[i]“And may our offering of skill and blood be pleasing to the great Empress Nero, first among mortals, who sits upon Tellus, first among worlds, ruler of the Empire, first among civilization. Let all who join blades in glorious combat forget not the most worthy names for which they strive and bleed for.”

Vasilia raised her blade, and dipped her head reverently to her opponent.

“To Tellus, the Empress, and the Empire.”[/i]

***************************************

Tellus was a planet of fools, ruled by an idiot, and only a stupid person would ever want anything to do with it.

I mean, her? A praetor?! What a marvelous idea; vest all the power of Imperial authority in a petty, spoiled, ill-tempered, mangy-

“Dolce? Darling?” She breathed out a low purr. “Tell our friends not to worry. I’ll just be a moment.”

(Moments later, Alexa would feel a tugging at her finger - because the whole hand was asking a little much of him - and a soft voice would whisper, “Please don’t be alarmed, or make any sudden moves. The Captain will handle this.”)

Vasilia glided forward, feet finding the gaps of open deck between the prostrated forms. A quick ruffle of her coat, and a sudden weight in a pocket, spoke to her Dolce's efforts.

[i]“Praetor,[/i] was it?” Vasilia lightly smacked her lips, as if trying to recall an unfamiliar word. Or as if trying to banish a foul taste from her tongue. “You must be mistaken, of course.”

About a great many things, but who had the time for such exhausting detail? Certainly not her. She was much too busy, making a trussed-up [i]stray[/i] wait for her to climb the dais before she continued. Click. Click. Click went her unhurried step on the polished floors.

“The Magos cannot speak to matters that the Magos knows nothing about. His Pilates carry such scintillating conversation, that I simply did not have the opportunity to introduce myself or my party properly.” She bowed graciously, a single fluid motion that notably did not stray into an inappropriately servile curtsy. Imagine the embarrassment, making a mistake like that. While she was there, she laid before the dais an ornate vase, collected on their travels. (Made of a material that, in a pinch, could be shattered into a most excellent substitute for caltrops.) An offering to their host. “Would you care for me to remedy the situation, Magos?” And if he took her to be speaking of any other pressing, uncomfortable situations, well! She couldn’t be blamed for it.

[Rolling to [b]Speak Softly:[/b] How can Vasilia get Birmingham to focus his efforts against Bella instead of herself and her crew? Result: 5.]