as finest leather. The cross guards are steel and pearl again, as even set as balanced scales, with pale blue gems like polished eyes inset at either end, the frigid heart of two, small hammers inlaid in silver. This is Mercy. Blessed is the Jinguishi who gave it life, whose name is lost to time, their work so vilely despoiled.
The blade is forged anew by the deft hands of Daikannushi Reticulum Yuan Xuefeng, whose lineage claims kinship with the one who wove the hilt. The metal is as clear and impossible as mercury, a shard of quicksilver against the light that shows the visage of its viewer as a mirror. A single thread, a flame just like an arrow cut from amber splits the blade from guard to tip, perfectly straight. Two more, like rays upon the dawning day, cut angled from the hilt to left and right, ending halfway up the blade to either side with points as fine as distant starlight. Carved into the blade itself are letters in the oldest tongue, the Emperox’s tongue, a wish and yet a blessing. “May mercy find her hope.” This is Hope.
Together both they honor each who gave them life, so many years apart. Mercy’s Hope, the Twice-Forged.
“The hilt of this blade belonged to the Mother of Mercy, Emperox Helena, and those who served her, forged by the hands of her unparalleled Jinguishi,” Katherina explained, their hand sweeping backwards over the case. “Sadly, only a few centimeters of its blade remained when we recovered it from the ACRE Corporation. But what fortune we had when we approached the masters of Reticulum to see the blade restored, to find amongst them the Daikannushi Reticulum Yuan Xuefeng, whose line can be traced back to the Jinguishi of Emperox Helena unbroken.”
“The hilt is of our first Emperox. The blade is of yours, oh noblest House of Pyxis. Two Houses, two peoples, forged together. An emblem of our loyalty, and a sign of our respect.”
Katherina again kneels, head bowed once more in deference.
After a moment of silence, the Emperox begins to stand and walk towards the procession. While her face is calm and composed, the surprise on the faces of her nearby advisors is evident. While they may have expected a deviation from the typical behavior while dealing with one of the less conservative Houses, it was certain that she knew better than to break social protocol when dealing with the Crux.
Yet here she is, purposefully striding towards a congregation of one of the most traditionalist Houses in the Empire, giving no heed to the fact that it is expected for the Emperox to ask their visitors to further approach the throne should they want to close the distance.
As she reaches the case, she slows. Peering through the glass display, Rona pauses as she lays a hand gently upon the wood. There’s a moment of silence as she inspects the weapon through the glass, before as suddenly as she approached, she turns around and returns to the throne. Only as she has taken her seat once more does she speak, returning her focus to the still kneeling crowd.
“You may stand.”
The Crucian delegation pauses for a brief moment, concern evident on some of the lesser Primeborn’s faces but not on those of the Representatives. Whatever their thoughts, the delegation follows Fürst Katharina’s lead as they rise to their feet, heads bowed in deference.
As the final member of the assembled Crux returns to their feet, Rona addresses the Fürst. “There are many among my House who have a distaste for weaponry. The Empire has seen much war throughout its lifetime, so I do not disparage them for finding fault in the scars left behind and seeking pacifism. Had you presented this gift to one of them, they may have scorned your gift, failing to see the beauty and meaning behind the blade. While I tend to see things differently, had it been any other weapon I may have done the same.”
“However, the Mother of Mercy has always held a special place in my heart. She sought harmony and unity, and while she knew war it was always peace that was her focus. I hope your House finds honor in knowing that of all the Emperox who have come before me, it shall be her that I look to above all others as an example of what I wish to achieve in my reign. I shall have to thank House Reticulum as well for their efforts in restoring this gift.”
“I shall sleep soundly tonight knowing that I can rely on House Crux to continue to protect the Empire’s citizens, as they have done since its founding.” She straightens up a little more, and speaks to the representatives and the room as a whole. “Please have House Crux begin the appropriate preparations to take its rightful and divinely deserved place in my Imperial Court.”
[End Scene]
(Expand on the right to read more.)
Fealty Declaration by House Triangulum[]
[Scene: Imperial Prime - The Imperial Palace, The Throne Room]
The delegation sent from House Triangulum to the coronation and fealty ceremony is small and informal. It consists of four individuals, one of them an older man in power armor bearing the rank of Grand Marshall for the Triangulum Order of Operations. Behind him is a very young woman, a teenager perhaps just shy of 17, walking confidently despite her company. This is Grand Physicist Triangulum Becca Anna, the youngest Triangulum noble alive to receive the title of Grand. To the right of the man is a figure in a mask made of a mirror-like polish. Their body is covered in bulky fabrics that seem to shift and writhe, this is the Apex. Behind all three is another mysterious figure, their face also hidden behind a mirror-like mask, wearing a sleeker version of the power armor the Grand Marshall wears. This individual's identity is unknown. Accompanying the group is profound silence, no words pass between any of them. They all walk with a deliberate pace to the entrance to the Throne Room and await entry.
The Pyxis announcer pauses as they peer at the approaching members of the House Triangulum. Capable enough, they were familiar with most of the noteworthy members of each Noble house, and believed themselves to be quite well informed. But the presence of two, masked, unknowable figures presented an issue. Nonetheless, they nod to have the door to the Throne room opened and are announced appreciatively, if not quite specifically.
The group of four enters the Throne Room and approach the throne. The far more numerous members of Triangulum nobility that populate the outer sections of the Throne Room fall silent to observe the process. At precisely 10 meters from the throne, the group stops and the Apex falls to a single knee, followed by the Grand Marshall, the teenager, and the fourth figure. The Emperox remains seated, casting a glance between the four faces - or approximations thereof. “Right on time.” She remarks playfully, acknowledging the punctuality of the appointment, not a second too soon or too late than was arranged. She pauses with a politely expectant half-smile on her face, awaiting the inevitable pageantry.
The Apex remains kneeling as the other three delegates rise, their heads bowed. The Grand Marshall takes a step back. Raising his head and speaking, his loud and practiced voice rings out through the Throne Room.
“The House of Triangulum congratulates The Eternal Rose, Emperox Pyxis Solanum Rona, Beacon of Hope, Warden of Hearts, Salvation of the Lost and Defender of Home on her ascension to the Imperial Throne. We congratulate House Pyxis on this indelible achievement in the history of our Empire. We stand before you, honored to offer the fealty and loyalty of House Triangulum to you and your House. May your reign be long and our future full of hope.”
The Grand Physicist takes a single step to the right and one more forward to stand on the right side of the Grand Marshall, forming a triangle with the kneeling Apex and standing Grand Marshall. She also raises her head and speaks with a boisterous voice that belies her frail and young body.
“To commemorate this occasion, House Triangulum would like to present our Messiah and Emperox a series of gifts. We hope these leave an ineffable impression, as much thought and challenge went into the preparations and the whole of our House stands behind these offerings. May they symbolize the friendship and loyalty of House Triangulum to this august throne.”
As the first of the delegation speaks, the Emperox turns her head to make it known she’s giving her full attention and consideration. Her face a picture of pre-emptive gratitude, but as previous offerings taught her to be prepared, her eyes remain slightly guarded. The final member of the delegation takes one step back to stand behind the first three, directly behind the Apex, to form a rhombus. Despite moving, they say nothing. Instead, the Grand Marshall speaks up again.
The Emperox’s gaze followed the movement of the unspeaking member of the delegation, and while dutifully snapping to the Grand Marshal as they speak, frequently drift aftwards to consider and reconsider the silent figure.
