[Humans for Hire] - Part 187

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*Vilantia Prime, Palace of the Throne*

The Throne was frowning this morning. The Heir had been fussy and refused to sleep until it had been surrounded by soft blankets and parents on the floor. The Throne had not slept well as a result, but they consoled themselves with the reality that it had been for the benefit of Vilantia. It was a cold comfort to their back and hips, and the Throne was expected to be royal in public in short order. The Royal Secretary came in with a tablet and a concerned scent.

"Majesty, Consorts." There was a micropause and the delay in the scent gave the Throne pause.

"What concerns you?"

"Several things, Majesty - the Minister of Science requests an immediate audience - he has been going over the findings from the Pilgrimage of Lafione, and he wishes to advise and receive your counsel. Two additional plots have been discovered revolving around the trial; one was an attempt to free Porti before the findings and possible sentencing. The second was an attempt on the royal body."

"Have the Ministries continue. If two plots are known, four more are unknown."

"So you intend to appear before the House of Lords?"

"I do. The nobles are advising that they have reached a verdict, and I must appear in order to pass sentence. Tell the Minister of Science he has my nose immediately after the trial." The Throne stood, twisting and stretching to ease the kinks from their back and legs. "Now, if you would be so kind, it was a restless night. I believe there is a tonic of some sort that the Legions have discovered?"

"Two, if I may be so bold - similar function, but different scent."

"Prepare one of each and allow me to choose."

The Throne moved to another room and dressed in formal ceremonial robes that left no doubt; they were in fact the ruler of Vilantia and any who doubted that did so at their own peril. The Secretary returned with a tray bearing two cups and various condiments.

"The one on the left is tea. It is known as Earl Grey, and it is favored by the First Freelord. It seems to be a drink steeped in dried Terran wakeplant. On the right is coffee, and Freelord Drysel born to clan A'Bantir prefers it. There is no precise analogue. Sugars and milk are for a more muted flavor."

Both samples were tested, and there was a pause before there was judgment. "The tea is a superior thing."

There was a nod and as the Secretary left, another servant entered with freshly-brewed tea and a lifted head. After the tea the Throne seemed to feel an odd exhilaration and energy for the day.

They were going to need it.

As they stepped into the carriage with the consorts, the press was there. The trial of a former Minister had made all other events secondary; they'd even canceled playoff matches in favor of endless dissection of the public statements made. During the previous evening, a full hour had been dedicated to analyzing the scents accompanying the inflections of Minister Larine's initial statement with a second hour giving a similar quantum-level dissection to Freelord Gryzzk's statement. The theater was almost absurd on certain levels.

The Throne was guided to the Ministerial Cloakroom, where several members of the Throneguard bore anxious scent as everything was checked and rechecked. During one of the checks, a stylus fell from an errant hand and the guard responsible found himself looking down the barrels of multiple weapons. It was then that an executive decision was made.

"I will appear before the Lords now, if you please."

There was a soft whine from the secretary. "It is not the appointed time, Majesty."

"It is when an errant stylus causes such commotion. Advise Minister Aa'Criar to prepare herself for announcement."

The Throne stepped to the Ministerial dais, looking properly regal in the face of an early appearance. There was a slight gesture. "Continue."

Aa'Criar nodded and continued, reciting names followed by their judgment. "Lord A'Bantir votes guilty of all charges specified, recommending additional investigation and charge for unspecified financial crimes. Lady A'Nanska abstains..." As each name and their vote was read into the record, the projector was updated. Thus far there were a number of abstentions, but everyone on record had voted him guilty.

Finally the tally was completed, and Minister Aa'Criar stood calmly, her voice betraying no emotion as it was read aloud. "The final tally to the questions placed before the voting nobles of Parliament is as follows: One thousand, two hundred and eighteen votes of 'guilty'. One hundred and twenty abstentions from the vote. By a jury of his noble peers Porti is declared...*guilty*."

There was a light inclination from the Throne. "You are all commended for your service to Vilantia, nobles." There was no movement beyond what was necessary for speaking. "Porti. In any previous generation, your crimes would have you beheaded and burned, that the poison of your body would not infect Vilantia any more than it has. Be grateful that this generation is disinterested in spilling further blood.

