Chapter 11 #4
The colony of Lasius wasn’t especially impressive from the outside—just a large metal dome that looked more like an observatory than a grand colony.
But underneath the surface it was a metropolis of winding tunnels made of stone and dirt.
Much of the world’s trade happened here, as well as any political meetings that required a neutral third party, since the queen of Lasius—known as the Judge Imperium—had no enemies or allies.
It was an arrangement that had been carried on for a few hundred years.
Knowing this didn’t soothe Theora’s nerves any.
Still, she tried to seem in control as she led her party through an entrance that looked as though it were made of pure crystal.
A geared elevator took them down a dozen floors into the earth, to a large open area.
Despite the unfinished, natural look of the ceiling, there were shops scattered around and the occasional bench, giving the place the appearance of a large train station.
Perhaps under different circumstances she would have been able to appreciate the natural beauty of this ancient colony, but her stomach wouldn’t allow it.
She was here for one purpose. Not to mention, the primary visitor attraction in Lasius was guided tours through ancient tunnels and underground lakes, and Theora had never seen the appeal of caves and dirt.
All the more reason to never come back here after this was over.
Five security guards approached. They were dressed in all red—even if Theora had never visited, her elite education ensured she at least knew that their clothing didn’t mean mourning, only that they were on duty.
Still, it felt disturbingly grim. As if they were prepared for her potential death as much as she was.
Nonsense, Theora.
The guards moved about their duties, no one leader in their group. They didn’t need one—Lasius was such an efficient colony because its magic involved binding multiple people by telepathy to organize and get tasks done.
Theora spread her arms without being asked, and a guard curtsied and murmured a greeting before waving a detector rod slowly over her limbs.
The rod sent off alerts due to the amount of gold beading on her dress—but the guard just moved it more slowly, carefully, rather than daring to touch a queen.
Theora realized she probably should have considered that possibility, but she’d selected her outfit solely for the degree of power it displayed.
But perhaps she should’ve coached Argos on security procedures abroad, because the guard checking him suddenly stumbled back as Argos’s chest began to rumble. All the connected guards reacted, looking in their direction, drawing their weapons in warning.
“He means no harm,” Theora said quickly, stepping closer to him.
“Your Grace,” said one of the guards. “Protocol states that your Warrior will have to be subject to a physical pat-down.”
“He’s my husband, not my Warrior,” said Theora, trying not to seem like she was in a hurry as she approached Argos. “And how many Warriors have you entertained that there is now a protocol?”
The guard swallowed and shifted her gaze for a second. Theora could grind her into dirt if she chose to, simply by maintaining her cultural stoicism with a splash of authority.
But Venita sighed and said, “Let them search him. They just want to be sure he isn’t a threat.”
“Such nonsense,” said Theora. “Their wands are supposed to be able to identify weapons.”
“Only metal ones, ma’am,” said the guard.
Theora narrowed her eyes. Not that she was an expert on the matter, but how many different weapons existed that weren’t metal?
“I don’t mind, my love,” Argos said to Theora.
She had a brief internal battle with herself, fighting the urge to both blush and smile.
She resorted to turning to him and pretending to pick a piece of fluff off his tunic so she could adjust her expression where no one could see.
He wasn’t kidding when he said he’d be able to perform in public—this was the opposite of the Argos who had been severely misbehaving even just a few hours ago.
They’d never discussed pet names, and it felt just as intimate as it was supposed to.
“Can he access his venom?” asked the guard who had scanned Theora. “We will have to muzzle him if he—”
“Do you know who I am?” Theora said, and the guard instantly went pale.
“I am queen of one of the most powerful colonies in the world. There will be no muzzles.” Theora turned to the other guards.
“To show good faith, we will cooperate with your manual search. But I expect you to inform the judge that I am insulted.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said the guard, visibly distressed. “I will have someone send a message to the judge immediately to clear this up for you. In the meantime, I will happily escort the rest of your party to your designated waiting room.”
The other guard led Argos in the direction of a private exam room, and Theora joined to walk beside him.
“I thought you said the glasses would make me look more approachable,” Argos murmured.
Theora glared at him. “Well, they work a lot better when you’re not growling.”
And she led him quickly into the examination room through the door that the guards held open for them.