“Our gifts come both small and large, so large in fact that we could not bring them all with us. We will present these to you now.”
Two servitor robots glide forward carrying metal crates of medium size. They take positions in the furthest back, behind the mysterious figure and just slightly to the outside of the Grand Marshall and Grand Physicist. The Grand Marshall continues speaking.
“The first gift is perhaps the gift of most import, though it is intangible. The title of Apex is singular in House Triangulum. The holder exemplifies the virtues our House strives for. They are the Grand Architect of our future. As such, Emperox Pyxis Solanum Rona, the Apex yields their title to you. For you are the personification of our hopes. May you stay ever curious.”
The kneeling Apex spreads his arms out and two beams of orange light run in a straight line from the Apex, connecting the Apex to the Grand Marshall and Grand Physicist, forming an open-ended arrow pointing towards the throne. The origin of the light is a mystery. The Grand Physicist speaks up.
Rona's body shifts, as the light begins to emit from the apparent Apex, and through their compatriots. Eyes wide with a uniquely Pyxis curiosity, albeit tempered with a more rare hint of caution, she watches as the delegation continues with the gift. In a rare moment of true transparency, she’s clearly trying to fully parse the gravity of the first gift as the second is announced. “The second gift is a Mnemonic Cognification Recorder, an exceedingly precious and near non-existent relic from before the scream, delicately repaired and restored by the diligent work of our most perspicacious Grand Triangulum. It will map your memories, consciously and subconsciously, and formulate the brain waves and neuron activations into a visual recording that is relayed back to you.”
The Emperox diligently keeps pace with the generous presentation of gifts. She gives a single nod, understanding the intent of the Recorder, though she suspects she’ll be discussing the exact operation of the device at a later time.
The back left servitor opens its crate and produces the small device, pristine and delicate. As it does, another beam of orange light spreads from the servitor to the one standing to its right, forming a straight line. The Grand Marshall speaks again.
“The third gift is a star, a blue stellar sun that we have put into a jar. It is a Star in a Jar and it lives with the tumultuous life of fusion. You will be witness to the star living out its years as you do, it will age and one day it will collapse into a supernova and become a black hole.”
The second servitor, on the right, opens its crate and produces the jar which, sure enough, contains a blue sun. The light from the jar is blinding and bright but with a wave of motion, the Grand Marshall dims the jar into an acceptable light level for the Throne Room. As the jar is held, another pair of orange light escapes from the two servitors and the light bends into an arc, reaching the mysterious figure standing behind the Apex, forming a half-circle between the two servitors and the mysterious figure. The Grand Physicist takes her turn speaking. Visibly considering the unusual beams being produced by the members of the Triangulum delegation, she again lends her attention to the Grand Marshal, despite thus far having more questions than answers in a way she’s beginning to suspect might be deliberate. She smiles, a smirk even, as she lets out the most gentle indication of amused appreciation at the ‘Star in a Jar’, perhaps enjoying it with a sense of wonder in a way the Grand Marshal is possibly no longer capable of experiencing. At least until she sees it.
Her eyes wide once again, focus on that burning core as blue light fills the room, eyes staring even where others turn away from the initial blinding light, appreciating it anew as it dims to be more easily visible - at least until more of those strange orange beams appear to once more steal her attention.
“The fourth gift is a joint gift, the other half of which will be presented by House Reticulum. It is to commemorate the existence of The League of Nobles Most Extraordinary, Finders of Lost Knowledge, Keepers of the Vault Most Sacred and Secure.”
The Grand Physicist produces a key and as she does a beam of orange lights extends from the Grand Marshall and the Grand Physicist, this time heading towards the mysterious figure in the middle, forming a rhombus of orange light between the four members of the delegation which connects to the half-circle made by the servitors and the mysterious figure. The Grand Marshall clears his throat and continues.
The Emperox considers the key amidst the blaring cacophony of blue and orange light, impacting the atmosphere of the room in an undeniable way. She makes careful note of the mention of House Reticulum’s cooperation with yet another House in the fealty ceremonies, wearing a broad and honest smile as she considers what may await her later in the day. “Our final gift is Xanadu, an orbital superstructure much too large to fit into this room... State of the art in all aspects, it is a palace, haven and leisure garden all in one. Built specifically for you, it can be utilized however you wish.”
“Additionally, within Xanadu is an obelisk. Not just any obelisk mind you, but a special creation we call the Obelisk of Hope Eternal. It is a true masterpiece of interdisciplinary creation. Forged from semi-organic living metal it naturally resonates with the world in a musical pattern, continually generating an infinite requiem of hope."
The mysterious figure produces a small model replication of Xanadu and holds it out (read more about Xanadu here). As they do, an orange light beam shoots out from in front of them and behind them in a straight line, connecting the flat end of the half-circle to the foremost point of the rhombus.
A single brow raises as the Emperox consider the scale model of Xanadu. The model itself was impeccably crafted and impressive almost in its own right - though that paled in comparison to the scale of what it actually represented. The gifts that came with fealty were about representations of the Houses themselves, and it was fitting for both her role and her personality to consider them based on sentiment more than actual value or scale. But an orbital superstructure was undeniably impressive. She doubted she could manage to appropriately voice appreciation for the true depth of this gift, instead choosing to contrast the size of her appreciation with the size of the gift itself and allowing her deliberately humble response to say more with what it didn’t say than what it did.
“How very generous. Thank you.”
Now completed, the light beams have made the Mariner's Compass and symbol of House Pyxis using the delegation as the points.*
Just before the final beam of orange light appears the Emperox smiles to herself and closes her eyes, knowing exactly how the pattern finishes. The Grand Physicist speaks again.
“We hope these gifts provide you with limitless joy and comfort. Our House stands ready to assist in guiding our Empire however you require. Through turmoil or celebration, you have our fealty.”
Upon finishing speaking, all of the figures, including the servitors, kneel once more to join the Apex, head bowed. They await the verdict of the Emperox as the light-made symbol of House Pyxis pulses between them…
The final words of fealty wash over her, perhaps one of the few elements of this display she’d truly been prepared for. She takes comfort in the waiting moment and takes a long thought to consider not only the breadth of gifts presented to her, but the depth.
Hands clasped together and resting gently against her lips, she inhales deeply, preparing to speak. Opening her eyes, and seeing the pulsing symbol of her people before her, she releases the held breath, conceding to speaking more extemporaneously.
She stands, addressing the room as much as the delegates kneeling before her.
“House Triangulum have forever been our most technologically capable, scientifically rigorous, and relentlessly intelligent members of the Empire.”
“In many ways, the sector is a different place to House Triangulum than it is to the rest of us, with their unparalleled expertise putting them in a position to understand and utilize the technological triumphs God has gifted to us in a way no other house ever has, or will equal.”
She pauses, looking down on the kneeling delegation, then gesturing with arms wide. “The gifts they have presented today are as valuable and impressive as any other House could muster. And while I am immensely appreciative of their scope, the greatest gift they’ve given is that of their loyalty, and their dedication. I am honored to receive the title of Apex of House Triangulum, and shall endeavor to treat the position in their House with a similar blend of humble devotion and steadfast integrity as I will for the position of Emperox.”
She looks down directly at the Grand Marshal and speaks:
“The grace of God is upon you Triangulum, and as a key facet of our glorious Empire I can only implore you to continue to think not only of what you can do, or what you should do, but what you must do”
“Please, begin the appropriate preparations to take your rightful and divinely deserved place in my Imperial Court.”
She smiles, looking back to the youngest member of the delegation with a wink.
