1.0 - A Good King's Gambit (Closed)

[Dastardly Tristar]

Urien's dry smile never dropped, though it wavered as the man tried to stifle a laugh at the Herald's humiliation before the man's king. 'Royalty does not suit a Solomani' and all that, but Oleb's larger-than-life personality certainly warmed up the agent to His Most Humongous Royalty. As Oleb bellowed for them to follow him in, Urien lingered at the back of the group to re-perform his mocking bow at the Herald, before hurrying along.

Solomani architecture was utilitarian by design, but that didn't mean there was no room for aesthetics. But there was always that nagging feeling - no matter how it was designed, there was always the predatory feeling of brutal purpose. If it served no purpose, it had no place aboard a ship or in a meeting room. Not quite the philosophy that the ancient Sindalian Empire had, which manifested itself before his eyes as - admittedly an impressive display of opulence, power and endurance. His time in the Third Imperium had somewhat spoiled his view, but Urien was still just a human being. 

Shiny rock was shiny rock. 

He withheld the desire to touch the walls and floor like an unabashed tourist, though his eyes lingered a tad longer on the throne. 

His attention was captured by the smell of wine first- he didn't have to guess what the vintage was, nor taste it; his ears had done the work for him. Plucking the wine glass with a hint of noble disdain, he swirled the contents and breathed in the fumes, and raised the glass as Oleb took a hearty swig, but didn't partake himself. "Sindalian Gold? I cannot imagine we warranted such honour."

"Urien Konicek, There was a gala, few years back, that I attended. I was Captain Konicek, then. Of the Solomani Navy." 

He wasn't technically lying. He was part of the Navy- the Reserves that was. 

He was a Captain- but in the SolSec Agency. 

It wasn't like he wanted to lie for the fun of it, but there was merit in testing the Royal Intelligence of Drinax. 

[Emmettmcglynn]

The Office of Lord Wrax, Star Guard Barracks

Mahan cocked his head in consideration at the Admiral's summary of the party. When he'd heard foreigners were the crew he'd assumed them to be the usual mix of men from the Drinax cluster, Vargr corsairs, Aslan ihatei or exiles, and maybe some Imperials from Deneb at most. Bwaps and Solomani, those were decidedly more exotic than he was used to. Still, as the Admiral said, he would have plenty of time to get used to them.

"Thank you, Captain," He said with a grateful nod as they left, before copying his old superior's Sindalian salute to the Admiral. He was in the navy again, officially or not. For all the stalled career and bitterness he'd left behind, he preferred it that way.

---

The Royal Palace

As he descended from the Air/Raft Mahan dropped the last few inches from the craft to the ground to allow his greatcoat, civilian in color but naval in cut, to billow dramatically around him. Pushing through the doors and sweeping into the main chamber, he flicked a look towards the herald at the other man's sardonic remarks. With a slight nod to the "recuirtment" into a bow tutorial, he aborts it the instant the King bursts through the door and instead returns to twelve years of training by snapping into a formal salute at the King's presence. 

As they entered the throne room he allowed his eyes to wander. For all he'd grown used to the splendor of the Floating Palace growing up, the throne room had always been far beyond his status and he intended to soak it in. The beauty of the walls and ceiling, however, paled in his eyes to the floor wide sector map. To a spacer like himself it was truly incomparable, the highest and truest display of the splendor of the Sindalian Empire's reign.

Still, he was a professional and a loyal subject of the King. Recovering from his awe and a flare of patriotic nostalgia, he turned to face the King again. Catching the glass from the passing server in his left hand, idly twirling his unlit pipe in the right, he takes a deep draft to match the King's. It seemed today was a day for fine spirits, and who was he to question fate? Only after he'd finished savoring the flavor did he follow the Solomani officer's lead and give his formal introduction.

"Sun Mahan, your majesty, formerly Ensign of your own noble Star Guard. By the right of my ancestors, I am also the First Knight-Brother of the Order of the Sword Brothers of Stross."

[Sneaksby]

Mahan was a more pleasant surprise than Urien, if only because his presence was not unexpected. The Zhodani gave him a friendly wave.

Unlike Urien, Kesper chuckled freely at the Herald's predicament. The offensiveness of the display was quickly forgotten by virtue of the King's utter insouciance. It reminded him of some of the nobles of his home, who (behind closed doors) would argue amongst themselves in brassy tones no lesser citizen could get away with. It seemed humans were humans, no matter where they were from.

