RavensDagger

  Chapter y-Ohe Throne

  The elevator tio accelerate the deeper into the station it went until, finally, it stopped with a lurch that might have made the average person crash into the ground. Ivil weathered it without even a dip of her knees, but she still didn't appreciate the ride.

  It was more about the implication than anything else.

  If a house guest arrived at your pce, you ehat they were fortable and wele. You didn't let them open the door themselves and rip their shoes off their feet for them.

  The elevator door opened into a grand hall, revealing walls carved from the stone of the moon and polished until they gleamed, a floor made of inid tiles of some imported rock with a l running down the tre of it, and some two dozen guards, all of them C-cssers evenly spaced apart oher side of the room with halberds of all things.

  Ivil refrained from rolling her eyes.

  She was being polite.

  A man in a suit walked over and bowed nearly in half at the waist before her. "Madam Empress," he said. "The lord Emperor is awaiting you. Would you like to enjoy some refreshments befreeting him, or is it a matter of some urgency?"

  "It's not sent, but I wouldn't miing him directly," Ivil replied. She tilted her head to one side. "Unless he's indisposed at the moment. I came with... perhaps less warning than I could have."

  "The Lord Emperor is ready and willing to meet with you now," the butler said with another bow. "Please, Madam Empress, if you would allow this humble servant to escort you."

  Ivil gestured, and the butler bobbed in another bow before turning and leadihrough the room and past all of the watchful guards.

  She didn't ent on how ostentatious this all felt. It was a bit much, especially as they came to the far end of the room and she walked past rge, vaguely abstract statues of the Emperor himself.

  No eye rolling. Politeness.

  The butler brought her te set of wooden double doors aly pushed one aside. Then it was through a long, wide corridor lined with small alcoves where pieces of artwork hung.

  She noticed that every piece to the left was strangely... bad.

  Ivil was no oisseur of artwork, and perhaps she was less ied in the post First Inter-System War Art Gactient that had take world by storm than others, but even she could tell that the paintings on that side cked... some degree of skill.

  Those on the right, by trast, seemed positively a, but all the same, very well made. Each alcove had a different artist's work and each was a masterpiece, with most of them ing from pre-spaceflight Earth.

  "Is Madam Empress curious about the artwork?" the butler asked.

  "I am," Ivil said. "The pieces on the left seem... iing."

  The man nodded. "They are the work of the Emperor's sed son. He is an artist by trade. Though, if I may speak pinly, it is somewhat traditional not to mention these pieces to him."

  "Oh?" Ivil asked. She wasn't sure if she cared, but it was better than stifling silence.

  "Ihe Emperor's dy wife purchased these early pieces and insisted on dispying them here."

  "Ah," Ivil said with a nod. A parent embarrassing their child. Yes, her soaps covered such things, she uood. It was... cute, she supposed. Would she do something like that? If Aurora painted something and it wasn't a masterwork, would she hang it upon her wall? If Twenty-Six tried something like that? Pixie... for some reason Ivil couldn't imagine Pixie taking up painting, but the point stood.

  If any of them did, she'd buy a museum and redefi until their work was sidered the pinnacle.

  "This way," the butler said as he led her to a sed set of doors, this one made of wood inid with dozens of plex shapes made of different kinds of wood. The butler stepped to the side, and the doors opened all on their own. He bowed as Ivil passed him.

  This was a throne room. At least, that's what a yperson would see.

  The room was a great hall, with a vaulted ceiling so tall it faded into the shadows and great pilrs that dotted the room at even intervals. Benches like a church pews were lined up row after row, all of them angled slightly towards a seat upon a raised dais. The seat's back rose teres into the air, and it was thid wide enough to serve as the prow of a small cruiser.

  The throne.

  Upon it was a man. Middle-aged aively handsome. A five-o-clock shadow, well-trimmed eyebrows and a crooked smile.

  Ivil looked past him and at the walls. Those by the entrance were the natural stone of the moon itself, but the rest were all brass and steel, openings showing plex maery. Gears the size of houses and s able to tug a battleship, all very slowly moving.

  "So, am I supposed to lock eyes with your facsimile?" Ivil asked as she stepped up to the edge of the space where the room went from stoo mae. Fortunately, there was a bridge of sorts that ran the tre of the room all the to the base of the dias. Ivil locked eyes with the thing in the appearance of a man ohrone.

  He shrugged. "It's what most people do," he said befesturing at the patial room. "You wouldn't imagine hoeople think that all of this is just maery. Or those who think it's set-dressing!"

  Ivil hummed, vaguely amused by it all. She imagihat the truly important parts of his body were hidden away, but all of this, the massive room and its great throhis was the Emperor of Jupiter in the flesh and bone and naked metal.

  "You could have thrown on a bathrobe," she said.

  The puppet ohrone ughed. "I suppose so! But you're speaking like someone who doesn't uand the cost of silk, not when you have to order it by the metri."

  Ivil shrugged. "Cover yourself in draperies if you wish. I don't know if it will improve things very much."

  The Emperor tutted, shaking his puppet's head. "How characteristically rude. Now, I must admit, I'm very curious as to why and how you're here. Last I heard you travelled to Haumea to scare the s, theuro Mars, a I found you at my doorstep. Did you e here to kill me?"

  "No," Ivil said truthfully. "I came here for... reasons that are my own. But I did e upon some information that o be shared, and I suppose I felt that it was only right that I share it with you directly."

  "That's kind of you. You could have sent a sacrificial mb with a note," he said.

  Ivil shrugged. "I'm out of mbs."

  He ughed. "Alright, so what's this hen, cousin?"

  Ivil took a retive eternity to think things through before replying. The Emperor of Jupiter was a strange man, who had once fancied himself a 'king' of sorts, but married life had mellowed him out a lot. It was a good thing, overall. He didn't seek out power as mud mostly minded his own now.

  Still, being called cousin was weird.

  She supposed she could let him live with a few etricities. "The Emperor of Earth is passing by," she said. "Or has already. You're aware of the cache the League of Free Moons has found?"

  "I am," he said. "I earmarked a couple of cores from it. Nothing too extreme, mind, just some quality of life things I wouldn't mind grabbing and copying for a few people."

  She nodded. Sensible enough, she supposed. "Well, that may never happeh is out there, and he wants to grab the lot."

  The puppet frowned, very slowly and deliberately. "Well, that'll cause some issues. The League will have to respond. And that will push that troublesome cousin of ours past me in terms of raw cores, won't it?"

  "Perhaps," she said with a shrug. "In any case, I'm going to go feed him his teeth. Thought you ought to know."

  He nodded. "So... any pns for dinner? My wife would love to meet you!"

  Ivil resisted the urge to sigh. "None. But I am eaining... some people on my ship."

  "Oh?" he asked as he leaned forwards. "Are any of these the people my spies say you're dating? e on, cousin, give me the details. I'm dying here."

  Ah, yes, the Emperor's other major fault. He was a gossip-starved busybody.

  "Bring your friends over! In fact, I'll invite my daughter too! She's the leader of the League you know, she'll want to hear about this whole thing from the horse's mouth, so to speak."

  Ivil had seen enough soaps to kly hoard this was going to be...

  But she was being polite and polite meant accepting the kind dinner invitation, didn't it?

  ***

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