Georgios Lykosphendates was not a man accustomed to being relegated to what was in essence a waiting room. He had led Corinthian cruiser squadrons on deployments into pirate-infested space, shared toasts with Auroran, Valhallan, and Myndowan nobility on numerous occasions, and had been selected to the high honour of taking up the mantle as the chief Chargé d’affaires and head plenipotentiary to the Kingdom of Aurora on Aurora herself. And having booked an at your earliest convenience meeting with the Auroran Foreign Secretary, he was more than a bit miffed having been left as the last of the trio that had occupied the inner office lounge. Corinth was the most important ally the Aurorans had, damn their eyes! He stole a glance at the expensive wooden clock mounted on the far wall of the office, and suppressed a scoff. Georgios settled on staring out the office window, overlooking the Emerald Garden parks, the architecturally eclectic Cordelia skyline bathed in a clear May afternoon sun, and allowed himself to mentally drift off.

The Republic of Corinth, the shining gemstone of the Corridor, the Pearl of the Union, home to Neas Athina, Hellas re-born. Oh, how Lykosphendates missed the fields of whistlegrass outside his home of Demopolis, basking in the warm embrace of the star Eileithyia, the hustle and bustle and thousand smells of the megagora of Eleutheapolis. He missed the bosom stars that surrounded him on all sides when in Corinth’s familiar orbit, and the busy shipping routes between Corinth and Ekdosiseia Attika, the daughter world. Attika was something as unique as a habitable crag world, with an immense hydrosphere and rampant volcanic activity, making every habitable bit of land mountainous, but packed to the brim with easily accessible rare earths and the volcanic soil was fertile land providing extremely large amounts of foodstuffs.

While sparsely populated, Attika was the highest producing planet of marketable goods in the entire Royal Union calculated per capita, giving the Republic an excellent source of revenue and strategic resources it could leverage. But Attika paled in comparison to Corinth herself; in fact, in the Royal Union only Aurora, Angevin and perhaps New Malta could compare to the sheer scale of orbital industry and the activity of shipping that Corinth had. Every local day, hundreds to even thousands of freighters, haulers, ice-miners, drone-drillers, Indiamen, fuel tankers, solar energy collectors, hydrogen extractors, customs patrol vessels, naval ships from several Union nations, colliers, diplomatic ships, couriers, and a myriad of other spacefaring vessels departed and arrived in Corinth’s orbit and the dozens of orbital stations –civilian and military– that slowly drifted to the slow spin of the great world that they were both physically and metaphorically pulled toward. And on her surface, ah, what a splendid sight were the quad-aqueducts of the Prime Consul, the trade-ziggurats of the Blessed Euzouzai, the floating gardens, the manors of the Ekthans, the esplanades that covered the walks along the Nomean-

“The Foreign Secretary will see you now, Your Excellency,” the clerk said with a smile, this time directing his attention to the sole remaining ambassador in the waiting lounge. Lykosphendathes wasn’t sure when Sir Andronikos had left the inner Foreign Office, but he must have been wool-gathering a bit too fervently to notice. Not that he let that show outwardly, as he rose from the cushioned seat and straightened the tails of his suit, making sure his cravat was perfectly flush with his blazer’s lapels, and headed through the wooden door the aide was holding open for him without sparing the mere menial with a second glance. Well inside, he noticed the Foreign Secretary was not alone, there was a man with thin hair and an even thinner moustache dressed in what Lykosphendates recognised immediately as a cheap, if stylish male suit, another male, dressed- ah, shit, the Lord Howeland, this just got a lot more complicated, the Aurorans are at least somewhat in the know. The fourth person was a tall woman with jet-black hair and an equally black female-cut suit. Lykosphendates nodded to what he immediately assumed were another set of aides, bowed to the Marquess of Howeland and the Foreign Secretary.

“Your Excellency,” Sir Edward Ranganekary said in a warm, welcoming tone, but the Foreign Secretary’s body language was tense and Lykosphendates jumped to immediate conclusions, “please have a seat, and we can address the intent of your visit.”