Kesper gave the poor Herald a consoling pat on the shoulder before moving on. "Thanks for the lesson anyway, friend."

Readily accepting the offered drink, he took a sip. At this point he could have waxed on about the wine's flavor, body and bouquet, if he knew anything about that kind of thing. All he could think in the moment was that it tasted good and he liked how it fizzed on his tongue. He continued to sip appreciatively.

"My name's Kesperziaiepr, at your service. I was slinging a gun in the Consulate Guard for, oh...thirteen years or so. Around this time last year I was leading a Commando squadron. I think your equivalent is a lieutenant-colonel?" He shrugged, listing off his accomplishments casually as though recounting a trip to the market. "I don't mind being called Kesper. This wine is very good, by the way."

[Niraverine]

She shouldn’t be surprised that the jewelled doors guard a room that overshadows everything she saw for the past few weeks. She really shouldn’t. It wasn’t the general interior design, it wasn’t even the throne. What caught Eirene’s eyes was the floor. She eyed the rendition of that part of the universe, then she glanced at the throne and back at the map. She briefly contemplated symbolism: the Reach at the feet of the king of Drinax. She doubted it was accidental or just decorative.

She stood on the edge of the group, hoping that at the same time she would manage to observe the room and her demeanour wouldn't show any disrespect towards the king – or anyone else for that matter.

The man himself didn’t look like one that would make a fuss over some mistakes in court etiquette, but over not participating in drinking? Doubtful, very doubtful, she assessed. And so, Eirene accepted the glass and raised it to her lips – then lowered it without taking a sip. The king had to know who they were. All those weeks of screening surely weren’t wasted. In that case trying to hide her current profession didn’t make any sense – besides, what was there to hide. He didn’t need them for work in charities. That didn’t mean she would be straightforward about it, she decided.

“Eirene Kovačević, your Majesty. Former corporate agent”, she stated drily. “Currently I use my past experiences for a citizens’ initiative of freeing goods from their unlucky or unworthy owners and then moving and liquidating them. Most of the time I am civil about it. I would be glad to share my unconventional knowledge and abilities in your service, if that pleases you.” She raised the glass again, saluted Oleb, and took a sip with a wry smile. 

[Emmettmcglynn]

Mahan's eyebrows shot up at the woman's euphemistic explanation of piracy.

"Liquidating the goods," he asked dryly between sips, "or their owners?"

[Niraverine]

She smiled sardonically. "That depends. If the goods happen to be sentient, then I liquidate the owners with extreme prejudice." She swirled the drink in the glass and looked at Mahan closely. "Do I know you?"

[Emmettmcglynn]

He peers back, cooking his head and narrowing his eyes. There was something irking him about her face, but he couldn't place it.

"I don't... believe so? Unless..." He trails off, continuing after a pause. "I don't suppose you've plied your particular brand of inventorying in the Drinax Cluster?"

[Niraverine]

Eirene’s eyes darted to the king for a moment. “I would never proceed with any ingenious activity on the territory under supervision of Drinax without gaining a permit first.” She cleared her throat and downed the rest of her drink. “Marvellous vintage”, she murmured to no one in particular. The number of previous acquaintances in the throne room just raised to three and it was, to delicately put it, unnerving.

[kostyora]

Lindsey could not help a touch of sympathy for the Herald's seeming denigration. He would remember it for a few days before he finally let go of it, she thought. Though, she also reflected -- it had been his choice to be rude and not simply offer instruction in the first place. No matter. She managed a neutral, non-committal smile as she ambled through, still somewhat bemused at the behavior of what she had at first taken to be simply another petty king in the Hierate's inexorable way as it expanded in any way which provided it rich bounty. Though she revised it somewhat. She had read a little of the sector's history during her odyssey to get here and if this was the sort of wealth the Sindalians had once possessed, King Oleb came from a distinguished pedigree indeed.

'One that he no doubt wishes to not lose,' she thought idly to herself as she trailed her compatriots silently. 'Is this why we're here? A group of oddities under the gaze of one of his own. But why? Why? What does he have in mind.' So lost in her thoughts was she, she almost walked into the Zhodani's back as he waved to the other Solomani present, as he revealed something worth remembering. He was a Captain. Interesting...

