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"They did what!?"

Yaroi's roar of shock and indignation cut through the hurried conversation of the bridge-staff at battle-cry volume. Even the Ro'Xanshin astrometrician on the screen looked taken aback, but right now he didn't care.

"There seems to be some, ah, signs of sabotage on the waygate. Rather conclusive evidence of sabotage, from multiple fronts." replied the rabbit with a slight stutter.

"Teeth of hell! Those honourless bastards actually rigged a waygate?" The ferret snarled.

"Well, we don't currently know the identity or alleigance of the perpetrator but-"

"Then I'll give you hint, it was those Lashani curs, who else?" Yaroi spat, bitterly.

"Well, I'm sure all possibilities will be investigated in due time." Replied the astrometrician, lamely. "BUt I'm afraid that will have to be taken up with the security office."

"See that it is." Yaroi sneered and cut the link, too angry to risk continuing the conversation and risking venting on the innocent technician. Somehow, the very fact that there was nothing he could have done to have prevented them all from being blown to atoms actually intensified his shame, rather than lessen it, and that only fed his rage. Such an attack went so far outside the bounds of the acceptable methods of assassination that it was hard to believe. Assassin-cultists, poison, snipers, nanoweapons, all of them were tried and true means of disposing of a politically problematic individual without inflicting harm upon the innocent, and all of them he could, at least to some degree, protect his charge from. But this? Had it succeeded it could have dealt a heignous blow to the Ro'Xanshin economy and potentially cost the lives of many civilians, either blinded by the light of the antimatter reaction or killed in the inevitable storm of waygate wreckage that would have fallen on Byzantium Tertius, and he wouldn't have been able to do a damn thing about it, he wouldn't have even known it was comeing, where was the honour in that?

"Ah, guard-captain, is there to be any changes made to the arrangements on account of this?" Inquired the ship-captain, Dailan, an aged piebald mouse who had been given the position of captain of the Dragonfly ironically as a working-retirement of sorts.

"No," Yaroi replied, immediately. "No, we stay on point, nothing changes, understand? If anything, we move quicker."

"Understood." Replied Dailan with a nod of agreement and turned back to his station.

Yaroi was just stalking off when he heard Dailan address him again. "Seems a little odd, don't you think?" said the mouse, absently. "Nobles never take actions that would damage the waygate network, even in the middle of war they don't attack eachothers gates. It's one of the oldest parts of their honour-code, dates right back to the Eagle Empire, protecting the waygates is half the reason they are nobles in the first place."

"So? It just goes to show what scum the Lashani are, that they would stoop so low." Yaroi replied, dismissively.

Captain Dailan just shrugged. "Hmmm, probably," he said, noncommitally. "It just seemed peculiar to me, that's all."

Yaroi was in no mood to ponder this as he returned to the lander hangar, stalking through the steel corridors of the Dragonfly, made eerie by the strobing translation-warning lights that replaced the normal lighting. Blessedly, the lighting returned to normal by the time he was halfway there, he was so jumpy that he was afraid he'd draw steel on anyone who came up to him too quickly in the flickering half-light without thinking, friend or foe. Already, part of his Serathis training was kicking in subconsciously and he realised that he wasn't walking normally but halfway into a killing-stalk.

He paused for a moment outside the hangar-bay doors and took a deep breath.

'Calm yourself, you bloody idiot, this isn't an enemy vessel or a battlefield. There's no Lashani clickermen stalking you and there's no cannons firing on your position, calm the fuck down before you hurt someone.' He whispered to himself, willing his thoughts to become a placid lake rather than the whitewater they currently were.

That was the one flaw with the methods of the Serathis school, they were sometimes too effective, a student of the school' techniques could find themself thrown into a warrior trance at the slightest hint of any threat, whether it was rational or not. That was why so few were ever accepted into the school, those without the psychological strength to master the Serathis style usually became mastered by them. If it ever got that far, though, the schoolmasters usually had to put them down themselves. Fortunately, he wasn't that far gone by any stretch, being a Serathis alumnus was like riding a half-tamed beast, being a failed Serathis student meant holding on to its mane for grim life out of fear of being thrown and trampled.

