Obelia palace is the home of the Sadian monarchs. Its a gorgeous building, on the north of the northern Island. It sits surrounded by a vast park, and large grassy lawns. The palace is guarded by a large wall, and a big gate, from which a drive rises to the palace.

The palace is in the style of most of the old buildings of Augusta. The house is three stories, and square, with rectangle wings sticking out of it. The palace is fronted by a stone porch, from which marble pillars arise. Wide marble steps lead up to the porch. The porch extends the length of both wings, and is accessible from the house through wide french windows The top of the house is crowned with an elaborate red onion dome. The back of the house looks out onto the northern river. From the back of the house, a large semi circle, two story porch extends. Its covered by a flat roof with an ornamental balustrade.

When one enters the palace one is immediately struck by the elegance of the marble hall. A wide curved stair rises, and at the top splits off to a wide gallery that runs the length of the northern wall as a wide gallery through which, one enters into the second story wings. At the end of the northern wall, two straight narrow staircases run parallel up the eastern and western walls, and double back as galleries, to the entrances of the third story wings.

In the middle of the second story northern wall, is a set of double doors, that open into the Imperial apartments. On the first story, to the east and west, another pair of doors open to the eastern and western wings.

When one enters the west wing one sees a long high corridor. To the north are a series of high cut glass windows with red velvet drapes, that look out at the sloping lawns that eventually run to the river. To the south are a series of three doors that lead into various rooms.

The first door leads into the Library. The Library is a large room, with fine wood paneling. There is a large fire place, but Eden is perpetually warm and this is mostly ceremonial. Large french windows open out onto the front terrace. All the rooms of the palace are thirteen feet high, for the purpose of keeping them cool. Book shelve's line the room. There are also velvet couches for people to sit.

The second door leads into the men's parlor. It is separated from the women's parlor by pocket doors. The women's parlor is the third door. The men and women's parlors are both decorated the same, in red and pink velvets. The furniture is all gilded gold, very elegant, very elaborate. There are pianos and small tables. There is a pulley, made of golden tassel, that alerts the servants whenever company desires something. These pulleys are located all throughout the house.

When one enters the east wing, there is another long high corridor that is almost the same as the eastern wing. Not quite however. At the end of the east wing is a great door, with an awning covered gravel path that leads to a stout, one story, brick building with a peaked widow walk crowned roof. This building is located twenty or so feet away from the house. This is the kitchen. Having a separate kitchen both reduces the risk of a house fire, and keeps the house cool.

Unlike the west wing, the east wing has two pairs of elaborate double doors. These lead into the Ballroom and the Dining Room. The first pair of double doors leads into the ball room. The ballroom is huge, with great big windows leading out to the front terrace. There is a piano in one corner, and a couch in another. But other than those pieces of furniture, there is nothing. The floor is parquet and a hundred people can dance in this room easily.

The second room one comes to is the dining room. The dining room is very elegant. There is a side board, on the far eastern wall, and an ornamental fire place on the western wall. Between these two things is a long table, that seats twelve. The table is dark wood, the paneling on the walls is dark wood. The seats are a deep wine colored velvet.

From the main hall, one ascends the curving stairs to the double doors that lead into the Imperial apartments. When one enters those doors, one finds themselves in a sort of lobby anti chamber, all done up in red velvets. There are wardrobes, and trunks of clothe two couches. To the west is a staircase that rises to the third story and descends to the first.

To the north of the anti chamber is the master bedroom. This is a large light pastel room is dominated by a large bed, and a living area. There is a large bathroom too. This room also opens up to the second story back porch, the wide covered wood deck. To the west is a short flight of steps that descends to the first story deck.

The third floor of the Imperial chambers is devoted to the Imperial nursery, and the chambers of the close Imperial servants, such as the nanny, Governess and Personal Maids of the Empress. Large dormer windows look out onto the ornamental widows walk that tops the back porch.

The first floor of the Imperial chamber is devoted to offices, three of them, The largest office is the Imperial office of the Emperor, and looks out onto the first story of the porch. The other two offices are for the Foreign and Interior ministers.

The second story East and West wings are devoted to guests. Each wing is home to three (a total of six) luxurious suits for the Imperial guests. These rooms are named for their theme colors. In the West wing: the Red Room, the Pink Room and the Green Room. In the East Wing: the Blue Room, the White room, and the yellow room.

The third story east and west wings are devoted to the general servant quarters, the butlers, maids and cooks. There is a small complex of houses to the far east of the palace grounds that is home to the outdoor servants, the gardeners and such.

“What is this?” The Empress said, standing. Madam Irulan, who had been a member of the old Velon royal family crossed the large western ladies parlor to gaze out the windows at the long drive.

She was garbed in the typical Eden style, full skirts that hinted at thick petticoats and hoops, and a tighter bodice. Her ladies stood sitting, their skirts arranged attractively. They had been looking at bolts of fine “Virginian” fabrics.

Irulan gazed at a line of fine lacquered carriages that drove up the drive at an alarming rate. Picking up her skirts, she swished through the sea of silks and velvets of her ladies, and into the northern corridor. She walked as quickly as her long gown would allow her. She pushed through the gold lattice doors that opened up onto the grand frontal hall. Leto had descended the steps and was nearly on the finely polished marble floor. He cast his wife a gaze that warned her to move off. She stepped behind one of the two marble pillars that flanked the lattice door.

Moments later the front doors swung open. The heralds who would of usually opened the doors in a stately manner, while announcing the titles of the visitors, looked startled. They had not opened the door.

The Colonel Baron Henry H. Lee, The Lord Captain Jefferson L. Hamilton and the Lieutenant Earl Paul L. Montgomery all stood in the hall. The were wearing riding boots, and wore rough clothing. Not what a courtier ought to be wearing. They looked armored in their thick leathers and tans. The Emperor, who was wearing a thin cotton house suit looked ruefully unprotected. “What is the meaning of this?” Irulan thought silently to herself.

For a moment there was an awkward silence. Irulan waited for the men to Hail, so that her husband could speak. But.. they did not Hail!

