Speeding in advance of the two massive SkyFortresses, the diplomat’s ship was smaller, thinner, and sleeker than both by far. It looked dainty and nonthreatening by comparison, like a newborn pup against a backdrop of two full-grown wolves, teeth bared and daring for the slightest upset. The Kitezan countryside fled beneath the three of them all the same.

West from the mountains, slightly south to get around the tooth-like southern tip of the Exclusion Zone – and the unnoticed white plume of smoke that rose from the back of Stoneface Bluffs – then a straight-shot towards Oceanside, over vast swaths of flat grassland, bogs, thin woodlands, and – as they got closer to the coastline they were seeking – the dead remains of salt-choked forests, with the eerie pools of stagnant water that nothing grew in or near. From high-enough up in the sky, it was even possible to see the rift-valley that the SSCF Kitez had once carved into the landscape when it came to its unfortunate landing centuries prior. All of which, of course, Gabriel snoozed through as exhaustion finally claimed him.

Regulus sneered at the trio of ships, spotting them above the clouds as he pressed on closer to the ground, heading back east towards the R&D facility he’d left behind.

At the same time, far to the north-north-east, Ren watched the Aegis leave Agartha without her, heading for that First Wing high-security site where Seth would begin his true education. Likewise, Furion and Seth watched Agartha vanish behind them. With all the celebrations and fanfare done, there was no more reason for Ren to keep her full armor on, and she dismissed herself from the Prince’s retinue just long enough to find a good spot to dock the thing.

Agartha was the first city that the Eidolon created, as it was built on the bones of the colony ship they had arrived on, along with its neighbor, the SSCF Chiron’Thule. As such, seeing Luminary uniforms was extremely common…and in particular, the red uniform of the Fourth. Those jackets came in all manner of shapes, but like the First and Sixth, it followed certain similar themes.

The longer the coat-tails, the more senior the officer. Those who had no coat-tails at all were newcomers, fresh out of the College – Cadets themselves could wear anything from colorless dark-grey pseudo-jackets (as Seth had, beneath his lab coat) to student uniforms of the College. There were a few styles that were unique to the Fourth though, including a half-tailed coat, where around the sides and front, it was truncated between the knee and mid-thigh, but in the back, continued down like a train; those were for the Fourth’s actual lawyers. Others, where it was long in front, came up in a slitted curve at the side, then went long again in the back, were mental health specialists and reconciliators. Every different kind of jacket Ren saw, was one more kind of jacket she’d never get to wear herself, and it just weighed on her heavily. She felt like a fish out of water in her long blues, in a sea of civilians and Fourth Wingers, seeing only the occasional First or Sixth Winger passing by.

Eventually, though, she made it back to her charge, and was stumped to find that they were only just-then getting to the Prince’s personal quarters. One of the city’s central towers was purpose-built – with a twin building next door – as a residential space for high-ranking officials and dignitaries, with jutting curved balconies every few floors that had gardens or viewing-decks. Council skiffs flew through the skies, with the vessels of allied nations interspersed, creating a sort of choreographed flock that darted in pre-planned lines, some guided by floating lights, others – closer to the ground – by different means.

Altogether, Prince Iresha was still wildly interested in all of it, even if there was plenty he knew he couldn’t see. To Ren and J’ard’s eyes, the city was alive with lights and projections - holograms that were only visible to those with the nanotech nodules or Cadet’s glasses – and which looked rather bland and placid without.

“It’s going to be an uneventful week before you begin at the College.” J’ard was saying when Ren finally rejoined them, “So I would recommend you inquire as to anything you’re curious about seeing in the city, and we’ll do what we can to show you around.”

“Is it really appropriate for me to be a tourist when my father sent me here early on the belief that Sargon may soon be entrenched in a bitter war?” Iresha wondered, looking around the single-floored apartment he’d been given, “Or generally that there’s conflict on the horizon?”

J’ard nodded, only to shake his head, then nod again, “Well, it’s best not to dwell on such things. Let the Fourth handle it, and maybe there won’t be anything to worry about at all. There hasn’t been any kind of all-out war on Hadira in a very long time.”

“When has there been?” The Prince countered.

“There have been two large-scale wars,” J’ard answered simply, “The first was roughly 150 years ago, when East and West Oriban were still just Oriban, without the distinction. As with most wars, resources and land were-”

“Actually, it’s okay, I don’t need to know right now…” Iresha lifted a hand.

