RP Logs, Paying Respects, Part IX: Salamah and Bundar

((Now, those who have access to the RP Forum will note these next two Parts don't happen as they did in the forum.  There were two different conversations going on, alternating against each other, and so I basically pulled them apart, and edited them (mostly to take out the 'Meanwhiles' I used to give it some order) for consumption here.))

Laurent

Salamah saw that Jamilla was going off, and wished her the best of luck with Marcus, and whatever she wanted to do. He had matters of importance to see to. He moved over to Bundar and Qaribah and said, "Pardon me, would you like to go to the gardens, I have a few things which it might be helpful to speak of." He smiled and said, "You may bring your daughter, of course." He smiled and said, "I believe there are things that may be done to mutual advantage, especially since we are alreaday here, Your Highness," which was the proper phrasing for an Emir.

al Saffah

"Of couse, Your Grace." Bundar returns the courtesy with an easy smile. He doesn't even have to ask for this not to be strictly a conversation between the pair of them... though Qaribah is more concerned, even if it doesn't show on her face. The possibility that Salamah may have figured out that her father will need her to hand for a discussion like this, and why, is a worrying one- a known weakness is a very bad thing. "I'm listening." Salamah had his undivided interest at right about the moment he said 'mutual advantage.'

Laurent

Salamah began to walk towards the small gardens, pretty sure Bundar was following. And Qaribah. He had seen how she watched everything and said nothing. It was not a style Salamah employed--he often preferred to jump into the action--but it was not the way of someone who was just there as an accessory. "We are all here for our own reasons. Did you ever wonder why I, the farthest one from this planet, came here?" He would sit gracefully on a rock, "House ser Noche gave me a subsidy of a certain amount of money, such that I had to thank them. Can you gues
s how many Solars I was guarenteed every month, by account-transfer?" He smiled politely, waiting for Bundar to guess.
al Saffah

"Hmm... for such a journey, it would have to be a gift of some considerable weight," Bundar muses. Such a subsidy is a priceless boon for any young, up and coming noble house. They will eventually reach the same destination without the subsidy, of course, but the extra funds will ensure that it all happens that much faster. "Some... fifteen, twenty thousand Solars, perhaps? Twenty-five, possibly, at a stretch." One thing he does have an understanding of is money and finance- his education ensured that much, at least.

Laurent

"Twenty-five thousand Solars a month, for a year." Salamah smiled, knowing what Bundar's reaction could be, "Some of that could be transferred to you, and I could speak to Lady Nora ser Noche about obtaining your own Subsidy. But this wouldn't be a gift. Instead...it would be a mark of a mutual agreement. The elections are not all that long from now, over a year, sure, but time can pass quite quickly. When the time comes, perhaps we could act together, and vote together...it'd give our decision more weight if it was done together. Two votes instead of one..."
al Saffah

"No wonder you came to thank them in person," Bundar says, almost wonderingly. With that amount of money in play, the expense of the journey is almost trivial by comparison. "Hmm, yes... and every house, of course, has an equal vote..." And the winner will be most grateful to the houses that supported them in their victory- all that remains is to hope that the house they support does, in fact, end up being the house that wins. "That would... be a most agreeable arrangement, Your Grace." Well, of course it would. It involves al Saffah reaping a share of the benefits Laurent is already enjoying.

Laurent

"My Subsidy for your Highness might be, perhaps, 5000 Solars a month, until such time as ser Noche grants you the Subsidy, and as a sign that I am working on obtaining it?" he suggested with a smile. "So, if ser Noche was willing to eventually follow through on the Subisdy, would that be enough for you to agree to now vote with me--or rather, vote in temporary concord with me, if my vote changes we would have to talk on that..." he realized he was talking too fast, and slowed down. "Vote with me for ser Noche? That I might take this deal to her as an offer..."
al Saffah

Even 5,000 Solars a month is a welcome boon for a house that's still in it's early days. "I would be most grateful," Bundar says with a smile, and means it too. "The matter of the election had been on my mind when I first planned this visit. For these terms? Certainly- when the time comes, I will vote alongside you, for ser Noche to take the Imperial throne." And if ser Noche does indeed hold such Imperial ambitions for the next election, how could they possibly refuse? Every vote counts, after all.

RP Logs, Paying Respects, Part VIII: Gifts

((Continued Directly from part VII.  The formatting is a bit better, but still wonky.))

Laurent 

There were ages for strength, and there were ages for wisdom. A leader could be doomed merely by rising in the wrong time, and not being able to make the time their own. So Salamah wasn't too bothered, and was reassured by the wisdom. Waiting long enough to be appropriate he nodded as well, "Oh, of course. Your planet is quite beautiful, Lady ser Noche," he complimented, earnestly, though even had it been a dung-heap he might have said the same words. Besides that, he was cheered by her words. They made it sound as if she might be quite open to House Laurent expanding its--at this point miniscule--power and influence upon the galaxy. He stepped forward, still somewhat facing her, as Marcus smiled politely at her and slipped on ahead--rather against Salamah's plans--in the hopes of snagging some alcohol before Salamah could figure out a way to stop him. Which left the Patriarch torn. If he asked Lady ser Noche for help in this matter, keeping Marcus sober, he'd be admitting a weakness that could be exploited. But if he left Marcus be...Marcus was an angry, violent, abusive, cruel drunk, and it'd get out anyways, but much worse... Jamilla cut the knot, curtesying to Lady ser Noche and moving on ahead, in the hopes of intercepting Marcus herself, while Salamah interacted with the Head of House ser Noche.

Sternseher

"Your welcome is accepted most graciously, My Lady." Offering an additional slight nod, she watched as two of Salamah's group split off, and she much expected others to do the same. Now, however, was an ideal time to put forth another sign of respect. She could have allowed the third minor house gathered the chance to move in first, or even opened to Salamah for further hobnobbing as seemed more appropriate to his sort of noble, but she preferred to get this sort of thing out of the way. Not because she dreaded it, but because punctuality was often looked upon well in a setting where things could go unsaid for years before coming out or being brought up. "It's a lovely planet... certainly more attractive than Diphda." She smiled a little bit as she said this, amusement in her voice and humor shining in her eyes. That only lasted a short moment though before she held her arms out to her side, her brother-in-law stepping forward. "Nagi and I would like to present you with a gift. I'm sure your security staff will want to scan it before you open it, but rest assured that it's nothing more than a book. A collection of Myrillian Mythology..." The ancient homeworld of ser Noche wasn't exactly a secret, yet such books were somewhat hard to come by. "My husband used some of his connections with other bookstores, book suppliers, and libraries around the sector to find it. I hope your family can find some enjoyment and reflection from it."

al Saffah

"Thank you, Lady ser Noche," Bundar says with a bow of his head. "It was rather welcome- much has been said of the splendor of Taishijan, and I have greatly anticipated seeing it in person." The Emir's eyes follow Duke Laurent's brother curiously, and then the Duke's wife as she follows after him. What's going on there, hmm? Later, in private, Qaribah will mention that she suspects the Duke's brother may be an alcoholic, probably embarrassingly so- her role here is, after all, to pick up on what her less sharp-minded father might miss.

ser Noche

"I am sure that it is merely a book, and it is a wonderful gift, Duchess Sternseher. Thank you very much." Nora smiled warmly, despite knowing that her own house published such books and distributed them. If it was such a rarity, then the intention was a much greater gift than the object itself. And who knew, maybe it would be an actual original. "Shall we go inside? I've had some food and drink prepared for us, and a comfortable room to have conversation." She nodded back to the greetings, and entered the hall, indicating the seven to follow her. They passed through several hallways, then through a high hall, tiled in slabs of black marble, with ser Noche banners hanging between the columned sides. A large stone throne sat in the cneter, but it was unoccupied. People occasionally walked along the sides of the room from one door to another. The group crossed the hall and entered yet another hallway by a door in a wall behind the throne, and suddenly the air of the building changed. There was plush red carpeting everywhere, a deep burgundy hue, and wood paneling along the walls. warm lights lit everything from above, and occasionally a window peeked into a shadowed inner courtyard.