“Hail” Said Leto after a moment, and saluted. The Three lesser house lords did nothing. “Good sirs” The Emperor said. “What is the meaning of all this?” He walked into their midst. He looked incredibly civilized, with his slim body accented perfectly by his light blue suit.

“Sir” Said the Colonel Baron, who was one of the most powerful men in all of Eden. “You know very well why we are here.” From the pocket of his heavy over coat, the Colonel Baron withdrew something thick and red and threw it at the Emperor’s foot with a thud.

Another awkward silence passed before the Emperor was forced to kneel and pick it up. He examined it for a few moments before ripping it, and letting it’s ruins flutter to the floor.

“Why do you occupy my time making a me a gift of trash?” There was an sharp intake of breath, and the Lieutenant Earl drew a large pistol from his clock. “Sir!” He said. “I demand satisfaction!”. Within moments Every guard who had stood impassively had drawn their own pistols. For a moment the three men looked uneasily. “I have no need to prove myself to you. Nor will I allow you your... ‘satisfaction’. “ the Emperor said with a great deal of dignity.

“We had hoped that you would see it our way once we had delivered this to you.” The Colonel Baron said, gesturing to the red pieces of paper on the ground. “It will make things easier you know.” The Emperor sneer at the three men. “We will leave then. “ Said Hamilton. “But know this, we withdraw from the Hegemony.” The Emperor raised an eyebrow. “You cant. “ “Like hell we can” Montgomery responded.

The Emperor snorted. “Northern dog” Montgomery spat. And the three men left. The Emperor sighed wearily. Irulan left her hiding spot behind the pillar and walked across the marble hall to wear the Emperor stood. She gazed down at the red strips of paper. She could nearly recognized the words “Secession” and “Pamphlet” on the strips of what were once the red cover.

Irulan stood. She was bored and impatient. The palace was quite. She couldn't sew, and she couldn't embroider which seemed the only thing her ladies did. It made her so mad. THe Empress stood in the Ladies parlor, and as it was filled with bronze and gilt mirrors, she immediately saw her reflection.

She posed this way, and that. Giving her mirror self a number of looks to see which was most alluring. She was a faire creature to look at, Irulan decided. Her face was long, but not overly long, just to the point of elegance. Her brows were lofty and well shaped, her Velon nose was long, like her face, and graceful. Her lips were full, and turned up at the very tips in a most attractive manner. Her eyes were bright and blue.

Because she had come from the north, her skin was pale, and admired a great deal by her ladies in waiting. They also envied her beauty, and made her feel inadequate whenever possible.

After examining herself properly, she turned her attention to her clothes. She wasn't very stylish herself, but she had a Wardrobe Consultant (Who the Shox, in all their pomp, had named “Lady of the Clothe”) who always picked out very lovely gowns.

The style of Eden clothes was complicated. One dawned, first, the brasier and underwear. These were followed by stockings, pantalets, and a stiff corset. Then one dawned the thin petticoats.

Over this Irulan wore a gown of white lacy brocade. It had a very slightly, very modest subtle bustle, the characterization of Eden clothes. Its sleeves were long and ended in a waterfall of gauze. The gown was very much a morning dress. She might have to change soon. The Lady of the Clothe was named Ms. Henrietta. She was a matronly dowager, who hailed from Charleston, Carolina. She didn't like the Empress very much, because while Irulan would rather dress one and be done with it, Ms. Henrietta insisted Irulan follow all the rules of etiquette.

Irulan threw her embroidering down and left the room. Down the long red velvet hall, into the marble entrance way, out to the terrace, around the west wing and into the haven of the vast labyrinth like Garden, went Irulan.

Once she was determined that she couldn't be found, she made her way to a small Gazebo, and sat on the wrought iron bench. She leaned back and toyed absently with her Gauze collar, and the broach which hung there.

The ambassador dressed in purple came into the palace, a folder in his hand. The regency was becoming so liberal..abolishing the Patriarchate, abolishing slavery and serfdom, eliminating most Feudal rites, and there was even talk of abolishing the monarchy. It was worrying. The ambassador continued to walk, looking for the rulers..

A slave, dressed in fine livery approached the ambassador. He was from deep Vulcan, for his skin was dark, nearly purple. “Sah” He said in the long slave drawl that was considered length even by the slow speaking Shox. “Is you lookin’ fo’ sumpfin’?” he asked, quite dignified.

"The emperor." The ambassador replied to the slave. He felt indifferent towards the regencies acts. They were seriously changing anything. The monarchy had been gone for months, and slavery was minor outside southern Serdio..

“Da Empra in his study. Falla me” He turned on his heel and marched across the vast Marble Entrance hall and up the stairs He flung open the Imperial Chamber doors with a great force, marched through the Anteroom, through the Imperial Chambers out to the wide semi circle piazza that backed the palace and looked into the Aizion river. “Da Empra” He said curtly, and bowed before leaving his sovereign and master.

Leto craned his neck, and stood. He wore a day suit, of light blue. A waist coast, starched shirt and knee high boots.

“Sir” He said. Though his accent was slow, it was not nearly as slow as the slaves had been. “How do you do” The Emperor said, using the foreign address.

"Hail Leto." The ambassador said quickly. He certainly didn't want to be rude.

"I am from the Re-"

'It'll prolly become a Republic tomorrow..just say it.'

"I am from the Republic of Serdio! Serdio wishes to sign a treaty of friend-ship with you, to forge strong bonds to never end. We shall trade and become rich. Do you accept, sire?"

“Republic? Sir, I don't belive I understand” The Emperor replied.

"The people have lost faith in our ki- Drake returning. Why continue this idle regency when we could establish a new government. Do you not think we should establish a new government, to prevent us from becoming a mere puppet? Unless you have a better suggestion.."

Leto laughed. “I think that your are sent by Maou or something. You innocently come here, and insinuate that my wife should take the Serdian throne? Yes, Im sure innocence was your motive” He walked across the piazza and stared out at the gardens. He could see through the wrought iron lattice work of the Eastern Gazebo, the white blur that was his wife.

He turned. “Who are you?”

"Lady Irulan is far too simple-minded to rule a nation. Even you know that sire," The ambassador said curtly. "We wouldn't let her rule as an absolute monarch. But as a puppet? Perhaps.."

