3. Three Courses and A Digestif
“I never got why you humans are so insistent in choking yourselves to death in tight cloth,” Koda remarked. “It’s stupid.”
Julius snorted as he straightened his bowtie and adjusted his jacket. As far as formal dress went, his tuxedo was quite nondescript - mostly black, with the biggest ‘pop’ of color coming from the slightly lighter, but still dark blue shawl lapel.
“It’s actually quite comfortable,” he remarked, as he pulled on a pair of white gloves. He clenched his fists to feel the fit. The custom material of the gloves kept his hands rather cool. “You’d be surprised how well a finely-tailored suit or tux can fit. Shall I have one made for you?”
Koda sneezed. “I’d die before being caught wearing one of those abominations.”
“Suit yourself,” Julius replied with a wry smirk.
“Blegh, puns,” Koda moaned. He hopped off the bed to stride alongside Julius. “The mark of a poor verbalist.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Julius commented, walking out into his apartment’s expansive living space. “I quite admire a man who knows his way between words. At the very least, they’re entertaining.”
Koda grunted. “Sure. Anywho, weren’t you supposed to meet Valentine? I thought you were her date to this gala thing.”
“Well, we’re not actually arriving together. I’ll meet her there. And you know her - she’s very fond of being fashionably late. I’ll probably show up there before her and end up waiting.”
“Hm,” Koda jumped on top of Julius’ left shoulder. “Over-under on half an hour?”
“Over, I think.”
Koda grinned. “I’ll take that - fifty skewers on you if you’re wrong!”
----------------------------------------
“So what do I get since I was right?” Julius mentally asked Koda.
“I’m not in the mood,” Koda grumpily responded. “I’m mourning my skewers.”
“It’s not as if I’m not paying anyway. I’m always paying.”
“Whatever. And we’ve been waiting for like forty-five minutes! It’s already past eight!”
Julius checked his wristwatch - an antiquated piece that was worth more than most people’s annual income - and ignored the latest couple to stride up the stairs in front of him amidst the snapshots of the paparazzi. The gala was probably already in full swing, and Valentine was really playing on the line between fashionably late and unfashionably late…
“Look! It’s Valentine Alzuthia!” one of the paparazzi yelled, causing all of them to turn toward the newcomer. Julius looked up as the shuttle door slid open vertically and a long pale leg wearing silver stiletto stepped onto the red carpet. Before Julius could see the rest of her, she was swarmed by paparazzi looking to find a good picture, though the security at the event quickly forced them back.
“Hello Julius,” Valentine said with a smile as she strode toward him. “I hope you haven’t been waiting too long.”
“Just a few minutes,” Julius replied graciously.
“Liar!” Koda whisper-yelled.
Julius ignored the cat, taking her gloved hand and briefly pressing his lips to it. “You look stunning.”
He was not lying. Valentine Alzuthia was considered a great beauty among the elite of Titan. Her light blonde hair was done in an updo, which simultaneously looked both effortless and elegant. Her blue eyes shone brighter than usual due to the contrast with her combination of dark eyeshadow, eyeliner, and mascara. Her pale skin was smooth and blemish-free, no doubt the result of both good makeup and better skincare. At roughly 170 centimeters, she stood tall, and in her stilettos, she was nearly as tall as Julius. Her silver gown, which was voluminous enough to not be inappropriate for such an event but form-fitting enough to be pleasing to the eye, was a one-shoulder piece that flowed from her right shoulder to just above the ground. As if her beauty were not enough, Valentine was also the heiress to the Alzuthia Corporation and worked in the Relian Federation’s Home Ministry. If Julius’ rising star was bright, hers could be said to equal his - or even surpass it. Julius was the pride of the Conclave, but Valentine was rising to become a leading figure of the Federation itself.
She leaned in close, whispering in his ear. “We can drop the pretenses, right Jules?”
“Not for the next few hours, I’d guess,” Julius whispered back.
Valentine pulled back slightly, lightly chuckling as she covered her mouth with hand as if they had just shared a close joke. Julius linked arms with her as they walked up the carpeted stairs themselves, and he was sure that the little interaction they just had would spawn numerous tabloid articles about the two rising figures of the Federation.
