by P. S. Power
That meant he was probably pretty motivated to make sure nothing was wrong with the food. In fact there were two copper rectangles by the napkins when they were guided to their seats. More to the point, Richard stood and walked around the thing, then bowed and gestured.
"Ambassador Lairdgren." He sounded genuine about the use of the title.
Bowing low, Gerent cleared his throat, which was probably rude, but standing in front of the King always left him feeling odd. Like he was about to be put to death. It had to do with their first meeting, where that had been the suggestion. This time there was only a tall red headed man that loomed above him, but not nearly as much as before.
One that seemed to accept that he was himself, as different as he looked. That probably meant that he'd gotten a report or two on that part of things.
"Your Majesty. Queen Constance. Princess Veronica." He bowed to each in turn, pivoting in place. Petra followed along with him, until he got to the last one. "Dad. So good to see you all." He deadpanned that last bit, as everyone else looked shocked. The Queen did at least.
Count Peterson laughed loud, however.
"Ah! Were that only the truth! One could do worse than to have you as a child, Ambassador Lairdgren. Please, sit. If that isn't me moving above my station?" This was addressed to the King directly, who smiled and then gestured at the chairs again. They were fine things, and had green cushions on them, to match the walls. It was a fine combination of dark and polished cherry and silk. Refined and classy. The napkins matched the cushions, which had to take careful planning. Every time they needed to replace one or the other there would be a chance that they wouldn't be able to purchase the identical material again. The trick there, he thought, would be buying enough of what they needed at one time, and saving it for replacements. Then, when you got to the end of it, you started over, redoing everything. Wasting a lot of things at the same time, but always looking tidy and like you cared about perceptions.
The King seemed relaxed as he spoke.
"Not at all, Count Dad. I think I see where that would come from, given the similarities. Did Torrance do that on purpose? You do look like a Peterson, or possibly a Mendez relation. A very good look, for a man. Powerful."
It was Veronica that went next, smiling at him from across the table and one spot down. Her face really was perfect, he realized. As nice looking as Tamerlane or even Tiera. Laurie was probably better that way, but it was all so close that no one would bother really trying to choose between them, he didn't think. Petra was nice too, however. Plus, when she smiled it felt real. That wasn't the case with Veronica or Constance. They were always guarded and held back secrets. Little things that left you with a sense that they weren't being honest with you.
That probably had to do with the fact that they were often manipulating people.
Still, the Princess didn't make him speak, which was a nice thing for her to do.
"Tor just set it up so that Gerent would grow to become what he should have been, and added some time to his life, to make up for things. It's why he looks so youthful, I bet. Not immortal, but well done. You certainly look nice enough." She covered her mouth and then looked at her own bearded and manly husband. "Not that I'm flirting with you at the table."
Not, he knew, that she intended to do that with him at all, unless she wanted something. Petra took his hand under the edge of the table, and looked at the King as he moved into place, sitting. Upright and powerful looking, in purple and black. Not full regalia, but it was a well designed suit. They were all dressed very nicely, he realized. More so than a casual meal with him would have warranted.
They didn't speak about anything of note while they ate, the style still formal, for all that they were eating family fashion. A fact that Constance made clear, saying it several times. Pushing the idea that they were close? That he had some kind of strange adopted relationship to these people, through his new family? The woman kept blinking at him, flirting in a way that she didn't really mean. It was professional, like a fine street girl might have done, trying to attract a wandering noble for the night.
Across the table Veronica kept doing something similar, both focused on him. Trying to distract him from the real proceedings, using their feminine wiles. To make it harder for him to think? That normally would have worked, except that it was too much, in the moment. Too clearly part of a con, meant to part him with his coin. Or, given who they were, Queen Tiera's magical devices.
The thing there was that she was already sending aid. Truly, it was for everyone, in the whole world, but they wouldn't be stinted. Tiera was from Noram and counted some of these people as family. Why would anyone bother asking for more than she'd willingly give?
Well, normally he'd know that answer, because the idea was clear. Most people were greedy creatures, that would stab their own horse for the chance at a better one. It wasn't exactly what he would have expected from these people however. They kept it up too, with only Count Peterson making real conversation.
"I was telling Richard earlier that he should come up to the Flyer's Base in a month or so for that hunt. I mentioned that Countier Thomson had agreed to come, but he and the Queen don't seem to believe me. I found him to be quite firm on the matter." He grinned, as if it were a joke.
Gerent had to chime in on that one. "Yes, you asked, and he did agree to attend. There's no doubt about that. Of course, being that he's still crawling that might make actual hunting difficult for him, but I have no doubt he'll manage."
He'd hunted, but only for food. It was different he thought, than the large game these people would go after. If this were a real thing, he needed to get some lessons first.
Queen Constance batted her eyes at him, her face warm and sweet looking.
"Isn't he less than a year old?"
It took some counting but the fact was that he didn't know for certain.
"Um, that seems right. Not walking yet. That could have been due to the little dress he was in. That thing had to be a tripping hazard. I don't think I could have walked in one either. You should probably have him over to discuss politics soon. Offer to house him for a few months. Fostering?" It was in the old stories, but actually had Veronica clapping after a few seconds.