“Get out. How dare you insult my wife. The Empress has far more brains and spirit than you will ever have. Get out right this minute before I shoot you” And his hand instinctively went to his waist, where his ceremonial dueling pistole hung.

"I will go then," He replied, shuffling out of the room. "remember my offer, however."

He vanished.

Irulan descended the steps of the grand staircase of the front hall. She wore a flouncy gown. It was white, as most morning gowns were. It had a V neck collar, and white bronze buttons up the front of the bodice. The bodice was tight, and narrow horizontal pleats. Her white Moroccan slippers peaped out from her white gauzy skirt that was narrow, and fell only to her ankles. .

The sleeves were elbow length, and very wide. Her hands were covered in dainty little gloves. Her hair was swept up, and she had a broad white hat on.

"How pretty you look."

Irulan snapped her head, startled at the voice. A strange man approched her from the west wing. She stood on the steps of the stairs, looking down at the presumptious man who was walking across the marble floor.

"Sir" She said coldly. "Do identify yourself". The man laughed. He was dark of complection, very manly. He was probabally a planter, that new wealthy class of people who owned vast plantations on the boarders of Eden, and who imported the most slaves from Vulcan.

"I, Madam, am one Henri Laveau, at your service." Irulan stood looking down at the man. Her eyes flashed at the guards that were stationed throughout the hall. Why did they not stop this man from approching her? She would not demeane herself by calling for help.

"Stop" She said, her mind frantic. What if the guards misjudged this man? What if he was an assasin sent to kill her? The man complied. "What do you want? Who are you?" The man chuckled at her cold voice.

"That is not very hospitable, is it Madam?" Her husband, the Emperor Leto emerged from the west wing, and Irulan sighed. "Sir" the Emperor said. "I've found the papers you asked for... oh hello darling" He said. "Have you met Mr. Laveau?"

Leto adored his younger sister, and had sort of adopted her as his own child. Her name was Anastasia. She was a darling little child, with the raven black hair that had been passed down through the Valois family, from their ancestors the Meccas. In fact, there were a great deal of Mecca traits in Anastasia.

The Emperor indulged his sister, and denied her nothing. This was apparent for at the moment she was wearing a blue riding habit. Blue, and she was nine. Leto had tried to accomplish this task with tact and subtleness, but as Anastasia rode her horse through the back lawn, her shrieks and giggles brought the disapproving face of mammy from the round back porch.

“Sah!” She shouted, irritated. “Sah!” Leto pretended not to hear her. “Sah! Dat gile chiled aint got no buzness weaying nuttin but white! Sah! Dat gile child aint-” Mammy’s face vanished. Had one been situated inside the covered deck, they would of heard mammy cursing and mumbling to herself under her breath, as she heaved her great bulk down across the blue painted boards and into the house.

five minutes later Mammy’s great bulk emerged from the large window-doors that opened onto the back verandah. Mammy was a Shii, but she was a house slave, and a house slave in the Imperial Household. This meant, that she could look her nose down upon most people, except her masters and those she deemed “quality folk”.

Her great bulk walked over the gravel path, and onto the freshly cut sod of the back lawn. “Sah!” She said, this time furious. “What dat chile weaying?” She demanded. The Emperor looked at his sister. She was riding her horse twelve or so yards away, and was oblivious to the controversy she was creating.

“I believe she is wearing a riding habit. Is that not what fine little girls wear when riding horse?” “Dun play dum wit me sah, you knows what I mean”. Mammy’s scowl could still scare the Emperor. Mammy had been more of a mother to Leto than the Dowager Empress had been. Yet Mammy had also been the only one who had had the courage to paddle the Crown Prince. Thus he had learned discipline, manners and all sorts of other things. “She is wearing a blue riding habit mammy, but.. what does that matter, no one can see us.”

This fell on deaf ears. “Sah, if you dun care what folks say ‘bout dis family, I do. And it aint fittin fer no gile chile ta weay a blue riding habit. Lile giles aught be weaying white, an you knows dat as well as I do.” “Now Mammy..” The Emperor started.

“Sah, I whipped you one when yous was little, an I aint aferd to whipp you again. Even if you is da Empra. So you get dis straight sah, you get dat little miss and you get her into sum white or I’ll deal wit it da way I see is fittin.” At this time Anastasia had rode up. “Mammy! Mammy! Did ya see!” Mammy turned to the little girl, and she smiled and said sweetly. “I did, an you looked right pretty, but don you think you’d looke a smide prettier ifen you wore sum white instead of dat ratty old blue?”

“But mammy! The blue brings out my eyes! Leto even said so, didn't you?” Mammy shot the Emperor a cold look. She approached the girl, her syrupy expression fading. “Is you a gile chile?” She asked. Anastasia had a vague feeling that she was about to fall into some sort of trap. “Yes’m” The princess said more somberly. “Is you a fancy lady?” Mammy asked again. “No’m” The princess said. “Den come on in da house and we’ll get you out of dat blue ‘lessen you wanna be a boy chile or a fancy lady!” . Anastasia dismounted and reluctantly followed Mammy into the house, to change into something more appropriate.

The door opened. Gen stood, in a satan calling gown of deep blue. The Emperor looked up. “Madam” He said cordially. Gen’s hair was up, and she wore no overcoat or hat, as they had been taken when she first entered the palace. Her blouse was white, and contrasted with the narrow blue skirt. It had a high neck, with ruffles cascading down the front. The sleeves where gauzy, and fell down to her wrists. Her hands were, of course, covered in gloves.

She crossed to the Emperor’s desk, which he sat at, and seated herself across from him. “Have you read the newspaper today?” She asked briskly. The Emperor shook his head. She threw the Augusta Courier on the table. “Apparently the Serdian invasion of the Isle O’Quibo went very badly.” “Did it now?” The Emperor smiled. “You mean that rag tag group of Kenjikans defeated the Serdians?” Gen laughed, bitterly. “If only. No, some sort of...... I don't even know, some sort of paramilitary.. thing interfered.” “What do you mean?” The Emperor asked. “I don't know. The reports are scattered, and mostly inconsistent.. and neither Drake nor the Imperial Diet have made any announcements.... but..... It seems like some sort of army came crashing down out of the sky and destroyed everything.” “So... the Serdians didn't take the Isle” “I don't know... it would seem not. But.. again the new is inconsistent.”