The Galactic Amity Gala was one of the biggest annual interstellar diplomatic events. Held on Titan, it saw diplomats, emissaries, and significant figures from most, if not all of the Civilized Systems attend. As usual, it was being held in the Grand Relian Hall, one of the largest such venues on the planet. It was a unique structure that towered over the district it sat in - a long cylindrical tower that was topped with a grand dome that stretched over its edges. It was at the aerial entrance of this dome where Julius and Valentine were walking. Since the entire venue was dedicated to the gala, it was largely open to the air, though Julius knew that there were an array of defensive shields that could probably sustain an orbital bombardment.
“Is it too late to say that I don’t actually like these sorts of things?” Julius murmured.
Valentine smiled, though that may have also been for the pictures being taken of her. “Why do you think I brought you here?”
“Val, you’re evil.”
Valentine squeezed his arm with hers. “Just mingle. You’re good at that.”
“Mingle,” Julius repeated in a deadpan tone. “I hate mingling.” He looked around at the crowd. Talking with nobles, wealthy captains of industry, celebrities - it seemed more like the definition of purgatory to him rather than a must-go event.
Valentine swayed inconspicuously mid-step to bump her head softly against his. “I know, which is why I’ll guide you through it all. Just stay on me.”
If Julius were alone, he would have shrugged. After all, there were many worse fates a man could face than a night hanging off the arm of Valentine Alzuthia. When a beautiful woman asked him to stay with her, Julius was too much of a gentleman to decline.
He let Valentine subtly guide him in the direction of their first mingling target - the Navy Minister, a pale, thin, balding man approaching 150 years in age. As a lifelong career bureaucrat, Minister Argen Decaaim was nearly in the last quarter of his lifespan, but he was at the peak of his political career. The Ministry of the Navy held tremendous power in the Relian Federation, considering it had day-to-day administrative control of the Federation’s fleets, bar the Home Fleet that was continuously stationed in orbit above Titan and under the direct command of the Legislative Assembly. Under his purview, trillions of credits in galactic trade passed safely on a daily basis as the Federation Navy guarded transit systems and warp pylons from hostile forces.
This was all rather academic to Julius and outside of his area of interest, but he could feel Valentine’s anticipation to speak with the man. Unlike him, she was a natural-born networker, thriving at the center of attention and seizing every opportunity that presented itself.
“Minister Decaaim,” Valentine began, stealing the older man’s attention from his current conversation. “What a pleasure to see you again.”
“Miss Alzuthia,” Decaaim responded, waving away the bureaucrat he had been speaking with. He smiled as he kissed her gloved hand, though Julius noted with some measure of disgust that it was hardly the genteel gesture that it was supposed to be. “The pleasure is absolutely mine. I have to say that I was very impressed with the work you did on the Gordian incident.”
“Thank you, minister, but I must thank you for giving the Home Ministry the opportunity to work on such a situation. Have you met my date, Julius Alkas?” She gestured to Julius, and Decaaim’s eyes immediately flicked to him.
“Our rising archmagus,” the Navy Minister’s eyes widened ever so slightly. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” Decaaim continued, firmly shaking Julius’ hand. “I’ve heard much about you.”
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“Only good things, I hope,” Julius replied - a standard response in such circumstances.
“But of course,” Decaaim followed up. “There are only good things about you, one of the most prodigious magi in Federation history.”
Julius had never met Decaaim before, but he could see the gleam of ambition that shone in the wizened politician’s eyes. Julius was a figure that every power broker on Titan had machinations for. Like the Conclave’s elders, Decaaim would be no exception, and that was also where Julius’ opening lay.
“Likewise, minister,” Julius replied. “I’ve heard great things about your administration of the Navy Ministry, particularly with how the Navy dealt with the pirates on the Braxian frontier.”
“Ah, so you’ve heard about that little scuffle?”
Hardly a scuffle, considering no less than an entire fleet was sent to the region. “I kept tabs on the news. It seemed like an efficient operation, and it is a great boon to the Federation and the Civilized Systems that those pirates are gone.”
Of course, what Julius said was layered in half-truths. The Federation Navy had been engaged in a major pirate problem in an up-and-coming system, and it had taken a considerable amount of ships to finally end the pirate threat. Decaaim’s own handling of the situation was mediocre at best if Valentine was to be believed, though the news had portrayed a very flattering image of him being a high-tier strategist in the whole affair.
