Syrenrei

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

The 'Command Center' was a singular room that was accessible through the same study that Solae had fled into. This had been done by the deceased plantation owner to limit its accessibility by his staff and slaving employees alike, as well as safeguard he knew who was inside, how long, and when. A short set of cheap, sturdy metal stairs led them no more than one story underground and into a barren hallways before emptying into the apparent technological center of operations.

Each wall of the enclosed space was covered in screens that displayed information that, on a cursory glance, would be of interest to someone in the profession of Argon's master. On the left wall were economic figures from the sector showing the current values of the crops being harvested outside, their forecasted gains and losses, and a graph for each showing variations in price over the previous three months. Profitable as the human trade might be that was not the entirety of their business. The computer attached to this particular display had analysis printed in real time on the bottom in columns sorted alphabetically by crop name. Rubber had spiked due to an increased demand caused by the onset of armed conflict. Flashing letters alerted the empty consoles they should wait approximately 52 hours to maximize on the profit gained given historical comparisons of prior rebellions. The middle screen was fragmented into various maps showing the planet as a whole and it's nearest interstellar stations, one of Armistice proper (that revealed it was occupied by a prolific number of armored men and heavy machinery), and a few of the nearest settlements of Empire citizens. An angular, rotating view of the plantation itself dominated as it shifted without instruction following various movements of drones. On the right screen were spreadsheets of inventory of the humanoid variety- names, ages, tiny portraits, and asking prices. Given the text scrolling on the left of these chilling summaries of living beings were what appeared to be illicit bids and chat regarding the chattel.

"Argon, are you still available in here?" Solae called in as they stepped inside. She motioned to Rene, the maid, and the butler to each take one of the five chairs that were installed in the center of the room. Upholstered in synthetic fabric and thick foam they were comfortable but not quite as luxurious as a true noble might have in their quarters. They spun in a complete circle to allow them to see any of the displays but also to turn towards each other to make a circle. A thick cylindrical table was in the middle of the quintet that thrummed with power indicating it could be utilized for holographic imagery itself.

"Yes, Solae Falia." The maid gasped at the name but the butler was more reserved. Clearly they had heard about the bounty that was being broadcasted over all of New Concordia; they had not, however, known enough about Solae's physical appearance to equate the two.

"Please turn off your auditory recording of this room but let the visual monitors remain online. If you see any aggressive action from the two that are not myself or Rene, have a drone ready to respond. Do you understand?" she asked.

"Yes, Solae Falia," Argon replied pleasantly. "I have also located the artificial intelligence system you requested earlier. How would you like for me to proceed?"

"Download a copy of the back up, using my authorization codes if necessary, and store it to an interface transport stick. I will need to take it with me manually rather than transfer it electronically. While you process that transaction for me I would also like for you to alert me if there is any aircraft, spacecraft, vehicles, or persons approaching our location. Syshin may be allowed in and out of the perimeter, but nothing else without my prior approval."

"Yes, Solae Falia," Argon repeated smoothly before falling silent. It was as much privacy as one could truly have in any residence that was monitored and assisted by a synthetic technological organism.

The marquise crossed her legs as she took a long, hard look at both the maid and the butler. She had not yet asked their names because she was cautious how familiar she truly wanted to be with the hired hands of a slaver who had abused an alien race physically, mentally, and in the case of the females, sexually. That he had even listed the heavily traumatized Syshin as maids was as laughable as it was repugnant- perhaps the overweight woman before her had tidied the beds but she suspected that the Syshin were pets for a deviant who 'tested' his goods and kept the best for himself. Solae sincerely hoped his captives would find peace if they returned to Amber Horizon. Nari and Enro were more than capable in caring for their own but the rapid changes in their circumstances would create a strain on their resources. It was sorely tempting to simply stay in the decommissioned space ship with them, forget who she was, and allow herself to be swept up in the foreign culture as an escape of what lay ahead of her.