Leto shrugged, and went back to his work. “Why are you so worried about it Madam?” Gen starred at him, and the intensity of her gaze forced him to look up. “Do... you think its Mortikan?” Gen shook her head. “No, the Clayr have done a good job of keeping him silent and cooped up. Besides, that's not quite his style.” Leto starred at her a moment. “I wont take up anymore of your time. I just thought you ought to know.” With that Gen turned, and left.

A servant fresh from Serdio approched Obelia palace. He was a little startled, Eden was so much different from Serdio. While Serdio had fresh open plains and forests, with towns and cities, Eden was enveloped with a plantation culture. Cities were few, only Augusta being one known by foreigners.

The servant hastily handed a letter to guard, and whisked off. The letter was simple:

To,
Empress Irulan of Valois-Velon

I wish to invite you..to Serdio. I have seen that my harsh ways against the Velon family was much too cruel, when the family was selected because of my so called "death". I am issuing this letter to invite you to Serdio for a visit, and for all your scattered relitives..to return to Serdio. I am willing to restore their titles and lands.

From,
King Drake Rlugia

((OCC: cities aren't few. *Points to Almanac* there are about nine major metropolises throughout Eden.))

A black maid entered the Imperial bed chambers of the Empress. She had light skin, indicative of the eastern Shii, who had a different genetic make up. Because of their lighter complexion, and the fact that they were more passive and expensive to ship all the way across Vulcan, they were usually seen in the households of very wealthy slave owners, and not owned by the vast middle class slave owners. In fact, they were so expensive that most of the slaves of that quality had been in bondage much longer than the western slaves. They had no accent, were used as domestic servants as a rule and had higher social status than most poor Shii (most of Eden was comprised of comfortable middle class families, thus the poor were regarded even worse than in other countries, because there were so few of them)

The Empress sat at her vanity, brushing her hair. She wore a house dress. It was kimono inspired, blue silk with a satan bow around the waist. Along the square blouse, it had lighter blue lace running parallel, and a narrow skirt. The Maid, like all the other maids in the household, wore modest silk frocks, of no particular description.

“Madam” the maid said, and handed the Empress the Serdian letter. She broke the seal, and scanned it. Irulan dismissed the maid with a wave of her hand.

She stood. The Empresses auburn hair was in shoulder long locks, and held up with a clasp in the back. Drawing her skirt aside, the Empress, with letter in hand, left her room and through the maze that was the Imperial chambers, came out into the main hall. She descended the stairs, and crossed to the western wing. She found Leto sitting in the men’s parlor, reading. “Sir” She said, as she glided into the blue satan divan upon which the Emperor sat. “Madam” he replied. “Look” She shoved the letter into his hand. He read it over. He smiled a little. “What do you think?” she inquired. “I’m not sure..... perhaps we ought to concoct some sort of state visit.” Irulan smiled sweetly. “Could we? Oh Serdio! How I miss it, terribly. I will die when I see Esto Gaza again. I haven't seen it since I came here...” She stopped. “Not that I don't love Eden mind you-” “Darling” Leto said. “I understand that Serdio is your first home, and I understand that although you claim to love it here, you feel out of place sometimes. Don't worry darling, I’m sure if Drake is serious about restoring your families claim to its lands, you will be able to visit there quite often.”

"Madame. Madame? It's time to rise."

It was very early in the morning, but despite this, the idyllic Obelia Palace was already fluttering with the activity of servants. It's history was lost on many, who knew it only as a Merian building. It was meant for the King & Queen of the Sudland many assumed, but one could only laugh at that statement. Drake and Sabriel were the monarchs of the Sudland, and many had never seen Drake, their so-called sovereign. Sudland had only been created so that Drake would have been ensured a title during his deposition. The heir to the Crown was Helen, but still yet--no one knew who she was or what she was really like, aside from those who had met her at the parade some weeks before.

"Madame! It is nearly eight. It is time to rise."

Yet Obelia was not empty, aside from the servants. It housed one royal at least--one person who wanted to stay in Obelia. Her name was Nadia Rlugia. Dowager Queen of Serdio, and mother to Drake, the very monarch whom many of these people did not know. Nadia lived at Obelia for her own comfort--not because it was a forced arrangement. She was no longer young--indeed, she was nearing sixty. The cold air of Meria made her ill (not to the point of death, but certainly discomfort), and she did not feel right to return to Serdio, the land which her disposed the dynasty who had adopted her a spouse, and had ended so many centuries of royal rule. Even if Drake was safely upon her throne, she did not feel right in Serdio, her homeland. Eden was far more comforting, both to her mind and her body.

"Yes, I've had you Amalia. I shall rise, then."

Yet the capital of the Sade Confederacy would be in Esto Gaza. Nadia knew that this respite in Eden would soon be over, as duties as both a mother and dowager queen demanded that she be at Esto Gaza. As the mother of the King of Serdio and a vast array of other titles, her position at the court would be second to only her son, perhaps even greater than that of Sabriel.

Not that Nadia felt any greatness for being superior to Sabriel. She knew her daughter-in-law well, and indeed had taken her in as a daughter of her own after her marriage to Drake, and lavished her with kindness and help, the sort of motherly aid which she did not have after her mother Gens death. It was all quite sad.

Nadia sighed. It was time to rise.

Obelia palace was beautiful beyond all measures, an antebellum paradise, in the middle of the bustling city of Augusta. Despite this, it seemed like a place of natural beauty, for outside Augusta were the vast plantations which were practically nonexistent in Serdio. The Imperial and Royal families, although not shy to the Sudland, could not help but be taken breathless by the beauty of Obelia. The unpacking took only a few hours, and the family settled into their routine.