“... And I very much look forward to hearing the song of hope.”
The delegation stands and they bow in respect and acknowledgement of the decision and they exit the Throne Room.
[End Scene]
(Expand on the right to read more.)
Fealty Declaration by House Eridanus[]
[Scene: Imperial Prime - The Imperial Palace, The Throne Room]
Entering the room, the Eridanii party, lead by the Vaultkeeper, walks forward to arrive before the Emperox. The tall lanky frame of Vaultkeeper Eridanus Avon II towers above the rest of the delegation, the eyepatch over his left eye emblazoned with the symbol of House Eridanus, pulsing blue in a flowing pattern every few seconds. His otherwise pitch-black hair shows a few strands of grey above the eyepatch as he slows to a stop before the Emperox, the rest of the delegation following the act behind him. He takes an exaggerated bow with his absurd height adding another level of theatrics to the display.
“Oh, great and benevolent Emperox it is truly a pleasure to witness your ascension to the throne, to watch your stewardship of the sector. And so we come bearing gifts to celebrate your divine ascension”
He lets out a wide grin and snaps his fingers demandingly, signalling the presentation of the first gift.
The Emperox watches as the Eridanii delegation approaches the throne, not a second early nor a second late. The Vaultkeeper’s physical stature almost as impressive as his political one, she watches as with a click of his fingers, the Eridanii machine gets to work.
“In your great wisdom on the governance of the Sector the planet Yakiyah has been bestowed to Eridanii ownership. After the destruction of war, the way to prosperity is through the construction of the future anew. As such, the governance of Yakiyah shall regain proper oversight, and in dedication to this blessing to the people given by the proclamation of House Pyxis we name the new capital in your honor. Situated in the Hearth Valley, the noble city of Ronaseën shall stand testament to the future under the guidance of House Pyxis”
The Emperox permits a shallow nod as Eridanus' governance of Yakiyah is spoken of, but as the new capital is mentioned she pauses, tilting her head ever so slightly and letting an earnest smile come to her face.
“On a planet synonymous with chaos and unrest in recent times, I can think of no better House than Eridanus to bring a level of order and proper procedures to a planet so important to the core worlds. While I’m still growing accustomed to hearing my own name quite so often, I trust that House Eridanus will endeavor to make sure that ‘Ronaseën’ is a city I shall be proud to be associated with.”
The Transactos takes a step forward and goes down on one knee.
“The responsibilities of the position of Emperox do include having to sign important documents. So, on behalf of House Eridanus, we wish to present you with the following gift.”
Doors open and a hover platform slides into the throne room. On the platform is a large ornate wooden desk made with all sorts of Tiberian woods. On the main working surface of the desk, a map of the sector is inlaid with gems and fine metals.
“This travel desk is rumored to have been owned by Empress Eridanus Eridanus Juliana herself and will allow doing any needed paperwork in style.”
The hover platform comes to a stop presenting the desk for the Emperox inspection. (A list of the accompanying books can be found here.)
The eyes of the Throne Room watch as the platform presents the antique. As it comes closer, the Emperox leans forward to appreciate the impeccable design of the piece, her eyes lingering on one of its many accompanying volumes. "Prospect Theory: An Analysis of Decision Under Risk".
“Though much knowledge of Empress Eridanus Juliana has been lost to time, by all accounts she has seemed in my readings to be a woman of impeccable reason and informed decisions. House Pyxis knows all too well how a minor miscalculation can have devastating effects. This desk and all the knowledge within will serve as a reminder that while the future is unpredictable, that doesn’t mean it can’t be anticipated and prepared for.”
The Taxarch follows his Vaultkeeper and peers in, stepping up to the dais and taking a knee.
“I’m relieved to say that this gift is more representational of future policy, and not simply what’s in the basket.”
A young woman unconfidently brings a basket to the front of the proceedings. She reveals from under the black cloth a single, dinner-plate-sized biscuit covered in brown sugar, along with a blackwood scroll case, inlaid with a golden river motif.
“Eridanus would like to speak to you personally about the Snickerdoodle Protocol.”
Upon seeing the cookie, Rona’s eyes light up in obvious glee, and she gives a few excited claps. She quickly picks up the cookie and takes a small bite, savoring the flavor for a moment. She begins to speak, noticing only at the last second that her mouth is still full. Covering her mouth, she slowly finishes chewing her bite, before swallowing and readdressing the Eridanii.
“Pardon the interruption. Not to devalue all of the other gifts I’ve been presented with so far today, they’ve all been so very generous, but I’ve been looking forward to that bite since they told me I’d be Emperox. I’m also quite excited to speak with you regarding the protocol in the future.”
The Vaultkeeper strides forward, taking a position in front of the members of the triumvirate and takes to one knee.
“Hereby I, Vaultkeeper Eridanus Eridanus Avon the 2nd, do humbly pledge fealty to Emperox Pyxis Solanum Rona, on behalf of myself and every member of the Noble House of Eridanus. And shall do for you all the customs and services expected of our house and the planets Tiber, Demnoph, and Yakiyah that we govern on your behalf. Our aid and advice will be at your disposal any time you desire it.”
The Emperox lets the Vaultkeeper finish their declaration, and lets their words sit in the air for a long moment, her voice declarative as she finally responds, speaking beyond the delegation. “House Eridanus have been an integral part of the Empire since its formation, and have always been relied upon to uphold the economic and financial components that enable the Empire’s function. Beyond their fiscal acumen and understanding of the nuanced minutia of sector economics, they are unparalleled in their rationality and reason-based thinking. It is my pleasure to hear that the Empire will be able to continue relying on them, as we always have, to provide sound reasoning and logical guidance for the future to come.”
She lowers her head slightly, looking directly at the Vaultkeeper and between the gathered members of the Triumvirate. “Please begin the appropriate preparations to take your rightful and divinely deserved place in my Imperial Court.”
[End Scene]
(Expand on the right to read more.)
Fealty Declaration by House Lyra[]
[Scene: Imperial Prime - The Imperial Palace, The Throne Room]
The Lyran delegation approaches, led by a familiar masked Horuset. They chuckle before standing silently. Behind them is a group of five fellow Horusets, some holding their masks to their chests, while other opt to keep them worn. They look to their leader. Nothing. They look to each other. Confusion. After a few seconds, one of the group steps forward and taps the silent Horuset on the shoulder.
“Sorry,” they say without moving an inch. “There was this whole rehearsed show we had planned, but um…” The Horuset removes their mask. They had never done this in public before. “The beauty of the Rose was far more than I expected. Very well, improvisation it is then.” They laugh again as they signal the others to step back. Each moves without hesitation.
The Emperox watches intently from the Throne as the Lyran delegation proceed. Many of the fealty pledges thus far had unique deviations taking them from what might have been easily predictable; this however was one she knew to expect to be esoteric, and still she found herself almost immediately off-script.
The Lyran, known as the Light of the After fiddles with their mask for a moment. They take a deep breath, seemingly gathering their thoughts.
“Wonderous Rose, it is no secret that my people were, not long ago, devoid of hope. We believed our end was near and that the After was awaiting. And yet here I stand. Stunned into silence. Well, let this be the final bit of silence from my people. Before you stand the finest minds of House Lyra, led by yours truly. I leave guidance of Lyra to others. We now serve you alone.”
From her Throne, The Emperox visibly straightens and leans forward, the weight of the personal dedication not wasted on her, though once again she holds her tongue - if nothing else not wanting to interrupt the performance.