After pondering for several long moments she asked each the same unusual question: "How did you come to work here?"

Both were taken aback by this query; the butler raised a brow despite his stoicism and the maid proceeded to turn into a blubbering mess that made Solae's stomach turn. Neither answered immediately. The older gentleman seemed to be considering why she was asking such things while holding them hostage and looked between Rene and Solae suspiciously. The aging woman was either consumed by her own guilt or hear fears (for neither highborn had relinquished their weapon) and started to choke on her heaving breath and tears. If she was looking for sympathy she was doing a poor job of invoking it out of the golden-haired scion who waited impassively.

"I needed work," the butler simply stated after prolonged silence. "There was an advertisement seeking a man of education to help oversee the basic tasks of a home on a plantation, as well as handle light menial tasks for the plantation itself. I used to manage a quarry but I was forced to retire and could not pay all my bills staying retired." The more Solae listened to the inflections of the elderly man's voice the more convinced she was that he was not now, nor had ever been, noble. More than likely he had been a member of the upper middle class before a series of unfortunate events put him into a financial tailspin and led him to becoming someone else's paid servant.

"Did you have any slaves?" Solae asked placidly. The maid continued to wail loudly.

"I did not," the butler said indignant outrage that punctuated his words.

"Rene, could you escort the lady here to a place where she can calm down on her own? You can commandeer one of the drones, but I can't have someone disrupting us," she remarked delicately. Rene nodded and, taking the mess of a woman under the arm, led her upstairs to a guest bedroom where she could be secured with door locks, windows covered in thick plates left intact by Solae's lockdown, and Argon's vigilant eye.

"I would like to an extend an offer to you," Solae said, leaning forward as she withdrew the pistol from her holster. The butler did not look as if he had intentions to bolt but she would not have him escaping under her watch if his actions belied his motives. "My companion and I need to leave New Concordia and to do that we need a space ship. I understand one should be arriving here tonight. If you help me communicate with the pilot of that spaceship, and turn a blind eye to the escape of the Syshin slaves, I will see that the slush fund that is scrolling on these displays is partially diverted to an account under your control as compensation. I'm sure you're thinking about the bounty because it is quite significant. I don't blame you for being tempted. But the fact of the matter is, as you can see, we will not be taken alive, and that is what the rebellion wants. You can either chose the wealth over there, " she motioned with her free hand, "or take a gamble that I won't commit suicide before you transport me to the fledgling government that can't even keep the small villages near here safe."

The butler pursed his lips in displeasure before letting his gaze drift over to the aforementioned displays. What Solae had tactfully omitted was that his refusal could also end in his demise rather than hers. He let out one long, despondent sigh and shrugged his shoulders in defeat. "What do you want me to do?" he asked wearily.

"What time is the transport scheduled to arrive?" As eager as she was to know she kept her voice even and level.

"Right before the shift change - a few minutes before 10," the butler informed her apprehensively. It made sense. Arrival would be late enough that residents of the area would already be in bed or too tired to care what the plantation was doing if anything carried them close enough to notice. Monitors of star charts and travel would be reluctant to write up reports before they want off duty and would be exhausted from the the long hours they typically worked. Unfortunately, that left Solae and Rene with more time than they knew what to do with before they would have a chance to depart this world.

The Betrothed

After a few songs, rotating between youthful men of status who were fascinated by the commoner curiosity, Rhiane had found herself at the edge of the dance floor to refresh with a glass of water and small cracker adorned with a foreign delicacy. Her partners had noticed her distinct lack of classical training in the art of dance. None complained, however, as she knew that nobility thrived on gratuitous praise. The princess elect had lavished them all with compliments tailored to their specific physique, skills, and whatever she gleamed from their brief interactions. Novelty though she might be she was determined to make the best of it. More than once her silver tongue and quick wit had won her a benefit in a trade negotiation. Then she had been dealing with crop and seeds, and now she was selling herself as an individual, but the basic concept was the same; everyone loved to think they were adored. For the elite this was even more true than the plebeians they ruled over.

