The golden orb that is Regina's sun merged with the
wavering red border of day and night. It was sunset on the same day of Dorian's
onset of his trauma of physical change and the working of the curse of his
ancestors’ pact with the darkness of Yog-Shishan. Supra human good and evil
lies deep within all the choices of mankind.
All
the family were gathered in the great banquet hall for the moon feast. What the
Vihlani called their evening meal. Torin, the Reginian Banquet Major-Domo,
scuttled about checking and badgering, berating and ordering the flow of food
and service to the hall. He stopped for a moment to survey the scene. All
seemed in order. The beautiful intricate mural walls, the precious stone and
golden ceiling with its white manna lamps sprinkling their gossamer light over
the room. His eye alighted on the exquisite sculpture of the Origan dancer that
the Archduke Luthur had purchased for 150 million Vil credits fifty years ago.
Collecting sculpture and females were just about the only diversions from the
Vihlani power game that His Royal Highness allowed himself. Originally the
statue of the Etteasian Worg-strangler and its victim stood in that place, but
Her royal Highness, Archduchess Larrienne had persuaded Luthur to replace it. He
had accepted her argument that it was inappropriate for an eating hall, and had
it moved to his office instead. "Good thing too!" thought Torin.
Though it wasn't the most vile of the master's collection. That dubious honour
was reserved for the massive sculpture of Yog-Shishan, the sculptured 'glob'
which had in real presence corrupted the Vihlani culture. It stood in the
palace gardens and had attracted more than its fair share of weapons fire
during the last Vihlani dynastic war. A fitting tribute to the evil god, whose
minions inhabited the island of Thule on Vihlany. Torin had noted that no birds
ever visited the statue and the gardeners had given up trying to grow anything
near it.
Torin
looked over at the dais where the black basalt high table stood, seating the
close family around it. At the head of the table sat Luthur, Archduke of
Regina, in all regal splendour. "There is a line in the sand that you
never cross with His Royal Highness, for past it was a sea of your own blood,
" Torin reflected. On Luthur's right sat Prince Egon, second son of the
household, cruel and unrestrained, most like his father, but without the
measured control. He had fought more duels and killed more slaves than most
Vihlani his age. Next to him was Thane, the youngest prince, quiet and reserved
like his mother Larrienne, already climbing the corporate ladder. Princess
Maris HiVas sat on Thane's right. She was senior in rank to Thane in the
complex Vihlani Noble hierarchy. So she would be head of that family branch,
with Thane taking her family name, but retaining his assets, when they were
finally wed. Farther along sat Mirien, deep in conversation with Dorian.
"A vision of a woman, " thought Torin as he glanced admiringly
towards her. The most kind and considerate of all the family. So much so that
Torin wondered if the Archduke had not been made a cuckold, so untypically warm
natured was she. He was convinced that the statue of the Origan dancer had been
modelled on her now dead mother, Luthur's concubine, Galenna. If anything,
Mirien surpassed her mother in stunning beauty and her sublime nature.
As
is the custom of the Vihlani, all offspring of a full blood Vihlani sire or
dame are acknowledged as full blood Vihlani, with full rank and privileges.
Mirien was one of the few who could dissuade her father from a course of action
or opinion. She was very protective of all her siblings, even Egon.
Torin
broke from his musings to quickly check that the servitors were doing their
assigned tasks correctly. They were. So he resumed his study of his master's
table ménage. His eyes were drawn back to Mirien; then reluctantly moved across
to Dorian, first prince and heir to the Archduke, most likeable of the young
princes but with a passionate nature. Yet he had a temper! Dorian restrained
himself from excessive violence towards those he perceived as weaker than
himself. That, however, did not mean he would not kill, if necessary. He had
fought only two duels. But what duels! In the first he had killed the second
best duellist of his rank for insulting his family's honour. In the second he
had killed the Count of Sylea, Reor HiValan, considered the tenth best duellist
then living, though Dorian had been severely wounded and nearly died. He was
many weeks in need of physical and magical healing. That duel had been provoked
by what Dorian explained as 'Improper groping of Mirien by the Count.' Most
wise Vihlani took note of the young prince's prowess with the Karrusar blade
and some did of his motive. Egon did both.