The other Horusets take a knee as the Light of the After smiles. From within the mask, they take out a few flower petals and fiddle with them. Each one is a different colour and ith each sentence one is placed back into the mask and replaced by another.
“Our knowledge shall be yours. We offer you advisement on any action you wish. No secret shall be kept from you. Though rest assured anything you speak to us shall remain a treasured gift we have no intention of sharing. House Lyra grants you its Light so that you, Rose Emperox, may bloom and flourish.”
With her eyes on each of the petals as they are selected and replaced, Rona lifts her gaze to the unmasked leader of the procession. Again she stops herself from speaking aloud, captivated and a little bewildered by the display, part performance, part ritual. She shows her appreciation with a deliberate bowing nod of her head, just as the focus of the room switches to the main entrance once again.
As if on cue, three Merets enter. Each carry a small stack of texts. The Light approaches them, tossing their mask to one of the Horusets before stealing one of the texts.
“Now, of course, House Lyra would never be caught without its art. Here we have the beginnings of a set of histories, plays to be performed throughout the sector. Rest assured that every citizen, high and low, shall know the story of noble House Pyxis. From birth to ascension, every moment will be immortalized on stages everywhere. From plays to musicals to even a few historemixes should you be so inclined, House Pyxis will have the glory you all so rightfully deserve.”
The Light returns the first text and takes one from each of the other piles. They step forward as the Merets move to flank the Horusets, kneeling as well.
“Our works shall invoke the spirit of Hope. Your hope. Let them act as a lesson to all who dare forget who you truly are.”
Sensing a small pause in the proceedings, the Emperox speaks for the first time. “Who else but Lyra could inspire the people of the Sector and beyond with their storytelling and artistry. There is no doubt in my mind that I shall be humbled and graced by the beauty in these works.” She offers comment only briefly, but with conviction.
A pause. The Light throws the texts over their shoulders to be caught by two other Horusets. Their hands dive into pockets to pull out two cards. They are both completely blank. They press the cards together between their hands. “Now at this point, it would be nice to make an allusion to cards, a storm, and all that, but well. Honestly. How about some tea instead?”
This earns a warm smile from the Emperox herself, again finding herself in more familiar territory she accepts the proposition wordlessly, eye on the cards as she anticipates the movements of The Light.
The Light pulls their hands apart to reveal ornate text upon the once blank cards. “A coronation of Hope deserves the finest of ceremonies. Tea, specially selected from across the sector and certainly not commonly sold, shall be prepared using only the finest of Lyran crafted accouterments."
As they place the cards atop a stack of texts, the Light retrieves their mask. They hold it out to the Emperox. "Gracious Rose Emperox, above all else, we offer you our trust. House Lyra stands by you. Your presence gives us motivation. Together, let us bring about new innovation. If you will have me, have us, then Lyra gives itself to you.”
As she watches the display seamlessly evolve into a well-telegraphed and picturesque finish, she at last finds her cue. She stands and takes a short step forward reaching out to take the mask in her grip, looking the Light in the eye before taking the mask and lifting it to one side, as though to face her, and she it.
“House Lyra. Your art breathes life into the living, allowing them not only to exist but to live. In your focus on our cultures and philosophies, it could be said, that you know more about us than we do ourselves.” She closes her eyes for a moment, almost mournful as she continues to address the room beyond the mask she still ‘faces’. “...And in death you show us that the beauty of the universe is something that is given to us not only because we live and breathe within it, but because we are indeed part of it.”
She opens her eyes turning forward to face the delegation once again, turning the mask in her hand to follow her gaze and almost join her in her address. “The Noble House of Lyra are uniquely charged with the divine duty of reminding us what it is to be Human: children of God. To know what it is to laugh, to cry, to love. To see the beauty not only in the universe around us, but within ourselves as part of it. And in doing so, they provide an invaluable service to the Empire, reminding us all that between the navigation charts, and the ship blueprints… Between the battle plans, and training… Between the economy, and the technology… we are living, breathing vessels of the light of God themselves.”
She herself takes a long pause, turning once more to briefly share a last moment with the mask. Before turning forwards, extending a hand and returning the mask to the Light, slowly and with reverence.
“Please begin the appropriate preparations to take your rightful and divinely deserved place in my Imperial Court.”
[End Scene]
(Expand on the right to read more.)
Fealty Declaration By House Fornax[]
[Scene: Imperial Prime - The Imperial Palace, The Throne Room]
With excitement the guests in the throne room expected House Fornax’s delegation. How many of them would these ever exaggerating nobles bring with them? Rumours had it that a thousand dancers in orange dresses were seen arriving on Imperial Prime from Maja. What kind of gift would they bring? Others, knowing more about the Empire’s politics asked a different question: Would House Fornax even show up?
And thus, as the herald announced Imperial Prime’s neighbours, a murmur spread through the hall.
The giant doors to the throne room opened and nobody walked in.
Until a quiet hum broke the silence and a large robot came gliding in: Easily three times the size of an average human, this blocky, massive machine of dark grey colour with orange outlines on every edge was the centre of everyone’s attention immediately. On its front side a massive screen displayed the logo of House Fornax, burning in bright orange.
As the hulking behemoth of inhuman impressiveness approached, the Palace guard shifted visibly, perhaps even pointedly at the advance. But the Emperox herself remained seated, one leg crossed over the other and her head supported in one hand, she raised a brow. In the years of preparation for her reign she’d learned almost everything that could be taught about the Empire. And in this one day, she’d perhaps learned just as much. Another surprise. Another deviation from the typical. Yet another reason to find herself on the back foot. The Major House of Fornax was clearly setting up to make some grandiose statement and by now she was not just anticipating it, but was ready for it.
That very second a single man in an orange jumpsuit walked through the throne room doors. From afar he might have looked like an ordinary engineer, the spectators closer to the ground however noticed the fine materials and the shimmer of red and yellow that ran through the seams with every move.
He stepped around the robot, nodded at the Empress, then spread his arms and raised his voice:
“The Empire has a new Emperox. May the empress of roses be blessed with luck and wisdom in her decisions.
Wisdom we draw from experience and the Empire’s experiences are its history:
A history of conflict and peace, a history of the pursuit of greater heights, a history of deep beliefs in right and wrong, a history of humans thriving under God.
The history of which many of our houses here are so rich serves not only as a reminder but as building block to our future.
To help House Pyxis and our new Empress, House Fornax prepared a gift for the ages…”
The screen on the robot suddenly started projecting Imperial Prime in the space between the Fornax noble and the Eternal Rose, the planet’s blue hologram slowly rotating a few meters above the ground.
As the projection emitted, there was yet another deliberate unstillness among those with a duty to express such, though again, the Emperox remained comfortably patient and reclined.
“I, Machinafex Fornax Svensson Agyei,” resumed the Fornax noble, as the ground below him started to glow orange and flames seemed to flicker around his suit, competing with the blue lights of the hologram, “am eternally proud to present something equally eternal: the Minneverge, Guard of Memories.”
The hologram suddenly zoomed in, showing only a portion of the Empire’s crown jewel planet and 9 small pieces floating in a cluster in space around it.
“Nine pieces to one, as the Empire is only the sum of its parts. Nine houses, one Empire.
Minneverge is the guardian of our history, may it never be forgotten and may it always shine its wisdom upon Imperial Prime.”
As the last words were spoken, the Machinafex procured a small compad out of his pockets and swiped once over it.
The entire floor of the throne room was suddenly filled with Imperial Prime’s hologram, the nine pieces in orbit clearly visible to everyone.