Slightly off and to the side Sir Jin, a dignitary from a country descended from the powerful nation of China, watched pensively. The queen had invited him not because their strong rapport or economic ties. Like so many of the ambassadors they had been invited to the ball as a show of power. The time of wars had long since passed but there were still squabbles about borders and threats of skirmishes. Queen Camilla kept her allies close but her enemies closer. Being at this opulent celebration was her 'subtle' way of displaying the potency of New Rome.

But Sir Jin could not help but notice that the crown prince, the very man they were to be honoring in his engagement to the former farmer in question, was nowhere to be found. He bided his time for nearly half an hour after the disappearance before he saw his opportunity in Rhiane's retreat from the center of the floor. As she bit into her gourmet treat he feigned walking past before bumping into her hard enough to jerk her off her feet.

"Ah, my apologies!" he exclaimed as he caught her. Nearby a few lords and ladies had turned to gasp at the spectacle. Sir Jin gave a smile as he helped stabilize the princess elect, but not before noting the way his force had twisted at least one of her ankles awkwardly. Rhiane, by the way she stood with all her weight on only one foot, had noticed the throbbing in her limb as well.

"How silly of me," Sir Jin said, raising his voice such that cameras were now turned towards him. "Please forgive me your highness. I am afraid I was not watching where I was going." That he was taking all the blame was purposeful but not for her benefit. By treating the princess elect with respect he appeared that much more charismatic to the peasants watching from their homes. Furthermore, by putting himself at fault it let her keep a sparkling image that would make the 'missing' prince look all the worse by comparison.

"Let us call on Prince Alessandro to help," the gentleman offered as if ignorant of the other's absence.

"That's quite all right," Rhiane tried to reassure. She kept her composure and smile intact but internally she panicked. No royal who had spoken not hours before about keeping separate lives would welcome this intrusion into his night.

"Please do not worry, your highness. It is the duty of your future husband, and the future king of this empire, to assist you, is it not? Does this country not have the same customs?" By now the room could no longer ignore the broadcasted heavy accent. Heads turned as it slowly dawned on all in attendance that Luke was not among them. There was no courier fast enough to retrieve it. Each passing second make it abundantly clear that the royal had abandoned his commoner fiance.

"Where is he?" Sir Jin wondered aloud as he turned to the silent dignitaries gathered around in close proximity. Any excuse Rhiane might have had on Luke's behalf died on her tongue as quickly as it did the other's. To claim he had fallen ill would to make it seem the farmer was in better health than he was. To claim he had tired would be to tarnish the stamina of his lineage. The truth, for the few who knew it, was too scandalous to voice aloud. Not just the queen's court was watching- everyone was watching. This moment was being spread far and wide.

And Sir Jin knew the damage it would do. Rumors of pockets of rebellion had not escaped him. Rhiane's selection had been timely because it smoothed over any uprisings with positive press coverage. Commoners saw themselves in Rhiane's rise; they empathized with her, cheered for her, hoped for her future. Evidence that this was a farce would spark outrage that would fan the flames of discontent. Just as Rhiane needed the money the crown offered, the crown needed the figurehead that was Rhiane to quell the rising voices screaming that the rich did not care about them. Sir Jin was hoping to give Queen Camilla a taste of the disaster her arrogant son could cause.

"Surely the prince has not departed already?" Sir Jin remarked with faux surprise. "Please, it is clear you are injured. Allow me to assist you in your fiance's absence," he coaxed. Before Rhiane could object the man, who was slightly shorter than her in the elevated footwear, had lifted her into his arms in a traditional 'princess carry.'