"This is the sentence of the Throne for your crime. All ancestral records of Greatclan Aa'Porti are to be archived as unfit for any consumption, with Name stricken from all public records - your deeds will be the only ones attached to the Name Porti. Your titles and lands shall be stripped and apportioned properly by the Ministry of Trade. Beginning tomorrow, your day shall be as thus - at dawn, you be taken from the Underprison and shorn. You will then be moved to a cell outside the Ministry of Trade under guard, where you will remain on public display with your crimes recorded for all who would hear them. At dusk you will be returned to the Underprison. Upon the sixth day you will rest in your cell and listen as the unedited texts of the Clan Way are recited to you. May the gods grant you the mercy a scentless, honorless traitor deserves."

At this sentence Porti became rather hysterical, choking out unintelligible syllables of rage as the Throneguard lifted him from his mobility chair to his fate. The Throne was impassive in scent, giving a respectful benediction to the house of nobles before going to the cloakroom to change into robes that were suited for daily use and not pageantry. The other ministers followed, with the Throne gesturing to the Minister of Science to accompany the Royals to their carriage.

The Minister of Science was not given to any sort of extra flourishes with his reports, simply handing his tablet to the Consort Husband before speaking. "The Thirty-Third Lafione's report is troubling. It has lines of scientific inquiry that have been unconsidered, as well as references to the First Gryzzk."

There was silence in the carriage until they reached the Palace council chambers, the Throne busily reading and re-reading before saying anything. "If Lafione has not been sworn to silence regarding the First Gryzzk, do so and name your replacement."

"He has been so sworn as soon as I received his report."

"Excellent. As to this...vilaforming concept. Form a group that can disprove this if at all possible. Open a line of inquiry with your counterparts on Hurdop and give them the data as well."

"It shall be done, Majesty." The minister left, and the Throne called for the Secretary again.

"Are there...other teas?"

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*Terran Foreign Legion Ship* Twilight Rose

Gryzzk placed the tea service on the conference table. "Lodora. Captain Waniul and I were delayed by an excellent lunch. Apologies." He quickly repositioned Glaud so the infant was slowly rocking back and forth in his father's lap.

There was an easy laugh from the reporter as the small recorder drones lifted from her shoulders to take station. "Think nothing of it. I was early - in fairness I was hoping for a candid moment or two. I did have some questions for the both of you if you would be so kind? Part of our duties here include interviewing as many individuals as possible."

"I will advise that we are at minimum complement today, due to our port status. However, our mess hall captain is preparing meals today if you'd like a small piece on how we eat." Gryzzk flicked his middle eyepair toward Waniul. "Captain...?"

There was a nod as the captain poured out three cups of tea and set one in front of each individual. "Of course."

Lodora shifted her posture, moving from genial to professional. It was a subtle shift of scent that made Gryzzk's fur rise fractionally; reporters with a pen were at times more dangerous than a squadron of infantry. "Captain, I am given to understand that you are in fact related to the Freelord in some way. Would you be able to expand on that?"

Waniul glanced around awkwardly for a moment as a memory came to the fore. "Indirectly, but yes. Corporal Kiole is my cousin."

"Ah. What was your first meeting with the Freelord like?"

There was a slight fluttering of fur from Waniul. "Hostile." She took a quick sip of tea before explaining more fully. "The, the Draconis Freespeakers had put out many messages insinuating that the Legion was a front for Terran primacy in the sector and that the Vilantians and Hurdop were...pets. They hinted that Vilantia had forced warm ale upon the Hurdop of the companies, and well. That was quite unacceptable. I directed my ship to an intercept course and confronted him."

Lodora paused for a moment. "You drink...cold ale?"

"We do. Summers are hot on Hurdop, and refrigeration is a priority."

The answer was deemed acceptable, and Lodora continued. "What has been the most difficult transition for you?"

"The amount of waste with respect to food and drink. I have had to curb myself a few times so as to not cause disruptions among the crew."

"Howso?"

"Well, even with the technologies available there is loss with recycling and reprinting items that could have been put to better use if the personnel were more mindful of their portions. It is frankly difficult to imagine at times. My XO and First Sergeant were remarkably patient, in hindsight." Waniul paused, a self-satisfied scent coming to the fore. "But I still clean *my* tray at every meal."