The Best Laid Dinner Plans
I ARRIVED FOR dinner in my very best formal evening dress uniform, a short green dinner jacket, blue-black trousers with gold piping down the seams, white waistcoat with brass buttons, and perfectly tied white cravat.
The only concession I made to fashion was my now-customary knee-high riding boots, shining like black mirrors as they clicked on the polished stone floor with every step.
I was done up perfectly, my clothes fitted, body perfumed, hair tamed, and face enhanced by a hint of makeup, all expertly applied by Wiktor.
And, of course, my broadsword and dirk hung from my sword belt, swinging in brass-accented black leather scabbards, a reminder to everyone I was a warrior, and knew how to defend myself.
Astrid looked stunning as always, in another strapless black formal dress slit up the thigh to show off her fine shoes and black gloves covering her hands and arms to her shoulders.
Sparkling jeweled bands graced her wrists and upper arms, a silver belt rode low on her hips, and a matching silver strand of sapphires ran around her neck and down her chest. Finally, she wore her small crown atop her coiffure.
The effect was one of stars in a cloudless night sky, and it suited her well. I told her so over dinner.
“Thank you. It is always gratifying to have one’s efforts appreciated, especially by one’s consort,” Astrid said. “You look nice as well. I always did think mess dress suited you very well.”
“If tonight be the funeral of my nation, I wanted to look my best to see the old girl off,” I replied, refusing to look her in the eye.
I heard Astrid’s annoyed puff of breath. “You’re being overdramatic,” she said, but she did not press the issue. I knew she had offered me a small olive branch and I had turned it down, but I had more important things on my mind. I could repair our relationship later.
I picked at my food for the rest of the meal. It smelled delicious, but every time I placed a morsel in my mouth, it turned to ash on my tongue and my stomach lurched most unsettlingly. I could not enjoy my meal while awaiting the main event.
The rest of the afternoon’s efforts had been fruitless.
Colonel Boleslaw and the entire Royal Military Intelligence service were unable to confirm or deny the Noble Federation’s assertations aside from the fact New Melbourne was destroyed by a Despotate device.
The radiation signature confirmed it, but Boleslaw reminded me anyone could have turned the activation key, regardless of the device’s origin.
“Maybe with a bit more time, we could get somewhere,” Boleslaw said, but we did not have more time.
Archduke Darius had spoken to his father via subspace wave, but the Yezhidian tsardom did not even know a Fall device had detonated.
His discussions with demon lords proved slightly more beneficial, as he had gotten several to agree ‘several small squabbling rivals are better than a united foe,’ but he was unsure how many could actually affect policy.
Princess Marie had found out considerably more than either of them, confirming the Federation had proof of their allegations, but the Stelsylvanian spies could not find any trace of the transmissions outside the Federation, meaning that everything d’Lyre claimed could still be a convenient fiction.
I wasn’t certain which truth I preferred.
If the Federation was lying, then the Royal Commonwealth might survive this war yet, but the threat of a Fall would still hover above us all. If the Federation was telling the truth, then the mystery was settled, the threat of another full Fall averted. All it would cost was my nation.
As the after-dinner coffee and dessert was served, Lady d’Lyre stood, her raven hair flowing artfully over one shoulder, blue eyeshadow accentuating her eyes and complementing her flowing sapphire gown while contrasting lovingly with her vibrant red lipstick.
She tinged her glass for attention, and as the assembled delegates fell silent, she looked up towards the Emperor’s table.
Her heavily lidded eyes locked onto mine, and she smiled, a predatory, satisfied, victorious smile.
I took a sip of my champagne. Hopefully, we’d wipe that smile off her face by the evening’s end.
“Your Imperial Majesty, Ladies and gentlemen, I wish I came before you with better tidings to celebrate your twelve-year jubilee. Instead, I bring dreadful news.”
I had known this would come. I also knew Astrid would reply. It was part of the event’s theater.
The Emperor set down her glass. “That is unsettling to hear. Pray, what have you to tell us?”
Lady d’Lyre took a step away from her table to gain space for her dramatic gestures. “I’ll not waste your time, Emperor. Not four weeks ago, a Fall device destroyed the contested planet of New Melbourne!”
