“But what does the Emperor have to do with it?”
“Okay, you’re here.” Burruk ignored the question, and wrapped on the heavy door to her grandfather’s office, “There’s a lot of ego in that room. Be careful.”
Heated voices argued behind the door. She heard her grandfather; his voice forceful and blunt. She heard the Emperor, his words sharp but with a touch of whimsy - even angry he sounded as if he was telling a story. But there was a third voice, a voice that was calm and focused. The other two would stop and listen when this third voice spoke, but resumed their argument whenever it was silent.
Burruk noticed that she was listening and pushed her away gently. Years of training in the powerful armor had made his touch as light as a feather, or as strong as a lion’s jaws. He rapped on the door again - harder - and gave a short cough.
Silence answered, and the door opened after a brief time, “Sorry about that. Your grandfather can’t admit when he’s wrong about something. Come in!” The Emperor grinned at her. He was always grinning; if his mouth wasn’t stretched wide his eyes at least held a mischievous twinkle. Smiles were a shared expression between Khar and humans, which was apparently a big deal according to one of her friends who was studying xenobiology.
He never took anything seriously, which may or may not be a favorable trait to hold as the Emperor of billions of worlds. His golden fur, flecked with bright blue streaks, poked from the collar and sleeves of the simple blue shirt he nearly always wore when not in public.
The Emperor waggled his ears comically, a gesture which never failed to evoke a smile from a human. Many Khar reviled the constant comparisons to earthly cats that they received, considering it insulting. The Emperor, ever a positive spirit, used it to his advantage.
Despite her best efforts, the girl gave in and a smile spread across her face, “Good evening, Emperor.” She was polite with him, it was difficult not to be.
Burruk shut the door behind them, and the Emperor guided her to a comfortable chair near her grandfather’s desk. The old man smiled at her. “Sorry for waking you up. Scop insisted on finishing our story tonight; I don’t think he ever sleeps.”
Her grandfather was perhaps the only person who called the Emperor by his first name. Figurehead or not, his title was held in high regard, and few would dare be so familiar with him.
“Was there someone else in here? I heard voices.” The girl searched the room for a third person.
The Emperor grinned and shot a quick glance to her grandfather, “We were on a conference call, Little One.” He called children “Little One” long past the age of embarrassment, despite the fact that many of them had several inches on him. The term of endearment was a direct translation from his native tongue - something that he felt comfortable with.
A small fire crackled in the office’s fireplace. Zep, her grandfather’s white husky, was curled up in front of the fire, staring into eternity with pale blue eyes. She remembered the dog from when she was little; he never seemed to age, “How old is Zep now?”
Her grandfather shrugged, “I don’t keep track. He’s old.”
“Enough chatting, let’s get to the story,” the Emperor insisted. “My part is about to start - the best part because it’s about me.”
“Let her judge that for herself.” The old man leaned back in his chair, “Where exactly did I leave off?”
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Shepherd's Wolf Page 55