Lykosphendates chose (unknowingly) the same chair both the previous plenipotentiaries had sat down in, but refrained from crossing his legs or making any sort of demonstrative act in terms of body language like crossing his legs or arms.

“You’ll have to forgive me for inviting the Lord Howeland,” Sir Edward said, with nothing like an apologetic tone of voice, smiling politely all the while, “you must understand we came directly from King in Council; ‘tis a Friday afternoon after all, and the current, ah, situation seemed to deem it necessary to involve the Secretary of Defence. Sir Samuel de Croye-Muir here;” Sir Edward indicated with an outstretched arm, “is the functioning Director-General of the Corridor Department of the Foreign Office at the moment, and she over there is the Lady Nimue Hastings, an analyst of Corridor Affairs.”

Lykosphendates cleared his throat in an attempt to take the edge of his next comment.

“I’m sorry, Sir Edward, but does she really need to be here?”

“Yes, she does,” Howeland and de Croye-Muir answered in an angry chorus, and Lykosphendates sat straighter up in his chair.

“Allow me to pre-emptively guess the subject matter of your visit, Your Excellency,” Sir Edward said, sitting back down in the window-sill overlooking the Emerald Gardens, “you’re asking for a carte-blanche for a Corinthian intervention force to enter the political sphere of Nova Polonia.”

It was not posited as a question, rather as a statement of fact and it took Georgios Lykosphendates a few moments to gather his wits. Who had leaked the information? Some loose lips in the Gerousia? Some officer high in the Corinthian Navy getting drunk in a place where Auroran RIS agents might have overheard? The Dionysians? It had to be the Dionysians; those enigmatic bastards were everywhere and sticking their collective noses into everything.

“Guilty as charged,” he finally answered with a wry lopsided smile in an attempt to regain control of the situation, “though I challenge you to posit such an act as it pertains to our not answering the Alliants in kind. After all, they are the ones interfering with the political process and local suzerainty of an independent polity in the Corridor. If the Republic is considering a military response, that must indeed be only to answer like for like.”

Sir Edward was about to respond, but the door opened, and an aide from the Foreign Office stepped gingerly into the room, bearing a paper, sealed with a digital code wax. “Apologies,” he said quickly and quite breathlessly, “Sir Edward, My Lord, sirs, madam, but this arrived from His Majesty’s Embassy on Nova Polonia just now."

He held it out and after a nod from Sir Samuel, Lady Nimue accepted with uncertainty written all over her body movements, before she pressed her FO card’s chip to the code-wax. She unfolded and inspected the document briefly, eyes narrowing.

“It is a formal request for Auroran military aid," she announced, her voice calm but edged with nervousness.

“The author claims to represent the democratically elected body of Nova Polonia, who are denouncing the Alliant choice of action and forthcoming interference in their polity. However—" she paused, glancing at Howeland, then Lykosphendates and Sir Edward in turn, "there’s no indication of whether this coalition possesses an actual mandate or if it's the product of splintered factions, or even any indication that it belongs to anyone currently in power at the moment in Lublin. Nova Polonia's is currently fragmented, with contested factions aligning both for and against Alliance presence, and all our information are days old, there’s no telling there still is a functional Nowosejm…” Her cheeks reddened and quickly put the letter on the Foreign Secretary’s desk before retreating to her previous spot.

The room shifted, tension rising palpably as Sir Edward leaned with his outstretched hands on his desk. "This puts us at a precarious crossroads. We cannot be certain if this missive is legitimate, yet a delayed response could tip Nova Polonia toward Alliance influence permanently, unwillingly or otherwise. And if we act, it risks appearing like an outright alignment against the Alliance in this volatile zone, and pass us off as equally desirous of political dominance.”

“Which for the record,” Lord Howeland shot in, “His Majesty and his Government are certainly not.”

Lykosphendates’s mouth set in a thin line, weighing his next words. “Surely, gentlemen, this only reinforces Corinth’s proposed response—a decisive, balanced show of force. The Republic can provide an answer without implicating Aurora directly, thus leaving your government blameless should the political situation shift.”