Ren tried to find some humor in the moment as she stepped into the room, “Don’t bore the poor guy, he just got here.”

“The young sir asked.” J’ard defended, “In any case…the peace brought on by the Hadiran Accord has kept things stable with even the most fickle people for a very long time. With any luck, Lord Gabriel will be able to bring that to Kitez, and we can finally put all of this anxiety behind us, once and for all.”

“…Yeah, hopefully.” Ren agreed.

.

“Lord Gabriel.”

“Snrr…whe…”

“Lord Gabriel!”

He awoke with a start, sitting up in his seat with narrowed, unfocused eyes. His head creaked when he turned it towards the woman who’d dared wake him, “…Whahappen?”

“We’re here.”

“What!” He spun around with such haste that he rammed the side of his forehead against the window, and coddled it with a wince and a startled groan, then looked again. Sure enough, the ground was precariously close; not just the ground, either, but the wide cobblestone expanse of the Duchy’s private landing yard, “Oh shit!”

And then he noticed the protesters.

“…Oh…well, damn.”

“They’re being kept behind a barricade and the Kitezan National Guard, but…well, they are quite plentiful in number.” The attendant explained, “Please be careful, sir.”

The butterflies in his stomach started to flutter voraciously, “…Maybe I should’ve assigned a Fafnir detail to myself, too…” He said quietly, but then pushed himself up to his feet. He found the cannister that Xanarken had already connected himself to, and clicked a button on top to send the alert. He waited a few moments before gathering his courage to leave the vessel on his own, “…Guess he’s busy or something. I’m sure I can handle this by myself for a minute. He was only going to be watching anyway.”

The exit was at the front-right of the ship, and the door was already open, folded down and out to form a stairwell for him to disembark on. There was roughly only a perimeter of 30ft between the landing-circle and the barrier keeping the protesters at bay. He swallowed a nervous lump in his throat, but took that first step…and was immediately confronted with the barrage of anger and rage from the populace. The only thing stopping the onslaught of stones, trash, and other awful projectiles, was the wall of FlexiGlas that had been erected around the ship.

“Don’t be intimidated, Mediator.” The Duchess’ voice called, drawing Gabriel’s attention to the choke-point of the proverbial funnel he’d found himself in. Kitezan soldiers lined the inner wall of the clear, glass-like barrier, and it crackled and fizzed with the impact of every new item hurled at it.

Those eyes barely saw the woman before being drawn up into the sky, and the 3,500ft monstrosity that had been raised from the deep. It was absolutely gargantuan, and far more intimidating up there than it ever had been as a ruin on - or inside - the ground. It gave him a chill, and he forced himself to look down at his ‘host’ again, “…Duchess.”

“You are decidedly not the man I was thinking I would see today.” She answered, flanked by a dozen of her own personal guard. Beyond her was half of the Conclave, and all of those eyes bore holes into the Vice Eidolon as he approached.

Gabriel’s only saving grace was the intimidating appearance of the Dreadnought and the Fulcrum hovering beside one another in the sky behind him, though they were dwarfed by the Tuonela by being less than half its size by length alone. A colony ship was probably six to eight times their size by volume. Though the freighter had weight-class on its side, it had a particular lack of obvious weaponry on its exterior, whereas the two SkyFortresses had not only their primary cannons hanging under them, but an arsenal of smaller guns and weapons-systems clear to be seen. Approaching from behind the diplomat’s ship – heard first by their marching, then seen as they came around – was a contingent of soldiers, all of whom bore the blue of the Sixth, but who looked more like SWAT police than anything. When they had assembled around him, Gabriel finally felt a little safe; four on each side stepped forward to flank him, while the rest created a perimeter around the ship. Armored helmets, vests, vambraces, and shin-guards protected their bodies, and wide black visors protected their faces. They carried a varied number of different-sized and types of weapons, from plasma-rifles in their hands, to smaller pistols on their hips, and knives across their lower-back and on each calf.

“You probably already know my name.” Gabriel started, turning to face the entourage directly, “But I’ll introduce myself anyway. I am Gabriel Lugios, Vice Eidolon of the Fourth Wing of the Luminary Council. I’m here on invitation of your government.”