Satisfied he had regained his equilibrium he keyed the entry pad and stepped out of the corridor, practically bounding up the ramp of the lander. He noted with some satisfaction that the honourguard were still standing to attention despite the panic that had resulted from translating through the Byzantium Tertius waygate to find the damn thing in two parts, like some colossal blade had just sheared it in two. The other attendants had shifted from their choreographed positions slightly and more than one circle of whispering gossipers had formed. All heads turned to face him as he entered.

"You lot, get back to your positions." he barked, dismissively, eager to have those laserbeam-stares off him.

Once the situation was back on his own terms he cleared his throat and began to speak. "Now, there have been some issues with the Byantium waygate, issues that could hav e potentially been very bad indeed, but they have been resolved by Ro'Xanshin and nobody is in danger, so just remain calm." he said to the crowd of expectant faces. "We continue on as normal, Ro'Xanshin wants the proceedings to continue unabated and I see no reason to challenge them on this." As a prudent afterthought he grinned widely and added "Byzantium Tertius is the safest place in the galaxy, but we're not on there yet so you've got to expect things like this."

That was met by a small ripple of quiet laughter, enough to break the ice, it seemed, as the gathered attendants returned to their positions, a few musicians fiddled nervously with the tuning on their instruments and flower-girls fretted with their dresses, most looking much relieved. Such was the way of people, who, despite alot of negative propaganda, were essentialy pragmatic.

With that out of the way, he breathed a sigh of relief and approached Wei's hover-sedan, a small white hand holding a folded fan brushed the side curtain open as he came up to it. Wei leaned out slightly, the bells and beaded danglers on the ends of his hatpins rattling and tinkling discordantly.

"Captain, what have you ascertained, what caused that damage to the waygate?" Wei said with a ring of that rarely-used tone of command.

Yaroi bowed as he answered. "The damage was an emergency measure in the face of what seems to have been sabotage, your honour. Parties unknown," he resisted the urge to say 'Lashani filth', "Induced a malfunction that prevented the gate from opening, the Ro'Xanshin chose selective destruction rather than killing us and destroying the whole gate."

"My goodness ... was anyone injured?" said Wei, all trace of authority replaced with concern.

"No, milord, not from what I've gathered. Plasma-missiles were employed, they don't leave much dangerous debris and there were no ships in the area." He replied.

Wei let out a small sigh of relief. "Well that's one piece of good luck, at least. Have you found out anything else?"

Well, as a matter of fact there was something. "Just one thing, your honour, the pilot who flew the craft that unstuck the gate; it was Viscount Toroi."

The captain looked up to see the Baronets face had become an uncertain mask of mixed emotions, all bubbling away half-hidden behind a veneer of courtly refinement.

"The ... Viscount Toroi flew the rescue-craft, you are sure of this?" Wei said at last.

"Yes, your honour, I got the news directly from Ro'Xanshin personnel, they're keeping the whole situation quiet for now, so as not to cause a panic."

Wei stared off into the distance thoughtfully for a moment, his jaw set in a resolute angle. Finally, he took a sudden, deep, breath and flicked the metal fan open with a sudden gesture of the wrist, hiding his face behind its painted vanes as the curtain closed again.