Another swipe over the compad and they started moving, they flew at incredible rates of speed right at each other , surely they would crash.
Instead of explosions the spectators saw a perfect linking maneuver.
All pieces glided into position perfectly and created a perfectly smooth ball the size of a small moon. For a second it seemed to stand still until the hologram started to move, to rotate and another second later lights flickered on all over its surface.
As the Machinafex manipulated the very ground they stood on to show not only the engineering feat on display, but the beautifully choreographed intermingling of the Minneverge’s elements, even the Emperox herself took pause to appreciate the artistry of the presentation.
“This satellite is only 250,000 kilometres away from us at this very moment, as it starts its orbit around Imperial Prime. 25 kilometres in diameter and every millimetre of its surface functions as a screen.
It will depict an artistic interpretation of different historic scenes from our Empire’s great past every month until the end of time, starting with today’s scene: the coronation of our Pyxis Empress.
You can see it from the planet’s surface with your naked eye, but we installed camera satellites around the Minneverge too. Everyone will always be able to access the livefeeds from anywhere.”
Again he nodded towards the throne.
“May it serve as a reminder to us all for what is good, what is human, what is right and what is wrong. History can teach us many things, if we are willing to accept its lessons.
The Imperial House with its heritage knows that all too well and House Fornax hopes that Minneverge will help the rulers of Lodestone to stay away from the wrong paths of their cousins.”
The Emperox spoke, not with her usual cause for due pause, but as though she was barely reigning in the words.
“It is utterly imperative that we remember both the blessings and the sins of the past, as House Fornax is eager to make clear. As I’ve previously stated, it is my personal philosophy that no matter how forward-thinking the Empire should strive to be, just as with Navigation, it is as important to know your point of departure as your point of arrival.”
The Emperox leans forward slightly in the Throne, less speaking direclty to the Machinafex, than to the room itself, calmly, and confidently.
“No House more so than Pyxis knows the value of history as a resource for making a better future - as well everyone knows. And as such I recognise the invaluable lessons that utilities such as the Minneverge can serve in making sure we improve upon the past, and strive for a better future.”
The Emperox pauses, briefly drumming her fingers on the arm of the Throne.
“However. It is all too easy to dwell in the sins of the past. It is all too easy to draw false encouragement from past victories… and it is all too easy to wallow, bitterly, in the memories of recent defeats.”
This she lets hang for a pointed half-moment.
“In just the last 25 years we have lost two of the Empire’s four major houses. So while our focus must ever be on the future, it is worth bearing in mind just how easily even a Major House, when misguided, can become dust in the face of the Empire Proper.”
The Emperox, for the first time today, and for the first time publicly ever, takes a moment to re-center herself.
“It is my hope, that the Noble House of Fornax will live up to its responsibilities in being paragons of humanity, and not fall into whatever selfish, short-minded malace overcame their cousins before them.”
The Machinafex cocked his head slightly, as if he did not understand the Emperox’s meaning, before robot and noble turned in unison and marched out of the hall without a further word or sound, only the low hum of the robots grav thrusters accompanied their exit.
To their backs she speaks, more to the notaries present than to the exiting delegation themselves. “Please have House Fornax make arrangements to take their place as part of my Court.” [End Scene]
(Expand on the right to read more.)
Fealty Declaration by House Reticulum[]
[Scene: Imperial Prime - The Imperial Palace, The Throne Room]
The next house’s arrival was heralded by the echoing sound of footsteps, decidedly not in unison. The procession was made up of three, two nobles leading the front as equals, and a third following close behind them. The maroon of their dress and the weapons at their hips leave little doubt that they are present to represent House Reticulum before the throne. The Asura and Saishu stop before the Emperox Pyxis Solanum in unison.
The Emperox eagerly watches as the Reticulum procession approaches the Throne. Having already heard the name of Reticulum mentioned twice today during other House’s processions, she is quite curious as to what else the Noble House may have to offer.
Above all, she inspects the third figure with true anticipation. If her suspicions were correct, it was now time for quite possibly the most important position among her ranks to be filled.
“Honored Emperox,” the Asura announces as they straighten, beckoning the third member of their party to come forth. “It is my privilege to present to you, on behalf of the finest warriors of my House, our finest blade, your future guardian, your Kheshig.” The Asura steps to the side as the third member of their party takes their place.
The well traveled woman falls to one knee before her messiah, her head bowed deeply in a gesture of respect. She draws the chakram, ornamented like the axes of a compass, from her hip as she raises her head, holding it tight to her chest as she begins to speak.
“I, Rakshasa Reticulum Pereira Bilianna, of strong arm and sound aim, pledge myself to the service of Emperox Pyxis Solanum Rona, the Eternal Rose, to be her guardian and her shield, to be her blade held outstretched before the throne, until after my last breath and after I can no longer raise my blade.” Bilianna returns her chakram to her hip, withdrawing a phial from the folds of her robe, and presenting it towards the Emperox.
The phial is a simple thing, a shard of crystal caught in a tangle of silver wire. A streak of red hangs in the middle of the phial, unmistakably blood.
“To seal my oath, I offer to you my phylactery, the blood that I will shed in your defence.” Bilanna bows her head again as she offers the phial.
With a nod, one of the Emperox’s assistants is sent to retrieve the phial, quickly bringing it before Rona, who takes it. She turns it in her hand, admiring it’s simplistic yet intriguing design from every angle, and allowing herself to let the symbolic weight of the item sink it. Having been crowned Emperox, she was now responsible for billions of Imperial citizens, but something about holding in her grip the very life of the one before her stirred a new, more sombre emotion within her heart.
“I must admit, it is a rather strange feeling to meet someone who will stand beside you for the rest of your days. You should know I rather have high expectations of you, and I look forward to seeing you surpass them. Although hopefully a chance to prove yourself will not arrive *too* soon. Rakshasa Reticulum Pereira Bilianna, I accept you as my Kheshig. Stand, and take your rightful place at my side, may you make your family proud.”
Kheshig Reticulum Pereira climbs to her feet, giving the Emperox a quick bow before retreating to stand at the Emperox’s left.
Unlike all the other gifts she had been presented with on this day, on this occasion the Emperox does not hand it off to an attendant to be managed at a later time. Instead, even as she still speaks the Emperox sequesters the phial away in a hidden pocket of her robes, to keep with her from now on.
Head held high, the Saishu takes a step forward, a tray held firmly in their grip. The contents of the tray rattle as they step forward, an ancient tea set of fine workmanship, a pair of cups and saucers accompanied by a small pot. The pieces of the set are each freshly enameled, bearing wreathes of golden leaves at their edges, and the distinctive Pyxis compass rose. Around the rim of one cup the words “Ever Searching” are written in a fine script, its twin wearing the words “Our Sights are True.”
The Saishu’s bow is more curt than the Asura’s, partially due to the teaset in their hands, and partially due to the comparative refinement of their station. “On behalf of the finest artisans of House Reticulum, I am honoured to present you with this, a teaset almost as ancient at the Empire itself. It is said that the first Emperox and the first Saishu shared tea and counsel many times, a tradition I hope to have the honour of continuing with you.” The Saishu carefully offers the tray to a waiting attendant before stepping back next to the Asura.
The set is brought before the Emperox, who briefly inspects it, picking up the cup bearing the Pyxis motto before setting it down with a smile.
“It is always a pleasure to meet another lover of tea. I always loved having the chance to attend the Tea Parties with the Wardens back home. Sadly, I haven’t had much time to sit and relax with a cup lately with all the preparations and festivities. Once things have settled down I will be sure to invite you to the gardens to share some and chat."
