Liviana had, through practice, become quite used to holding still for many minutes on end while people poked and prodded at her face with brushes and other tickly things. With two sets of hands, the makeup and hair didn’t seem to take all that long – perhaps half an hour, or a touch longer. When the shuffling of supplies being put back into a bag and a murmured conversation between her maids, she figured it was as good a time as any to open her eyes and see what all had been done.

She couldn’t help but stare for a moment, a bit uncertainly until she finally realized that – oh wait – she was actually looking at herself, and they’d actually managed to make her look… almost-royal. She straightened her spine a bit, picking her head up … wow. Okay, yes, this makeup was helpful. She felt… almost like a badass. If Mai always wore that killer eyeliner and red lipstick, it was no wonder she was so confident. For a moment she felt like she could take on the whole world. Of course, that image evaporated the moment she stood up and remembered that she came up to approximately the waist of nearly everyone around her. 

Well, there was something that could be done about that, too. But it was also something that Mai should probably not see – While Liv was so thankful for having had the older princess’s help, there was something about the thought of a near-stranger watching her learn to walk in heels that was just a bit… too familiar.

With a soft smile, Liv turned to face Mai. “Thank you, Mai Mei. Your work is… well. I feel as though all of this…” She gestured vaguely at her face. “Might, at the least, permit me to make eye contact with people and not flinch away, for once.” It was a dramatic understatement, of course – but saying the first thing that had come to her mind, that she felt like a queen, could have… not come off well. “I am so very grateful to you… if there is anything I, or my handmaidens, can do for you for so long as we’re here, we will do all we can to make it so. I do not think I should monopolise any more of your time, however… I understand you must have your own preparations and I do not want to be the cause to delay them.” 

[hr][hr]

Andronikos Telesphorides strode through the halls of the palace, absently thumbing through his sleek silver smartphone. He had arrived a day late to Aciras – not by any accident but by his family’s contrivance. There was sufficient tension on many of the Mediterranean governments and Anton’s presence… would not have been welcome. Had he been introduced during the ceremonies the previous day, it was quite probable that Liviana would have up and left the gathering, and the Lusitanian Fair Commerce Act fallen through. She blamed him for her niece’s death, of course. And that he was [i]here[/i] not six months later, actively seeking a new bride… well, he could understand why that might be… alarming.

Anton turned his attention back to his phone as he keyed into his room. It was rather sparsely furnished, though he’d brought many things from home. Most notable was the stone altar sitting on the desk, though for the moment he ignored that. Instead his eyes lighted on his attendants, his nephew and his wisened old former-schoolmaster. He offered a small bow to the schoolmaster, the respect that the old man commanded.

“Andronikos.” He spoke, his voice gravelly and stern.

“Yes, my beloved tutor?” The English was flawless, if mildly archaic, as the Greek prince strode across the room to rummage in his wardrobe for something to wear. While part of him ached to wear a traditionally formal style, there was no way in hell that the media at home – or his teacher, for that matter – would allow him to go out in anything less than cutting-edge style. Athens had to show that it was a power to be reckoned with, on the leading edge of everything.

“Uncle, I have laid out a suit for you in the washing-room.” His nephew spoke. Cyrus was a boy of twelve, still growing – too young for military training and also for marriage. It was a tradition that the members of the indirect lines of the Athenian noble houses have their children trained as servants to those who were directly in the line of inheritance. If nothing else, it made the younger children reliable, hardworking, and honest… though it also gave the nobles the headache of dealing with them.

“Thank you, Cyrus.” Anton replied. It was about at that time that he realized that – respect or no – he had still tuned his tutor out completely. Quickly he scrambled to reassemble the fragments that had just been spoken, just as the tutor asked what his thought on the matter was.

It was about Lusitania and Carthage, of course. Carthage was bursting to the seams with people and its land was being overused, and so the Carthaki king was getting antsy and attempting to push Lusitania for territory. Lusitania itself was getting desperate for assistance – with a population of a measly five million scattered across their massive holdings, it was nigh-impossible for the Lusitanians to assemble any sort of army. They were seeking aid from the Athenians. Of course, the Athenians were not going to do anything in much of a hurry, as it was the crown prince’s (mostly-ceremonial) duty to lead the army in the event of a foreign war. He would never be placed in any real danger, of course, but there was always a base threat of being in enemy territory. Many things could be said about the Athenians, but it could never be uttered that they were anything less than scrupulously careful. The crown prince ought to have an heir before he would go to war. And given Lusitania’s unfair demands, it would only make sense that the mother would come from their noble stocks, would it not?

Of course, that then left the unfortunate problem of the only currently marriage-eligible Lusitanian royal being Liviana, whom was firstly already betrothed to one Edwin of Britannia, and secondly, if one would believe the rumors, unable to bear children. It really was quite the plight for Lusitania.

All hope wasn’t lost for them yet, of course… if the marriage into Britannia worked out, then the Brits would send in their forces to help fight off Carthage. At that point it would be quite likely that Lusitania would break with Athens, freeing the Federation to go fight on the Carthaki side. The Carthaginians definitely remembered their debts (certainly to a higher extent than Lusitania), and it had been made clear in under-the-table negotiations that if Athens were to help, they would get a handsome cut of the profits, including some of the most prized commodity – territory. Lusitania had never offered it, and the demand had never been made, or it had been watered down to the point of inconsequentiality. The idea had been passed around for the Federation to, with its far-superior man- and fire-power, simply overtake Lusitania. But then they’d be fighting the Carthakis, whom would likely be better to have on their side. No, it was better to wait and let the Lusitanians box themselves into a corner.

Anton once again shook himself out of his reverie to give a smart, succinct reply to his tutor, something along the lines of trying to subtly sabotage the relations of Liviana and Edwin – for political gain only, of course. His cousin helped him dress during the exchange, meticulously creasing the cuffs of his dress shirt.

The coming eve was full of potential, and Anton would be damned if he didn’t use it to its fullest.