"Thank you, captain, that will be all." Was all he said.

~~~@*@~~~

No sooner had he flopped out of the cockpit of the slamfighter than Toroi was descended upon by a group of bustling servants, he groggily allowed himself to be led into a side chamber as his hastily-discarded presentation robes were hurriedly placed back on him. There weren't going to be any protestations coming from him as long as he was still nauseous from the flight. At some point a cup of warm tea was placed in his hand and he downed it in a single gulp, for once grateful of the bland beverage and its stomach-settling properties.

'Merciful ancestors, I just performed a bombing run on a waygate...'

The realisation of what had just traspired seemed to seep its way slowly into his brain like chilled treacle, as though the past twenty minutes had been a dream and he was only then remembering it.

'What was I thinking to do that? I must be losing my mind.'

He only broke out of his fugue, however, when someone handed him his shiversword in its scabbard. He must have just tossed it aside with the rest of it, as though it were just another burden, his priceless, one-of-a-kind, Kageron-Quintus made shiversword.

"Watchful ancestors, what's the matter with me?" he said to himself in whispered castigation as he studied the lacquered surface of the scabbard for cracks or chips, mercifully finding none.

'I'm going addle-brained. Barely turned twenty and I'm already going addle-brained.' He thought, gloomily. 'If my tutors knew I'd disrespected a shiversword like that they'd have appeased the blade by having me spanked with it.' When he was at last sure it wasn't damaged he slid it carefully into his sash and fastened it by the cord on the scabbard.

"Milord, His Grand Ducal Highness has requested your pres-" began one of the servants in a soft voice.

"Yesyesyes, blessings of Xanshin, let me recover a moment. Inform my father that I'll be with him directly." Toroi said, irritably, with a dismissive wave.

The servant bowed and backed off three paces before turning and running off without another word. Ever since Toroi had barred all manor staff from his own quarters and not hired any of his own he had acquired a dark reputation among them. Most seemed to reason that his dislike of having others fuss over him, coupled with his dour persona and warmaster talents, made him dangerous to be around. He let the dark rumours of his dangerously irritable personality continue simply becuase it meant he got left alone more that way.

And now... now it was time to do something truly heroic. Face the damn gathering again.

Internally, he shrunk at having to go back and face them all again, if it wasn't for the fact that they would have to keep up the pretense of normalcy for as long as possible he would have said to hell with the presentation. Extended blackout and battle-stress as real as any in actual combat were not an ideal combination for ensuring one was on top-form for a social occasion.

'Oh, hell, just grit your teeth and get you about your duty, you whining cur, your audience awaits.'

With that thought in mind he gathered hmself with a deep breath and tried to keep his pace as stately as possible as he made his way back to the presentation hall with servants in tow, fighting down the shakes of adrenalin comedown with every step.

The sounds coming from the hall as he neared were not the low murmurings of courtly conversation he had been expecting, instead there was hushed silence punctuated by brief peals of uproarious laughter. Curiousity overcoming his trepidation, he pushed open the lacquered doors...

And groaned.

"Oh, merciful ancestors..."

A large group of the dignitaries had formed into a loose huddle gathered around a figure he knew only too well, the great Archcorruptor Veoni Nal'Galagar himself, who was currently, from what he could hear, regaling them with a tale of lascivious misadventures in a convent on Aesculapius Majoris, apparently much to their amusement.

"Oh, why did I have to tell him to 'just be himself'?" Toroi lamented.

"And so, there I was, barricaded into the tower vestry along with the two young novitiates, naked as the day I was born, whilst the formidable Sister Eluice was rapidly battering down my hastily-constructed defences and bellowing such oaths as fit to shrivel wood-" The wolf drawled merrily from the center of the crowd, lounging cross-legged on a chair at an oblique angle. "-Which they certainly did, if you catch my meaning!"

Another roar of laughter rose from the crowd, the seated Baron Esgard Ro'Kobash, an aged and battle-scarred bear who barely moved ordinarily save to lift a glass to his lips, slapped his thigh with delight as he doubled over, tears of laughter streaming from his eyes. Countess Talia Meriset and her entourage of ladies-in-waiting all blushed furiously and giggled with embarassment from behind their fans... but they kept on listening to the story.

Veoni caught his eye and flashed him a surruptitious wink as he continued the story, his filmstar grin widening slightly. Well, one distraction was as good as any other, Toroi supposed, and at least Veoni had managed to draw everyone's attention away from the 'broken' display screen, even if it was by appealing to the lowest common deominator.

Keeping his expression neutral, Toroi scanned the room for his father. The archduke had returned to his place on the family dais, just to the left of Toroi's own cushion, his face made inscrutable by the faint smile he usually bore. Toroi silently thanked the ancestors that his father possessed such a talent for making his mind impenetrable, something he never thought he would do, and ascended the dais, returning to his cushion and kneeling with forced grace.

His father was the first one to break the silence. "Well, that was a close call,"