They arrived at an open door, double-winged and made out of a dark mahogany wood, that entered into a sizable room. It too, was carpeted, but it was set with plush furniture in dark, warm colours with gold embroidery, a hearth in a wall crackling merrily with a fire, and on the opposite wall a glass screen looked out over a garden flanked by grey stone walls of the building. A small pond with shrubs and a tree or two around it graced the garden. In front of the glass screen were several tables laden with food, some exotic, some simple, but of great diversity and colours. An fourth table was against the far wall, set with several glasses and a deftly arranged set of drinks in hand-crafted stained glass bottles. A few servants stood by, ready to wait on the guests.

"Please, have a seat. You are welcome to help yourself to some food, or ask the servants to do so. If you'd like anything specific, just ask. If it's not here we can have it made for you immediately." 

RP Logs, Paying Respects, Part 7: Dis-Embarkment

((Continued from Part VI.  And sorry for the formatting, and the lateness.  I genuinely could not get this thing to work in any reasonable manner.))

ser Noche

As Salamah made his last comment, the hovershuttle made the last descent towards a dark-grey stone surface, the courtyard of a rock-carved fortress with occasional purplish-hued bands tracing through it in steep diagonal layers. The courtyard was surrounded by a traditional crenellated wall, now topped not by guards but by the occasional sensor array for security. Banners draped over the wall both inside and out, long black strips with the silver crescent over a purpur and ebony diagonal band. The craft descended between the walls, reducing the view of the sky a little. On the other side of the courtyard was the first tier of the fortress, rising steeply along with the original rock surface it was carved from, with tall forbidding walls with slitted windows on the first tier, and ever loftier structures going up. At some point in the distance it shifted to new construction with tiled roofs and plastered walls. The entire thing breathed an air of old knighthood - though it got contrasted a bit with several more modern installations sticking out of the tiers every now and then: occasional antennae, a large greenhouse a few tiers above, and even a large steel and glass skyscraper peeking out above a ridge in the rock.

The craft set down in the courtyard, which was paved with irregular slabs of white marble, without a sound except a light puff of displaced air. The guide stepped out of the vehicle, and bowed to the guests.

"Please, we have arrived. If you would disembark?" Behind her the main gates opened, large filigreed steel doors darkened with (recreated) age, and a small retinue of the Shadowknight guard stepped out, long lances held at their sides. Their black cloaks billowed around them, but instead of combat armour underneath they wore loose clothes in purple with a sparkling silver sash that negated all of their advantage in dark environments. 

The guard stepped to the sides of the entrance, and center stage stood Nora ser Noche, Lady of the House, dressed in a simple grey dress with a deep purple overcoat falling loosely around her. She greeted the guests with a smile.


Laurent

This was the excellence of power, Salamah thought, his mind harkening back to essays he had once read in dusty rooms. That someone could make something like this and, when war and fire destroyed it, simply remake it, that a family could survive so much…that was what it was to be a House. Power, power that Salamah had only begun to taste. Though he had spent his youth doing far more worrying than eating, if this was what power could bring…he allowed none of these thoughts, which slid in and out of each other. The marbling, Salamah observed with the eye of someone who had once studied the topic, was lovely. His eyes lingered over the Shadowknights. Deadly, no doubt, but he had no need for violence, not now. In the past he had been driven to violence, or even chosen it as a first reaction, but he was a different man now. His smile widened a bit. Even their knights were as much a display of power and beauty as anything. Salamah Laurent stepped out of the craft and looked upon Lady Nora ser Noche. Old, yes, but long ago the Patriarch had learned that ambition had no expiration date. It was quite a tasteful attire, but there was grace in her every movement, grace to match, and maybe even surpass, him. He returned her smile and bowed. Not so low as to be subservient, nor so shallow as to be disrespectful. A perfect bow that smoothly flowed into standing. He wished to address her, but he wanted to wait to see what the protocol was in that respect. Sternseher Selina took Salamah's lead somewhat graciously, for while she was no slouch when it came to the mental department, nor was she lacking in ambition. It was obvious to her at least that Salamah was the sort who relished his power and position, and being seen as a leader among his peers filled him with pride. The Duchess of House Sternseher was in no position to change that viewpoint. Nodding one last time to the wife of the little group's charismatic 'leader', she stood and exited the wagon. Chikanaga was quick to follow her lead, flashing one last dazzling smile to their tour guide before tugging his jacket once and slipping up along behind his sister-in-law, holding back roughly half a pace. She came to a halt beside Salamah, giving some distance for his family to join him, and dropped into a well-practiced curtsey. She had no such confusion about what came next, because someone was bound to introduce them. They were Nobles, after all. al Saffah Bundar steps out behind Salamah and Selina, moving up to stand level with the Duke, but off to the side, to make room for those members of his family that the man has brought. Qaribah follows quietly in his wake- saying nothing, watching and listening for now. The Emir bows to Lady Nora, somewhat less gracefully than Salamah- not low enough so as to be abasing himself, but certainly enough to be respectful. This is, after all, one of the most powerful individuals in the galaxy- head of house that has weathered a terrible storm in the past, and not only survived, but thrived. He smiles, but says nothing, waiting either for the Lady to speak, or for the three of them to be announced- whichever happens first. The formalities must be attended to, after all. Laurent One of the most successful--if overlooked--part of social genius, part of understanding how to interact well in social situations, is modeling. If everyone is wearing white all of a sudden, and crying, and you don't know why, you don't loudly ask why everyone is dressing like ghosts. In other words, Salamah spared a glance out of the corner of his eye to the woman whose family had been minor nobility, and noted her silence, thus judging it appropiate and allowing herself to relax as Jamilla inserted herself next to, but a bit behind him--not actually a statement of sexism, for in most courtier cultures, that was the rule, spouses next to but ever-so-slightly behind, by at least 1/10th of a centimeter. There were courtiers who could judge that distance exactly by length, and mark a person as a boor or not based on that. somewhat behind her was Marcus who was looking around in search of one thing. That thing being bottles which might hold booze. He was a recovering alcoholic in the same sense that a fire-starter locked against his will in a house without matches or anything to cause fire was a "Recovering Pyromaniac." ser Noche As the last of her guests disembarked from the shuttle, Lady Nora stepped forward towards the group. "Welcome, Emir as-Saffah and miss as-Saffah, good Duke and duchess Laurent, and ser Laurent, Duchess Sternseher and ser Sternseher, to Taishijan. I am truly overjoyed to see such young clans setting foot on the stage of Capricornian politics. I'm afraid it's a rather dusty lot, but maybe we'll see some change. Be welcome in our home. Please, come inside. I've had a reception prepared." With a soft smile she gestured behind her, turning slightly aside, and nodded in a friendly manner to the group. "I do hope you've enjoyed the flight around Taishijan and Saberai? I pray it wasn't too long." The invitation to come in was fairly simple, no musical accords, no further military parading. Whoever looked well at her would see her greying hair, the lines in her face, and a tired look in her eyes. She didn't look that much of a strong leader, but certainly a wise one.

RP Logs, Paying Respects, part VI, Idle Chatter.

((Continued directly from part V.))

Al Saffah

"Do not worry about it," Bundar says quietly to Salamah, with an idle wave of his hand, as if brushing away the issue. "No offense was taken." That there will be an election at the end of the year hasn't escaped his notice, either, although his thinking doesn't extend as far as the Duke's- as far as he's concerned, it will be beneficial to his house to back the winning party- and House ser Noche does, in his estimation at least, have a good chance of being that winning party. He looks out at the rock spires, out to sea, picturing the size of the crater that must've existed before it was filled in. All in all, it seems remarkable that there's even a city here at all right now, if that was the scale of the damage.

Laurent

It was all a balancing act. The lesser Noble houses didn't have people focusing that much strength on their complete and total destruction, but they had not even a fraction of the resources even the smallest House could bring to bear. He had known enough men and women who lost everything during the Triumvirate and, for a few, after it...the fact that the average House didn't give them more than a passing thought didn't stop the missiles, did not truly do as much.

It was a marvel though, what technology could do. He had heard the ser Noches were advanced, and this just seemed more proof.