For their House’s final gift, the Asura and the Saishu step forward together, the Asura presenting a box of ebony towards the Emperox. Painted in silver atop the box’s lid, in the native script of Aomori, are the words Solanum Rona, the name of the Emperox.
“On behalf of the Naishinnō Reticulum Bulan Ailani of House Reticulum, we present to you our final gift.” The Asura speaks first, snapping open the clasps of the case, revealing what was held within.
The spyglass sits collapsed in a bed of maroon velvet, the polished brass catching the ample light. The Saishu carefully picks the spyglass from the case and draws it out to its full length at nine segments.
“We present you with this spyglass so that as your sights remain fixed on the future, they stay as true as the heading on a compass. A memory from where we’ve come.” They run a hand along the first four segments of the spyglass, each one etched with images depicting the history of House Pyxis. “And a promise of where we must go.” The Saishu gestures to the remaining five segments, blank, and ready to hold the history of the Emperox’s reign.
As they finish the Saishu carefully collapses the spyglass, returning it to the ebony case just before the Asura passes the case off to an attendant.
Even from a distance, the Emperox is stricken by the intricate beauty of the spyglass. She makes a note to have it sent to her personal chambers, so she can attempt to truly admire the craftsmanship later when she has time alone.
“It is moments like this that remind me of how truly young my House is. While the spirit that drives us is ancient, the name of House Pyxis shall be more than twice as old when we leave the Throne.”
She meets the Saishu’s eyes, and gives a genuine, heartfelt smile.
“So much has happened in so little time. It is easy to forget that every day, in our own different ways, each and every one of us is writing history. I will have to endeavor to ensure that my part in the future we create surpasses everything that has come before.”
Their gifts finished with, the Asura and Saishu both fall to one knee before the Emperox, each bowing their heads one final time. In unison they speak the words of fealty, unchanged since the ascension of the Shining Star.
“We, the Asura and Saishu of House Reticulum, pledge our House’s twin halves of sword and anvil to the Throne and to the reign of Emperox Pyxis Solanum Rona. We swear to uphold the peace of the Empire with the blood of our duellists, to continue to arm its guardians with the finest weapons, to continue our stewardship of Aomori in your name.”
With this, the Emperox stands, looking past the two Reticulum leaders to address the rest of the chamber’s occupants.
“House Reticulum have served the Empire diligently for centuries, aiding in the pursuit of Imperial peace by providing a fair and honorable system of conflict resolution through their duels. Their skills are unmatched throughout the Sector, and they have had the honor of honing their mastery of their craft to the level of an art. More than that, I have been particularly moved by something uniquely unexpected from the House today. Of all the Noble Houses who have come before the Throne today, only Reticulum has been credited alongside another’s gifts. With the Empire so recently emerged from war with our former cousins, it is my belief that the Noble Houses must be united more than ever before, and Reticulum’s decision to cooperate and work alongside the other Noble Houses is truly appreciated and respected.I am glad to be able to count on House Reticulum’s continued support in the future, and hope they will continue to be invaluable members of the Empire for long beyond my reign.”
Having concluded her speech to the room, the Emperox leans forward, addressing the Asura and Saishu themselves.
“Please have your House begin the appropriate preparations to take its rightful and divinely deserved place in my Imperial Court.”'
[End Scene]
(Expand on the right to read more.)
Fealty Declaration by House Serpens[]
[Scene: Imperial Prime - The Imperial Palace, The Throne Room]
A soft swish prefaces the approach of the Serpens representative, gait paced and fluid, their eyes forward towards the Emperox. The long robe shifts around their feet, hiding the soft movements and giving the impression of floating, an almost imperceptible mist swirling around the hemline; the fabric is a subtle matte affair, metallic scales printed densely near the base and spreading out the further up their body you look, before coalescing at the hip once more into a narrow line, twisting around their waist and up to settle in the distinct form of a serpent on their shoulder. Twists of long, straight, silver hair lead the eyes up to the narrow face, eyes and skin also pale and lacking the touch of sunlight.
The gathered members of the Throne Room watch as the single Serpens representative glides into and through the room, all eyes following their unusual movement, as draped in mystery as the House they represent. Studious enough to know the figure’s identity based on their attire, the Emperox remains seated but welcomes the approaching figure with a practiced half-smile, though she did privately indulge her curiosity, taking a long moment of committing the sight of such a seldom-seen side of House Serpens to memory.
The sleeves sweep down, widening until they drape across the Serpens’ hands, covering them and preventing any contact with the small bundle their hands cradle, ensuring the precious items are kept free of undue marring.
Providing a cushion for the other items, a neatly folded shawl sits atop their hands, the fabric scattered with delicate embroidery in the pattern of the stars and planets of the sector, thread barely visible until it catches the light. There’s an unnatural sheen to the fabric seen occasionally, a wave of shimmer that sweeps across the surface.
A thick, pristine journal is nestled atop the fabric, the cover a deep, intense navy blue made of soft leather - that of the wings of the Stratokwane, a rare material even for those of its native home. The front cover is embellished with a bright orange design, simple in its execution but no less eye-catching than the shawl for it. The crest of House Pyxis adorns such a journal for the first time, and the pen tucked into its holder matches the colouring of the journal perfectly, a thin orange strip breaking up the swirling, sweeping designs depicting mists, a burst of sun through the fog of time.
Curved about the journal is the final gift, a ceremonial dagger, the hilt ornate and decorated with scales. The blade itself is lightly curved, shined to a brilliant white sheen. The sheath is adorned with a line of metallic rings which chime lightly when jostled or shifted. A chain - 10 links, as is only appropriate - connects the two ends of the sheath so that it may be worn along the belt if desired, although it appears to be more ceremonial than functional.
The Oracle stops in a smooth, yet somewhat abrupt movement, performing a deep bow, gifts lifted above their head as their upper body dips, then as they straighten up again their hands remain raised upwards towards the Emperox, expression almost entirely blank but for a note of respectful deference in their gaze. Their voice comes out in a soft but clear tone, cadence winding.
“Dearest and most radiant Emperox, we present these humble gifts that you may better guide us into a bright future lit by your exaltation. We swear fealty to you, our Hope, and offer our devotion, that you may lead the Empire along the true path. We dedicate ourselves in our entirety to aiding the Empire as it requires that you may rest easy on your throne. The shadows move at your command, and our vision shall not falter as we temper the unknown into the known, as we part the Veil for your resplendence to shine through.”
The Oracle pauses to let their words permeate the room, the remnants of an echo fading before they lock their pale eyes with the Emperox’s. A further pause, then their eyes flash a vivid, beautiful green, the colour of grass untouched in a vast field, the colour of a clear, moss filled river. The dagger lifts from its resting place, a smooth movement bringing it to the side of the bearer where it stays, making room for the book to float slowly up to the waiting Emperox. It stops as abruptly as the Oracle had previously, within reach but still distant enough to imply a presentation rather than an offering.
“Without our past, our future could not exist. Our memories lead us, form us, push us into the unknown, and it is with the joint knowledge of the past that we as a people can move forward. May the devastation of the Scream never again leave us short of breath, short of knowledge. We offer the Chronicle of the Preceding - your words, your thoughts, your visions are those that will form the Empire. May they be unsullied by the hand of another, the pen for you alone, the pages for none other.”