"Father, now is not the time, there are many ears present." Toroi said out of he corner of his mouth, doing his best to imitate the Archduke's opaque smile.

Jashiid tapped a small, flat, slivery gem lying on the floor at his side. "Don't worry about that, I had Rethan cast a utility web of privacy on this anchor stone, were surrounded by dampener nanites, with this active even your mother couldn't hear us." He said, gasting a quick gesture at the Archdutchess sitting no more than two foot from Toroi's right.

"Handy fellow to have around." Toroi said, a little easier for the knowledge.

"Indeed, always keep a maestro close. I'll have to see about finding one for you, Rethan's student perhaps, she's supposedly about ready to take full maestro status. Seems right that the beginning of your career should coincide with the beginning of your maestro's, puts you on an even keel." Said Jahiid, airily.

Toroi growled softly in the back of his throat. "More to the point, what do we do now?"

"It's already done, orders have gone out for forensic legati teams to inspect the gate and conduct a full investigation, a team of cybernauts is tracing the virus and conducting a system check on the gate computer, there's nothing more that can be done right now." The Archduke turned to Toroi and gave him a wan smirk. "Well, you still have something to do, the rest of us can relax for now."

"Hmmm? What?" Toroi said, dumbly.

"Greet the Baronet Wei, of course, do try to keep up, son." Jashiid said with a long-suffering sigh.

The damn gall! Toroi grit his teeth and sat silently, hands thrust into the wide sleeves of his robes. Silently he moved his thoughts to other things, like just who would want the Baronet dead so badly that they'd be willing to destroy a waygate? The Lashani had motive enough, he supposed, their feud with the Yusho had supposedly gone on for centuries now, mostly intermittent skirmishes, minor scuffles, long periods of ceasefire punctuated by brief wars too small to warrant a history. The Lashani/Yusho feud had only escalated into outright war in recent years, perhaps after so long they weren't ready to admit to the defeat that the Ro'Xanshin-Yusho alliance would bring, maybe it had made them desperate. Desperate enough to destroy a waygate, though? Stranger things have happened out in deep space.

But why that waygate? The waygate of Ro'Xanshin's houseworld, where the end result of them being discovered would lead to war and defeat anyway. Even supposing that they would be so despearte as to shuck all sense of honour and commit such treason against the Empire as blowing up a waygate, why not just destroy another one along the way? The journey from Yusho space to Ro'Xanshin space was large enough that they must have stopped somewhere along the line, so why not do it there, out far away from Ro'Xanshin investigation? Were they just so sure that they wouldn't get caught that they were willing to risk the wrath of Ro'Xanshin, a house that eclipsed their total millitary might several times over? It just didn't make any sense.

He was broken out of his contemplation at last when his father spoke again, breaking the silence.

"Good thinking there, by the way, if you hadn't then... well, it doesn't really bare thinking about. Who taught you to fly like that?"

"I've flown better than any of the palace instructors since I was twelve, nobody taught me, I taught myself." Replied Toroi with a snort and a twang of arrogant bluster in his voice to conceal the brief twang of treacherous pride at his fathers praise.

"Ah, well that would explain you nearly killing yourself performing the deadman." The Archduke said, offhandedly.

The pride vanished in an instant, replaced by another shallow graze of resentment. Toroi sucked in a ragged, angry breath and felt his impassive mask twist involuntarily with rage.

"Well, maybe I should have just done nothing. Clearly, without the aid of some mythical slamfighter tutour who can teach me how to defy the laws of physics and biology I'm clearly not fit to touch a ship's controls without protective gloves." He growled, irritably. His tone was harsher in his ears than he intended but he was past caring.

"Toroi, son, I-"

"Had I the forethought to book an appointment with you, perhaps at some point in between grooming Janai for your position and seeing to the condition of your stock-prices, then I could have requested you hire this luminary. Afterall, you'd need someone of that caliber to beat an ounce of skill into a worthless throwaway third-son, wouldn't you?" Toroi continued, biting his tongue lest he be tempted to rant further.

"Toroi, that's not fair, I never meant..." Said Jashiid, he went silent then, seeming to lose the will to speak. There was something in his fathers voice that sounded broken, defeated, the tone of it made Toroi's skin crawl though he couldn't place why.

"Please excuse my rudeness, I spoke out of place, it was dishonourable and uncalled for. I apologise, father." He said, meaning not a word but just wanting to alleviate the awkwardness of the situation.

It didn't work, Jashiid nodded in reply but said nothing. They sat in silence for a minute until he, apparently sensing that the conversation was at an end, absent-mindedly pressed his finger to the surface of the anchor stone which chimed softly as the sounds of the room intensified once again. With the secresy-web down his mood lightened again, if only by a little, suprisingly gladdened by the ripples of laughter that Veoni's story was still sending through the room. It was just that his father looked so crushed, as long as he'd lived he'd never seen Jashiid look so shaken by anything anyone had said to him.

'Damnation, I am not going to feel guilty over this, after all he put me through it's a wonder I haven't drawn steel on him by now, father or not!' Toroi thought, consoling himself with the warmth of righteous anger.