She accepted the libration offered but did not quite wish to drink yet. She would hear what the good King had to say first, and then she would indulge... though whether it was in commiseration or to mark the start of a new beginning remained to be seen.  "Your health, Majesty. I confess I don't quite know why I am here among such... interesting company, but, I am known as Lindsey Zhukova. Until recently the Chief Steward to Senator Matsuko of the Confederation." Feeling she was at a disadvantage - as some of this motley assemblage evidently knew each other already - she stayed silent from then on, and studied the glass. It was a beautiful thing, and before she knew it she was drifting into her mental encyclopedia to compare...

'Look at that subtle gold coloring. The tasteful thickness of the stem... My god, it even has a coat of arms on the underside of the foot...'

Edited February 3, 2023 by kostyora (see edit history)

[Kiro Haas]

The bwap tilts it's head to a degree that would have made any human quite uncomfortable, virtually 90 degrees, as it watches the herald perform his elaborate bow. An eye is licked as the amphibious sophont observes closely, as if getting the Dirnaxian variant of the noble bow - a variation upon forms the Bwap already knew, a little archaic perhaps, and the pose held for a second longer - was as important to it's immediate future as the correct input of astrogation coordinates.

As the doors fly open, and what could only - in any galaxy in any potential timeline - be King Oleb XVI of Dirnax all but erupts from the massive doorway much to the chagrin and despair of his poor flummoxed herald - a situation that the Bwap could relate to only far too well with all these pesky humans - and then demands and promptly settles for the most feeble attempt at a bow that the Bwap had seen for the last quarter standard solar cycle.

As the King ushers the others inside, the Bwap lingers behind for the briefest of moment to give a single, consolatory and commiserative pat of a polymer gloved hand to the Herald's back. An action that spoke of a deeply shared and equally unspoken pain of having customs and rituals broken, ignored, and just profaned by those who should know far better.

And with that, webbed feet produces a series of rapid slap-slap-slap against richly veined marble as the Bwap waddles rapidly to catch up to the other members of the motley party.

The Bwap's head tilts this way and that as it observes the throne room, noting the star pattern laid into the floor while comparing it to the astrogation charts, and the quality of the gemstones as well. The amphibian released a rapid series of gurgling clicks - the Bwap equivalent of a chuckle - as it noted that the gemstones matched the star types of each solar system. Diamonds for white stars, topaz and amber for yellow dwarfs, rubies for red giants, rapidly flickering sapphires for neutron stars, and so forth. An amusing touch, and it's accuracy pleased the Bwap's nigh obsessive-compulsive nature.

The amphibian continues to observe the star-chart as it's handed a glass, only pausing briefly to sniff it... and utter a displeased croak. So instead of drinking, the  former courier decides to listen as the others introduce themselves, making note of their identities and what quirks it could decipher for now. But as the second human female decided not to speak - apparently entranced by studying the glass of bubbly alcohol, it was apparently its' time to speak.

The Bwap turns to face King Oleb squarely - handing it's drink (fortunately not clammy and wet thanks to the polymer gloves coating the amphibian's hands) to the uniformed human called Mahan - before precisely executing the bow as shown by King Oleb's herald... or near enough, given that the herald had not instructed the Bwap what to do with its' tail! Foolish humans and their lack of attention to details! So, the Bwap decided to incorporate the same tail motions as used by Imperial bwaps at court, when made to bow to a sector duke or duchess.

"If King Oleb XIV of Dirnax pleased would be," the Bwap croaks out, while holding it's precisely for the five seconds as shown by the flabbergasted herald. "Then Dwappa-ta-pefoba-a-awapate-a-ka, this Bwap would ****ing be. Senior scout and former Imperial Courier, at his Majesty's service."

[Sneaksby]

“Currently I use my past experiences for a citizens’ initiative of freeing goods from their unlucky or unworthy owners and then moving and liquidating them."

Kesper turned to look at Eirene properly, still smiling, but eyes narrowed a quarter-inch. Then with all the subtlety of a Psibee swarm in a cattle pen, he mildly remarks, "That's a very interesting euphemism for piracy."

Edited February 3, 2023 by Sneaksby (see edit history)

[Dastardly Tristar]

The words of his compatriots flooded the room, bouncing off the ivory walls, the golden floors and the twinkling chandeliers - it was hard to keep silent in a room that demanded one's own vocal contribution to the symphony of jibs, quips and euphemisms. "Pirates do not tend to act within legal territories- or at least one recognized by every party involved." Urien coyly spoke, twirling but not tasting the wine in hand. He kept a wandering eye on those who had supped, never mind the King's own girth that dominated his view. 