Howeland shook his head. “It would also risk Aurora appearing as a passive enabler to a Corinthian expansion of influence in the Corridor, which would be equally as bad. Sir Edward, this calls for a united approach.”

Sir Edward’s fingers traced a pensive line along his jaw, his gaze narrowed as he absorbed Lykosphendates’ words. The Corinthian’s assurance seemed almost presumptive, as though Corinth's authority was self-evident, matter of course in a tract of space they considered to be theirs in all but name. But the Auroran hesitation was palpable, and the Foreign Secretary was perfectly aware of that fact.

“Well, Your Excellency,” Sir Edward began with deliberate caution, “we do recognize and share your concern of an Alliance encroachment, particularly in Nova Polonia, which it goes without saying is an all-important trade hub. But I must emphasize—Nova Polonia is a neutral territory. An open military venture by any Union power within the Corridor would be unprecedented. And not without consequence. Just as open Alliant military action is as reprehensible and unacceptable to the nations of the Union, so would any actions of our part be as unacceptable in the Alliance, the Coma Berenice Federation, and possibly in the Colonies of Sol.”

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Lykosphendates’ expression barely shifted his physical stance calm yet expectant, I have them on the ropes, and they’re acquiescing. Sir Samuel spoke up:

“To act too strongly, even under the best of intentions, may embolden Alliance extremists and give way to more... permanent conflicts along the Corridor. We are all perfectly aware that President Kelley and his ilk are not friends of the Union, and many within his clique are gnashing their teeth, spoiling for a fight. But I believe a show of force, the Royal Navy itself, should it move into the region, would take charge of any engagement. It is, after all, the senior force in the Union.”

Sir Edward and Lord Howeland could have simply let out the internal groans they evidently held in, so clear was their body language in their vehement disagreement to Sir Samuel’s suggestion, and the bureaucrat’s shoulders slumped. Lykosphendates inclined his head, acknowledging the discussion of Auroran assertion of control, but an unmistakable tension simmered beneath his steady gaze. Then Lady Nimue, who had been quiet until now, spoke softly.

“Apologies, Sir Edward... Sir Samuel, My Lord, Your Excellency,” she said, almost deferring as she spoke, and bowed slightly to each in turn, yet her voice held a clear confidence. “If I may… it might be strategically advantageous to enter Nova Polonia on a different, quieter pretext,” she suggested, her eyes flickering between the senior diplomats. “Perhaps as an observatory, or peacekeeping mission. That way, the perception remains… neutral. A purely defensive stance, so that we can intervene if the Alliance forces escalate, or even try to as the RIS and this missive suggests, a hostile takeover of the Vistula gravity well. That would still allow the Union to remain... proactive without appearing aggressive.”

Lykosphendates shifted, somewhat caught by the insight of her words, while Sir Edward and Sir Samuel exchanged a quick, considering look. A clever girl, I mistook her for just one more jumped-up nepotistic scion of the nobility, plunged into a role she was unqualified for; but no, she is my best ally in this room.

Sir Edward leaned back, his hands clasped behind his lower back, and weighing Lady Nimue’s suggestion with visible interest, his brows furrowed.

“A peacekeeping force, indeed,” he murmured, as if the idea itself were a fragile thing, one he could inspect from all angles. “A protective detail, not a response to the Alliants’ overtures, something independent of current events. This would allow the Royal Navy to establish a presence without violating the Corridor’s neutrality. I must say, Lady Nimue,” he glanced at her with a nod of approval, “a prudent alternative.” She didn’t say a word, but she answered silently with a fiery blush in her cheeks that temporarily hid her freckles.

The Marquess Howeland’s gaze flicked between Sir Edward and Nimue. “It’s still a risk, though, positioning the Royal Navy in a way that might provoke further Alliance escalation. There’s no telling what the Alliance might interpret as a first strike, however… benignly we brandish our presence. A cruiser squadron is still a cruiser squadron, despite if it pertains to be a force of peace, and if the Alliants decide it represents a danger to their own deployed forces, or if the Polonians think it is there as a threat, that might provoke the Alliance Navy to strike.”