The Triumvirate...he had neither publically come out for or against it during that time: not that he could have been anything more than a tick on the Triumvirate's ankle, to be crushed off-hand if he had gone against them, and would have been of little use if he'd sided with them...but still, there were some courtiers and lesser noble houses who had picked which side they thought would win.

He had not approved of the sort of ideas Goman had possessed...but he had stayed carefully neutral. He smiled at Bundar, his eyes moving towards the third party. Three really was an elegant number, wasn't it? Salamah knew he shouldn't plan for things that he wasn't sure would come to pass: an alliance, working with the ser Noches, becoming rich...all of those were possibilities alone.

“I am glad to hear it.” As they rode along, Salamah asked, “May I ask what field you have taken up as your own?” What 'Sphere' in other words, in the strange lingo that old Houses used.

Al Saffah

"We al Saffahs have been merchants for a long time," Bundar replies amiably. "Just, until recently, we never traded off-planet. But now... I suppose there are certain expectations of a noble house, hmm? Along with all the new opportunities!" He chuckles, looking out across the sea, towards the horizon. "I only plan on things getting better, from here. More planets... we have a new trading post here on Algol, now." He cants his head on one side, curiously. "What about yourself?"

Laurent

"I am nothing more than a humble courtier turned miner," and if someone believed that, there were many things that could be sold to such a fool, "Though I might get into trading..."

He frowned thoughtfully. There was a market, perhaps. It would be something to think about.

"I don't have anything near here...the costs would be a bit restrictive." Salamah shrugged and looked back to the head of Sternseher, "May I ask what your interest is?" 

Sternseher

Happy to leave the conversations to the others, Selina crossed her arms and settled a bit more comfortably into her wagon, enjoying the view with a very slight smile on her face. Her brother-in-law, on the other hand, did his utmost to 'covertly' flirt with the driver and woman giving the tour whenever she wasn't occupied with her duties of explaining where they were. Nagi was rather charismatic though, and despite his shameful display, those around him would likely find him an affable and pleasant person, if a touch full of himself.

It also served as a distraction, giving Selina the chance to listen in on the other conversations, her lips pursing ever so slightly as she heard the colorful 'truth' that Salamah told about his origins.

Laurent

Jamilla, for her part, noticed Selina's lack of engagement and decided to remedy that. She likely knew that Selina was keeping aloof for very specific reasons, but she was quite smart, and far more loyal to her husband than he was to her, and so she smiled and asked, "May I sit here?" she asked, getting ready to shift from her seat to the one next to Selina. Her smile was so polite as to be forbidding. Forbidding of what? Well, saying no, for one.
ser Noche

The hovershuttle started a gradual descent towards the carved stone walls of Taishijan below, turning in a slow arc to grant the best view possible to its occupants. The guide smiled serenely and occasionally provided a tidbit if prompted, but otherwise mostly left the occupants to their conversation. It would be a little longer before the castle was reached - a minute or two at the most.

Sternseher

Turning to look at the other woman, the Duchess offered a smile in return and nodded. It certainly wasn't the gracious, elegantly practiced and faked smile that Salamah or his cohorts could pull off, but it seemed to have at least a hint of genuine feeling behind it.

"Certainly... I hope you don't mind my saying so, but your family has a lovely transport craft. What House produced the vessel? I noticed their insignia beneath your own."

Laurent

"Artis. They do good work don't they. My husband made a deal with them...mutually beneficial. He could get you in contact with them," Jamilla suggested, "Much could be done by my husband to aid you."

Her smile was quite genuine, but it was clear that, at the same time, she was making her own plans...plans remarkably similar to those that Salamah held for Bundar...

Sternseher

Her smile faded a little and she folded her hands in her lap, looking at the woman and addressing her far more directly than most noble-born people would be accustomed to. Someone who had 'learned' the game might even be a bit thrown off by it, but it was likely they'd be able to get their footing back quickly enough.

"You're insinuating that we might be in a position to form an alliance with one another, yes? That's certainly something I've considered. As the leader of House Sternseher, it is my duty to push us forward as best I can in this new age of prosperity and growth we've reached. We're currently one of the largest agricultural markets in the region, and we're in the process of building that up even further..."

Allowing the woman a chance to take it all in for a moment, she then went on. "Obviously the three houses represented in this wagon are of little importance in the grand scheme of things... but together that wouldn't be quite so, would it?"

Al Saffah

Humble courtier turned miner? Bundar may not be strictly able to discern what the actual truth is, but he has been taught to take nothing at face value- and, bluntly, to leave the guesswork and the details to someone smarter than he. Although he isn't the only one listening to Selina's words, and Qaribah, although she says nothing of it, abruptly comes to the conclusion that Salamah himself had, shortly before. There is indeed an election coming- and, while their three houses are of little importance by themselves, combined as a voting block? They might well be worth notice, and a possible factor that could swing the election.

Laurent

Jamilla smiled, nodded, having gotten her point across.

Salamah, for his part, glanced out of their transportation. He turned to Bundar and said, "Well, I believe we are about to arrive."

RP Logs: Paying Respects, part V: ser Noche

ser Noche

The late morning suns shone down on Algol, and the spire with the landing pad provided a spectacular view across the rocky precipice it towered over, and out over the seas with their particular purply hue. There's a bit of wind, and the water ripples slightly across the panorama, with larger crests in the distance. Occasional crags jut out from the water in dark-grey solemnity.

Below, the carved stone of Taishijan, the ancestral fortress of the ser Noches, reflected the bright light of the blue and green sun with a dull glow, and below that the outlines of the shore of the capital city Saberai were visible. The waves rolled in on a sandy-pebbly beach, which from up here seemed a creamy gray colour. The water itself turned to a vivid jade colour as the ground below it rose to meet the waterline.

From the nave of the spire, a door opens, and a young woman in a simple but stylish dress of black and white walks towards the group, followed by a small hovering wagon with an open top, fitted with purple-upholstered seats.

"Welcome to Taishijan, noble sers and lasies." She made a deep bow to the assembled group. "I hope you have not waited undue long, there was a little delay over the access protocol for the Oculus.

"May I inquire, is this the full size of the group going down to Taishijan, or are we awaiting more visitors? If there are three or more people coming I will call a larger shuttle, it only seats eight."
Taishijan art: http://inwiki.wikispot.org/Algol_%28Capricorn%29?action=Files&do=view&target=Taishijan.jpg

Laurent

Salamah considered the matter. His whole family had come, which was both an advantage: they were there and not elsewhere, bothering him, but at the same time, including them would be troublesome.

He allowed none of his indecision to be shown as he said, "My wife and brother will be here presently, but the rest can wait in the ship. That is three for our party, so if each of the others only has the people before us, we can go momentarily," he suggested.

He tapped his wrist, and from the ship came first his wife, her hair long, silky and blonde, showing none of her fifty-five years, in a dress of green and gold. Her skin is as pale as Salamah's is a dark bronze She approaches, her every movement as graceful as Salamah's, and she, unlike him, allows some of her wonder to show as she looks upon Taishijan.

Salamah, well, there was nothing quite so impressive that he'd ever seen, and that included Azha. He had lived there for a while, and found it far less impressive than this sight. "Will Marcus be joining us."
"I do think so..." and out stepped Marcus, in perfectly proper Noble clothing, sure, but with none of the style or flair of the others. It hits very few grace notes even if it avoids the general pitfall of over-extravegence. His hair is dark, like his brother's, and his skin is a half-shade darker than Salmah's. His eyes are a slightly hazy brown, and while he hasn't given in to fat, there is, already--and he is Salamah's kid brother--signs of inactivity. He smiles pleasantly at all involved and said, "Greetings, all..." he glanced around, and there is a hungriness in the look of his eyes, a desperation. Salamah's smile faltered a bit, but only for a second.

"We are all assembled, then?"

Sternseher

Duchess Selina seemed far less bothered by Salamah's need to 'lead' the group of nobles, simply folding her hands in front of herself and nodding in agreement to his question. Nagi (Chikanaga) stepped in close and whispered something into her ear, and she smiled and glanced away from the young woman leading the 'carriage' and took a moment to look out at the city below them. It truly was a beautiful sight, and she took in a deep breath and forced herself to remember that, at the moment, she was breathing a completely different world's air.