The hall filled with audible gasps, then raised voices. Uninformed delegates stood, shouting for attention, for information, for vengeance. The Emperor raised one hand, and a guard behind her slammed the butt of his zeroblade staff on the ground, silencing the hall with a sonorous boom.
As the Emperor gently laid her gloved hand back on the table, she said, “This is already known to me. My agents informed me of the tragedy shortly after it occurred. What I do not know, and what my agents are desperately trying to find out, is who set off the Fall device which destroyed New Melbourne, and why.”
Lady d’Lyre smiled, pleased at the Emperor’s segue. “I am happy to say the Federation may be of assistance in that regard. We know who gave the order, and we know for what purpose.”
The Emperor called again for silence. “And who, pray tell, is responsible for the Fall event?”
Lady d’Lyre tried to keep a grave face, but I saw the sparkle of mirth in her eyes. “The perpetrator’s precise name is lost to us, but we know the planet’s destruction was ordered by the Despotess herself.”
Compared to the previous two outbursts, the reaction to this news was staggered.
Most delegates stayed silent, processing the information, then the Despotate officers erupted in a frothing torrent of denial.
The Imperial guards had to personally order each person silent, and it took several minutes to restore order.
A portly lord commander stepped forwards, his hair poorly dyed and his uniform festooned with undeserved medals and cords.
I recognized him from Boleslaw’s briefings as Lord High Marshal Konrad von Hotzendorf, Hero of the Despotate and the Urgan delegation’s ranking member.
Briefly bowing to the Emperor, he spoke in the most diplomatic tone I’d heard from an Urgan officer this entire conference, which is not to say he sounded polite, but he was not immediately antagonistic with his words.
“Emperor, the Federation offers finely dressed words from a finely dressed woman, yet I notice they offer nothing by the way of proof. If they wish to continue with their ludicrous accusations, let them produce the evidence. You will see there is nothing to support their heinous allegations.”
“On the contrary, Lord Commander, the Noble Federation has positive proof the Despotess ordered New Melbourne’s destruction.
” Lady d’Lyre held out her hand, and another Federation senator handed her a data cylinder.
Bridgette held it up for all to see. “Here I hold encoded Despotate transmissions, relayed through Noble Federation space, from the Urgan Grand Palace on Pestgravia to their commanders on New Melbourne. Federation codebreakers have deciphered the message, and it clearly orders the activation of a Molecular Disintegration Engine to prevent New Melbourne’s capture by Imperial forces. ”
The Urgan officer scoffed at Bridgette’s evidence.
“Emperor, this is lunacy, pure lunacy. Those orders are nothing but a poor forgery, a bundle of villainous lies meant to destroy the Despotate’s credibility and gain the Federation a better position at the negotiating table.
We haven’t even confirmed New Melbourne was destroyed and not simply conquered by the Imperial army. ”
“I have already confirmed New Melbourne’s destruction,” the Emperor replied coolly.
The lord commander frowned but changed tactics admirably. “Be that as it may, New Melbourne was an Urgan world, one which we and our allies hotly contested. The Despotess had every expectation of throwing the Empire back. Why would we destroy our own world?”
“I can answer that as well,” Lady d’Lyre replied.
“If the Emperor would read the transmissions, she would see the Despotess has implemented a scorched-skies strategy. No planet will be allowed to fall into Imperial hands. Every remaining Despotate world shall receive a Fall device, and should capture seem imminent, the device will be activated, denying the world to the Empire.”
The lord commander was so shocked by the accusation he descended into incoherent sputtering as his face turned an alarming shade of puce.
Lady d’Lyre held out the data cylinder, and Astrid nodded, sending an Imperial guard to retrieve the cylinder and pass it to Ankhelina.
The Champion produced a small data reader and inserted the cylinder. After a brief pause, Ankhelina spoke.
“The data here confirms what the senator says. It appears to be genuine.”
“How dare you?” the Urgan lord commander roared.
“You honorless pig, how dare you impugn the Despotate’s honor so?
We would never participate in such egregious activities!
” His outburst was understandable. Fall device proliferation was universally despised.
Such actions carried the death penalty in almost every system.
Wars had started and governments toppled over mere rumors of moving a Fall device.