Torin
watched as one of the table servitors served the Archduchess Larrienne her
third course while she sat at the opposite end of the table to Luthur. A
reasonable mistress by Vihlani Noble standards, she never missed a detail and
was extremely demanding that things were done correctly and efficiently. She
was in conversation with her best friend, Loran HiVlandi, Archduchess of Veren,
who Torin noted had allowed her body to age gracefully. Most Vihlani kept
themselves in peak condition either through their natural powers or artificially,
with a combination of magic and medical technology. Next to her was her
husband, Avik HiVlandi, Archduke of Veren and Lord of the third most powerful
family in the empire. He was a thickset man with eyes like a cornered animal.
He had allied his family to Luthur's steady march toward the Imperial throne.
His daughter by another wife sat next to him. Correna, Torin noted, was
revealing every possible alluring physical asset she had, and, as usual, it was
all directed towards Dorian. "Nymph of a woman, " he thought. Torin
removed his stare from Correna's body, for he was all too aware of what would
happen to him if any of the Vihlani picked up his thoughts. Woe betide the
slave who thought his soul his own. Luthur's brother Duke Adrian HiVilany came next
along. A cool, deliberate plotter who usually out thought his adversaries, a
moderate by the measure of Vihlani politics. Now lastly his look fell upon
Somare, Consort-wife and favourite of Luthur sitting half on her chair, the
rest of her body arched provocatively towards Luthur, stroking his beard,
whispering obscenities into his ear. She was certainly dressed more subtly than
Correna, but the message was the same. Being the mother of Egon was sufficient
to condemn her in Torin's opinion.
The
table was like some lonely dark whale beset by swimmers all pushing and pulling
to their own secret and not so secret agendas. An island of villainy surrounded
by a lake of repression and despair.
"Your
new form will not change who you are Dorian. It does not change anything with
me, " Mirien said reassuringly laying her elegant hand upon Dorian's
shoulder. A wave of love spread through his body.
"It
is natural! I have already gone through mine, " interjected Correna, who
was seeking to cut into the conversation. She had been furious at not being
seated next to Dorian and always sought to counteract Mirien's influence on
him. She knew quite rightly that Mirien disapproved of her and had told Dorian
so in no uncertain terms.
Dorian
glanced across at Correna distracted by her interjection and then by her
voluptuous body, nefariously enhanced by her low bodiced diaphanous gown of
lubricity. Mirien did not lose her focus and continued on.
"Dorian!"
she scolded, her tone sharply bringing his attention back to her. "It is
natural for you to have some difficulty in adjustment to the primal passions
this time will bring. The legacy of our race on its unnatural alteration is
most difficult for those who bear its greatest effect." She chose her
words carefully considering the company she was in. Later she would use the
more truthful words of her heart.
"Primal
passions! Unnatural alteration! What words of weakness Mirien!" Correna
spat the words out. "Our race's legacy-gift from Yog-Shishan has set us
amongst the Gods. It is our true destiny! It IS natural. Dorian is only
realising his destiny. He needs only the proper support and comfort." She
almost orgasmed the last words towards Dorian.
Mirien
affixed such a stare at Correna that the blood seemed to flow from Correna's
body leaving her shrunken and pale, such was her unseen psionic assault and
anger.
"Do
not assail my daughter Mirien HiVilany!" commanded Avik, noticing what was
happening, with considerable threat as he did so.
"Leave
her be!" countered Dorian, reacting to any assault on Mirien as he
invariably did. "She speaks more truth and honesty than some at this
table."
The
rest of the table fell silent at these contested outbursts of voice and psionic
power.
"We
are not here to assail each other!" boomed Luthur pushing Somare firmly
onto her seat. "We are here to celebrate the alliance of our great
families. There will be no more of this bickering." he said nailing
everyone with his most impellent stare short of frying their brains. All wisely
deferred and were silent.
Both
Dorian and Avik eased themselves, but not so Mirien and Correna who continued
to an imperceptive mind-duel.
"All
shall join in toast of celebration, " commanded Luthur holding his
crystalline goblet up as his assigned servitor carefully filled it.
"Yes!
To an alliance of the two greatest families and to the greatest throne and its
next Lord, Luthur HiVilany, " proclaimed Avik eager to wash over the
previous confrontation.
All
knew which throne he referred to, but it still paid to be careful how openly
you spoke about the Imperial succession. The goons at Imperial Security Corps
would also know what Avik meant, if they were monitoring the occasion, but then
they assumed everyone was a conspirator until shot dead at the opportune
moment. Besides which Archduke Luthur was definitely the front runner, their
future boss. All joined in the toast. Survival alone: a good reason to do so!
0 comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.