The room was now buzzing with whispers, exclamations of shock, and all manner of mixed horror and surprise. Sir Jin himself was not fond of lowering himself by treating the princess elect so respectfully. His good name, however, had not been tarnished. Luke's, and his mother's by extension, was now stained- and all because they had not properly guarded their investment in the veritable den of snakes.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

"Status report?" Solae breathed as she watched the holographic display. She had made Argon shrink it so that she could look at a more comprehensive 3D rendering of not just the building Rene had been inside but the entire plantation. There were gaps in blind spots over rows of crops but it was more than sufficient for her purposes. Tiny little moving figures less than half an inch tall represented the living, sentient creatures that were emitting a heat signal the synthetic being could detect through various sensors, video feeds, and the drones that acted as observers to the chaos. One by one the little red replicas were falling to the ground and fading into a yellow hue indicative of catastrophic heat loss- dying or death.

Fortunately it was just detailed enough she had stopped the massacre of Syshin before it started. The first directive had to been to kill any living target that was not Rene. In her panic Solae had forgotten there were probably alien captives on the plantation as slave labor, sexual servants, or toys for deviant minds to torture. The exotically different joints and stature had given her sufficient time to set conditions on the initial command and discriminate between the races. A wireless relay ensured that Argon, who was sophisticated enough to tell the difference, would not let his underling drones accidentally execute a non-hostile.

Try as she might to detach the marquise felt cold watching the scene. It was her that had ordered the death of numerous men. True, Rene had taken out more than she had anticipated with only soldier training and scant weaponry at his disposal, but he was prepared for war. He had been trained and given authority to act within combat parameters set by the Stellar Empire. All Solae was able to rely on were ethics and history classes that were introductions for for the nobility that wanted to matriculate into leadership roles with her studies. Since such desires had never been a part of her she had understandably declined further education down those avenues. Squeezing her eyes shut she slowed her breath as she waited for Argon to make his calculations and reply to her query.

"Drones are in pursuit of two armed individuals in the coffee field. All others have been confirmed deceased. Do you have further requests, Solae Falia?" the automated male voice interrupted her mental meditation.

"What sort of broadcast system do you have access to?" Solae responded as she clenched and relaxed her hands slowly. Her gaze had settled onto the sitting form of her bonded among at least half a dozen Syshin. What little she could gleam from their posture they were more likely male than female. One was holding Rene's sword which she took to mean he had established a positive rapport and was not in immediate danger.

"There is a half mile radius broadcast from the manor in all directions that may be utilized as well as smaller X95 intercoms on all buildings with the exception of one that is showing significant damage. If you wish to use that system I will need to summon a repair technician immediately. Would you like me to establish contact with a Systec representative?"

"No, no, that won't be necessary. Please turn on the half mile broadcast and adjust the frequency and volume to only project a quarter of a mile. Let me know when the adjustments had been. When I tap my finger three times then I want you to end the broadcast."

"Yes, Solae Falia. I am ready," Argon acquiesced pleasantly as a new holographic display appeared overhead to indicate that the connection had been made per her instructions.

For the next two minutes and fifty three seconds the unmistakable voice of Solae flowed out of the manor in composed and fluid Syshi. Rene's companions bobbed their heads in understanding and made noises of exclamation to one another when the scion took a breath between sentences or phrases. That Rene had proclaimed himself a friend and defended them was unusual but that he had also come with someone that spoke Syshi made even the jaded veteran of the plantation's cruelty joyously surprised. Before their trip to Amber Horizon the soldier would not have been able to distinguish even Syshin names from conversation but here he could spot a few that he knew- Solae mentioned both Nari and Enro explicitly.

When she tapped her fingers three times the broadcast ended without a single syllable of Imperial Common. The Syshin whispered to one another as they argued over who was the best to attempt to translate to Rene what Solae had imparted. It was the youngest, a Syshin with dark emerald plumage and just barely of adult age, that stepped forward hesitantly. "You bonded say... she in there. Open front door but she think other inside. Be careful. Once safe, we can go inside and rest, eat." His face creased in an unusual way to express displeasure at his halting grasp of the human language.