Nadia Rlugia took to the palace best of all, out of the entire family. This was because she had stayed in the Sudland, on and off, for several years. The Merian airs had made her sickly, and when Sudland was made into a kingdom, Nadia quickly leapt to the job as serving as both Drake and Sabriel’s representative, while they stayed in Meria. As such, Nadia was socially refined in the graces of the Sudish families, and it wasn’t long before she was dressed in her best calling gown, off to speak with the great matriarchs whose company she had missed for so long.

Marius d’Albret, heir to the d’Albret Princedom in Serdio, took the Sudland quickly, considering it a novelty to be amongst the upper classes who drew their prestige from money, rather than breeding than rank. Although he was a man of leisure, Marius knew that the pension his father had promised him during this jaunt south would not last him, and thus he sought to purchase land from which to draw revenue.

While Nadia sought companionship and Marius wealth, Frederick was simply happy to be in their final destination. Tired from the arduous trip from Esto Gaza, Frederick sequestered himself into his chambers and declared not to be disturbed until later in the evening. Julia and Gisèle, likewise, chose to retire with their Serdian ladies, tired from a day of gossiping and chatter.

Jean had opted for merely sending his luggage ahead and utilizing his God given talents to fly to the Sudland. Over all he enjoyed the trip, it was scenic and far less rickety than a train would have been. When he arrived at the palace he was surprised by the plethora of plantations, Esto Gaza being a rather industrial and modern city, he had not seen such things since his childhood.

Heading straight for his apartment, he found his luggage already placed in his room and took to unpacking and aranging things for a while, then freshened up and put on fresh clothes and went out to explore the palace and take part in the general excitement of a court in movement.

Gisèle was utterly bored. While Julia and her ladies preferred to lounge and rest, as expected of a Princess of the Blood, Gisèle was teeming with excitement. The Sudland! It was a new, bright, adventure! Yet Julia could only yawn slightly, shaking her head. The child of Drake had seen the province was not impressed by it—if anything, she just wanted to sleep. Being shooed away from Julia’s chambers, the young Gisèle was thus forced to find something to do without the help of her royal cousins.

Of course, Gisèle failed abysmally. She was confused and dazed by her new surroundings, and of course had no idea where she was going. How was she going to find her way towards something interesting to do, when she could barely find a clear path out of the chamber rooms? The young princess growled slightly, her hands groping the cool brick, in hopes to find any sort of escape from the main halls.

“Surely there is an exit somewhere…?”

Gisèle hardly noticed that there was someone in the hall with her.

“Ah!” She replied, rather surprised. “The Prince of Louven, correct? I believe I saw you before we left to come south. Am I to assume you have followed the royal family into asylum?”

"You are to assume correct, madamoiselle." said Jean performing the slightest of bows and smiling. Of all the things he had heard about Serdio's royals, the best traits as he percieved them had been attributed to this young and vibrant example of life.

"Quite a character this Sudland has. I haven't seen such great plantations and such expanse of green for generations in Esto Gaza. How do you like our new environment?"

“It’s quite a lovely place,” She replied with a smile. “But I do admit that I miss Serdio. It’s very hot here, and I can’t help but miss the boutiques and salons of Esto Gaza. This place seems very Provençal in comparison. However, I shouldn’t speak so ill of this place. I’ve merely arrived some hours ago—I suppose I’m just missing my father. He won’t be arriving to join us for a few weeks. There are loose ends to tie up in Serdio…you know, selling estates and all that. Since the Revolution, my father has been wary of keeping a hold of property which he might be gone for an extended absence.”

The young Princess sighed, reclining against the cool walls of the palace. It wasn’t often she was in the presence of the upper echelons of the nobility. Although Louven seemed important, she could gleam nothing from him. It was rather obvious that his contact with the royal family had been hereto limited. He was seen as a protector of the royal family, but in no way were they overly friendly with them. She frowned, rather slightly.

“I heard that you snubbed the Madame Royale some weeks ago…” Gisèle replied, nonchalantly, unsure of what to say.

Louven nodded as Gisele made her oppinion about the Sudland known. "I personally find it a rather enjoyable break from the constant activity of Esto Gaza. The whole atmosphere lends itself to relaxation which, after the recent events, is sorely needed."

The Princess was pretty, not beautiful in the same way that Helen was but she was altogether pleasing to the eyes. As well, her reputation for snubbing the stereotypical trappings of a noble birth enamoured Louven greatly towards her. One thing Louven had not been prepared for during this conversation though was gossip.

His 'snubbing' of the Madame Royale had grown in circulation an dit appeared as if none could encounter him without remarking in some way about the encounter. "My mind was elsewhere at the time and I forgot my place. My mood at that point did not lend itself to conversations about materialistic preoccupations. I have been pondering what love means to one who can live forever and how they could find it without suffering it's loss. So far I have arrived at no pleasing conclusion however, I suspect should I encounter love I may throw off my reservations in the name of enjoying at least some part of my life to its fullest."

“I...see.” Gisèle frowned. “Monsieur must remember that one should pay great respect to the immediate royal family. Snubbing one, or making one feel insulted, could easily end one’s aspirations at court. You may, or may not be a great lord, Monsieur, but it will be the blood of the King and Queen that decides your fate—not you.”

Immediately, the young princess flushed brightly.

“I apologize. It’s just…my father always told me the same thing. I didn’t grow up like they did, pampered in Meria. I lived in Serdio…it was a nice life, of course, but it wasn’t the royal life which my father was accustomed too and so badly wanted for me. I was always reminded to pay great respect to my cousins, for they stood to inherit fortunes and kingdoms, whilst I stand to only gain a name.”

Shaking her head, the relaxed state that had befallen the princess faded.

“I apologize. It’s not my place to preach to you.”

"It is very much your place to preach. All who have been enlightened by eating of the fruit of wisdom should share their gift with the world in order to better foster relations and understanding. What can one learn if all who have attained knowledge refuse to teach what they themselves learned?" Louven smiled towards Giselle, rumors of her intellect and modesty did not even begin to accurately paint the picture of the woman who stood before him today.

"As you may well know, I am the Head of the History Department at the University of Esto Gaza. One of the cardinal rules I try to instill in my students is to never disregard or shrug off any portion of history or knowledge that may be burdensome to you. That burden may one day be your savior." Jean paused for a moment and tyhen continued with another train of thought.

