Hibiki
There was no specially set-aside Royal Box in the stadium complex at Karhuntassu. When informed that the Eternal Emperor would be attending the race for the first time in the venue's history, the CEO and Operations Manager attempted to resign. However, when the board refused to accept their resignations, they set to solving the problem with a plain, doughty good sense that Hibiki could now admire the results of.
The room was clearly one of the executive boxes with the walls painted black, and some special seating, upholstered in high-quality red suede, bought in from somewhere less isolated. New glass had been fitted, bulletproof and tinted, and a cleverly-engineered shade bolted to the outside of the frame, to give the Emperor more of the privacy he was used to. A doorway had been knocked into the wall between this box and its neighbour, which had been set aside for Hibiki's staff, and to ensure a buffer between him and any would-be snoopers.
It wasn't quite enough to envelop the room in liquid darkness as Hibiki preferred; paint was no substitute for a deep lacquer, and the window – designed, after all, to be seen at, since executive boxes existed primarily for the preening of new money – was fundamentally too wide. It would do, though, and Hibiki had been careful to praise the staff for their efforts, clearly enough that no-one would lose their jobs over the shortcomings.
Now he sat more or less contentedly in the grandest of the chairs, the black finish on the sole of his right sandal gleaming where it rested on his left knee. The shielded window did compromise his view of the mountain, but the crowd noise was just audible enough to be cheering. Occasionally he looked up at the right moment to see a dragon flash past the narrow aperture.
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His companion was less at ease. The Duke Pirenne Hyperio, father of Helia and Phoebe, was not quite sweating, and not quite flushed in the face, but Hibiki could see the man's fear and squirming evasiveness building in those directions. They were playing the old game of statesmanship, and the Duke knew that he was both outmatched and outplayed.
Voice slightly querulous, he was saying, "-not associated with Tenebrae in any way, milord." More evasions.
"One splits a dense object with a blunt hammer, not a sharp blade, I suppose, so let me be blunt, Pirenne." Hibiki left just enough time for the insult to land. "If your daughter produces a performance sufficient to justify my doing so, I intend to offer her the Imperial Gold for next year. Since I cannot do so without besmirching the Imperial honour if she becomes the disowned scion of Hyperio, you are not under any circumstances to disown her. Do I make myself clear?"
"If she's fallen in with gutter criminals-" The Duke spluttered, face reddening.
"Oh, be silent, the Castelloro boy is no worse than many of your business associates." Vox did not move or change his posture. "Need I remind you why the tombs of your father and great uncle hold no bones?"
Duke Hyperio made a strangled sound, his cheeks heading quickly through pink towards purple. Both men had been naval officers in the war against Carthagia five decades prior, their bodies lost with their ships in a rash overextension for which the family still bore some shame. For his Majesty the Eternal Emperor to invoke their deaths was a vicious slap in the face.
Hibiki smiled thinly. "You seem overcome, my dear Pirenne. I've heard some terrible things about your health lately. Perhaps you should consider delegating some of your public duties to young Helia, even make time for a leave of absence?"