"Oh! That's a darling idea. I've wanted company, and Tamerlane could come along as well. When you get your ship, Gerent, you can take us back and forth to Harmony regularly, so that I can visit with Allison?" She cut her words and got a glare from her mother, but he knew that story.
Allison was her little daughter, who wasn't that much older than Dumas was. A few years, or less, Gerent thought. Not that he could tell how old people that rough age looked. It would have probably surprised some people, but Gerent wasn't exactly an expert on children, having not been around a lot of them for some reason. The difference there was that the little girl was born immortal, so had to leave the Earth when he'd made it poison to her. Considering that made him hold the Count's earlier words in higher regard. For ten years the little girl wouldn't be able to live with her parents, since they couldn't leave. Not to live in space all the time. They had real work to do that made that impossible.
"Sure. I don't know what the schedule will be, but I should be back and forth a few times a week. That's my plan at least. We'll get together and make a regular time for that?" It made sense to him, but everyone stared for a long time, with the King finally tossing off a little bow.
"That is most kind Ambassador, but I'm sure my daughter didn't mean to put you on the mark like that. It would be..." He stopped and rubbed his face, then smiled. "Ah. It's difficult at times to keep things separate. Today you're an Ambassador, perhaps. Tomorrow, who knows? Perhaps the new Duke of the Moon, or the King of Afrak? The world used to change far less than it does now. I don't wish to let you be angered, but wouldn't want to keep a mother from her child either. It's..."
He stopped talking, just looking at the far wall, his face going flat. Gerent waited, wondering if he were having a fit of some kind.
No one seemed concerned, but then they wouldn't, would they? They also didn't speak. After a few minutes the man regrouped, life coming back to his face.
"I see that I was measuring things incorrectly. Thank you for your offer to see to that, Gerent. I welcome it, as family, as I think you intended the gesture. Would you, perhaps, be willing to take some missives to people in Harmony? Simple letters, nothing more."
The Queen glared at him, "no business at the table, dear."
It was cute, if a little awkward. That meant no one spoke much until after the brandy at the end of the meal, and then the King asked if he'd join him, for a discussion. In private.
Except that when he stood, everyone else did, except Queen Constance. That got the King to look at them all, bemused.
"Ah, I didn't realize I'd suggested a group conference. I was just thinking to hand over the letters and apologize for my misstep, earlier. I suppose that you all want to see me humble myself?" It was pleasant enough, but Veronica rolled her eyes, which was probably a rare thing for the man to see.
"Don't be silly, father. Gerent doesn't care about that. Do you Gerent?"
He looked at the girl, who was being less than subtle about selling the idea to him, making faces about it. It would have helped if he knew what the problem was, but didn't, so faked his way through as best he could.
"I can honestly say that I don't. Not at all. Even under truth verification." Considering that he could back that up, it would work to say.
The King seemed relieved to find that out. That was good, since there were people that Gerent never wanted upset with him, and a lot of them were right there in that room.
He did get the idea about the secret meeting however.
"Would it be... possible for all of us to meet in a place more... Private?" He managed a halfway decent sounding noble voice then.
Veronica added a nod to that, "downstairs. With a sound suppressor."
No one reacted to that, except that they did, leading them all to a dungeon. Or that was what went through his mind. Perhaps they were taking him in finally for being a fraud? He wasn't worried about it. The other thought was that he was being taken to question Will Rodriguez. It would be hard, torturing information from the man, but if that was what he had to do in order to find what was needed, then he would. Timon had done it. Could he do any less?
It wasn't that either. In fact, he was just taken to a slightly damp meeting room, one with a heavy metal door that Count Peterson locked behind them. There were only four chairs, so he stood, the giant Count doing the same, shoulder to shoulder with him, in front of the door, as if keeping the others from running away. The only thing was, there was a smaller door on the other side, so that wasn't going to work, he bet.
The King sat himself, and so did the Queen. It was Constance that spoke first, her tone slightly breathy.
"Is there bad news?"
Petra shook her head.
"Nothing too bad. Or new, to you two. Gerent figured out that Will... had me raped in his cell. He and Collette Coltress have gotten a group of Counts and Countesses together to hunt down the guards that did it. The idea is that, when Marvin finds out..." She stopped and everyone got to stare at the King for a bit.
It was a pleasant relief, them not looking at him like that. He got to be part of the group and everything, which was a special treat. Even the Queen watched him.
The man took a sharp breath. "I... understand. It isn't a horrible plan. If we take these men and punish them, by our own hands, then he should be left feeling that we at least take it seriously. Is that the idea?"
Ger nodded.
"It is. We only have about half of the people. When the time comes we'll send for you too, Sire. I... Don't know if you'll have to attend to that or not, Queen Constance. Not everyone is, um, taking an active role. That might suit sensibilities. Which could also work for a King, but..." He didn't know how to explain himself, but Count Peterson did, his voice subdued, for him.