"And given the nature of her work, and the royal presence we are in . . . " Urien locked eyes with Kesperziaiepr. A pleasant surprise to be sure, seeing you around. He thought, loud and hard within his brain box, hidden behind the mask of an empty smile. Zhodani and the Solomani were united in a common enemy, but their views on mental privacy may as well be mental piracy to him. 

"But if it were a matter of summary execution, sending any of us off with a poisoned cup would hardly be the first, or original idea." 

[kostyora]

"Perhaps, but in this case, I hardly think so. It'd be a crime to poison a vintage like this."

[Dastardly Tristar]

8 minutes ago, kostyora said:

"Perhaps, but in this case, I hardly think so. It'd be a crime to poison a vintage like this."

Hardly the first crime conducted by royalty. Urien's mind sharpened his tongue, but it was self preservation that spoke the next words. "Quite." 

 

[DJ P4NTSL3SS]

Urien, Dawappa, Lindsey, Eirene, Kesperziaiepr, Mahan
The Royal Palace Throne Room

The King looks over each of you as you take turns to speak and introduce yourselves and banter. He is grinning the whole while - though by the time the last of you who is willing have formally introduced yourselves, you notice it is the third time he has emptied his glass and extended it to the attendant for a hastily provided refill. He gives a heart belly laugh and waves his other hand - festooned with a number of bracelets and rings - and shakes his head, "Now now, Mahan. You know such accusations are hardly something to level at a guest in good standing!" He motions towards Eirene, "Besides, far be it from me to chide her for being what she is. Be like chastising a hired girl for stripping! Why do you think I hired her?!" And another hearty laugh rolls out from the portly monarch.

He looks over all of you, though when he stops on Urien again, his grin broadens.

There it is. In the way his face crinkles at the corner of his eyes. The way they sparkle.

"And this one gets it. Good Captain, understands I'm not one to waste good booze!" And with that, he pulls himself up from the throne with a grunt and once more descends the steps to come down to the same level as the lot of you. He gestures across the wider throne room with his half-filled glass, "Besides, as I'm sure some of you may have realized, there's some good bloody cause for bringing such a fine young woman into the fold of this little operation!" He looks to the main entrance to the throne room, "Medan! Give me my damned papers!"

And with that, he focuses on you all once more, "I've got something for you all. Has to do with this plan. I don't know if you lot know what a letter of marque is," he flashes his teeth in his grin. "but I'm just the sort of man to write one! Now, of course," He makes a vague gesture with his empty hand while pausing for a drink, "Nobody has carried a Sindalian letter of Marque in bloody ages! But! With it? I'm fit to make every ship in space your legal prey." At that moment, he settles his sights on Urien, his tone shifting to something far more serious, "But I'll say it now. I've no business for cutthroats and murderers. I have need of thieves."

He sweeps his hand over the map you all stand on, "This." He then stabs a finger up above, emphatically. If you look up, you find yourself staring through a massive window on the ceiling of the throne room, where you will be able to make out the twinkling jewels that make for the treasure of the Trojan Reach, "Out there. Every world that sat on the route between the Hierate and the Third Imperium shared in trade bounty! They paid taxes to use our space, our starports. And we thrived." At that, his expression falls for a moment, "But my ancestors were proper greedy bastards. Had it all torn out from under us. Let Vilani snakes tear apart the pieces," He makes a motion to Eirene. "No offense. But now its every world for themselves, and I've yet to see a solitary planet hold out against a godcursed empire!"

On his way back to his throne, he throws his head back to drain the glass. Its refilled by the time he sits down again.

After he gives a long, withering sigh, he sits himself up in the Dragon Throne as if remembering that the informality he's presented so far doesn't make him any less a king, "So here's the plan. I give you a vessel. I give you the letter of marque. And you cut yourselves a merry swathe of piracy across the stars. Attack shipping, raid starports, hit depots. Take what prizes you can - don't kill unless you have to, but squeeze their balls till they bleed!" He nods, as if affirming his own words, "Next? All those worlds out there. The remnants of the our empire. Sell what you steal, defend those places from raiders. Recruit crew, give them a taste of wealth, and show them they'll have more if they come under our banner. And when the time comes? We offer a deal. The piracy stops, if they recognize the Kingdom of Drinax and render me my rightful due. Now we do this right?" He quickly empties his fourth glass, and belches into a balled up fist, "We'll show there's life in this old empire yet!"

Edited February 3, 2023 by DJ P4NTSL3SS (see edit history)