“Vice Eidolon?” Far’nah echoed, “Weren’t you something else before?”

“The past is irrelevant, now that you have that thing up there.” He nudged his head at the giant in the sky, “I’d rather not do this outside, if it’s all the same to you…Your Grace.”

“Will your Lord Xanarken Tellan not be joining us?”

“No. You’re dealing with me from now on.”

Her right eye twitched a little in annoyance. She stared him up and down for a moment, but eventually did as expected, and gestured up the stone steps towards the Duchy’s royal residence, “Very well, Vice Lord Gabriel.”

With his four guards, Gabriel followed, surrounded on all sides by the rancor of the Kitezan people. As he went up that long, wide staircase – each step long enough to take two paces more just to arrive at the next step beyond it – he looked at some of the angry signs. There was no surprise for the fact that they despised the Council in general, but it was surprising that they held such singular anger for him. Everything from traitor to afflicted coward, he saw it all.

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On the ship, Xanarken finally responded to the summons, but was mortified to realize the vessel had already landed and everyone had gotten off, Damnit, Gabriel, you were supposed to holler for me before you arrived. With some quick thinking, he reshaped his mantle into cat-mode, and slithered his way down the open stairwell until he could make a break for it. He spotted the procession about half-way to the palace, and Gabriel in the middle of it. Paws pounded on the cobblestone as he ran forward, tail held low, and when he caught up, he quickly scrambled up to the Vice Eidolon’s shoulder.

Of course, that just made the man yelp in surprise, and everyone gawked at him – spotting the cat sitting on him as well – and weren’t sure if weapons should be drawn or not. Gabriel just held his hands out, “Don’t scorn a man for his emotional-support feline. He was just shy coming off the ship.”

Far’nah gaped incredulously, and spoke quietly so only the Conclave members could hear her, “…Emotional-support feline? Is this some joke?”

Lacking context, none of them realized the Eidolon was in their midst. At least, none save the Duchess, who immediately recognized those intense - and decidedly unnatural - purple eyes.

Gabriel just stared walking again, and the rest did as well to get on with it. He grumbled quietly at the creature, “You took your damn time.”

“So did you.” It answered, voice heard even if its mouth didn’t have to move to speak those words.

“Guess I was more tired than I thought.”

“How’d she take it?”

“Probably feels insulted. I guess news doesn’t travel fast-enough around this place. She thought I was still High Negotiator. I think I’m not unnerved by the people’s opinion of me specifically.” He nudged his head at the protesters, “Was their opinion of me always like this?”

“That’s a topic for later, Gabe.”

“…Leaving me in suspense, I see.” Gabriel shook his head, but accepted it, “So, are you going to spend the whole encounter as a creature?”

“I’ll reshape myself inside. No sense giving these people anything more to be mad about.”

“Look up before we get there.”

The cat tilted its head, but then did as bid, and went wide-eyed with those deep purple orbits at the sight of the ship, “…It’s so unnatural to see that thing in the sky; under any other circumstances, it ought to be coming down right on top of us.”

The inside of the palace was just as Xanarken had remembered it from all those years back; polished amber slate flooring, marble pillars, and wrought black-iron bars against the walls to match the black-iron sconces that flickered with fire-light. Unlike the cliff-side palace of Trazad, the Kitezan palace seemed more like a fortified castle than an airy home. It was pretty, but, to outsiders like them, it felt oppressive and claustrophobic. Two massive sets of doors had to be passed-through before they finally made it to their destination; the throne room.

Far’nah’s entourage split to move around the pergola as the Duchess herself went under its vine-laden roof. The Magistrates of the Conclave went around to their seats, and stood beside them rather than sit, and watched carefully from the exterior-side of the large table that circumscribed the edge of the proverbial stage in the center.

Gabriel hesitantly approached, but he signaled for his protective detail to stay on the perimeter.

There was tension as both the Sixth Wing and the Kitezan guard held-fast to their respective weapons, but Far’nah just lifted her hands and gestured down with them, “Let’s bring the heat down a little bit. There’s no need for all this open hostility. We’re supposed to be here to talk, after all.”

Those anxious bicolored eyes turned to the Duchess, “You rose one of our colony ships into the sky, outfitted with technology it clearly did not come with, and have the nerve to tell us to lower the temperature in the room.”