"This is dark work, Richard. Gerent doesn't want to give offense, but feels that you might be too sheltered for it. He isn't wrong, about inviting you. We need for everyone to see that you stand for justice. No matter who it's for. Ideally we'll have some of each side in on this." He fixed the ruler with a stern gaze that Gerent wouldn't have dared tried with the man. It was a hard thing that said that the King, no matter how he felt, had best not back away too easily from this.
"I'll stand ready, when the time comes. Now, if that's settled for the moment? I have those missives. The names are marked on each. Queen Tiera, Torrance Baker, Smythe of Westend and Karen Derring. If you are still willing? I do apologize for earlier. I assessed your intent wrongly, at first." He bowed low, which got Gerent to do it back. It was strange, since he didn't know what the man meant still. That released him well enough and the man stood, looking like he wasn't about to be kicked in the shin. "Good enough then, if I'm forgiven. Was there more?" He removed the letters he had and handed them over, so Ger put them in with the rest that were going so far.
Petra looked at him, her face glowing, it looked so sweet.
"We'd also like to invite you, all of you, to the wedding? An official invitation will come when things are set, naturally." She spoke so clearly and gently that it took a moment for anyone to react. The first was Veronica who got up and ran around the table, hugging her and then moving to Gerent.
"Congratulations! I didn't even know that was in the works. Is it soon?" She eyed Petra closely, getting an eye roll in return.
"Everyone keeps asking that. Yes, but only for normal reasons. If I wait too long someone will manage to come up with a way to steal him from me. We don't need baby clothes yet, however." She seemed happy enough about the idea, though that was something he'd never thought of either. Children.
What did he know about raising that sort of person? He'd never even seen it done for more than a few moments, not close up. Even when he was tiny himself Ger had never really known any of that kind. They were beings that pointed and laughed at the funny man, and at times would call names. That was most of what he knew about them, except for the Baker family children. He kind of thought that they, as a group, were a bit like the King was to a peasant pig farmer, when compared to regular kids. They all had the same basic parts, but you just couldn't count on them acting at all similar.
Perhaps he could get lessons? If he were going to make up for the time he lost to being him, then something like that was going to have to happen. Schooling, and training, in a thousand things that he didn't know. Subjects as arcane as numbers, to go with the few letters he knew. Geography, maps, manners and even magic. If he were to have a wife, it would follow that little ones would come. He had to get ready for them.
It was scary, but most of life was. Especially the new parts.
He got patted by the King and held close enough by Constance that he was nearly certain she was flirting with him still. The difference now was that it seemed to be about him, not distraction. The only thing they'd asked for was him to take some letters however. It wasn't exactly a huge matter, was it?
Carefully, taking down the sound bubble first, they moved back up the stairs, with Constance suggesting that they stay the night.
Gerent shook his head.
"Actually, as it stands we need to hurry away. We have about half an hour before Captain Debri is taking off for Harmony. I know it's rude, but we need to rush away now. May I visit on the return? I'll contact you first, but in case I have messages or anything?"
That, it turned out, was more than possible. Petra managed to work things around for him, with the help of Count Peterson, and got them free about ten minutes later, which meant that they had to shrink his Timon craft as much as they could when they got to it, and meet the woman in her Jump ship, about ten thousand feet above the capital. He managed to fly it inside on his own, by going slowly. There was a glowing tan portion that opened in the back, which sealed behind him the second he was in place.
Sara stoo
d by the far wall, waving at them through the shield window. Her craft had been made large, but not, he didn't believe, as big as it could go. Not even a fifth of that really. At full size the things could hold a decently large city's population, with enough room for beds and bathing facilities for all. When they got out, she spoke, sounding professional and a bit merchant like.
"You're the last ones on board. We have the Dowager Countess Ward, Baronetta Coltress, and Ridley Dens already with us. He's going just to look around. A last minute thing. So, come on then, let's get to the bridge, so I can show you how to fly this boat, Gerent."
They didn't run to the command center, but they walked quickly, and Sara was serious about teaching him to do the job right. He was required to make several orbits, which was the same as piloting a Space Fleet craft. When he said that, everyone stared at him.
"What? I was the second person to ever do that, thank you very much. Alice Orange went first. I can even dock, if I have to." The controls really did seem the same. Even the room looked similar.
It was a cream color with tan accents, but that was personal choice. Space fleet did everything in orange, yellow and red. Sara had her own color scheme, it seemed, but that was controllable with a thought. If you could focus enough to make anything happen. Not everyone could. The room had been made big enough for fifteen or twenty people, but there were only chairs for six. He was in the front one, near the center. When they moved around, after forty minutes, Sara asked him to point toward the Moon.
"You did pretty well, actually. I didn't know you were already a full space pilot. That makes this easier. What I want you to do now is drop your hand to the flat area under the floating control. Then just look at the Moon and imagine a red dotted line between us and there. I always close my eyes for that part."
It took several tries, but all he had to do was visualize a little slider on that dotted line, and move the ship to a new place along it. It was hard, but when he got it right, everyone gasped. Opening his eyes he saw why. The Moon, in all its silver splendor, had grown huge.