Her brother-in-law shared in her enjoyment before she turned to the young woman again and bowed her head politely to someone who was, in all likelihood, no more than a commoner worker. "I'd like to extend House Sternseher's thanks for the prompt and warm greeting, as well as the offer of transportation."

Selina looked to the other newcomers as they hurried on out in their own time, Nagi's eyes lighting up a little bit at he saw Salamah's wife. Hopefully the flirt wouldn't cause his sister-in-law any problems!
Al Saffah

Bundar takes a few moments to drink in the spectacular view spread out around the landing pad- so much different to anything back home! Sheratan seems a little quaint and backward by comparison. "Yes, yes, this is all on my side." He turns to approach the wagon, giving Salamah's wife a courteous nod, Qaribah in tow. It had been agreed beforehand that it was best for her to stay in her father's shadow as much as is practical- it wouldn't do for anybody else to figure out that she's there as as essential aide more than anything else.


Laurent

Salamah, of course, saw through it. Sort of. He could hardly from his limited data draw the exact conclusion, but he was a very smart man, a genius in fact, and quite socially adept. That Bundar had brought only one person implied trust, that the person was his daughter suggested that, quite possibly, it was deserved. He valued family, after all, a minor miracle considering he hated most of his that was still living...and loved them still. And the way they acted, the way she kept in the shadows...she had seem relationships like that before.

He and his family piled into the vehicle after Bundar. He sat next to Bundar while a movement of his head had Marcus near the back, and Jamilla, his wife, near where Qaribah was sitting, behind Salamah and Bundar.

With luck his wife could talk to her and Marcus could continue his months-long streak, though he doubted it with a sinking feeling.

But for the moment, he had his own goal. He sat down easily next to Bundar and turned, smiling, radiating sincerity as he said, “I am sorry if I gave the wrong impression when speaking to the Duchess. I did not mean any disrespect that came from it.”

Shockingly, so much that he almost allowed it to show on his face...he wasn't lying. Not entirely, at least. Within his sincere look was a small nugget of real sincerity, absolutely indistinguishable from his cleverly made fake deposits. He was actually slightly sorry, at least partially because his mind was already beginning to form a few ideas.

Part of them would have to include a closer relationship between the three parties...and perhaps a discussion or two with Lady Ser Noche. While he waited for the reply he recalled, with the sort of headlong giddiness he always felt (but never showed) when an idea was coming together in the mind, that this was the fifth year of the reign of House Redwater and that, if all went as it should, there would be another election before too long...

Sternseher

Taking a keen interest in the 'driver' of the hover-wagon, Selina's brother-in-law would take the closest seat possible he could to her, trying to engage in some friendly banter and chatting. The Duchess herself didn't seem to mind if he occupied himself with the help for a bit, and settled in the far back where she would have a greater chance of being alone. She wasn't unaware of the fact that this might make her seem rude, but she wasn't the type to constantly keep playing the charade most nobles did.

This wasn't to say she was cold, or didn't try to be friendly and polite, but there was only so much she could take. More than that, she had a lot on her mind, and so she enjoyed the view while mulling over a dozen different thoughts after she was comfortably settled and ready for their ride to begin.

Laurent

Her closest company was Marcus, who was, fortunately enough, not the sort to engage her in any banter. On the other hand, he fully had the power to annoy her a bit. He cleared his throat and politely asked up to the driver, "Excuse me," he was not a boor, though next to his brother he had none of his charm, "Will there be a reception, with...drinks?"

Jamilla cut in and said, "Non-alcoholic, of course. Salamah and Marcus are not the sort to get drunk," and her voice on saying Marcus became this very subtle thing. It was quite clear that she was passing on a message to the driver. The message, if the driver had any grasp of social subtleties, was 'Marcus and alcohol do not mix.'

ser Noche

As the group piled into the eight-seater overwagon, the woman stepped in last and sat down. The machine lifted off the ground silently and slid away from the tall spire. The antigravity unit made it feel as if the open shuttle was hardly moving at all, and only the slightly increased breeze betrayed to motion.

"We will descend momentarily to the older section of Taishijan, where the residences are. We hava a reception prepared, where the Lady ser Noche will meet up with you. You may decide whether you wish to discuss matters with the Lady privately or at the reception, either is fine. Lady Nora is always happy to see emerging clan leaders who pay interest to the goings-on in Capricorn, and she was happy to hear of your arrival.

"In the meanwhile, I am allowed to give you a short tour of the greater Saberai area, if you would like it. We are currently flying above the major structures of Taishijan, the ancestral fortress of the ser Noches. The original structure was carved from the rock formation into the structure at the base, and later expanded with structures in and atop the rock. Sadly, the current-day state is not the original, even though it resembles it in minute detail.

"If you look below, you will see a large hollow in this particular formation, which is partially natural, but it has been enlarged to fit more construction for the capital city, Saberai. What you can see here is actually only a small part of the city as most of it is underground. This has proved a good thing, because in the recent war with the now deposed Triumvirate, the forces of the Canaigh warfleet laid waste to Algol, and the area where we are flying now was reduced to a wide crater. It was a sad day, but we are glad of our technological progress, and we can proudly say that we have been able to use matter reconstruction technology to refill the entire crater left by the nuclear bombing."

The woman smiles brightly, and waves a hand over the surrounding area - not merely the humongous rock facade, but also indicating several of the rocky spires out into the ocean. From her indication, the area affected was immense, several tens of kilometers in diameter.

New cast:  House ser Noche is an incredibly powerful House who opposed the Imperial Administration and the tyranny of House Goman.  Their current Head, Lady ser Noche, was the runner up in the last Imperial Election, getting three votes to Yale Redwater's seven...a new election is approaching (or, by the time this is published, has passed, actually.)

RP logs, Paying Respects, part IV: Third Party

((Continued directly from Part III))

House Sternseher

Out of all the other visitors, it was the newcomer (and-for the time being-the latest to arrive) that was closest. The planet Diphda was one of Algol’s ‘close neighbors’, being only a scant couple hundred light years away. Pulling into a smooth parking orbit, the vessel in question was shaped somewhat like that of a clam. While previously a light, armored cargo ship, it had since been redesigned.

The aft half of each part of the cargo bay has been split in two, leaving less than half the typical cargo space, but adding on one larger crew quarters to fit nobility and a private kitchen, dining, and recreational area. The paint job would also match their crest for the ship (red, black, and hold), and while it's been well-maintained and kept in good repair, it was obviously a somewhat older model. Some of the weapons have also been removed in favor of things like extra decoys and jammers, for few respectable Noble houses would be running around toting all the guns they could find!

Once the ship had settled properly into its holding restraints, a large hatch opening a set of stairs and rails quickly pushing out rather than a docking tube. One of the ship's crew, likely the security officer, stepped out for a moment and surveyed the port before disappearing inside.
Two other figures soon emerged, making their way down the automated gantry supported steps. The first was a woman, still relatively young with long brown hair, pale skin, and a pair of grey-blue eyes hidden behind a set of old-fashioned spectacles. She wore a long gown, the corset being the only 'enhancement' to her figure, with colors designed to match that of her house. Somewhat small, she seemed to wear only minimal make-up, and a single ring on her right hand for jewelry.

The man behind her was quite a bit different. With an olive complexion and dark black hair swept short and almost untidily back, he was a foot taller than her and dressed in shades of black, grey, and purple. He had more defined cheekbones than her softer face did, and an air of energy about him that was almost infectious. Pausing at the bottom of the steps, the two turned to one another to converse quietly, well within view of the other gathering nobles.

((References - The ship: http://breandan-ociarrai.deviantart.com/art/Dark-Nova-Sparrowhawk-Deckpla-169866132

Duchess Selina: http://safebooru.org/index.php?page=post&s=view&id=870155

Her dress: http://the-zombie-cat.deviantart.com/art/Blood-Elven-Noble-Colored-Sketch-Commission-338000017

And her cousin 'Nagi', the gentleman standing: http://lelia.deviantart.com/art/Commision-Abel-and-Costea-178412537 ))

Al Saffah

Qaribah clearly has enough control over herself that her countenance doesn't flicker, leaving Salamah only able to guess at what lies beneath it. "Indeed," Bundar says with a more open smile- if what wrinkles he had acquired didn't hint at it enough, the Emir would seem to be a man of good humor. "I can understand entirely. We only recently celebrated my own son's first year." He chuckles, shaking his head at the thought. "I would imagine that any formal function he attended would soon be rendered.... somewhat less than decorous."