"Argon, I want to release the lock down in individual segments." The two men that a drone had been in hot pursuit of crumpled then exploded into shimmering dust on her holographic display. Solae tried not to stare at the spot they had once occupied. Horrible as they were they had been alive and she had taken it away. The drones acted because of her. "The front door is first. Please remove the reinforcement. Can you show me the manor's interior with heat signatures?"

"Acknowledged, Solae Falia," Argon intoned as the front door's metallic coverings slid back out of sight an easily open, unlocked door remained. Half a second later a green diagram sprung to life directly above the larger plantation model and showed not one but seven different beings trapped inside the manor with her. Not one moved towards the front door. Four were cowering in bedrooms in fetal positions, one was pacing in the hallway directly outside the study, another was in an upstairs bathroom, and one was walking from the kitchen to what she presumed was a dining room in a foreign, vintage style complete with cushions rather than chairs for seating arrangements.

"Fuck," she swore under her breath.

"That command is not known to me, Solae Falia. Can you please elaborate?" Argon quipped.

"Can you identify the seven others in the manor with me? Your memory banks must have stored personnel information, does it not? Professions only, please." Despite her perfect vision she leaned in to evaluate each of the seven hoping for some clues as to whether they merited a visit from the drones or Rene or if she should declare more peaceful intentions to them. There was no telling what sort of staff slavers kept in their company. Ordinary peons could have been stolen from their homes and forced into servitude to work off debts.

"Yes. There are four maids, one chef, one butler, and one guard inside the manor, Solae Falia. Three of the maids are of Syshin heritage," Argon informed anticipating her next question. Solae bit her lip absently. Obviously the maids were to be spared but she did not know what to make of the chef, butler, and guard, and the drones would not be able to do more than to eliminate targets within preset criteria with extreme prejudice. They were not capable of a judgment call. The marquise rubbed her temple and hoped one of them would be dumb enough to make a run for it and let the survivors outside determine if they ought to live.

The Betrothed

Rhiane pretended not to hear her fiance chastised by the queen and her prince consort into dancing with her. Not only was it the polite thing to do she was quite aware she could do nothing in this scenario. The farmer did not have any sort of leverage over Luke. Until such time she was wed and officially crowned she had very little power even over the servants that littered the edges of the room with platters of hors d'oeuvres or bearing concealed weapons meant to protect the gathered dignitaries. There was no threat she could issue to compel compliance. Likewise there was no reward she could offer that would entice him- she had no illusions about how little he wanted anything to do with her. If copulation weren't implicitly required at some point in time she could have conceivably better tempted him with not touching him rather than indulging any proclivities.

His haste to reach the dance floor very nearly caused her to tumble but, with the grace of an acrobat, she managed to make the almost-stumble flow into another step almost seamlessly. For someone pre-occupied with making certain she did not trip he was not doing either of them any favors to their image. Rhiane covered her temptation to frown with a smile as she thought back to the security now guaranteed to her diminished family. Her father wouldn't have to work himself to the bone trying to make a living while the ghost of his lost love haunted his every move. Finally he would be allowed to rest and remember the good times they had. Gerald, ill-tempered as he might be, would be able to build a life with his partner and perhaps even adopt children. Any such babes would not be allowed near their royal cousins but happiness could be found for the two very well-deserving men at least.

"I can dance, but not quite at your level. There was no sense in teaching all the candidates since we were all but one useless to the crown, don't you agree?" she asked with a sort of sly self-depreciation that would be all too well-received by nobility. Rhiane knew her audience if nothing else. The princess elect was not without pride; she just sought to have a sense of humor about her circumstances.

Luke drew her into him as he slowed their rhythm. For a split second a faint rose spread across her features. As much as the farmer had steeled herself against expectations she struggled to not notice that he was intensely handsome, that his eyes were a brilliant blue to her green, that his cheekbones were high, his jaw square, and his height just tall enough it was horrendously attractive and not off-putting comparative to her own.