“Your colony ship.” She threw back at him, “We’re the ones who found, restored, and recovered it. It’s ours.”

“What are you hoping to achieve by showing it off like this?” Gabriel wondered stiffly, “If you wanted to send a statement that you had the ability to do so…we’ve heard it loud and clear. Keep the core if you want, but the ship itself belongs to the Council.”

“I will do no such thing.” The Duchess answered flatly, and pointed at the Vice Eidolon, “And who are you to make such comments anyway? You’re just some spawn of the Exclusion Zone that an Eidolon took pity on. You’re not even the one I gave permission to come here! I’ve grown impatient waiting for you, Xanarken. Come out!”

The cat narrowed its eyes, but finally decided that was its moment, and dissolved its feline body to reform as its normal self. All arms were up to point at the Eidolon – and his successor – and the Sixth Wingers raised their weapons as well. Everyone started shouting for the other to lower their guns, but Far’nah yelled louder to cut through the fog.

“You’re not going to be able to kill an Eidolon by shooting through his mantle.” She chided, “Kitez will not be the nation that shot one of their fleshy envoys, either. Weapons down, now!”

The Kitezan guard reluctantly did as directed, and Gabriel sidelined his own escort as well. Xanarken just stood there defiantly beside the Vice, and crossed his arms, “It’s been a long time.”

“Indeed it has! So good of you to make yourself obvious, Eidolon.” She countered, “I was worried you were going to make a fool of this man for the entire duration.”

“You’ll get no satisfaction from me, Your Grace.” The Fourth answered, and nudged his head towards Gabriel, “It’s him you need to impress. I’m only here to make sure you behave.”

“Behave!” She laughed, “The last time your ilk set foot this deep into Kitez, you’re the ones who attacked us.”

“You should be better-able to control your Magistrates. But I suppose at a mere age of 45, you wouldn’t have that much experience at such things.”

Gabriel mentally deadpanned, Jeeze, I’m only 32, way to throw me under a bus with her.

“After decades of open aggression inside my borders, and over a century of antagonism…you come to my doorstep and tell me about controlling my people.” Far’nah scoffed, and started to pace slowly around the northern perimeter of the speech-circle, “And worse still,” She gestured at Gabriel directly, “You bring this welp – practically still on the teat – to treat with me! You could not have chosen a better way to offend me from the start, Lord Xanarken.”

He'd spoken is last though, and closed his eyes, as if shutting down right there in front of her. Gabriel took a half-step forward, “If that’s the allegory you’re going to use, then allow me to respond by saying I’ve suckled deep from the bosom of experience. I’ve been party to every word and decision made between Kitez and the Council since you took your throne, Your Grace. You may not enjoy it, but you and I are of the same generation. You’d do yourself a favor by showing some modicum of respect.”

“You’re nothing but an afflicted mongrel who got lucky.” She dismissed, and all-but spat at Gabriel’s feet, “I know who you are, boy. We are not alike in any way. You would do yourself a favor by stepping aside to let the adults speak.”

“What are you planning to do with the Tuonela?” He diverted, refusing to acknowledge the comment, “You can’t admit openly that the colony ship is Council property, but you know full-well that it is. Long before any of us crawled out of the womb, the Eidolon already had centuries of claim on this world. Just because it took longer for them to find Kitez doesn’t mean your colony was any less a part of the fleet’s mission. You were only lucky – if you want to use that word – that the initial scouting missions out of Chiron’Thule went north instead of south. Had we found you and Sargon first, maybe it would be Mayrain and Yunar causing the problems today.”

“Causing the problems…” Far’nah scoffed, “The Council didn’t even exist when the fleet crashed. We were left on our own for 250 years! We clawed and scraped our way through the salty wasteland of this place, and you come in here now thinking you can shepherd us into your flock like so many sheep.”

“It’s an open secret in the Accord that Sargon and Kitez are viewed as having some level of hubris when they declared themselves Empire and Duchy.” Gabriel retorted, “No other single nation has demanded such soaring levels of recognition. Most were not so arrogant as to suggest they were anything more than mere scattered colonies, and were eager to rejoin with the collective once found. Under any different leadership…Kitez would’ve been longing for the assistance of the Council.”

