1.3
Cameron’s footsteps echoed down the halls as he and Marcus made their way to the throne room. For reasons Cameron never understood, the servant was always eerily silent in his footfalls and movement. It was as if his need to blend into the surroundings, permeated through his very physical being.
“Have you prepared yourself for meeting the delegation Master Pellyn?” Marcus asked, breaking Cameron from his thoughts.
“Not in the traditional sense, no.” Cameron said with a sheepish look on his face. “I figured I’d just wing it to be honest.”
Marcus struggled to hold down a frustrated sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “One does not wing diplomacy Master Pellyn.”
“Says who?” Cameron said, turning to look at his servant with a smarmy grin.
“Says anyone who has ever held the position.”
“Well, as a future general, shouldn’t I work on my improvisation and problem solving skills?” He cocked an eyebrow and let out a chuckle.
This time Marcus couldn’t contain it, giving a sigh that seemed to deflate his entire being. “As much as I applaud your use of logical manipulation, I must counsel professionalism in this instance. If you allow your usual sensibilities to get in the way, this could hinder Lady Miranda’s reign for decades to come.”
He stopped and stared at Cameron as they reached the throne room door, a large soapstone slab, supported by a trim of sapphires inlaid around the edges. “Please Master Pellyn, know that if any situation calls for tact and patience, it is this.”
Cameron looked back into Marcus’s eyes, giving a rare genuine smile. “I understand your concern, and it’s nice to know that you’re so worried about Miranda that you would lecture me as seriously as this.” He clapped a hand on the man’s shoulder and gave a warm laugh. “Don’t worry. For all the jokes and sarcasm, I’m aware of what's at stake here. It’ll all work out. I promise.”
Marcus was speechless for a minute looking a bit sheepish as he struggled to craft a response before his mouth opened.
“Well… that’s great to hear Master Pellyn. I appreciate your candor and willingness to listen. It’s refreshing to know that you're aware of the weight you hold. I won’t hold you any longer.”
Cameron smiled, walking to the front of the door, before turning back to the man and giving a nod. The doors flung open, an echo quieting and conversation that was being held behind it. Cameron took a deep, slow breath, then a step forward, crossing the threshold.
“Why good morning father!” Cameron shouted, his voice echoing throughout the chamber, ensuring all eyes were on the pair “And assorted boot-lickers! How’s tricks?”
Marcus’s face fell, pinching the bridge of his nose with a weary sigh, as he followed behind his charge, closing the door quietly behind him.
On first inspection of the throne room, it seemed rather out of place, compared to the spanning opulence of the palace itself. There were no inlays of gold or ornate tapestries. In fact, the “Throne” room was lacking in the said piece of furniture that derived its name. Instead, it looked more like a war room, bare-bones and with a distinct lack of frivolity, save for a balcony that ran the length of the room on one side, looking out against the ocean. King Augustus Pellyn stood at the end of a large conference table as he held court. The table was a dark stained mahogany, imported from the mother world. There were small screens set into the wood, spaced out to give each person sitting a personal data repository point. Two small banners, bearing the Pellyn family seal hung limp in the air as Cameron entered. His smile dropped to a smirk as he looked at the strangers seated around the table. Two men in robes sat on one side, one balding and pudgy, the other wiry and weasel like, yet both wearing the same scowl of someone who had just stepped in something that most certainly wasn’t chocolate. The woman sitting opposite them was the complete opposite, a young, pretty face with a pair of green eyes stared at him in amusement, a smile peeking its way across her lips. Her shoulder length red hair hung down in ringlets, with a business suit, that didn’t help to hide her curvy figure. Suddenly Cameron was aware of what Miranda had meant in the square. He was going to get along with her just fine.
“You’re late.” A deep, commanding voice said, breaking Cameron from his reflection and fantasy. His eyes turned as he looked at his father. He easily stood a head taller than Cameron, built more like a fridge than a person. He was also bald like the pudgy man, but with his lean, angular face accented with a long, braided beard, and a set of robes that barely contained his massive frame, that was where the comparison stopped.
Cameron inhaled sharply, bracing himself for the tirade that was coming. “I was… indisposed of. I got lost.”
“In a bedroom or a bottle?” Augustus retorted, still not breaking eye contact or showing any sign of emotion.
“Would you be more or less angry if it was both? I need to know if I gotta lie or not.”
This caused another set of reactions from the strangers, with the men letting out a disgusted gasp at the violation of etiquette, and the woman letting out a small giggle that drew a smile to Cameron’s lips.