He glances off to the side, Qaribah's gaze following his, the new arrivals having drawn his attention. "Hmm... I don't believe I recognize those colors," he says, thoughtfully, but not loudly enough to carry to the new arrivals- the remark is hardly an insult but some nobles can be notoriously touchy.

"Quite a coincidence," Qaribah comments, quietly. "Three noble houses landing at the same spaceport, within minutes of one another. Were I reading of these events in a work of fiction, I would think them quite contrived."

Laurent

Salamah glanced at the other pair and asked, "Contrived by who, though? It is not chance, but it is," he assured her, even as he began to plan to turn these events to his favor,"Coincidence. No doubt the other House has as good of a reason as we do. Speaking of, perhaps you would care to join me in greeting them?"

He asked, glancing over at the other family. The woman was clearly in charge, mid thirties, and the man was her...husband? No, that didn't seem to fit. Relative, then? They didn't look it, but it could be an 'in law' or it could be just a trick of genetics. Although, in some noble families, Salamah allowed himself to think as he slowly and confidently strode towards the other House, whether backed by the other two or not, the two were...not so different.

Al Saffah

Well, why not? "Certainly, your Grace," Bundar says, and follows Salamah- well, that is, he moves towards the newcomers, quickening his step a little so that he's walking beside the Duke rather than following behind him- a small distinction, but an important one.

Laurent

Salamah smiles at the pair and says, "Good morning, I am Duke Salamah Laurent, and this is Emir Bundar Al Saffah, and it seems the both of us are here to pay respects to the Lady Ser Noche." He smiled winningly, though he had, looking at the pair, decided that she was not seducable, and that to try would make him look far too condescendingly, no lust in that smile. "And we were wondering," and by using 'we' he, in a very polite way, took control of the situation, "What brings you here."

Sternseher

The two had been seen speaking to one another in somewhat hushed voices, the woman gently tugging and adjusting her dress here and there as the man gestured with one hand while the other hand clutched what appeared to be a small rectangular package. He was the first to notice others approaching, glancing over and blinking once before his mouth formed into an almost infectious grin, which took a gentle swat to one arm from the elegantly dressed woman to tame into something somewhat more presentable for an occasion as this.

"I am Duchess Selina Sternseher." the woman responded with in a calm and somewhat distant tone, not entirely taking Salamah's bait entirely as her eyes moved from one man to the other. "The ruffian beside me is my brother-in-law, Chikanaga Sternseher, my brother-in-law."

"It's a pleasure to meet you both! Despite my lacking a regal upbringing as my dutiful sister-in-law will so gladly point out at every social event, I think you'll find I've been 'in the family' long enough to be on my best behavior." His darker eyes lit up with mischief, but before he could continue on, Selina let out a soft sigh and then gave her own smile. It was a somewhat tired expression, but it showed off that she wasn't some grump, for the smile lines along the sides of her mouth and eyes were more apparent when she did.

"As to why we're here, I thought it prudent to pay my respects to Lady Ser Noche as well. My House has begun construction of our first agricultural facility here, and since the journey wasn't far, I thought it prudent to drop in and take care of a few administrative details while I'm on planet."

She paused before looking to them both again. "It would seem that, since we're already all here, it might be best if we all went together."

Al Saffah

"Emir Bundar Al Saffah is quite capable of introducing himself," Bundar says with an aside glance to Salamah, although his smile doesn't slip for even a second- not even a hint of anything other than good humor in his tone. "But thank you, nonetheless." Then he bows formally, though not terribly gracefully. "A pleasure, your Grace. What fortune it is, hmm? That the three of us should be standing here today in common purpose."

New Cast:

House Sternseher:

    

Duchess Selina Sternseher - House Leader - 38 years old.

An idle, ordinary intellectual. She is a poor duellist and an accomplished administrator.

Head of Agriculture. Chikanaga Sternseher - Brother-in-law of the Duchess - 48 years old. An idle, charismatic intellectual prone to alcoholism. He is a poor duellist and an average administrator.

RP logs, Paying Respects, part III: Introductions

((Continued from Part II))

7th of Faith, still

Laurent
Salamah's features are handsome, if angular, his skin a dark bronzed color, his eyes as green as a healthy tree. His clothing included a deep red shirt, tight fit, trimmed with golden cloth, with slightly flashy cuffs. He wears long dark-blue pants, fine material which has a shade that quite compliiments the red, with the gold tying the colors together. His outfit ends in dark green shoes, or perhaps they are black, it is dark enough in colors to be either. All in all, he doesn't look like a man who is only two years younger than Bundar, especially not with his longish, silky looking black hair.

He gave a charming, even sincere-looking smile and began to walk towards Bundar, "Hail," Salamah said, "I am Duke Salamah of House Laurent."

Al Saffah
Bundar smiles amiably back- dullard he may be, but he is a dullard who has been taught etiquette. "Greetings to you, Duke Salamah Laurent," he says with a slight bow. "I am Bundar Al Saffah, Emir of House Al Saffah of Sheratan. Have you travelled far?" Another very minor noble house might be potential competition, but could also be a valuable friend. At present he's relying on Qaribah to inform him of her impression later, much as he would with Bushra.

Laurent
Quite far, Honorable Emir. Though one can say that I have done much travelling, recently. Some months ago I took up residence on Alshain Magna, which does not have as much unfrozen water on the whole planet as is evident around us now."

"I have come to discuss something with the House Ser Noche. A private matter, I'm sure you will understand." He was watching Bundar's reaction, and apparently got enough out of it to say, perceptively, "It seems you too are here to see the Lady Ser Noche."

"Might I be so intemporate as to return the question: have you travelled far?" He asked Bundar, but he also had half an eye on Qaribah, as if they were the only two people to come--and that might or might not be so--that would mean she was important, smart...or that he didn't trust her to be left alone. At the moment he didn't have enough evidence to come to a conclusion, so he held any judgements.

Al Saffah
Bundar nods understandingly- private matters are private matters, after all. "Indeed, indeed," she says in response to Salamah's deduction. "And, not greatly. Sheratan is a mere few sectors away from Algol- I do not think I can be faulted for seeking to pay my respects to a most esteemed neighbor, mmm?" Nobody else seems to be emerging from the Al Saffah ship, for now at least. "But ah, I forget my manners! May I present my eldest child, Qaribah." Qaribah, for her part, bows her head slightly, smiling warmly, with every bit as much apparent sincerity as Salamah.

Laurent

Is it a horrible thing that Salamah does not, for a second, think the smile could be genuine? Doesn't even assign it a probability. Likely yes, but quite understandable, really.

He made a slight gesture with his right hand, and turned it into a sweeping bow as his surveillance devices on his wife activated. Ah, she was still getting everything together.

"I am charmed and delighted to meet you, Qaribah," he said, as he finished his sweeping, flourishing--but not low enough to be anything more than that of a Head of a Noble House to the...honored daughter of another.

His smile changed slightly, to add a bit more masculine charm to the smile he gave Qaribah, just to see her reaction, before his smile, and his gaze, shifted back to Bundar, "It is a joy to have children, Honorable Emir, is it not? Especially children as charming and lovely as her. I myself have a son, though he is only two, and not quite yet fit, let us say," he said, his smile growing slightly humorous, "To greet Nobles of other Houses."

RP logs: Paying Respects, part II, coincidences

((I will, if asked, pull these posts.  Many are not mine, I indicate the person who did them.  This post should be read directly following   Subsidised  ))

Al Saffah

7th of Faith, in the 5th year of the reign of House Redwater

Indeed, paying a visit to one of the most powerful Houses in the galaxy is almost never a bad idea- especially when a mere five or six sectors separates your homeworld from theirs. As Bundar's father had said to him once, going out of your way to show respect for a big, powerful neighbor is rarely a bad idea.