Lykosphendates, sensing a wavering resolve, but a resolve nonetheless, pressed forward, his voice laced with a delicate balance of deference and urgency.

“If I may add, gentlemen, and lady— Corinth would be prepared to shoulder a share of this burden, naturally, with all deference to the Royal Navy’s leadership. We would merely act in support, standing at the ready to assist in securing the area, and to protect, not provoke. A firm Corinthian support contingent could send an additional message of Union solidarity.”

But Sir Edward held up a hand, stilling the room, only the office clock click-clacking.

“Yet the Auroran Crown must be seen, unmistakably, as leading this action. Any Corinthian forces would have to operate within strict guidelines laid down by the Admiralty and report to Royal Navy command. We are not interested in opening the gates to an opportunistic Corinthian occupation, and no, Your Excellency, I don’t want to hear any more disingenuous excuses about this being for the good of the Polonians; I think we’ve all in this room earned the truth being told from all parties.”

There was a pause, and Lykosphendates allowed himself a small nod of understanding, though a faint flicker of frustration touched his brow, belying the fury he felt bubbling in his chest.

“Naturally,” he said, adjusting his cravat. “Corinth has no designs on Polonian territory; we simply wish to prevent Alliance overreach, because it would serve as a very serious economic and security threat to the commonwealth of the Royal Union. We’re committed to supporting the Union’s cause, nothing more.”

Lady Nimue shifted slightly, looking to Sir Edward as if for permission, before she spoke once more, her tone soft yet clear. “This... balance could work, I think. A carefully modulated response, with a joint force under Royal Navy command ready to lead any necessary actions,” she said, her words punctuated by a deferential glance to Sir Edward.

“If we proceed with caution, our presence would signal strength and decisiveness, but our restraint could lessen the risk of outright conflict, if the forces committed would appear reasonable.”

“Wise words,” Sir Edward affirmed with a measured nod. “Then let it be so, an Auroran-led peacekeeping mission, with Corinthian support. A show of strength, but only that—a deterrent. A countermeasure to the Alliants’ attempt at political takeover.”

“I must insist though,” Georgios interjected with a polite clearing of his throat, “that to satisfy the national spirit and honour of the great Republic of Corinth, that the heaviest combatants come from our own navy.”

“National honour or your personal honour, Your Excellency?” Lord Howeland asked with a sharp edge to his tone and Lykosphendates’ brow furrowed.

“I object to that accusation, My Lord,” he replied in a tone that was just on the correct side of politeness, “and I hope that you do not mean to imply the Republic of Corinth’s Navy is self-serving in this proposed endeavour? I would have you to only look to the galactic map of where the first strike in a possible Alliance-Union war would land. No other Light Way hyper-lane is as quick and stable as the Cori- the Corridor, which could land an Alliance Navy fleet deep into Corinth’s sacred gravity well in just a couple of days.”

“There was no challenge or implication meant, Your Excellency,” Sir Samuel hasted to say before Howeland could respond and the aristocrat had the good graces to close his mouth with a click, but both Lady Nimue and Lykosphendates could see his jaw working.

“A multi-national task force then,” Sir Edward Ranganekary said and clapped his hands together in an audible attempt to defuse the tension, “a combined force of observation from the Royal Navy and the RCN. However, it must adhere to the alleged call for assistance from the presumably legitimate Polonian government just received.”

Sir Edward had placed somewhat more pressure on the words ‘alleged’ and ‘presumably’ and the implication was lost on no one in the room.

“I know the Royal Navy the best, despite having a Royal Marine background personally,” Lord Howeland said with a wry grin.

“And I would assume that they’d very much like the idea of plausible deniability in terms of allowing the Corinthians to provide the heaviest space-combatants in a possible observation force. In fact, I think they’d welcome it.”

