Hibiki

The Imperial Box was a long, dark room, configured for privacy. The central fixture was a throne, modest by Imperial standards but still quietly grandiose, set well back from the tinted window. His Eternal Majesty Hibiki Yamagoe did not come to the races to watch dragons sport. Now, he sat the red velvet upholstery with his right ankle on his white-trousered left knee, attention focussed on the small tablet supported by a boom arm unfolded from down the side of the seat. The commentators' audio whispered from the device itself.

Presently, Hibiki raised his arm, hand close to his shoulder, with a single finger upraised. Someone moved quietly in the dark behind him, and a silky voice purred, "Milord?"

"This Phoebe Tenryuu. She's a Hyperio, like Tinbru says?"

"Yes, milord. The second daughter of Duke Pirenne and Lady Maria."

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"Young Helia's younger sister."

"As you say, milord."

"But she races under an assumed name. All is not well at House Hyperio, it seems."

The figure in the dark waited a deferent pause before answering the implicit question. "There was a falling-out in late 1452, milord. Phoebe competed in the junior competitions with her family's support, but the Duke refused to back her for the Imperial League."

"And yet here she is, with a lunar drake of mysterious provenance. And if this Tenebrae team runs on a shoestring, today's result suggests they nevertheless run. Someone is backing her, a fact which could cause all kinds of strife if dear Pirenne so chooses."

"My sources tentatively suggest a connection to the Castelloro gang, milord."

"Interesting. Angelo has some different priorities to his uncle."

"I believe it is more a matter of Phoebe being very persuasive."

"When did Castelloro come by a breeding stable?"

"That detail eludes me, milord. I hope to have more information for you soon; I have an asset on the ground in Rindburg already."

"Good work. I knew I could trust you to be on top of this, Lachlan."

"Thank you, milord."