A similar question had arisen- now it was decided that he would travel to Algol, who to take? Bundar had no illusions as to the limits of his capabilities- he would need to bring someone sharper of mind and more personable of manner than he. Bushra would be his natural first choice, but his cousin, the brains of the operation, was at present armpit-deep in transforming the Al Saffah Trading Company into a viable interstellar trading business. She had no time to spare, so that simply left Qaribah as her substitute- which admittedly is doing an injustice to his daughter. Incidentally, their vessel touches down at one of Algol's spaceports, at more or less the same time as a much more well-appointed vessel, bearing the coat of arms of House Laurent...

Laurent

Salamah strode from the ship's gangway, full of vim and confidence. The trip had gone surprisingly well, and there was far less infighting than he had expected. And, looking at the sleek, small ship, whose inside was as impressive as its outside, he could feel nothing of the annoyance he had expected. After all, he had paid quite a bit for this ride.

Beneath the coat-of-arms of House Laurent, much smaller, was the coat of arms of the House he had bought the trip from. Still, a good appearance was worth much.

The air was bracing, and it was a fine enough day. That was always a risk with space-travel. There was always the chance that one could arrive at night, since just about every planet had its own cycle.

He stepped out onto the dock and glanced at the other ship. It too bore the mark of a great Noble House--as any house that was large enough to be interplanetary was considered, even if they were all minnows against the likes of the Ser Noche--and it, like his own, was new enough that its identity would be unknown. Another new House, hrm...

He watched the ship for any sign that its occupants were exiting.

Al Saffah

And indeed, they do. Bundar is first. Slim, by dint of genes rather than effort, clad in the scarlet and black displayed on house's coat of arms, but a dark, muted scarlet- it doesn't do to be overly garish, after all. Swarthy-skinned, close-cropped hair and a respectable beard, both of which must once have been black, but are now being slowly but steadily stained grey. Immediately behind him, Qaribah. A young woman who certainly has the look of her father about her, if rather finer of features, her dress evoking the expansive forests of their homeworld, the dark green cloth providing a counterpoint to her father's scarlet. Bundar looked up at the other ship, not recognizing the crest, but realizing it's significance- another Noble House- and, since he doesn't recognize it, another minor one. And finally, of course, his eyes alight on the man who has emerged, considering him. Cast: House Laurent: Salamah, Jamilla, Marcus. House Al Saffah: Emir Bundar Al Saffah - House Leader - 52 years old. An idle, ordinary dullard. He is an average duellist and an able administrator. Head of Leisure. Qaribah Al Saffah - Daughter of the Emir - 26 years old. A diligent, charismatic intellectual. She is an average duellist and a poor administrator.

Flashback: A Poor Boy's Dreams, Part III

The first year of the reign of the Regent, Boniface of House Spheniscidae (320 AF) in the months of Faith, Virtue, Fates and Glory, on Canopus  

A poor boy's dreams can decay and rust.


For years, as he learned and grew smarter and smarter, first a year, and then two, and then three years ahead of where he should be, with no sign of even coming close to stopping, he had also dreamed of someone who would fight back.  Who not only would advance, but would throw a punch rather than kneel in abject submission.

Hopewell was as arrogant as they were foolish, owning all sorts of mines, nearly the equal of the smallest, least established Houses.  In fact, up until how House Kendar ended up--though Salamah only heard it as one might hear distant thunder, for it didn't affect his life--out as the Imperial House, just several months ago, everyone expected that, very soon, Hopewell would take the jump to being a Minnow in the pond of the Galaxy, rather than a big fish in the tiny pond of Canopus.

And it had done particularly well the past nine years thanks to House Kendar.  They had, unlike many noble houses, gotten themselves indirectly, periphially involved in House politics.  They were, and would tell anyone who asked, Kendar's biggest supporters on Canopus.  Canopus was hardly vital to the Empire, but having a small local lord in one's pocket can be quite helpful.  Whatever the truth of the charges of House Kendar's corruption on a large scale, there was plenty of it locally.  They had grown fat from the support of Kendar, had gotten contracts they didn't deserve, had meddled outrageously in every little thing on the planet they could, and lived and feasted like lords.

But their rise, so contingent on the reign of Kendar, was now halted.  In fact, if Hopewell had been as loyal as they had sworn, they would have fought and no doubt been easily crushed.  Instead they disavowed all of their old contacts, but without them, without the corruption they were--though who on the outside could really see it--only five years from complete self-destruction.

No doubt they were under enormous pressure but, after they did not immediately collapse following Kendar's fall, many assumed that Hopewell would continue as it had before, this only being a bump in the road.  But, as time would come to reveal, this was not so. So, well, even the least important, least adult member of Hopewell was on edge, and to piss them off now was a royally idiotic move.

Still, Salamah can hardly be blamed for the way he stared at the wall, picturing upon it a thosuand violent acts.  If all the political soothsayers couldn't agree, why would a seven year old boy know better?

He never, not in all his life, would have thought that one of his older brothers would be that fighter.  They all seemed like one amorphous blur to Salamah, twelve and thirteen and fourteen and fifteen, young, rugged, handsome, obedient, and unlikely to win any prizes for intelligence.  In that way, Marcus--for whom his little brother would be eventually named--was nothing special.  He was energetic, perhaps, and sometimes even a bit combative.  A bully even.

More energetic and vital, perhaps, but cut from the same cloth as his father, and already in Vocational (Mining) School, paid for by the Hopewells, where he would learn exactly what he needed to know to become his father, and no more.

He stared at the wall, and then down at his brother, barely breathing, in the bed.  He had met three Hopewell retainers in the company of Tomas Hopewell, the young heir, doing some vandelism, likely to relieve stress.  Two of the retainers were in the hopsital, and Tomas had broken bones from the fight--fair, if outnumbered, until the end--that had left the last retainer with no choice.  Or at least, that's the story told, when he was dropped off outside their House--since his health-care wouldn't pay for it, since all the hospitals he could go to, they could afford, were owned by the Hopewells.

A non-fatal shock, they said, with an electric stun-device.  His skin was horribly burned, right above his heart, and Marcus' eyes stared at nothing in particular.  He might live, maybe, possibly, one of their cousins had told them--free medical advice from a nurse-dropout.

Salamah cried, didn't stop crying for days.  Didn't stop until Marcus, who now had no school to go to, nor any hospital, nor any way to make even the least bit of income, woke up.  Woke up and went about his day at home without seeming to be there.  Marcus was never smart, but there was something empty, dull, dead about him as he went about his days.  He neither blamed nor forgave the Hopewells, and wouldn't listen when his father suggested that maybe he could apologize, abjectly.

Salamah felt like he had seen it coming, had known that it was going to happen.  One day, nearly two months later, while Salamah was at his Uncle's, Marcus wrote a ten-thousand word, badly spelled, angry, furious rant at the Hopewells, at everything they were, gotten into the bathtub, and slit his left wrist--he was right handed.  And then allowed himself to at last stop holding on.

Salamah had returned in time to smell the sickly sweet stench of blood, to watch his brother's body being hauled away like useless meat, to copy down the rant into his own Device, to read later.  He had been shaken, but oddly calm, as distant as his brother...but far more thoughtful. 

In the night his father had broken into his room and deleted the rant, tried to scrub it clean, and so Salamah would only know the first several hundred words.  His father, when Salamah had finished yelling at him, had said simply, "They can read these...if they found out..."

If they found out?!  What, that they were monsters, that they deserved to be destroyed?!  He had ranted until he was blue in the face.

And then his father had slapped him, hard, and left without saying another word.





Salamah studied programming, and within a week found a block which would mean that only if they were looking for a specific file, only if they knew it existed, could the Hopewells read it.  And then he filled his folder with plans for murder.  Within the first month he had found eleven viable ways, with every step listed, including where he got all the materials, and backup plans, that he could kill at least four Hopewells.

He was disappointed with himself.

Surely he could think of more than that!  And the next month, he did.

Salamah had decided it was not over with the Hopewells, that it hadn't even begun.  But he was not a fool, nor was he a hero or a fighter.  He would wait, and then he would strike, and they would suffer, and then they would die.