Mercifully, the awful pall of wounded emotion thinned somewhat when a servant knelt down behind him and whispered in a low voice; "My lords, the satelite feeds have been retrained on the Yusho lander's final approach, at your command the viewscreens can be reactivated at any time."

Both Toroi and Jashiid gave tiny, almost imperceptible, nods of agreement and the servant left, silently and as unseen as a ghost.

A few minutes later the giant viewscreen again burst into life, accompanied by a small cheer from some of the more boisterous members of he assembled guests and a smaller grumble when Veoni decided that it was an opportune time to conclude his story. Toroi was silently impressed by his friend's restraint, giving veoni a forum to gather an adoring crowd was usually a recipe for a total subverson of the event. He only noticed it passively, though, most of his attention was captured by the viewscreen and the ship it showed.

It was beautiful, a split-winged atmospheric lander crafted into the form of a great insect, like a moth or butterfly, its pearlescent white hull catching highlights of neon orange from the sun on one side and pinpricked navy-black from the starry expanse on the other. It's apparent fragility coupled with the intricacy and finesse of its esthetics and construction intrigued him, it was so different from the blocky, utilitarian shapes of the larger Ro'Xanshin craft or the intimidating, predatory curves of its interceptors and slamfighters. As it hit the atmosphere he saw the hazy blue crackle of contra-gravitic fields enevlop the wings, it descended with no re-entry burn at all, masterfully alighting on invisible electromagnetic winds. With wings so wide the powerful contra-gravity would make a space-to surface landing as smooth as standing on level ground, the design was genius, if likely to be power-intensive, hardly a major failing in a lander craft.

The camera angle suddenly inverted as the ship passed the satellite by, showing the giant white moth, it's wings still crackling with gravity-defying fields, descending to the gaudily-hued surface of Byzantium Tertius. It's stark elegance seemeing to mock the bauble-bright beauty of the planet's surface.

"The Yusho must be magnificent shipwrights," he said aloud, half to himself.

His musing was answered by a new voice, that of Rethan, the maestro's face shrouded again in the deep hood of his red-silk robe. "Indeed, the Yusho are masters of macrostructure, and they know the secret of growing entire hull segments out of lentanite seed crystals without carving them," said the maestro, sitting down at Jashiid's side once a servant had placed a cushion, Toroi could no longer think of him as 'the old maestro' after seeing his true face, though his back remained bent like an elder and his voice was again scratchy and hoarse. "Strong as ceramsteel, lentanite, but much easier and cheaper to produce, though nearly impossible to shape easily enough to be worth using."

"Except for the Yusho?" Toroi said, curiously.

Rethan just nodded. "Except for the Yusho, only they know how to make lentanite crystals grow into whatever shape they please. I could reshape lentanite nanetically but it would be nowhere near as efficient as their methods, not to mention a waste of my talents. Nanetically restructured lentanite loses much of its natural toughness in the process unless performed very slowly and with much supervision, it's really not worth the bother."

"So, that ship has a lentanite hull?" said Toroi, rewarded by another nod from Rethan.

"Fascinating." he said, turning back to the viewscreen.

Rethan hummed an agreement from the back of his throat. "And more besides."

"What do you mean?"

"The Baronet Wei, prior to coming here, spent two years overseeing Great Song prefecture on the siren of Cho." said Rethan.

"So?" Pressed Toroi, impatiently.

"Great Song prefecture is a crystal promulgation center." Said Rethan, a strange conspiritorial tone in his voice. "It would be a great benefit to Ro'Xanshin to discover the secret of lentanite shaping..."

Jashiid spoke before Toroi even had time to raise his voice. "Rethan, that's enough. I won't have my son's honour tarnished by espionage, especially against an ally and doubly so when bound by marriage." he snapped, assuming the full, haughty mantle of Archduke.

"Of course, your highness, my greed momentarily got the better of me." replied Rethan, bowing his head, he seemed sincere though Toroi could almost just sense what he thought to be an air of smugness in the maestro's tone.

At the end of the hall, the great screens began to slide open automatically, revealing a long, wide, pathway arched by huge flower-bearing hedges every twenty feet. At the end of the path, almost too far away to see, was an open octagonal landing pad, awaiting the Yusho lander. The warm, blossom-sweetened wind blew in like a welcome old friend and the conversation of the guests grew quieter as the lander slowly grew smaller and smaller on the viewscreen, accompanied by a similarly slow rise in a high-pitched resonant keening that was definately not coming from the viewscreen.

The sound grew louder and more shrill until finally the viewscreen cut off in sync with a thunder-like rumble from somewhere above their heads. The way leading out to the landing pad was illuminated by a bright flare of ghostly white light, paradoxically cold despite its brightness, and at last it faded away to reveal the colossal pearl-hulled insectoid hovering above the landing pad and swaying gently from side to side as though it weighed no more than a baloon. Technically, of course, depending on how potent its contra-gravity was, it could have weighed less.