“You flatter me too much,” Decaaim beamed, clearly enjoying the praise from an archmagus, especially one as famous as Julius. “I’m no more than a public servant carrying out my sworn duty to the Relian people.”
“If this guy blew any more smoke up his own rear-end, he’d be a chimney,” Koda noted. Julius ignored him.
“Be that as it may, it’s a great thing for the Federation when accomplished, skilled people are in power,” Julius proclaimed. Which is not the case right now.
Decaaim nodded approvingly at Julius’ words.
Sensing the natural conclusion of the dance of mutual flattery, Valentine intervened. “I wish we could speak longer, Minister, but I’m afraid that we’ve been monopolizing your time tonight.”
“Oh, it’s been no bother. It makes an old man like me happy to see the future of our Federation secure in the good hands of young men and women such as yourselves.”
“Thank you, Minister. We’ll take our leave now.” With that, Valentine backed herself and Julius politely out of the situation, with Decaaim nodding as they spun away from him.
“Well, that went about as well as it could have, I think,” Julius whispered.
“You made a good impression on him. Not that it’s particularly difficult to with your clout. That’ll bode well for any future interactions.”
The pair navigated through the complex social circles with ease of grace, thanks to Valentine’s political acumen. A small greeting here, and a quick compliment there seemed to do the trick. Most of the conversations bored Julius out of his mind, who reached the point of desperation of voluntarily speaking to Koda about observations.
“How many surgeries do you think?” Julius asked Koda, inconspicuously staring at a socialite standing at a different table. She was rather beautiful - tall, aristocratic features, and possessing an air of confidence.
“At least two,” Koda remarked. “There’s no way that nose’s natural, and frankly, her jaw’s probably gotten some work done too.”
Suddenly, the socialite in question turned to look at Julius, and she strode toward him with a tall man and what appeared to be a priest or holy man in tow.
“Oh shit, did she see us staring?” Koda exclaimed.
“How in Khavan’Rel would she see you staring?”
Nevertheless, Julius remained composed as the woman strode over with her date alongside her. Beside Julius, Valentine stiffened when she saw the woman.
“Valentine,” the woman greeted, her friendly and rather pleasant tone and voice belying the obvious antagonism between the two women.
“Callia,” Valentine said in a neutral tone. “A pleasure to see you. And your guests?” Valentine looked at the two men that stood behind Callia. The first man, who locked arms with Callia, was tall and well-proportioned, a well-dressed older gentleman who had the bearing of an experienced statesman. The second was obviously religious, his cloak and robes that of a priest’s rather than a politician’s.
“My date tonight is the honorable ambassador from the Tiberian Oligarchy, the esteemed Praetor Caecilius Tullius Numa,” Callia introduced.” I’m not sure if you’ve
“A pleasure to meet you, Praetor Caecilius Numa,” Valentine said with a politician’s smile, extending her hand to be gently kissed by the ambassador who had detached from his date. “I am Valentine Alzuthia. I work in the Home Ministry.”
“Ah,” the ambassador spoke, his voice deep and only slightly accented, “you know of our naming customs? Very impressive, Miss Alzuthia. Many of your elders in your diplomatic staff have referred to me incorrectly by just my cognomen.”
“Thank you, I try my best,” Valentine politely responded. Julius knew a little about the Oligarchy’s naming conventions himself. For a statesman like the ambassador, three names were common - a praenomen personal name, nomen family name, and cognomen branch name. In a formal but eventful setting such as the gala, using the praenomen and either the nomen or cognomen would be appropriate; a more formal setting would necessitate use of all three names, while a less formal could see someone getting by with just the praenomen if they knew the person well. Valentine had evidently hit the sweet spot that ensured the ambassador knew that she knew that intricacy of the Oligarchy’s culture. Evidently, it was something lost on many of the Federation’s actual diplomats, which was probably just another nail in the decades-long deterioration of relations between the two interstellar states.
The ambassador’s eye turned toward Julius, and he knew he was next. “I am Julius Alkas, a magus of the Conclave of Magi.” He extended a hand, which was met by a firm grip. They locked eyes, Julius looking slightly upward due to the older man’s height, and both simultaneously let go after a few moments.