"I think you will find, your highness, I am understand my role quite well," she reassured as she reestablished that charming smile that had made her famous. "And I will honor that to the best of my capability, even its finality," Rhiane remarked breezily with a cavalier attitude towards her own death. The princess elect was not full of false bravado; he could see in her gaze how sincerely she was fearless on the particular issue.

"We can do that, minding one another's business, if that's what you really wish to do. I'm rather tit for tat, so if you indulge in certain activities I will take that to mean I can as well." The queen would have dismissed her if she knew that Rhiane was all but acquiescing to Luke having extra-marital affairs if she could do the same. It was improper for a prince and treasonous for a princess elect- something that Rhiane clearly understood from the sparkle in her eyes. Her way of speaking danced on the edge of being explicit and dwelling in innuendo; enough no eavesdropper could be certain what she was suggesting and actually have her condemned.

"Would not want to buck tradition, would we?" It was a challenge. Peasants, merchants, and world leaders all knew that the arranged marriage to a commoner for breeding stock was a farce of a fairy tale. Heads turned the other way when there were fractures demonstrating the royals and their lowborn spouses never truly fell in love the way propaganda led one to believe. To emotionally entangle would be disobedience on a grand scale that most of the boldest would not dare. "Do you know what I see when I look around this room, your highness? People who are separate. People who stand together but are loosely bound and whom have a different fealty than someone such I imagined. Don't you ever... think you deserve more? Ah, the song is over."

Abruptly she disentangled herself from his inviting embrace and dipped her head as a lord, a few years older than the prince, wandered over and asked Rhiane for the next dance. She was a novelty to the elites. This was their one chance to move across the floor with the curiosity that was a princess elect before they were old men watching the next generation. If Rhiane knew they mocked her in private it did not show on her face for she accepted the dance without pause. The farmer knew what she was to them but she was being compensated for this charade so she would play it to the fullest.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

In her early schooling days, when physical instruction classes were necessary, Solae remembered thinking to herself how none of it was applicable to her day to day life. The rebellion on New Concordia had forced her to re-evaluate this belief and regret not taking the classes more seriously. She had run for her life a handful of times now and was wishing all the tips that had been given for the meter dashes that athletes trained so seriously for. Bitterly the marquise wondered if she'd ever be able to watch track and field events quite the same way again.

The sugar cane stalks battered her as she bolted through them and towards the manor but she did not let them hinder her pace. Once she was free of them, slightly bruised and scratched on her exposed arms, she lowered her limbs. They had been raised as a protective shield for her face. Any guards that were not drawn away by Rene were either inside the residence or on one of the far corners of the plantation. Solae had halted briefly in her stride a couple times just to be certain she was not straying into the line of fire but there was no threat. Had she not heard the yelling and movement of angry men rushing to Rene's position she might have thought that the home was deserted.

As she drew closer she realized that whomever constructed the manor must have fancied themselves a historian of pre-Stellar Empire establishment. A front porch had decorative columns that neither matched modern taste nor served any structural purpose but were reminiscent of architecture in centuries long past. Six different sitting chairs, all from different eras, were arranged carefully on either side of the front door but looked unused. The plaque beside the front door was even in a dead language that the linguist diplomat recognized but had not studied. Even the building construction was an odd choice- rather than rely on the materials readily available on New Concordia, it appeared to be covered in vintage exterior stone that would have to been imported from two sectors over at closest before being blasted with an array of chemicals to keep it unnaturally white.

Solae raised her firearm reluctantly as she tried the handle of the front door. Prepared for it to be locked she fell through as the door swung open easily on its hinges. In retrospect it made sense. No one was stupid or brave enough to invade the home of criminals, slavers, and deviants, much less when it was not yet twilight. They did not have a reason to closely guard the plantation. Before today they may have never been under direct attack or, if they were, they would have known the aggressor and that an altercation was imminent. The element of surprise and their brash courage had unexpected payoffs.