There was no small amount of irony noted when the meeting was interrupted by the loud sound of the side-doors opening, and the Duchess’ timid husband made his presence known, flanked by his masked, Sargonian rabble-rouser of a friend. All eyes turned to Mardu, and he actually had the temerity to speak through his intrusion, “We do not long for the Council.”

Murmurs of agreement soared in the wings, but the two Eidolon glanced at each other quietly.

Mardu stepped into the circle to take his place by his wife’s side, “…Kitez wants only two things from you and yours; acceptance that you can’t control us, and recognition that we made it to today on our own. You can play at despotism and serfdom all you like with your pawns in the Accord, but we will not bow to you.”

Far’nah and the Magistrates were equal-parts impressed and excited; that display was the closest thing to an actual spine Mardu had ever shown in public. Gabriel turned a side-eye towards Latheroux though, and that masked man blinked – or winked; with only one actual eye, it was hard to tell – before looking to the Duke again.

“There’s nothing to recognize here.” Gabriel argued, and sighed with frustration, “You have our ship, and we’re going to get it back, one way or another.”

“Is that a threat?” Far’nah asked.

“There are two things that can happen here, Your Grace.” He answered, and looked briefly to Xanarken for any kind of objection, but the Eidolon made not a single flicker of motion. That mantle was stationary, and Gabriel took it to mean he could proceed as he liked, “Either you surrender the Tuonela to us without fanfare; park it on the border, allow our people to board, and we will get it the rest of the way out of Kitez. Or…we can bring the full force of the Sixth Wing here and shoot it down, along with all of you if you try to stop us.”

“You would never.”

“Why not?” He asked, “That ship is nothing but a graveyard. A sad reminder of potential that was wasted and lost. The least we can do is bring them back to friendly territory with the leadership they followed here, and give those souls rest in soil we cultivated for them.”

“…There are no bodies to bury.” The Duchess responded grimly, and glanced up to see that confused expression looking back at her, “The Tuonela is alive and well, its cargo and passengers intact and untouched…save a few.”

Even that hadn’t gotten a rise out of the Fourth, so Gabriel felt truly alone in the moment, “What do you mean, save a few?”

“Who do you think we have piloting that ship?” She answered, “That thing is the better part of four centuries old. The Council isn’t the only group that evolved its technology beyond the recognition of the systems we arrived with here.”

Gabriel was incensed, “You would arouse the crew of that colony ship to participate in your games!?” He barked, taking a step closer, only to find weapons drawn on him to stop him in his tracks, “You have a lot of nerve… Those people have been in hyper-sleep all this time, and you’d do this to them…”

“We all do what we must to achieve our ends.” She answered, and stood there defiantly – within arm’s reach, but knowing the Vice wouldn’t dare, “None of those colonists have any idea what’s going on. They’ve been out since the ship crashed, and the bridge commanded cryogenic suspension be turned on. They could’ve been asleep till the end of time, if we hadn’t found them. Yet here they are, on the precipice of finding out what their world has become…and what grievous bungling took place in their absence. Ask yourselves…will you be proud of what they find out when they wake up? If they knew our side first, could you possibly face them and tell them what you’ve done to us?”

“We haven’t done anything to you.” Gabriel argued, “…But I swear, we will, if you don’t let that ship go.”

“Threats from the whipped dog of the Eidolon…” Far’nah shook her head, “I’ve had enough of you. Begone from my sight.”

Gabriel was stunned, “You can’t just kick us out. We have unfinished business.”

“I can. And I am.” The Duchess extended her open hand towards him, “Guards, see to it that the Eidolon of the Fourth and his pet return to their ship.”

“Wait, don’t-” Mardu suddenly interjected, and stepped forward into the circle, “I would like to talk to them as well. We are supposed to be Gemini rulers… I am entitled to my piece.”

Far’nah looked at him incredulously, but the glances she got from the present Conclave were enough to tell her she was expected to allow it. With a snarl, she turned around and left the circle, “Fine. But don’t forget; no deals can be brokered nor decisions rendered without my approval.”

Half the guard split from the rest to follow the Duchess to the doors to her antechamber, and posted outside, leaving the Duke and Latheroux with the other half in the meeting circle. Mardu just lifted his hand though, “Everyone else, get out.”

“Your Grace-“

“Out. I have nothing to fear from these Eidolon.”