“Presenting Rimush, prince of Raleigh!” The Visthan Lord Stewart signaled a short trumpet sounding before pausing, perfectly still.

  Dren gave Rimush a firm shove from behind, prompting Rimush to start walking down the hall. His eyes had trouble adjusting as he was going through the main entrance. By the time he arrived at the second set of double doors opening in the great hall. By the time he could properly see, he was a few yards on the carpet in the great hall approaching a conspicuously placed table in front of the throne. Being unfamiliar with protocol, he stood at the far end of the table.

  “Presenting his Eminence, Savior of the Raleighan Fleet, and Singular Leader of Raleigh, Lord Dren!” This time a far more elaborate trumpetting ensued, close to but not quite the Raleighan national anthem. Dren entered deliberately, with strength in each step, the claws of his foot digging into the carpet and causing some fraying. He came to a stop directly to the left of Rimush.

  Dren had deliberately left his greying brown mane in a wild, but not messy state. A wide fan of fur framing his face. The imperial regalia in full display, bronze crown, a tantalum trimmed orange and red tunic under some ceremonial bronze vambraces, and similarly adorned cape, slacks, and bronze greaves.

  Rimush, on the other hand, had a more meak appearance. His brown fur combed down and slightly oiled to give a sleek, smooth appearance. He wore his imperial jacket and slacks with no precious metal adornment. Only the epaulettes on his shoulders hinting at his now former military service. This, combined with his shorter stature, made him practically disappear next to his father. Elves were naturally taller than Raleighans, and his father’s height stood at just above average in the room. Rimush practically looked like a child.

  Vanessa stood over the great hall in a darkened balcony. She studied the young Raleighan, unimpressed.

  King Alexander stood from his throne. Adorned with a gaudily jeweled tantalum crown to hold in his black hair, and the typical purple and silver colors adopted by Vistha at the beginning of Queen Varygoff’s rule a microquad prior. The Visthan throne was elevated above the rest of the great hall by a carpeted staircase.

  Alexander stood behind a chair at the opposite end of the table. “Your eminence. Prince. How good of you to answer my summons. I trust these talks may proceed with more cordiality than Dren’s previous visit to the Palid system. You may be seated.”

  Rimush started to reach for his chair before Dren spoke up. “You first.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Raleighan custom. The host sits before the guest. A sign of good faith.” Dren gestured at Alexander’s seat. “You first.”

  “As much as it may pain the emperor to know, Plaid is not, nor shall it ever, be a Raleighan territory.”

  “That can be addressed.”

  “Dren, should you wish for our agreement to be ratified, you will sit at this table and cease your sabre rattling at once.”

  Dren stood motionless. “Where’s her highness? The prince can’t very well wed an empty chair.”

  “We shall present the crown princess once the agreement has been ratified.”

  “The princess will be present for her betrothal, or there will be none, Alexander.”

  The king’s nails dug into the back of his chair. “Dren, this is ridiculous. Cease this farce. Let us sit together and talk like civilized people.”

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  Alexander and Dren moved their seats and sat at the same time, in a nearly identical manner. Rimush rushed into his chair so as not to offend anyone.

  Vanessa pinched the bridge of her nose. “Oh, father…”

  “I would hear from the young prince about his conception of a Visthan marriage.”

  “Without the princess present? Rimush does not represent the Raleighan state. He will not be negotiating with you”

  Rimush took the hint, and remained silent.

  “Poppycock. Surely the young man can speak to his future father-in-law.”

  “Alexander! The girl?”

  “Bluster! Meaningless bluster!”

  Dren simply glared at Alexander.

  “CHIEF MINISTER BISMARK!”

  Thomas appeared from a staircase at the far end of the hall. Shuffling with all the agility that could be afforded to an elf well past a microquad and a half in age. He eventually made his way around the table to the king’s side.

  “Your majesty. You summoned me? I am at your service.”

  “Chief Minister, would you be so kind as to request the presence of the crown princess to the great hall?”

  “Yes your majesty.”

  Dren and Rimush sat in silence as Thomas shuffled back toward the staircase. For a Raleighan, Dren had a strong poker face. But Rimush could see the slight twitch in his tail in his seat. Dren was enjoying himself.

  A few toqs later, Thomas reappeared at the bottom of the staircase. Another toq, and he was back at the king’s side. “Your majesty, the crown princess requests to speak to the prince privately, in her chambers.”

  “Is there a reason why she cannot simply come down here and tell us this herself?” Alexander spoke to Thomas but looked up at the balcony. Rimush caught his eyeline and looked up, himself. It was difficult to see, but there was a faint outline of a face. Vanessa’s glowing white eyes and purple hair, while muted, cut through the darkness.

  “Her words, your majesty, were to the effect of it being more…productive for them to speak in private white your majesty and his eminence continued negotiations.”

  Dren chuckled. “Such inspiring leadership. Am I to understand you cannot summon the crown princess to her own great hall?” Dren took a more serious tone. “If Vistha cannot take these talks seriously, then I’m afraid the prince and I will have to leave and return when the girl has grown up a bit.”

  “How dare you!” Alexander stood. “If the boy cannot even speak, what is the point in having them here at all? The two of us are sufficient to represent Vistha and Raleigh, if you can agree to stop all your ridiculous provocations-”

  Dren stood, “The princess, Alexander. No girl, no talks.”

  Rimush interjected, still seated. But he spoke while looking up into the balcony. “Your eminence, with your permission, I would like to accept her highness’s invitation. Can your eminence and his majesty continue in good faith under the assumption that we will return near the end of the talks?”

  Dren looked to his son, surprised at his boldness in the situation. “...very well.” He sat back down. “Alexander, sit down, you’re acting ridiculous. Let’s work out the terms while the kids talk.”

  The king’s face had grown visible red during the exchange. He wordlessly sat down and made a hand motion at the Lord Stewart. “Well Thomas, let’s not keep the crown princess waiting.”

  “As you command, your majesty. Prince Rimush, if you would follow me.” Thomas began his slow retreat toward the doors of the great hall. Rimush glanced back at him before looking up at the balcony again. The faint glow was gone. Rimush stood as the Lord Stewart laid a large scroll at the table.

  Rimush found it awkward to match the Chief Minister’s walking speed. Just slow enough where Rimush had to shorten his gate so as not to overtake him. They made their way down dark hallways to a spiral staircase.

  After an excruciatingly slow climb, they arrived at an open door to a large bedroom. From outside the door, Rimush could tell that it would be impressive were it not such a mess. Bed unmade, a few dresses in a pile in the corner, the vanity top a mess of combs, makeup, and various accessories scattered about.

  “I shall wait out here. You will have your privacy but the guards will arrive here in the blink of an eye should the princess require it.” Thomas gestured into the room.

  Rimush stepped in. The door closed behind him. Just to his left stood Vanessa Varygoff, crown princess of Vistha.