“Ah, Mister Alkas, a pleasure to meet you,” the ambassador greeted. “The Federation’s youngest archmagus. Even on Tiber, we have heard of your prowess.”
“I am honored by the recognition,” Julius said simply.
“And the esteemed reverend,” Callia suddenly spoke up, framing her other companion with her arms, “is Father Gaius of the Church of Nol, who was invited here today to ensure the divinity of the event.”
Julius grimaced. He had a short but fairly negative history with the Nolian church, and by the expression on the would-be holy man’s face, the feeling was mutual. It was Julius’ suspicion that the Nolian church was nothing other than a plant from the Tiberian Oligarchy to undermine the legitimacy of magi and the Conclave within the Federation. It was a fairly new religion that had only popped up in the last century on Tiber before making its way over to Relian space, which supported his theory. He had no proof, though, and either way, the church had been gaining popularity among certain segments of the Relian population over the years.
“Peace be with you,” Father Gaius whispered, hands grasped together in front of him as he bowed slightly toward Valentine. She mimicked the motion and repeated the words, ever the consummate politician. When the priest turned toward Julius, his lips curled slightly in disgust. “May peace come to you.”
Julius didn’t respond, instead holding his head high as he looked down on the shorter man. The holy man retreated behind the ambassador and stood there, eyes closed as if in prayer.
“So, Miss Alzuthia,” the ambassador began, ignoring the frostier relations between Julius and Father Gaius, “what does a great beauty such as yourself do in the Home Ministry? I feel that may be a waste of your time.”
“I’m flattered, Praetor,” Valentine smiled. “I just work as a staffer in the Home Ministry. It’s nothing exciting at all, I’m afraid, especially not compared to a full ambassador. I rarely even leave the planet.”
Julius was certain that everything relating to Titan’s planetary security was of great interest to the ambassador. The gleam in the ambassador’s eyes said as much.
“Nonsense, my dear. On the contrary, the life of an ambassador is truly a bore - every day it is nothing more than forms and dullards who couldn’t tell you which side of the planet the sun will rise from in the morning. Indeed, your Federation would be greatly benefited by someone like you as a diplomat between our peoples. Someone who knows what they are talking about.”
“You flatter me too much,” Valentine laughed, a delightfully fake cheer. “I’m much too young for that sort of career. No experience for it, I’m afraid, nor the wit.”
The ambassador leered at Valentine in a way that made Julius’ skin crawl. “Oh, those are things that can be rectified if given the opportunity.”
Valentine must have felt equally uncomfortable at the ambassador’s attention because her smile faltered ever so slightly. “Perhaps someday, ambassador. But excuse me and my companion, I’m afraid that we have some matters to attend to tonight.”
Praetor Caecilius Tullius Numa bowed his head slightly. “My apologies for taking your time. But do feel free to reach out to me for any reason at all.”
“Of course, ambassador. Have a pleasant evening, and to you too, Father Gaius.” Valentine’s eyes fell on Callia. A part of Valentine’s political tone fell away. “And do take care, Callia.”
“You too, Valentine,” Callia flatly replied.
Julius and Valentine swung away from the trio and to an empty table, one that still had some half-finished drinks and crumbs littering the surface. Looking around, Julius noted that Callia, the ambassador, and the Nolian priest were gone, vanishing in the sea of tables.
“Well, that was something,” Valentine noted, taking a fresh flute of sparkling champagne from an offered tray carried by a server. She promptly took a long draught, as if to wash away the taste of that interaction.
“Ignoring the Oligarchy and Nolian church for a moment,” Julius began, taking a sip from his own glass, “what’s with you and that woman Callia?”
“She’s just a bitch,” Valentine said, surprising Julius with her uncharacteristic coarse language. “I have no idea what her problem is with me, but she’s been trying to put me down for years now. She’s new money, I think, and probably has an inferiority complex against me.”
“I couldn’t imagine why,” Julius proclaimed dryly.
“She’s ruined my mood now,” Valentine fumed. “I don’t even want to go talk to any more of these creeps.”
Julius cleared his throat. “You know, we’ve been here a few hours. I don’t think anyone will notice or care if we slip out…” he trailed off.
Valentine took Julius’ glass and drained it in a single gulp as well before staring right into Julius’ eyes. “Get me the fuck out of here, Julius.”