"AI, declare yourself," Solae called out as she raised her firearm and looked around nervously. A grand staircase was ahead of her, a sitting room to the right, and a study to the left, all of which looked abandoned. She heard noises from ahead that sounded as if someone was cooking. Pots and pans clanged together in a familiar cacophony.

"Greetings, guest. I am Argon. How may I assist you?" a deep masculine voice rumbled through unseen speakers.

"Authority of Marquise Solae Falia, Senior Translator at Stellar Imperial Embassy 524, Armistice, New Concordia. Code 4283-EMHAJ-calmtable3032. Acknowledge authorization," she called out. The sounds in the kitchen beyond had ceased. Solae edged towards the empty study, keeping her weapon steady, and then quickly darted in to seal herself inside.

"Authorization acknowledged, Solae Falia," a much more flat response came. This time she spotted speakers in the upper four corners of the room. Channeling her 'inner soldier' she ducked behind the massive wooden desk for the added safety it provided as well as the concealment.

"You are to from this point forward only respond to my commands and that of Rene Quentain. Alert me of any attempts to override my authority. I also want you to begin downloading the backup of the AI known as 'Mia' from the late Lord Armon's estate. Can you access that file?"

"Acknowledged," the synthetic voice of Argon complied smoothly. "I have begun my search for the appropriate remote backup of the AI referenced. How else may I be of service?"

"Immediately commence your lock down procedures for the manor. Rene Quentain, the other user I authorized, should be in one of the buildings by himself with a group of armed individuals approaching it. Locate him and display the schematics for the building to me," she instructed.

There was banging on the study door that was exceeding short-lived. Hissing locks sounded from every window and door in the entire manor as metal reinforcements descended from hidden gaps in the ceiling and floor. Whomever had been cooking or cleaning found themselves face to face with thick slabs of alloy that were meant to withstand much worse attacks than that of tiny plasma rifles. Solae had selected the study to hide in because of its convenience but it was more well fortified than other rooms as the owner of the plantation was particularly invested in keeping the secrets she was sitting so close for his eyes only. Were there time to look for it she would have gone digging around for any safe that might be placed behind a painting. Rene's safety was a more immediate concern than valuables and riches from criminal activity.

A hologram display lit up on the desk and Solae reluctantly climbed out from beneath it. "What self defense measures are available in the vicinity?" she demanded with increasing alarm at seeing so many descending upon where Rene was positioned. Concrete walls or not he needed help and as quickly as possible.

"The plantation is equipped with several drones that have..," Argon began patiently.

"How many are functional at this moment and have operational weaponry?" Solae demanded.

"Ten, Solae Falia."

"Excellent. Release the drones with directives to eliminate any living target that is not Quentain." The marquise's lips curled up into a smile. This might actually work after all. If just once she could save Rene she would feel exponentially less guilty for the times he had already saved her own.

The Betrothed

"So nice of you to join me," Rhiane had whispered with a raised brow as Luke's hair was coiffed.

There were no illusions that either of them were entering into this arranged marriage for love so she had little in the way of expectations for her fiance. Luke was required to consent to the engagement because there was no other realistic choice, especially if he wanted to succeed his mother to the throne. It was also clear that the Contest participants were (no matter how the empire attempted to explain it in their propaganda) willing to wed for the monetary gain for their family. The farmer-turned-Princess-Elect had her own private motivations as well but none anticipated an actual romance. At the end of the day she would always be a commoner birthed into poverty and he royalty surrounded by gilded beauty. No matter what spin the media would take she knew that by virtue of status he could not, would not, should not see her as anything other than a breeding mare that would garner them a positive public image. She was a lesser not an equal. That, in effect, precluded him from the ability to love her in that way. Knowing that freed her to not hope for things that would not come to pass.