Flashback: A Poor Boy's Dreams (Salamah 0-7), Part II

The seventh year of the Reign of Emperor Olaf of House Kendar (317 AF) to The eighth year of the Reign of Emperor Olaf of House Kendar (318 AF), on Canopus

A poor boy's dreams might be narrow and tight.

When he was five, he resolved that his Uncle should have been his father.  Everything would have been better than, he decided, in his naive way.  They were so rich, and the Uncle was so smart and worldly.  Looking back, he knew that his Uncle, who worked as a programmer for some of the mining machine, was not really all that much richer than his father, and that they were both trapped, seemingly going nowhere.  But the Uncle had a way out, and Salamah would watch him take it, take it and leave Salamah behind, of course.

But at five he merely knew that when he went there with his sister, they had a second-hand game system, and only two children, and they seemed, if not happier, at least richer, and that was all that mattered to Salamah.

He would stare in envy, and go home, and when he was there he wasn't nice to his sister.  She was a reminder that he was bound to the family, that they had made him, raised him, and that his heart was theirs.  He loved his family, and hated the fact, for it seemed to give him no options, no choices.  She was cute and precocious and loved him and reminded him by hugging him all the time.  It was annoying, and he often snubbed her when they were at his Uncle's house, which was close enough that it was often.

At five, he was already aware that his world was constricted, and he often felt trapped.  His vast intellect was as yet untapped, undirected, undiscovered.  He didn't know it, but it would only be then that he would begin to see a bit of hope--not that he lived a life in miserable despair, but he had lived a childhood before that day with no sight of some final goal.

As he continued on his journey of being five, with all that it entailed, he found that his father and Uncle were arguing more and more often.  Something about tests, or quizzes.  More and more his Uncle gave him weird little games with rewards like ice-cream if he played them.  They were all too easy, and he thought nothing of it except that it was a nice way to win candy and balls and all sorts of little things.  But he was told not to talk about it.

When he got home that day his father gave him a big, long, vague speech about hopes and dreams, and how the latter was a distraction, and the former shouldn't be gotten up, and how practicality was the best way to live life.  And that they didn't have money, but that didn't mean they would accept charity.  It went on and on, going nowhere, a run on thought with a point that was lost to Salamah.  At the end of it Salamah simply nodded and nothing actually changed for anyone.

His father was just not all that convincing. 

Soon after, to Salamah's pure, twisted, petty, childish envy, he started testing his little sister Aaqilah, albeit on slightly easier tests.

A hundred times he almost turned her in, and then realized he'd be caught too.  He didn't know why the tests were wrong, but they must have been, but Salamah didn't care, so he just had to not get caught.

Then one day they came into the house, holding their stuffed animals--unlike rich kids, theirs didn't teach them foreign languages, play complex games with them, and all the other cute electronic things...theirs were just cloth and fluff and buttons and glass eyes, nothing more--and found two packages on the couch of the Uncle's house.

One was larger, and labeled Salamah, one smaller, and labeled Aaqilah.  Each was covered in green wrapping paper.  They sprang forward, and tore the thing to shreds, enjoying it quite a bit--genius or no, Salamah loved tearing up boxes and presents.

It was an Educational hand-held device, that could project onto the walls, onto a wall-screen, or right there, and teach kids...well, just about anything, in theory.  It required focus, sure, and it wasn't a cheat-button for hard work, but it was an education, day by day, week by week, that could fit into the palm of a hand: some planets, often those whose educational budgets were either astronomical or incredibly low, simply handed kids them and, with differing amounts of supervision, let them get on with the process of learning.

They turned them on, and a short recording by their Uncle asked them to check it out, and Salamah began on lessons appropriate for a five year old.  It really was remarkable programming.  It taught the lesson once, and then ran through it again using different methods, approaches, ways to look at it, just to make sure everyone got it.  At any time after a certain point in the 'base' part of the lesson, a person could hit the 'I understand' button and take a test to see if that was so.  Less than twenty minutes into the 2 hour (thirty of which was the base lesson) lesson, he pressed 'I understand' got all ten questions right, and moved on to the next thing. 

Soon he was flying, or so it felt like, and the would slipped away.  Days and days of lessons passed in an hour, and all of them stuck in his mind, placed into boxes, related to one another, associated and remembered.  He was a week ahead of the 'baseline' by the time, almost two hours later, the Uncle and Salamah's father came in to see that both of them were still eagerly laboring away at the devices.

"Oh, alright fine," their father  conceeded, "They can learn, but it's not going to do them any good."

Salamah didn't hear, and he would have disagreed.  At five he was certain he had found the way from weakness to strength, darkness to light: knowledge and education.

Flashback: A Poor Boy's Dream (Salamah 0-7), Part I

The third year of the Reign of Emperor Olaf of House Kendar (313 AF) to The seventh year of the Reign of Emperor Olaf of House Kendar (317 AF), on Canopus

A poor boy's dreams can be as solid as mud.



For Salamah Laurent, realizing he--or rather his father--was poor was a slow process.  A baby's hunger, annoyance...these emotions might eventually coalesce, but not into some deep awareness of poverty.  Instead it began for him with a desire for something.  He wanted something, and the first lesson he learned of poverty was just that.  A lack which, for a long time, he did not really associate with poverty.

Only looking back a bit was he able to understand it.  That his father was a poor miner working for some very minor almost-house--minor by the standards of a House, yet that meant thousand upon thousands of employees, including people to work on their mines, find veins, do a thousand jobs menial and important.  A house that might become a House.  That his mother, however much she might love his father, could not help him where it mattered.

He had five older siblings when he was born on a slightly blustery day, and his parents were far from done, and would have seven more by the time...by the time things changed.  He grew up in a small cramped house, but it seemed warm, and cozy, to his early memories.  That the Wall-set he had was broken half the time, that his toys were second or third hand, that he didn't have a game console and his clothes were threadbare: these were facts that, for a time, when they registered, had no special meaning to him.  When he was three that began to change.

It began with him wanting a toy.  It began with him being denied that toy.  It was that simple, and yet a boy that young--even one who was already showing the traits that made him smarter than the next-youngest brother, two years older and in school--couldn't quite see a pattern.  To his mind, he was being deprived, but he didn't understand why.

He got his first glimmer of his situation on his fourth birthday.  He had long ago moved on from the toy.  The television had gone on to advertise other things, and while he still thought it a cool toy, it was no longer the purpose and the goal of his entirely life as it had been months before.  And his only present was that toy, and nothing more.  They...they had been saving up for who knows how long, and he, childishly, managed to split the difference: showing some gratitude for it, but not enough, all while being unable to resent...not anyone in particular, just resentment without a goal.


Two weeks later his father took him to the big city to get some ice-cream--well, many many many things, but the one he cared about was the ice-cream.

Canopus was a beautiful planet, with weather that was quite great.  And then there were the insects.  Most buildings were air-tight, and some cities had retractable domes.  Despite this, it was still a pretty nice place, in many ways. 

A place that Salamah never mentioned, that, thirty years later, still filled him with this vague, endless disgust.

They were walking along, Salamah anticipating that he would soon hold a cone.  His father was a handsome, if tired, looking man, the darkest of everyone in his family, his eyes a bit dull, but with a smile on his face.  He seemed an amiable enough person, the sort who few people had any reason to dislike.  And then from a cafe--a very nice one, this was a good neighborhood, and even the cafes were upscale--a man stepped out without looking and ran into them.  He had been holding a drink, and it spilled over both of them.

The man wore a great-coat, and long silken pants, and his hair done up in coifs.  The badge on his shirt showed that he was a member of the noble house Hopewell, which was nearly big and powerful enough to qualify as a House.  It was a lion fighting a wolf, both gold, on a blue background.  "Hey," he said, annoyed, "Watch where you're going!"

Salamah expected his father to protest.  It was the other man's--he looked about fourty--fault.  Instead his father grabbed him and they forced him down into a bow as he said, "I'm sorry sir, it won't happen again.  I was just distracted...going with my son to get some ice-cream, but that doesn't excuse..." his own shirt was as dirty as the noble's, of course.

