“What may I do for you, General Karesti?” Alda asked, her tone as polite as could be given her tired physical state and restless mind.
“I’d like to talk,” Rhona said. “Sit down at your bed and get comfortable. This won’t take very long.”
Alda nodded and heeded the woman’s request. Her heart raced as the woman followed her inside her room. Rhona positioned her wheelchair close to the servant, with only a half-arm’s length separating their knees from one another.
“So,” Rhona said, crossing her arms. “I hear that Ninon has been acquiring a new skillset.”
“Erm, yes,” Alda admitted. “She has been. After the conflict with Terra and the Martians began, the Palace Guard and I decided that because of how unexpected it was, the best course of action we could take for to keep Princess Ninon safe was to train her in combat. On top of the normal safety protocols, of course.”
Alda knew how volatile Rhona could be, but she still decided to speak her mind. But to her surprise, a moderate smile remained on Rhona’s lips.
“And how is she faring?” Rhona asked.
“She... has progressed amazingly, General. Even I sometimes have trouble keeping up with her. She’s physically very strong for her age and experience level, and her reaction speed is phenomenal. She’s very aware of her surroundings and takes full advantage of them. She’s on a good track.”
“Interesting,” Rhona spoke with a slight giggle. “And her weaknesses? What obstacles has she faced in her new learning?”
Alda mused for a moment, thinking of a factor that Rhona would’ve deemed acceptable.
“You may be aware of her disposition, but she seems to place too much importance on her emotions in the midst of battle. She may not hesitate during the battle, but I fear she will feel for the enemy if they ever come to face her and inevitably lose. That’s something she and I will have to work together on to correct.”
Rhona agreed with a nod.
“A Titanian warrior leaves behind all emotion when they step onto the battlefield and raise their weapons. All, except for the pride and love they harbour for their nation. That is all they need to keep them fighting. If Ninon wishes to become Empress, this line of thought will apply to her more than anyone else as the leader of the Empire. But…”
Rhona slowly averted her gaze as she spiraled into her thoughts. Memories of a not-too-distant past infiltrated her mind.
“…even her father was like that. Emperor Halsten was certainly an above-average fighter, but the one thing that held him back was his sympathy for the opponent. Because of this, if he had remained in the military and not become Emperor, I believe the furthest rank he could’ve attained is colonel. Then again, he also showed the Empire that one does not have to be the best warrior to lead a nation.”
A giggle escaped her lips, but Alda knew it had not come out of happiness.
“Forgive me. What was I saying? Ah, yes. I acknowledge that knowing how to protect oneself should be a requirement that any potential Emperor or Empress must have. I’m glad you recognize the need for it. But, if we must teach her more than she knows, there is one field of study that I would love for you to introduce to Ninon.”
“What would that be, my General?” Alda asked, raising a brow.
“The priesthood,” Rhona answered. “Teach Ninon about the priesthood.”
“M-May I ask what inspired you to suggest that?” Alda asked, completely taken aback by the answer.
The priesthood? She means for Princess Ninon to become a priestess? As a priestess, she will not only be disqualified from the line of succession, but she can’t marry or bear children. Is she to spend the rest of her life in a temple, soaking herself inside its liquid methane pools and preaching the books of the old tongue?
“This isn’t a suggestion, my dear Alda,” Rhona said, narrowing her eye. “I’m being serious. In the event that Ninon cannot control her emotions, she will never be a strong enough Empress. Even Halsten was able to gain considerable control of his emotions. If that doesn’t happen for Ninon, her only option will be to join the priesthood where reading emotions is a paramount job duty. You heard Lady Oanez’s speech. Listening to people is her specialty. She will still be able to do that, but not on the throne. She will still be able to do what she excels at.”
“B-But General,” Alda stuttered. “How will I prepare her for that? Priesthood is the complete opposite of what I’ve been teaching her!”
“So?” Rhona raised a brow. “You take your time and do it with patience. Her age of majority will be in two years. Take as much as time as you need, but you will do it.”
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“I…” Alda spat out, taken over by both fear and disbelief. “Yes, General. I will work on it.”
“And one more thing,” Rhona smirked. Gathering strength in an instant, she rose and leaned forward toward Alda, using a hand on the mattress next to Alda’s thigh to balance herself. Alda was frozen in fear as Rhona pressed her other hand against the back of the servant’s neck. It was cold, both figuratively and literally. She could feel the vileness, corruption and depravity exuding from her palm. Alda could feel that she could not fight against her if the need arose, even if she was disabled.
“You address as me as Your Highness in this building. Do not forget what I am.” she whispered into her ear.
Rhona then sunk back into her wheelchair, and promptly turned around. Before she moved through the doorway, she looked back at the shaken servant, giving her a twisted grin.