“Because they hold their own ships too dearly to deploy them on such missions?” Lykosphendates was aware that he sounded petulant at this point, but the Auroran hip-hopping dissimilitude was wearing him out, but the Auroran Secretary of Defence surprised him with a genuine questioning facial expression.

“Not at all, Your Excellency, if we wanted to, we could easily have deployed battlecruiser divisions to such a venture, but tact demands otherwise. It is clear you have not paid attention to Royal Navy internal debate and construction policies, but we regard our light combatants to be more precious military commodities than our battleships. A humble, modern light cruiser with up-to-spec configurations is capable of being a much larger force multiplier than one of our Warrior battleships.”

Lykosphendates inclined his head in acceptance, though it was clear he had hoped for a stronger commitment. Nonetheless, he recognized the Aurorans’ resolve, even within the bounds they set. For now, it would be enough. He rose from the chair and once again checked his coattails, lapels and cravat.

“I take it that I should communicate to my government in the Gerousia that Aurora is firmly placing herself behind an action to counteract the forthcoming Alliant incursion in the polity of Nova Polonia?”

Sir Edward stood ramrod straight and came from behind his desk which had metaphorically acted like a shield for all these discussions with the divers ambassadors. He reached out a hand for the Corinthian ambassador to shake, and only once within arms’ reach did Lykosphendates realise how tall the Auroran Foreign Secretary was. But in trying to adhere to some sort of personal honour, he only looked as far up as the Auroran’s necktie while accepting his proffered hand.

“You deliver that communiqué back to your government,” Sir Edward said in a very serious tone, and Georgios’ face exploded into a genuine smile for the first time that day.

“There are many in the Republic of Corinthia and in Nova Polonia who will have grounds to be very happy with those words just uttered, Sir Edward.”

He broke off the handshake and bowed to Sir Edward, Lord Howeland, Lady Nimue and gave a polite nod to Sir Samuel before heading out the door held upon by the FO secretary, having been called by a silent handcom warning.

Once the Corinthian ambassador was gone and the doors closed, Sir Edward collapsed in the office chair behind his work desk, let out an almighty sigh, and brought his hands up to his temples. Lord Howeland took place in the sofa at the far side of the office, while Sir Samuel and Lady Nimue remained standing, sharing unsure glances.

“They’re going to send at least a half-division of heavy cruisers, you mark my words,” Lord Howeland said faux-blithely, as he crossed his legs in the sofa at the far end of the office.

Sir Edward sent him an annoyed glance, but he didn’t voice his disagreement.

“This must be discussed in the Commons,” Sir Edward said at length, and it made the Lord Howeland sit up in the sofa. It also made Sir Samuel straighten his posture.

“Are you sure this is the most prudent option?” Linton Sciacca asked, and Lady Nimue could hear his uncertainty on his voice. But Sir Edward Ranganekary huffed and crossed his arms across his chest.

“My Lord Linton, this must be brought before the Commons. We are not the nation from which we boast descent of centuries ago, when every important international decision was decided under four eyes. We have advanced from this Post-Napoleonic way of conducting foreign diplomacy, centuries ago. I’d hoped you adapted to this current way of political handlement.”

“Sir Edward,” Lord Howeland said, stealing a glance at the mechanical office watch, “Parliament has already gone to the weekends, we were all just at King in Council, so the Houses do not convene before Monday. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but the Royal Navy will not be very happy when I inform them of this within the next hour. They will lambast me and say that actions speak louder than words, and clamour for deployment orders… Sir Edward, are you listening to me?”

Sir Edward had no answer and decided to stare out the southern-facing window towards the darkening Emerald Gardens. There was rain in the air, and the heavy clouds turned mighty mother Euryphaessa into a mere orange speck.

“This is how it will be done, Lord Howeland. I will inform the Commons on Monday, you will inform the Lords at the same time, and the Royal Navy will have to adapt. By the Gods do I hope this will all be a show.”

There was a call on Sir Edward's personal handcom and he fished it out of his jacket pocket.

"You will all have to excuse me," he said with an exhausted smile. "It seems important."