"You are, of course, correct in stating that our traditionsand ancestral rights must always be observed. Tradiitons serve the same purpose as history, they provide a sense of continuity and safety and as such should be maintained, taught, and respected. It was a grave mistake on my part to snub such a powerful personage, but, I believe that the family harbour no ill feelings towards me as my service must surely show them that I am of the most loyal caste."

“Plus royalistes que le roi, Monsieur,” Gisèle said with a slight giggle. “I have heard it said about you. Now I see that it is clearly true.”

Louven was an interesting man. Not because he was a Peer, but because his story. He wasn’t young, by any stretch of the imagination. He had seen dynasties rise and fall, and he had waxed and waned with Serdio. He had seen it evolve from a backwater, feudal estate, to a modern nation state. Everything which had been loved and hated about Serdio, he had observed.

“Monsieur, tell me about your peerage. Have you always been a part of this privileged caste? Tell me of the older days, when Helena reigned as our King and good King Graith was simply a Baron in a backwater land.”

"I am not ashamed of my political leanings. The institutions of this great country are my life's blood." stated Louven simply. He listened to Giselle's question intently, anytime he witnessed a chance to lecture on his favourite subject, history, he would.

"The regency was ajoke in the simplest of forms." he said light-heartedly. "At this point in time I was already a Peer as the title I inherited had always been attatched to such privliges through a distant and ancient relation to one of the first great Houses of Serdio, before she was even known by that name. As such, I naturally was quite opposed to supporting an upstart child from a backwater barony as the future King when it was discovered that Edmund's child was a Queen and not a King. However, over the coming months, I heard more and more of Graiths plans for Serdio and his unifying call for peace and progress. I eventually decided to join his cause and fight under his banner. During these tumultuous times, claimants would rise and fall but one of the few constants was Graith Rlugia. The fatc that his support never waned and his success was constant made me even more sure in my choice and upon his enthronement I was assured that the ancient Peerages and privliges thereof would ocntinue to be respected."

Pausing for a moment, Louven organized his thoughts and then continued. "I must admit, his marriage to Helena was quite controversial when it was first announced that they were betrothed, what with her not even being able to talk she was so young. Once again though, Graith showed a selfless willingness to do what was necessary to ensure that the unity and power of Serdio remained constant and he did such by marrying Helena and associating his line with that of the previous Dynasty."

“So the Louven dynasty has not always been loyal to the most august branch which now sits upon the throne. Are you not ashamed, for doubting your liege, even if there was a time when he seemed far from his goal? It is funny that you speak of ancient rights and privileges—was it not Graith who destroyed feudalism and subjugated you to his court, at Mystice? But I digress.”

The young princess smiled.

“It is certainly interesting enough. You have been a constant in Serdio, even if one who has not exerted his deserved influence. What did you do when the Revolution roared, Monsieur? Did you take to the hills as so many did, fearful for their lives, when one day might very well be their last? Or did you stand alongside the King until his last breath, when he too was forced to flee, abroad?”

It was quite obvious that Gisèle was interested in history.

“It’s an interesting subject, history…especially when your family plays such a major part in it. I may be only a branch of the Rlugias, but the blood of Graith does flow in my veins. My great-aunt was Vérène, the Caesaress of Eden, whose plans emulated her father, but failed to instill ground. My grandfather, Léopold, had his cabals Dionysus sat on the throne, and all was glorious and well. Do you not too, find history, very interesting? Of course you must…you have experienced it most of all. You, monsieur, are history.”

"A small price to pay for stability, madamoiselle." he said in response to her question about feudalism. As Giselle smiled jean felt his heart lifted up and his mind flew through all the what if's about such a brilliant and gifted young woman.

"During the Revolution," began Louven, "I fought alongside His Majesty for as long as was possible and upon his exit to exile, I too fled into exile. His Majesties fate was my fate and my life followed his for those tenuous and frightful moments so long ago." Louven paused to organize a qualified answer to her question about the influence he is due and yet does not seem to utilize.

"In my younger days I was obsessed with influence and power and did all that I could imagine to increase my families wealth and position and ensure that the Louven name remained a force. Sadly, it took me many centuries to realize the faults of my single-minded crusade and I have slowly retreated from court-life and the constant gossip and intrigue of the noble life for a more isolated and philosophical life of a thinker. After all, should one lose their material possessions, they still have their mind and knowledge."

Sabriel was at peace. She knew eventually she would have to resume her duties, but for the moment, she considered this a vacation. There were limited reports in the north on the movement of Van der Mehk. Though she ought to feel threatened by this, instead she had made the choice to enjoy the temporary lull.

Her chambers were spacious, and although lovely, they were far simpler than the oppressive grandeur of Vertfort.

So were the social forms. There were not near the aristocrats at Obelia that there were in Vertfort either, and though there were there were several hundred families in the Old City, they were only politely interested in their monarchs.

This took a huge strain off the entire royal family, as did the absence of pestering, mettlesome republicans. She was pleasantly shocked whenever an aid or public official would smile at her, or would be honestly pleased to be in her presence.

She felt like she had in her youth, when she was Sabriel the Great and could do no wrong. Before the Marie Saqueloin incident. Sudland was so pleasant, so pretty, so relaxed and lazy in the best manner possible.

She trusted Meran, trusted that he would deal with the running of the government. Indeed, she had received only the most concise reports. Her spy master had delivered longer, more detailed essays on what was going on, but for the moment, they interested her not.

She desired to spend time with her family. Particularly Helen. Helen would be the Queen of this fair land in her own time, and she wished, honestly desired, that her eldest daughter would grow into someone who was capable of managing her inheritance. It irked her that her daughter might leave little legacy, might become nothing more than a modern Princess Nevermore*. Fairy tales like that were only charming once. She doubted in this modern age that anyone would care to spread Helen’s story.

Yet the Princess Royale had yet to leave her apartments... the Hamilton girl was always there, always blocking the door, fluttering about the front apartments in the Princess’ rooms. In general making a nuisance of herself.