From its beauty and decoration alone the value of this gift is apparent to everyone in the room, but it’s purpose made it especially appealing to the Emperox, who fondly remembers scrambling to take down notes in her numerous meetings at the side of her Mentor. She considers the journal for a moment, thumbing through the pages lost in thought, before remembering where she is, snapping it shut, and giving a genuine smile down to the Oracle. “In a new age with our eyes forward, it can be all too easy to forget that one of the best ways we can know where to go, is by looking at where we have come from.” She bows her head gently, carefully setting the book back on top of the scarf. “Thank you.”
With the journal claimed, the gift bearer once again leaves a pause, a silence hanging in the air. It is not them who moves next, but their attendant from the crowd, a subtle movement to bring them to the forefront, and then a flash, their hand left palm up as the object they held leaves their palm with barely a sound. The knife, brilliant and white, makes a clear shot towards the Oracle, upon which they take up two corners of the shawl and unfurl it with a flourish.
The display takes barely a second, and it is only with the conclusion that it becomes clear it took place at all. The knife, sharp and quick, stops almost unnaturally just a hair’s width before the shawl, having been unveiled to form a barrier between the Oracle and their attendant. With the gasps from the crowd, the knife falls to the floor, the cloak rustling gently as its assailant disturbs the air around it. Not a sound is made from the knife, it having stopped short of the floor with the very power holding the ceremonial dagger aloft, then lowered with such care that the metal met the stone with a caress.
The Oracle, expression still as before, turns to face the Emperox fully once more, hands holding the cloth aloft where it is taken from their hands by an invisible force, moving to the Emperox’s hands in much the same position as it held in its departure. When the Oracle speaks again, their voice is soft and not in the slightest breathless from the prior exchange.
“The silks of our beloved Psiders bring you a protection for the present, so that you may move forward with the knowledge that you are kept safe, kept shielded from those who would wish harm to the Empire, and in turn harm to those who guide it. The stars themselves guide you, and now they proffer protection and comfort, to be wrapped around your precious heart and to keep you warm in the harshest of chills. With this, our protection is yours, our Radiant Guide, both from external and internal ailments. Our hands, steady and prepared, are yours.”
Rona takes the scarf and spreads it across both hands, lifting it up into the light to inspect the captivating design of the charming material, thumbs rubbing over the rich blue silk. As a glimmering wave of presumably psionic energy passes over the material she turns her head back to the Oracle. “Fashionable and functional,” she smiles in approval, before wrapping the shawl around herself. She motions for an attendant to bring a mirror, and spends a few moments inspecting the garment in it’s reflection, occasionally humming appreciatively. When she is satisfied with her inspection, she removes the shall, carefully folding the garment before handing it off to the attendant to add to her wardrobe.
The final gift shifts from its patient position at the Oracle’s side, and moves to float in a flat position, awaiting the Emperox to take up the beautiful weapon.
“With this final gift, we offer the ability to pierce the veil, to see past present plights and into the future you walk towards with the grace only you can hold. May any obstacles in your path be cleared with barely a glance, for we will be by your side, looking past the veil so that your eyes may look in awe, in wonder, at the present you have created.”
Ever mindful in her decisions, the Emperox leaves the dagger until last, though she reaches out and grabs the blade without further hesitation and holds it outwards. Running her hands along the decorative scales of the sheath, she spends almost a full minute appreciating the intricate design of the ceremonial blade. There’s a subtly visible unease among the Palace Guard for the moments where she handles the weapon, which quickly passes as she mercifully places it aside.
Rising to her feet, the Emperox stands over the Oracle and gives due pause for the moving words to be appreciated. She inhales, holding the breath before speaking as much to the room as the Oracle herself.
“House Serpens are now, and shall always be an irreplaceable facet of the Empire’s strength. They provide services no other House is equipped to manage. Through their unequalled knowledge of Psionics they rose from the ashes of the Scream to the benefit of all the Empire: From the noble efforts of the Caduceus Organisation throughout Acheron Rho, to the Hroan academy which turns those afflicted with Metadimensional Extroversion Syndrome from victims into productive citizens, the Empire owes them a debt of gratitude for their work in fields no one else is as qualified or experienced in. I’m delighted, though not at all surprised to hear that House Serpens will continue to provide its essential support to the Empire, and that as Emperox I will be able to rely on their council and unique insight where needed.”
Again, she lets her words linger for a long moment, before speaking to the Oracle directly once again.
“Please have your House begin the appropriate preparations to take its rightful and divinely deserved place in my Imperial Court.”
No more words are said from the Oracle themself, but the closing bow they take is deep and reverent, the gifts no longer in the way of their movement. They hold the bow for five seconds, rising then to turn and make way for the next of the Houses, settling next to their attendant with a barely perceptible nod of gratitude and approval.
[End Scene]
(Expand on the right to read more.)
Fealty Declaration by the Confederation of the Upright Vagrant[]
[Scene: Imperial Prime - Imperial Prime System]
In high orbit above the planet's surface, an old heavy freighter glides through the frigid void and maneuvers to begin descent. The silver and blue of the Vagrant main shines in the light of the sun before the blinding sear of reentry hides it again. Finally, it comes to rest on a landing pad purpose built for this occasion. At long last it's twenty-four day run is over. A ship bay opens, and a smaller ship with graceful lines is lowered gently from the freighter's interior, borne on six massive gravsleds. Even a cursory glance makes it plain that the ship - akin to a free merchant - is ancient and beaten. Centuries worth of pockmarks and scars, some the work of the elements, some deep gouges from strange beasts, and still some with no ready explanation, all tell a story of abuse that the ship has weathered in the cold fields of Al-Dost from where it was recovered.
The awaiting ground party watches keenly, a blend of Noble officials and a small army of deckhands and on-site security exchange communications and verifications for the unorthodox arrival. A few manage to hide their unease, but many don’t bother to try. After a series of double and triple checks, the arriving party and their unconventional ‘luggage’ are given course to progress unabated - albeit under scrutinous surveillance.
An unspoken signal, and the groups stop milling about their stations. From them emerges one silhouette, stepping forward to lead their congregation toward the Imperial Palace. The lone figure is clad in an ornate but serviceable vacc suit, with an impressive holster bearing an archaic artifice of war - the humble revolver - strapped across its chest. Behind them, the ship begins to move. Slow. Methodical. Implacable.
Behind the ship come still more figures, bearing instruments. The song they play is slow, and sad. A dirge so that all who hear will know the respect due this venerable ship brought at last, home. Across from the Faris Riddari, hooded and cloaked figures operate another of the gravsleds. These are the people of Teuthem, unused to the bright light of any sun, they wrap themselves in fabric and shield their eyes with protective lenses. The ship passes through the Palace Gate, where not so long ago Vagrant forces stood against militants of the Repentant Faith and held fast.
The gravsleds strain as the terrain shifts and their burden begins its trek uphill toward the Imperial Palace. Behind the Teuthans are the people of Shān, the heart of the Confederation. The most numerous and most varied of the groups, the Shānites are a melting pot of all varieties, dour Mine Foremans in ceremonial dress jumpsuits, stoic Clan leaders giving nothing of themselves away, and the Rusiyyah in their storm armor and scaled furs following closely behind the recently crowned King of Shān, here to kneel before the Throne of Acheron Rho.
As the imposing requiem resonates and announces the presence of the varied visiting groups that comprise the Confederation, those charged with the protection of the palace and its divine contents make their own separate checks and confirmations, but act swiftly enough not to waylay the procession.