Approving murmurs replaced the whine of the engines as it came to rest on the plasticrete octagon, but silence fell as the ethereal craft opened its mouth and extended the mimetic boarding ramp.

Toroi's breath caught in his throat as he waited, staring into the black cave of the lander's mouth as though half-expecting to see it all to be a ruse and any moment some great monster from the void was going to plant a claw on the ramp. Honestly, after all else that had happened that morning, it would be a relief.

*ching*

The chiming reached them on the wind, gentle and silvery, the sound of many bells being rung at once. A drum set up a slow tempo only to be joined by the raised voices of chanters, female, singing in the portentous tones of High Catalos, a dead language made vital again only at times like this. From the maw of the lander they came in ranks, white-robes decorated with swirling motifs of blue flowers, faces hidden behind elaborate masks of pale white porcelain. Some bore ritual instruments of drums, cymbals and hand-bells, though there was one or two clavikora players as well, adding their own lilting, electronic undercurrent. Ahead of them, small mouse-girls, unmasked, their robes adorned with brightly-coloured ribbons, scattered blue and white flower petals, walking with carefully coreographed precision in dance-like steps and tossing their petals skyward at each part of the dance's refrain.

Behind the dancers, chanters and musicians advanced a lockstep column of visored soldiers, silver frogging glinting to highlight their blue-grey dress uniforms, each one with a wicked-looking lasrifle resting on their right shoulder and with a short, straight sword at their left hip. At their head marched a hard-eyed ferret bearing a larger blade, his uniform wayed down by so many medals that he looked like he had fish-scales on one side.

The soldiers flanked a hover-sedan, shining gold and decorated like an ancient wheeled carriage complete with faux wheels that turned as it moved, the only point of warm colour in the ghostly procession. Through the sedan's gauzy curtains he could see the grey sun-silhouetted figure of a lone rider.

"Goodness, a full processional, I thought they were out of fashion these days?" whispered a slightly awed voice from behind him, probably Nesara.

"Old House, the Yusho, minor but very old. Very traditional, conservative." another voice whispered back, his brother Seyocu, second-son and by far the biggest intellectual of the family. Toroi made a mental note to speak with him about the Yusho and their ways, wishing the thought had occured earlier.

It was certainly impressive, cutting a stately pace along the path, rippling in the shadows of the hedge-arches. At all the presentations he had attended there had only been an honour-guard accompanying the bride. Desperate for military support though they were, the Yusho were certainly not willing to lower their standards, if this was what they were willing to put on for the presentation of a fourth-son then a first-daughter probably got accompanied by a personal carnival. For the first time in days he remembered the sum the Yusho were giving up in dowry, six billion in imperial scrip. He'd felt giddy over the thought of so much money at the time. Not anymore though, it was amazing how much a person could change in a week.

Outside the greeting hall, the processional stopped and split ranks, continuing to play as the guard-troop passed them by into the hall. They fell to silence as the guards themselves then parted ranks to allow through the golden sedan, twirling their rifles expertly to finish with the stocks striking the floor in synchronisation. The ensuing silence was deafening, as palpable as velvet.

"Greetings from all of Ro'Xanshin and its allies, Baronet Wei of House Yusho." Spoke Tusade, her normally soft voice now weighty with ceremonial pomp.

Sudenly remembering himself, Toroi straightened slightly on his cushion and squared his shoulders, adopting a suitably serious and haughty mask, as the curtains of the gilded hover-sedan slowly parted on smooth automatic rails.

Toroi almost blinked with surprise when the curtains parted to reveal the sedan's occupant. For a moment he was certain he was looking at a female before his perceptions adjusted. But no; the jawline was a little too square, the shoulders a touch too broad, cheekbones well-defined despite the light dusting of blusher that highlighted them. Definately male, though small and delicately proportioned. The softly-coloured makeup and blue flower nano-pigmented onto his cheek contrasted with the snow-white fur to give the effect of a porcelain sculpture.

He barely took in the details of what was going on around him, he heard his mother say something, the Baronet replied and descended from the sedan in short, smooth strides to kneel and bow. All the while, Toroi's eyes remained glued to the small figure, shorter than he by at least a head. So, this was the man who was to be his husband. There was something there he couldn't quite place, some familiarity that was just floating on the edge of his mind. He sat almost entranced, wondering what it could possibly be.

Then the Baronet rose from his bow and their eyes locked, and he knew.

'No... oh, no...' Toroi thought, feeling a stab of near-physical pain.

That near-feminine grace coupled with a subtle masculinity, that beauty that trancended gender, even that damn flower-marking on his cheek. Now he knew what this stranger reminded him of. It was like seeing Uelo again. It was like seeing a damn mockery of Uelo in miniature. That was unfair and he knew it, he couldn't blame another for what his own mind chose to torment him with, but nevertheless he still couldn't shake the feeling.

'Oh, merciful ancestors, I can barely look at him without wanting to weep.' He thought, gritting his jaw as he felt his heart skip a beat painfully. What the hell is wrong with me?