Had they no doctors? The finest professionals in the realm begged and pleaded to throw themselves into the service of the Empress. How did that ridicules Sudish heiress
manage to land herself in the position of nurse maid to the third most important woman in the Confederacy?

It defied logic, and the Empress was about to discover what exactly Helen and Hamilton were up to.

“I see.”

Gisèle took keen notice of the dying sun in the distance, and bowed to the aged lord quickly. Even if she was of superior rank, he was still far older and far wiser than she could ever hope to be—it paid to be respectful to those who were older than you. Her dress flowing heavily, Gisèle rose from her position and looked at the Prince with a stony look.

“I enjoyed this tête-à-tête, monsieur. I hope we can speak again; but the time is late and I fear Julia has already risen. Farewell.”

And then she was gone.

Jean was quite surprised by this turn of events. What had seemed like an amiable conversation had turned into stone-cold dismissal. The single woman he had met that had ever illicited any form of hope for a relationship had just showed him his lack of importance.

Upon arriving at his apartment, Louven settled down to write a letter to a Country Baron who was his closest remaining relative descended through a male line. Should Louven die, he would have presumably become the Prince lacking a son or royal interference.

"Cousin Guillame,

I find that it is time to abandon my fool-hardy search for love in this world. Such a thing exists only in the minds of poets and this society of ours is incapable of giving in to such an abstract emotion. My mixed parentage is a curse that will forever haunt House Louven as long as I live and so, for the betterment of the family and its future welfare, I am officially renouncing my rights to the title and handing it over to you.

Should the claim by yourself be disputed, I have enclosed a geneological history which will prove your continuous male line decendency from Uncle Henrique. I wish you good luck and health in your future quests and pray that you shall encounter no prejudice due to my actions over the years.

Sincerely,
Jean"

Upon sealing and ensuring delivery of the letter, Louven went about the bloody task of cutting off his wings and thus ending his life.

Sabriel had only just gone to sleep. The fire was dying out, but the room was warm and the dying embers cast a pleasant glow on the room. There were shadows, but they were friendly shadows. Embracing, beckoning. With it’s jewel tones, the Empress felt like she was inside of jewelry box. This idea appealed to her, tickled the inner child in her. Cookies and milk reminded her of Krismas, the winter festival in which one decorated trees and gave gifts.

Perhaps she should stay through the winter holidays. She had heard that Augusta was wonderful during the Yule Tide and New Years. It was cold enough at high winter to snow. Not like in Hayholt where the winter blizzards made celebrations difficult, but gentle, little snow.

She didn’t know, nor cared what winters were like in Esto Gaza.

As her eyes closed, the door burst open. She jolted up, knocking the pitcher of milk off the end table. As it shattered into a million pieces of the floor, soaking through expensive carpets and rugs, she knew that nothing would be the same again.

A series of maids tried to block the man who pushed through, but he pushed through none the less.

He was a Jaran. In her prime, Sabriel might have known exactly what region and tribe he was from. But she no longer possessed that administrative ability. Luckily, he was haggard, tired, unable to care about whether or not his tribe brought his Mistress pleasure.

Before she could begin asking questions, he spat out:

“Vandermehk.... attacked...... Leto..... Leto!... dead....”

“What?” Sabriel demanded. The Jaran shook his head, made to speak again, spat up blood and then fainted.

“Take him to the infirmary.” She commanded. One of the maids tried to hoist him, and then screamed.

“He ain’t breathing... he ain’t breathing!” she shrieked over and over, jumping up and down, her high pitched voice echoing throughout the entire palace.

Sabriel looked at the man. And bit her lip. Leto, dead?

“Call for my son.”

****

When Leto reached the palace, everything was in complete disarray. Though it was near midnight (indeed the Prince had hoped to slip in while everyone was sleeping), the staff and most of the household was awake.

Servants ran to and fro, calling on this official, summoning that lord. A precedent needed to be set. This was a terrible time to test the laws of succession, but.......

More information had been reached. Sabriel now knew that a small contingence of rebels had broke into the palace and ambushed the Emperor in his Megeron. She knew that there had been a battle and that someone had set off a canister of explosives. She knew that when City and Jaran guards rushed to the palace after the explosion they found broken and mutilated bodies, both of the Sarduakar and of the rebels. They tortured the best preserved of Van der Mehk’s men and discovered that a number of tribes under the banner of Sakhalin had switched allegiance.

Yet in addition to this information, with the death of Leto Antonovitch (his body hadn’t been found, and it was assumed that it was one of those that had been so badly disfigured by the explosion that it was beyond recognition), Frederick was now Emperor of Meria, and Dyan of the Jaran.

Though his baggage was tended too, the Prince was informed that the Empress and the Emperor-to-be had been closeted in meetings with various officials and lords since early in the evening, and that he would have to find his own amusements.

Irulan had closeted herself in her chambers and had refused to see anyone, so violent was she with grief.

Though he had meant to find his sister, apparently the Empress had changed her mind, for soon after entering the palace, he was summoned to the Imperial offices on the second floor.

The grandfather clock struck three in the morning when Leto entered the Imperial office. It was stuffy, for the windows hadn’t been opened. Several Donish Squires and Merian government officials surrounded the office at which the Empress sat. Leto recognized Frederick among them.

In addition, the room was packed with Sudish officials as well, although in the matters of Merian succession, their presence was more out of curiosity than actual usefulness.

“Your Imperial Majesties.” he said, falling to his knee (which he thought was appropriate in this, most formal of occasions.

Although he at first wondered what he was here for, he suddenly realized that his father, in addition to being Emperor, had also been Prime Supreme of Ivendell..... which meant that that title fell to him.

And suddenly he saw how all the pieces of Van der Mehk’s plan fit together.

The once dark room had been exploded with an array of lights and shouts from the servants. The Dauphin, who had enjoyed a pleasant evening with the Viscountess of Trémoille had retired to bed shortly after, hoping to recollect his thoughts. Sadly, that didn’t come. One man, out of the group that had entered the Dauphin’s chamber stepped forward. He recognized him as one of the various Sudish lords who populated the palace, doing whatever they did.