The song climbs to a crescendo, ringing out sonorous notes as the procession nears the Palace. As it enters, the music dies. Following behind the Shānites, the first of the Confederation, march the newly-come Settlers of Al-Dost, the latest world to come under the protection of the Upright Vagrant. The smallest contingent, they wear their finest, but even that is made to be practical and effective in the harsh un-reality of their new world. Beside them march the Vagabond d'Chevalier in tightly manicured ranks. Known as the Knights Vagrant to most, the boots of their chromed assault armors beat out a counter note in the silence left by the quieted instruments.
The procession traverses vast hallways with towering vaulted ceilings until the wide doors of the audience chamber are opened to welcome the procession. Each group comes to a halt, silence ringing out - even the gravsleds thrum seems almost nonexistent. The HVS To Seek Answers Is To Hone The Dull Blade is brought before the Throne of the Emperox and laid to rest. The Figure steps forward, removing their helmet and revealing cold eyes and an iron hard face. He kneels before the Emperox, silent with respect and awaiting a gesture to speak.
The Emperox watches as the procession enters, paying but a brief glance to the man leading it. Her eyes naturally travel around the diverse patchwork of perhaps the only faction in the sector more varied and fragmented than her own. Gaze soon affixed to the ship itself, she spends a long moment considering it. As a result of the Confederation’s broadcast, she was in the much appreciated position of knowing exactly what the presented gift was - or at least professed to be. Eventually she brought her eyes back to the stranger leading the collective, and shifted her weight to rest on one arm of the Throne, giving a shallow but deliberate nod in the process.
"I am the Gunbearer," he says. "I have no name but this, for my burden is heavy and my voice is not my own. I speak for the Upright Vagrant."
As he speaks, the groups leave their stations and take position behind the Gunbearer. In a wave of succession, each begin to kneel. Those that follow behind the Al-Dostian prospectors and boomtown settlers do so reluctantly. These are the Captains of the Maelstrom Fleet, each one a hardened pirate. They are the Old Guard, the diehard corsairs who see legitimization as capitulation. True pirates who see service to the Empire as convenient now, but always looking for a chance to seize more, or tack hard when the wind shifts again.
"We ventured into a world locked off from the Empire and God's Children for hundreds of years and return with an ancient relic of your past." The Gunbearer's voice echoes through the Chamber, his voice filled with iron. "In the name of exploration,” he continues, “In the service of discovery. At the behest of the Empire past, it went forth and was brought low." His voice quiets, tinged with regret. "Long it has laid lost and unmourned among rocks and beasts on the planet of Al-Dost. Now, we bring it home. Not to the House whose colors it once flew, for House Vela laid aside their charge and because of it were undone." His voice rises as his proclamation comes to its close, "We bring it to their rightful heirs, to House Pyxis, ever blazing a trail before them, leading the way for all to follow. We bring it to you, Eternal Rose, our Emperox. To you, Eternal Rose, the Confederation of the Upright Vagrant pledge their fealty."
And as those words from the Gunbearer rang out throughout the Chamber, and each group behind him began to echo it, the Captains of the Maelstrom Fleet felt metaphorical shackles placed around them as the words were ripped from them. And yet the last group, the group unspoken, began to smile as they gave their Oath. The Bloodhounds. Cajolers, spies, kidnappers of the Nobility, assassins. Those who had played the long game, and were witnessing the fruits of their labor.
Hearing the pledge, the Emperox’s brow raises and she gives the slightest smirk as she moves to sit more upright in her Throne. Once again she sets her gaze on the broader congregation. She had heard the stories of myriads of people under the banner of Vagrant, but even with her extensive study into the inhabitants of the sector she had not been able to imagine the multitude of disparate people she was witnessing today. While there was no smoke without fire, the truth remained that the display of fealty had far exceeded her own expectations and those of her advisors. It was well structured, well delivered, and effort had been taken to make it appear sufficiently earnest. If their gift held half the value she was informed it potentially could, then even that seemed well suited. It was all so surprisingly… appropriate.
She leans forward slightly and speaks. “The Confederation of the Upright Vagrant…” She pauses, eyes flicking slightly skywards, making no effort to hide the consideration she was putting into her next words. “You’ve certainly come a long way in incredibly little time. There are those who will look toward past transgressions and have misgivings about your association with the Empire.” She lets this hang, leaving no ambiguity regarding the facts of the situation. As she speaks she is especially mindful that the varied group was likely divided in opinion regarding their current circumstances, and it was entirely impossible that a majority of the Vagrant present could be even remotely believed to be anything resembling Imperial loyalists.
“However, as you are well aware, we all find ourselves entering a new era. An era rife with challenges, to be sure, but an era of Hope.” Again she pauses, sweeping her gaze to offer this point to each of the representatives present, before sitting back squarely in her Throne and rapping her fingers a few times against one of the arms.
“I’m sure you’ve each faced many hardships in the time since the banner of Vagrant was first flown. Outside of formalities and niceties, I’d like to congratulate you for surviving long enough to make it where you are now. It is truly impressive. As the Confederation of the Upright Vagrant, you’ve achieved something many before you would have claimed impossible.” She pauses for a moment, clearly returning to her prepared dialogue. “I’m pleased to hear the Empire can continue to rely upon the Confederation for its unwavering duties in the field of… Salvage and Reclamation.” She then makes a mental note, almost visibly, to look into the specifics of such a mandate at a later date. “I look forward to having you join the Empire as we take our first strides into the future together.”
“Please make the appropriate arrangements to take your place amongst my court. I’ll leave the specifics up to you to decide, as I’m sure you may need to discuss the extent to which each of the groups among you will be represented.”
[End Scene]
[Scene: Keelside - Lodestone - Home System]
Even as the festivities of the Coronation on Imperial Prime progress, six unlikely figures gather together in a dusty room in the depths of Keelside. It is a rare thing for more than two or three of these figures to meet, and for all Six to congregate is momentous. They are unalike in perhaps every respect, excepting that all wear some variation of the same pin. Six circles arranged in a circle like the cylinder of a revolver. A seventh figure enters, The Dahlia. The Six look to each other and nod. Standing, they each speak in turn. "We are the Wolves of the Empire,” says the first, a thin, dour man in the black uniform of the PSI. “We are here at the behest of the Emperox,” says the second, a young woman bearing the markings of Clan Yngling. “Yours before, but ours now as well,” says the third, a fierce woman in a smart military uniform. “We'll do as she bids,” proclaims the fourth, an unkempt man in weathered security armor, impatience dripping from his voice , “so long as we're kept happy and fed.” “But remember the old adage,” says the fifth, a flamboyant woman with a bionic right arm, “you can't domesticate a wolf.” “See there's never a need for us to bite the hand that feeds us,” says the last, a scarred and bearded man in a large grey overcoat.
The Dahlia smiles, predatorily. “Rest assured my esteemed guests, young Rona may be a bit of a naive prude, but the Throne is well aware that the Confederation are no ‘lapdog pets’, and that wild beasts need room to roam free.” She glances among the hardened faces present, beginning to pour drinks as she speaks. “Nice job with the ship by the way. Not quite sure how you pulled that one off, but I’m sure it caused quite the stink” She lifts the glass nearest her, clinking it in a rough semi-circle around the other six prepared, and brings it to her lips to take a sip to show good faith. “All that being said, you and I are going to have a great deal of business to discuss over the next hundred years, so why don’t we try and teach the old dogs a few new tricks, hm?~” She proceeds to upend her glass, quickly draining it down her throat, before returning her attention to the visitors with a sickeningly gleeful grin.
[End Scene]
(Expand on the right to read more.)