[b]Xaxus Prime, the Grand Ducal Palace, Several Months Before the Death of the Emperor[/b]

"Move deliberately but do not tarry," said the Grand Duke conversationally- to his soup. "Anomalies abound. Here, there, everywhere, anomalies abound. Move deliberately but do not tarry."

"Now now, your Magnificence," cooed Richmul, a smiling little man in servant's attire, patting the frail Ducal arm, "Don't fuss, just eat your soup."

"Anomalies," said the Duke, blinking, "moving deliberately in the dark."

"I'm sure they are," said Richmul, holding the soup spoon up to the old Duke's spittle-flecked lips, "Now have something to eat."

The Countess and the sorcerer were not paying His Magnificence the Grand Duke of Far Valyrius (nor Richmul the attendant) any attention, though they were seated just to his right along the long and otherwise empty dining table. 

The Countess was in the habit of taking dinner with her uncle weekly, out of respect and love, but was not in the habit of giving any acknowledgement to his increasing derangement. He had been a great man, had done much to improve the fortunes of their House and bring prosperity to the Valyrian System, and she felt it would dishonor him, in some way, were she to concede the reality of his diminished mind and spirit. 

"Has there been any word," she asked the sorcerer seated next to her, "in our matter regarding the Sefts?"

"No," he replied, folding be-ringed fingers beneath his many chins. Enormously fat and deathly pale, enrobed in fabulous vermillion silks, with lips stained blue from petrichor, Vermiculo Nox looked like something out of a bizarre dream, "I took the augurs this morning and no message has come through. Perhaps they are sending a courier ship."

The Countess sipped her wine. She was dressed in a white military tunic lacking any medals or indication of rank.

"I do have news, however," said Nox, "from our associates in the Scarlet Reach. Apparently a cartel based on the Bureaucracy world of Essos is peddling a substance they're calling [i]Synthetic[/i] Petrichor and are planning on going into mass-production within the Annum."

"You tell me this now? Here? This is extremely serious," snapped the Countess, "You magi have always said fabricating it was impossible!"

"Your Excellency," said Nox, chuckling slightly, "Do not be perturbed. I have dealt with many pretender-substances, none of them act as promised...how could they? Without the insect and the fungus, there is no...well the details do not matter. It is impossible to recreate. The Subtle Voice, believe me, has tried for centuries. This is certainly an attempt by the Bureaucracy and their criminal pawns to goad us."

"Still," said the Countess, her eyes narrowing, "This cannot be tolerated."

"Of course not," said Nox, "Fortunately our friends in the Reach have as much interest in preserving our monopoly as we do, and they have assured me the Cartel's days are numbered- Bureaucracy support or no."

"Bureaucracy! Ha!" shouted the Grand Duke. Nox smiled indulgently while the Countess took another gulp of wine.

[i]"Bureaucracy's days are numbered, they tried to strangle me, strangle my house and my rights for centuries they've been doing it! But soon they'll be strangled NO! torn to pieces in the coming storm torn to pieces by their own ambitions. Will not survive the crucible."[/i] The Duke was half-standing now, his eyes fixed on his niece. He swatted Richmul away and pointed a crooked finger at the Countess, [i]"Move deliberately but do not tarry. There are anomalies here. Anomalies abound."[/i]

Richmul gently slid a syringe into the Ducal neck and the old man relaxed backwards into his chair.

"Apologies, Excellency," muttered Richmul to the Countess, bowing.

"Anomalies abound," murmured the Grand Duke, "monsters abound."