~~~@*@~~~

Wei swallowed nervously from behind the obscuring vanes of his fan before closing it, the same nervousness kept his gaze angled downward in what he hoped would be taken as respectful humility.

"On behalf of House Yusho I gratefully accept your greetings and the honour of your hospitality." He replied, relieved that his voice, at least, seemed to bare no sign of his nervousness. He'd nearly had nightmares that when the time came his agitation would have turned his voice to squeaks. But instead of mortifying laughter his response was met with approving murmurs, the part regarding the hospitality of one's host wasn't strictly necessary and rerely used anymore, but people often appreciated the old form of the reply, nonetheless. Fortunately the Ro'Xanshin arose from a culture that had no monarchy before joining he Empire and so used the standard Imperial forms, he could navigate his way through it with aplomb.

"Hospitality freely offered to all bearing good tidings to our House. Pray, will you not alight from your carriage and rest upon Ro'Xanshin ground?" Replied the Archdutchess. She sounded pleasantly amused and Wei noted that she too had switched to the older form.

Taking the cue, he rose and stepped forward, the mimetic-metal steps unfolding at the pressure of his foot, and descended from the sedan, his feet touching Byzantium ground for the first time. He advanced three steps and a servant came forward to place a cushion before him on which he knelt and bowed deeply to the ruling family.

"Well met, son of Yusho, by this meeting may both our Houses endure years numberered ten-thousand-and-one." Said another voice, male, distinguished, used to power and command. The Archduke of Ro'Xanshin, then. Archduke Jahiid, hero of the Endellion gulf campaign, called 'The Red Right Hand of the Emperor', once a great battleship commander before succeeding his father as head of the House following the death by accident of his elder brother, the first-son Yamari. A legend within his own lifetime.

"And so might the Empire endure in turn." Replied wei, completing the ritual greeting, trading words with a living legend. Emboldened, he rose from the bow and raised his gaze a little higher, then higher still.

His eyes at last met those of another, and his heart tightened in his chest. The man who's gaze he met could only be Viscount Toroi, sitting between the Archduke and Archdutchess, a young fox of noble bearing, resplendant in red presentation robes of a martial design, wearing a coat of vitrite beads like chainmail. But it was his eyes that filled Wei with terror, steel-hard eyes set into a grim and unsmiling visage with a thundercloud brow. He had felt an upwelling of hope when he had learned of the Viscount's heroism, thinking that surely someone so willing to take such risks for others must be a kind and compassionate soul. He still wanted to believe that, but those eyes and the expression of the face that bore them seemed to mock the very notion.

'Oh, watchful ancestors, not a word exchanged and already he is displeased with me.' He thought over the din of his own blood pumping in his ears. What did I do wrong?