The King closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose, motioning for his son to take a seat at the opposite end of the table. “Sit and be silent.” He said with a growl as he turned his gaze to Marcus, who approached and kneeled without a word. “Where did you find him, Marcus?” he asked, his tone softer, and respectful.
“In the Lowlands my lord.” Marcus responded, not looking up, “At a tavern operated by an old comrade of mine. He was there all night as per his report, I don’t believe he caused any trouble.”
“That’s a first.” Augustus scoffed. “Very well, please prepare the guest quarters, when you’re done, head to the private port. We have one last visitor yet to arrive. I’d like you to greet him personally and bring him here.”
Marcus nodded and left swiftly and quietly after a curt “My Lord.”. As the door closed, Augustus turned and looked at his son, who was gazing back in defiant silence. After a moment he clapped his hands together, diffusing the awkwardness that now permeated throughout the room.
“Well. I say we get this show on the road. I believe some introductions are in order.”
As the King spoke the three strangers rose to their feet, Cameron following a moment later.
“You all know me, though I doubt my son has enamored himself with you yet, judging by the reactions.” His head nodded in Cameron’s direction as he raised a hand to make a grand twirling gesture. “Cameron Pellyn, prospect consort and Seneschal to the royal line of Ketris and her people, 27th of his mantle.”
Cameron, though still holding his father’s gaze in a flash of spoiled rage, understood that certain customs must be observed as he stood and gave a low bow, the others responding with a silent nod. As he sat, the pudgy, bald man spoke.
“Lord Lazarus Lendrick, ambassador and high scholar of Amreith, I speak for Prince Seprith Caustos, shall the stars hear and bless his name.”
The weasel man spoke next, a thick nasally voice that was grating and unpleasant as he nearly pushed his head to the floor in a grand, overexaggerated bow. "Count Wervil Darwin, high council to Prince Timas Lo'Dain, and Grand Marshall to the planet Ma'Kir, a pleasure my lord."
Cameron had to fight the urge to roll his eyes at the man's bombastic introduction. Kiss asses were common on the court, but this guy took pompous to a whole new level. Luckily, he had better things to set his eyes on, as the woman stood and nodded her head, speaking in the strange off-system accent unique to earthlings.
"Sybil Moore, ambassador of President Cortez and agent of the Department of Planetary Relations." When she spoke even the king listened intently. Sure the Pellyn family ruled their world, and these men were in charge of much of their own home planets, but a representative of the mother-world was due all the respect one could muster.
As the woman sat, the silence was broken when one of the other dignitaries, the one named Lendrick, spoke. "I didn't think that the mother world sent dignitaries for this sort of matter. Sector celebrations are one thing, but I cannot recall a time I saw someone at your station for a simple coronation, my lady."
Sybil smiled and gave a shrug. "It's a new initiative the President is tackling, outreach to the frontier systems has been... lackluster in the past few hundred years. My ship was in the area, and when word of Lady Miranda's appointment reached my ears, I stopped in to make an appearance. Also, Lord Lendrick, it's Ms. Moore. We rid ourselves of nobility centuries ago. Not to say it doesn't work here, but it certainly didn't for us. She gave him a smile that Cameron could tell was fake, but Lendrick only nodded thoughtfully and began diving into discussion about the dynamics of Royal and Non-Royal planetary relations when the doors opened behind them and everyone turned to look.
Marcus was back, though he was not alone. Next to him, striding in a confident silence, stood the most imposing man that Cameron had ever seen. He was tall, easily surpassing Cameron in his six foot three height, and twice as wide. His shoulders nearly took up half of the doorway where he stood. His head was shaved and his black goatee, flecked with wisps of grey, stood out prominently against his dark skin tone. Scars crisscrossed their way across his arms, and face, settling on one long cut underneath one of his steel colored eyes. His arms were slabs and his fists were boulders, sitting across a barrel chest, allowing the sunlight to reflect off of the iron divots that were set into his skin. This man was a pilot, and a fully integrated one at that.
He let out a long growl of a sigh as he walked. The man was dressed for combat with a black military trousers, cinched tight with a grey webbed belt. A grey compression shirt tugged at the man's massive frame. Cameron was so busy sizing the man up, that he was surprised when he looked up and saw that he was staring daggers at him. He crossed the hall in a few long strides and before Cameron knew it; he was standing over him, a titan looking down upon an insect.
"U-Um... Dad?!" Cameron shouted back, a twinge of fear breaking in his usual calm and confident voice.
The only thing more surprising than this mystery mountain, was the laughter coming from Lord Pellyn's throat. A deep hearty chuckle as if he was the only one in on the joke.
"Glad you could make it Logan, I suppose now that everyone's here we can finally begin."