"No, it doesn't.  My son and I, he's just finishing up, we were going for a relaxing day, and now you've ruined it.  Why don't you buy the two of us ice-cream instead, and I won't call the guards."

It was almost worst that the other boy, fat and blonde and maybe three, seemed nice and was entirely oblivious.  The ritual of the buying of the ice-cream only took a few minutes and the two were walking off.  Salamah stood without ice-cream, his father's money for it gone towards their (more expensive) requests.

Salamah looked at his father and lost all respect for him.  How could he give in, how could he be weak...that was his ice-cream! 

Within the boy welled up a hatred, and a disappointment.  He never looked up to his father after that.  If Salamah wanted anything out of the world, he would have to make it himself.

Sometimes in the years to come he wanted to trust his father with his dreams, with his hopes, with his ambitions, but Salamah knew that his father was nothing, nothing at all.

Flashback: It began in a bar, Part II

22th of Glory, in the 1st year of the reign of House Canaigh (331 A.F), on Ceres Media

The night before their lives changed Salamah and Aaqilah Laurent were sitting around the table eating chips with an open bottle of a sauce popular on Ceres Media--and almost nowhere else--as they discussed the ledger, which sat off to the side of the table in the crummy apartment. 

The apartment had three rooms.  The rather large (or at least, large in comparison) center room, in which the living room, kitchen, dining room and bedrooms were all somehow combined into one, a closet, and a closet-sized bathroom.  That was it.  Saving space was important, especially at the cost-per-foot of apartment space, and they'd had this one for two years.  It was, compared to their last one, practically a mansion.

They were arguing, even though it didn't sound like, or even feel like, an argument to Salamah.  He dipped his chip, brought it to his mouth, and took a bite.

His sister was dressed as she always did after a night with her...lover.  Dressed as if the last thing she wanted to have was a female body, at least one that drew attention.  She wore a long sweater, and sweat-pants, which covered a body that was lithe, but which had gentle, subtle curves.  Her face was quite similar to his, beautiful in its way, her eyes glimmering near-gold, her hair dark and long and unloosed, framing her face in a rather charming way.  Her smile was beautiful and honest as she said, "This dip is quite good, I thought I'd never get a taste for it."  That smile was for him, and for memories that most would regard as horrific but, when shared between two people, acquire their own sacredness.

The Businessman from Ceres Media, the moghul, he had breath like the dip, and his vomit...

Salamah moved past those thoughts and said, "One can get a taste for anything.  But yes, it is quite good."  He watched as she took two chips, and used them to trap some of the dip between them, before eating both, and getting a tiny little dab of it on her nose, which she wiped off. 

"But it could use to be a bit cooler," she said, and there it was, the slight edge, the hint of worry.

Their refrigerator had been turning off and on more and more often, the programming breaking down.  It had to be replaced...eventually.  She wanted that to be soon, and for it to be a better model arguing, using extensive algebraic equations--they were both geniuses--that over the long run, say a year, her idea would save money.

He wanted to wait, challenged where they had money they weren't saving for an escape-route to pay for it, and returned back with his even-more-complicated math saying, essentially, 'no it won't.'

It had been an ongoing feud for a week, and he almost wanted to give in, just because he didn't like seeing her so on edge, even if that edge was only noticable to him.  But where would the money come from?  They could reduce their food budget, but if they were doing that, why just not get anything refridgerated, why not just eat cereal and save the money?  There were a few other places they could cut, and one place they could never cut, would never...the budget they gave Marcus for games, toys, food...his allowance, essentially.  Both of them would have (both of them had nearly) starved before cutting that.

"Look," he said, about to break his policy and simply directly address the issue.  And then the door slid open and Marcus bound in, holding a small, finger-sized piece of metal in his hands, triumphantly.  He wore shorts, a long, flowing short of rather good material, and a smile that matched his body.  He was somewhat short, slightly lighter in color than either of the two, and he had about him a boyish air, as if not only would he never grow up, but he would never die.  His greenish eyes flashed with excitement.

"Lookit, lookit, brother, sister!" he shouted, and they turned, every idea of arguing entirely abandoned. If there was anyone both of them cared more about then each other, it was him.  Themselves were a somewhat distant third, and the rest of the universe was an incredibly distant fourth.

He held it up and said, "Daniel," the boy he played with, the one he had to, "Let me borrow his Galaxy Fighters: Conquest of the Space-Worms!"  They both cocked their head.  They had grown up in a world where they only rarely got to play games...Marcus had only been one when they'd spirited him away from that, and so, well, he had a knowledge base vastly different than either of them.  It was, they both gathered very quickly, a video-game, and a new one.

He babbled on excitedly about it, and they both took turns asking questions, some of which, of course, he was leading them to ask just to get a chance to babble onwards.  They relaxed, and it turned into general chatting about their days--lies abounded, but the comfortable sort, since they hardly wanted to implicate Marcus in a number of crimes, did they?  And they told the truth as often as they felt they could without endangering Marcus.

Finally it wound to, as Marcus was plowing his way through the chips, the reason he'd brought it up, "Hey, could you both play with me!"

They were only half-way done for next month's plans, and updating their ledgers.  They could spend hours trading gossip, an activity that some did for fun, but they did with deadly earnestness, trying to pick up on trends in fashion, preferences...any trend that might lead to money.

As one they glanced at each other, the answer in their eyes.  "Sure, of course we could..."

"Don't you have ledger stuff to do?" Marcus asked.  Marcus had started helping them out with the math part--more to teach him than anything else--two years ago.  (They taught him in their own way, at their own sporadic pace, and he was currently working on Algebra when they taught him math.  These ledger sessions had led to the demolishing of his bed-time as a thing they could enforce.) 

"No, of course not.  We're pretty much done, just a few final touches left, and we could use a break anyways," Aaqilah contended in her soft, beautiful voice.  The last part might have even been true: they were not going to make much progress on their main argument tonight, so perhaps a break was really in order.

They piled onto the couch, Marcus between them.  Below the wall-screen was the thin, beautiful, curving silver-black body of the lasted game console.  They put on the visors, for the three-dimensional vision--they were no more cumbersome than a pair of glasses.  Less, really. Marcus jumped up and stuck the metal game-card into the machine, and it loaded it up, and off they were playing for the next few hours.

It was a rather ridiulous game, if quite advanced.  Fighting, action, lasers, guns, giant plant monsters, exploding planets, exploding ships, count-downs.  The story was entirely incomprehensible, but the gameplay was complex and dynamic and the characters, while not much more than two-dimensional figures, had their own unique moves, and skillset, and paths...it was a very well made game, but really a bit too silly for such serious people.  Not that anyone watching could tell as they laughed, joked, gawked, got into it and left their reservations at the door.

Eventually, though, they got tired, even as Marcus was too into the plot to want to stop.  "Just a bit more," he'd say, and then they'd accede.  Finally, Salamah said, "Your sister probably needs to rest, why don't us two continue it..."

She looked at him gratefully.  She had a big day tomorrow.  Jorge was going to be in a bad mood, he always was as his wife's birthday approached--he couldn't imagine anyone marrying someone they hated that much, but there it was--and she'd need all of her charm.  Plus, she could sleep through anything, while Salamah was woken by anything.  If she stayed up to play, he wouldn't be able to sleep through the sounds--the machine had been gotten off the back of a hover-truck, slightly damaged, and so sometimes it flickered to stereo-sound, and filled the room with temporary noise.

"Sleep well Sister," Salamah said earnestly.

She smiled in return, and went in the bathroom to prepare. 

Salamah stayed up for two hours, until Marcus fell asleep, playing the game, and then saving it--Marcus would be distraut if he lost any progress.  Then, he too went to sleep.  They had only two beds.  He picked Marcus up and set the boy down next to Aaqilah: he liked sleeping in the same bed with one of them each night, and they indulged Marcus.

As he fell asleep Salamah realized that he and Aaqilah were like Marcus' parents.  They had raised him since he was almost one, and just about everything he knew or believed about the world, they either gave him, or allowed him to decide, or discover...it was a weird thought, really.  He was being a father, in a way--though certainly not a husband, such an idea was quite disgusting.  With that thought he went to sleep, and dreamed of a very different childhood.  Dreamed of very different dreams.