Frederick was prepared to yell at everyone in the room for this major breech of protocol, but the Dauphin was silenced when word was uttered that Emperor Leto had died. It was horrible, to be woken, but Frederick said nothing. He had went to sleep as a simple prince, and was now Emperor of a dominion which spawned several thousand miles. Things would be different now.

“Her majesty has summoned you to her side,” One replied quietly, and Frederick could only nod. He dressed quickly in a dress robe and made his way to his mother, who was waiting in the chamber with several other government ministers.

He felt awkward. He felt as if he didn’t belong. Despite being prepped since birth to succeed to the thrones of Meria and Serdio, he still felt weak and hopeless. He leaned on his mother, that eternal crutch, in hopes she could advise him. Frederick’s head was bowed in silence. He was too young to rule. His position remained cemented, even after his cousin Leto had entered the room.

It was all so foreign. For the first time in his life, Leto bowed to him, and called him “majesty.” For the first time in his life, he was not another prince in the extended royal family. He now occupied a rank and honor that surpassed even his father.

Yet he still felt alone.

In all the confusion, the Royal family completely missed the fact that no one had told Leto that his father was dead. Yet he seemed perfectly aware of the fact, and even made a great show of mourning.

Though she had seemed on the brink of madness, Leto’s death stabalized. Grounded her. Regicide made Charles a fair target.

“The coronation has to be simple, you see. We can’t have too much pomp or make too much of a spectacle, nothing the rebels can seize on. I’ve already issued the arrest warrants for Newrose and Keen, ..... Van der Mehk too although I doubt we’ll catch him.”

“Ma’am, we’ve had word that Newrose and Keen were caught trying to flee Hayholt shortly after this incident took place, they’re in our custody now.” said a faceless clerk.

“All right then. There have also been arrest warrants issued for other prominent government officials. The Tobsky* tribe is screaming for Sakhalin blood and I’ve declared martial law.”

The Empress stood, in a black gown with a slight bustle, leaning over her desk, perched more like it. She looked like some unworldly condor, or other beast of prey on the verge of devouring some tiny farm animal.

“However, I won’t have any more strife in my realm. I don’t want civil war among the Jaran, and thus I’ve put the Veselov tribe in charge of the country in my absence, under the direction of the Saudaukar.

“With regards to the coronation....” she bit her lower lip.

“Though it would be best to do it traditionally on the steps of Hayholt Keep, I consider it... unwise for the entire family to journey there and thus I’ve... arranged for the coronation to happen here. In Augusta.”

There was a vague gasp from those present. It seemed very irreverent and shot gun to crown the Monarch of a foreign land in a Kingdom so far removed and distant as Sudland.

“How.... how, your Majesty, do you hope for the people of Meria to accept their new Emperor if he’s crowned... here?”

“I hope that my troops will be reason enough to accept my son as Emperor.”

“Mother Novendot” This came from one of the Jaran princes who had accompanied the royal household down.

“We are not your army.” This drew an even louder gasp, though the dark haired prince took no notice and continued:

“We are your people, but not yours to command. Much of the discontentment among the tribes of late has been due to your treatment of us as.... as...... a paid fighting force as opposed to your people. I doubt the Jaran will accept a Dyan who’s confirmed so far away from our homeland.... and I doubt the Jaran will accept Frydrerk Drakeovitch as Dyan while you are Estansa....”

Sabriel blushed.

“Cousin.” she said using the formal term.

“I thank you for your boldness. But I will remind you that I am your Mother, ordained by the Gods to lead you. I gave our people a position of prominence that we’ve never experienced before, and I shall thank you to remind yourself that as I stuck with you during times of great turmoil, so shall I demand that you stick with me.”

The Prince bowed his head, and withdrew to a corner of the room.

Leto, unnerved by the fire burning in his aunt approached again.

“Your Majesties, I do not mean to disturb your counsel..... but.... I am uncertain as to my own position here....”

Sabriel looked at the boy who resembled both her son and her enemy so much.

“My Lord Son, as Emperor you must be informed of petitions brought forth to you. This man is no longer your cousin, but your subject. And he has just asked a question regarding his impending rank. What is your response to his supplication?”

“Leto shall become the Prince of Ivendell…” Frederick bit his lip. “It’s what his father would have wanted. It’s his rightful patrimony. He shall be His Grace, the Prince Executive of Ivendell. I also want him to be the Privy Lord and Master of the Robes…”

Frederick said nothing more and retreated into silence. All around him the world seemed shattered: his mother was already facing rebellion in her ranks, as the Jaran would not be pleased to have their Emperor, already a foreigner, crowned in a foreign land. Frederick looked at the Jaran prince who had been so quickly dismissed, and looked to his mother.

“It…really is no problem, mother. I can go to Hayholt. I would hate to cause more problems in Meria because I have refused to have my coronation there. I must show…solidarity to my new subjects. I need to work hard to ensure their prosperity and strength…”

Frederick clutched his fist slightly.

“Mother, please. This Van der Mehk business has hit closer to home than we could’ve ever expected. He has committed Regicide—no longer can cool heads prevail in this conflict. Either you, or he, must die and sit upon Meria’s throne. Let us show our Jaran cousins that we care for them.”

The Empress looked at her son. She raised an eyebrow, not prepared at all to deal with her son as an equal when he had so long been her baby.

“My Lord Son, you underestimate the ceremonies involved in the coronation. Perhaps I haven’t properly ordered your education, but a hasty coronation in Meria would be just as insulting as a well timed one here.

“The coronation in Meria isn’t simply placing a crown upon your head, but involves a progress throughout the land, from Hayholt to Jeds, from Jeds to Nu’daio. You must visit each Squire’s home........ it’s....”

She paused, slightly irritated to be corrected in public by her child.

“The coronation must be in Sudland for a number of reasons. Not just because it’s too difficult. Would you think I would stand in way of a legitimate ceremony simply because it would be slightly cumbersome to travel to Meria? It’s because the actual coronation, at this point, is impossible. The great tribes are involved, and at this time I doubt the Sakhalin would publicly endorse your position as Dyan of the Tribes.

“It must be in Sudland because that affords us no opportunity to loose face. It must be quiet and out of the way so that you can begin your reign before anyone raises any public objections.”