--
Xanadu City was the metropolis of metropolises. Thousands of lines crossed it at many elevations, each for the purpose of allowing Craft travel from one end of the city to another, or for maglev train movement from one district to another. Underneath the dim, distant sun, Xanadu City was a glint of light that never went out. Hundreds of towers made of the purest white marble from the mines of Mars adorned with crests made of masterfully crafted Utrium pierced the skies. The streets not only below, but around them were full of life as the citizenry walked to and from their homes, school, and places of work and worship. There was no city in the solar system quite like it.
At the edge of a block in the dense business district, a sport utility type vehicle painted in the signature magenta of Utrium pulled up. Moments later, a man in a white suit and well-groomed shoulder length, sandy hair exited from the front. He walked around to the back to open a door, lending a hand to a well-dressed young woman to help her exit the vehicle.
“Thank you, Niilo,” the woman said as she stepped onto the curb. Her neck craned, taking in the view of the skyscraper before her. Its penthouse floor was round, a stark contrast from Terran architecture which had many straight edges and points. Despite having entered it thousands of times in her life, she felt uneasy as she was about to strut through the keycard-activated doors.
“Would you like me to escort you inside, my lady?” the guard offered.
“It won’t be needed,” she politely declined. “Do as you wish for the next hour, and I will let you know when I’m done.”
“As you wish, Duchess Quirina.”
The secretaries and guards of the first floor bowed their heads as they recognised the important young lady. All she could do was nod in acknowledgement as she quickly approached the elevators. Taken with anxiety, she jabbed the ‘PH’ button inside one elevator, and within 20 seconds it had taken her up 50 floors. She stepped out into a short hall, floor-to-ceiling windows on either side. The wall opposite the elevators was huge compared to the door at its centre, with several chairs lining it.
He wanted to see me as soon as I had the chance, Quirina told herself as she stepped up to the door. I will be honest. I won’t lie to him.
With three raps, she knocked on the door.
“Uncle Drazhan, I’ve arrived.” she introduced herself in a soft tone.
“Enter,” the man on the other side of the door, the President of Calvo Industries. Quirina barely saw the 37-year-old pull his feet off of his desk as she took a seat in one of two chairs in front.
“So lovely to see you again, my dear,” Drazhan smiled. “Now, I don’t want to waste your time. Let’s quickly dive into what happened at the meeting, shall we?”
“Of course,” Quirina said. She was glad that Drazhan couldn’t see the chill running down her spine. “I voted against the construction of a memorial statue in Menrva. Prince Silvan’s vote struck down the motion. Later on, we had a short discussion about how we believed that the military’s trying to brush what happened in Terra’s Barrens under the rug—
“There’s no surprise there,” Drazhan quipped. “The Battle of Depot-011 was a catastrophic failure. The Empire’s greatest defeat since… since Laine wiped those squads clean off the floor all those years ago. I hear they speak of a super soldier?”
“There is apparently one on the Terran side,” Quirina nodded. “But, we haven’t gathered here to speak about that, Uncle. I shall continue. After that short discussion, I… I asked the question you’ve been waiting for me to ask. I felt that the timing was right.”
“Oh?” Drazhan straightened himself in his chair. “And what was his response?”
“He said that I already had his number, so…”
“It was a yes, then!” Drazhan jumped out of his seat. He circled around his desk, leaning over to embrace his niece. “That’s my girl. Only you could’ve done that. Fantastic job.”
“I have something to confess, Uncle,” Quirina said as Drazhan pulled himself away from her. “Prince Silvan isn’t like other members of the Karesti family. He doesn’t have an iron heart. I genuinely see myself becoming close with him. I see myself in him.”
“And?” Drazhan raised an eyebrow. “Genuine or not, you are to become close with him. The two of you can solve issues that have been plaguing the Central Council for years! It’s been dominated by the military since Haldor’s time. I want Calvo Industries’ interests to be discussed in the public eye, not behind the Martial Council’s closed doors. Only you, with the Karesti boy’s help, can push that forward.”
“I understand,” Quirina timidly nodded. “But… I don’t want him to think I’m using him. Is there not another way?”
“Excuses,” Drazhan scoffed. “You have much in common. Including the fact that you are both without fathers. Use that to bond with him.”
“Uncle!” Quirina snapped. “How could you say such a thing!”
“Ellanher died without the courage to stand up to the General,” Drazhan spoke of his brother. “But you have a member of her family at your disposal, and you refuse?”
Quirina’s fists clenched as she bit down on her lips to stop herself from tearing up.
“Your uncle Yaromil and I are all we need to initiate a family vote. It could be your cousin Pridbor instead of you. You may not lose your status as a councillor, but no one will ever take you seriously as the deposed head of the family. It would be in your best interest to work with me, Quirina.”
Little Pridbor? He’s only 13… I can’t let that happen. I… I have to do it. There is no other way. I can’t bring Pridbor into this mess.
“I get it now, Uncle.” Quirina resigned herself, batting her eyelids rapidly as she rose to her feet. “If that’s the way things must go… I’ll do it. I’ll get closer to Prince Silvan and become his best companion if need be. Does that satisfy you?”
“It’s a good start.” Drazhan nodded, his lips a straight line.