And so her comment was sincere, quite amusement. Rhiane was not emotionally devastated at the prospect of a proxy escort. So long as the queen did not threaten her rewards Luke was free to misbehave as much as he liked. The moment they were jointly disciplined would be when she would micromanage the crown prince that was at her side.

"Just so you know, I've never actually walked in heels like this before. Exciting, isn't it?" This was spoken a split second before they began to walk but her stride was careful and purposeful. Each step was measured and exact. While she had been a farmer all her life she had not won over the trials by a bizarre struck of luck. Speed, strength, hand-eye coordination, and a wide variety of skills had been chosen. Were she the sort of woman who couldn't walk a few hundred yards in uncomfortable strange footwear she would have not been victorious against such strong contenders.

Rhiane flashed charming smiles to the cameras that lined their path to the queen. It was her easy charisma that appealed to the masses, making them feel instantly as if they were her friend, that had truly edged her out over other candidates. During interviews she had spoken with a confidence that was neither false nor arrogant. Despite all her flaws she was likeable. It was something she had to be by necessity when managing the farm because her eldest brother was surly during the best of times and her father alternated between surges of poor temper and being a doormat. Trade arrangements and sales were negotiated helped one hone how to appeal to a wide variety of personalities and backgrounds.

When they paused at the queen she was dutifully quiet. Her dress was prohibitively restrictive so a curtsy was out of the question- she bowed as low as the gown would permit. As they were announced by the reigning monarch she waited for Luke (to whom she was joined by the arm) to move forward before she did so herself. At the cheers and applause she flashed another brilliant smile before bowing her head in respect to both the nobility and the people watching this event from their homes. Today was being broadcast not only within their borders but far outside of them.

Missteps (no pun intended) were still dangerous for Rhiane. It was not technically too late for her to be quietly replaced. Each press event made it more embarrassing for them to do so. As such she fervently hoped it would be possible for her to avoid alcohol. Her tolerance was better than most adult women but there more people in the room than glasses she could nurse without losing precious ambition. Luke might do as duty required and escort her the entire evening but it was possible that he would not. Already she was calculating the best individuals to latch onto if such a circumstance arose and she needed to politely root herself without causing scandal.

"It's a shame, Dark Horse 3," one of the guards remarked. Dark Horse 3's real name was Marcello but it wasn't often that they called each other by their given names. Call signs were exclusively utilized by the security staff, be they royal guards or of a lesser station, as if to remind them how replaceable they were.

"What is?" Dark Horse 3 intoned.

"I wanted to see how they would have explained you walking her up instead of him," the other guard remarked with a gesture of his head. He crossed his arms and they settled into their post on the exterior perimeter of the room. It was much less comfortable than other positions on account of the 'monkey suits' they were required to wear but it was better than the miserable bastards stuck on a boring patrol.

Turning off his earpiece for a moment Marcello started at the Princess Elect with a silent intensity. "It's a shame she's even here," he muttered to himself.

The Betrothed

No contest winner was ever ugly- the kingdom had aesthetic standards for candidates before they were even permitted entry- but by all accounts Rhiane Black was exceptional. Her fellow competitors had been more dainty flowers with alabaster skin, tiny waists, and slim figures that were pretty but were a more fragile definition of femininity. Rhiane Black was, by contrast, held none of these traits in the same way. The woman was taller by a few inches (not enough to threaten the height of a man however), with bronze skin that shimmered in the lights as if she had been shaped by precious metal, an athletic build, a large bosom and wider hips that gifted her an exaggerated hourglass shape, full lips, and long, thick, dark hair that flowed to her waist in a river of luxurious chocolate brown. It was hard for anyone to imagine how someone who was so sultry was ever born and bred on a farm in one of the most rural sectors of their empire.

To help accentuate her beauty, for she was to be paraded around as a prize of the kingdom, they had spared no expense in making certain Rhiane was appropriately adorned. Light make-up had made her dark eyelashes longer and curled, a cat's eye was painted on to extend the length of her eye, and eye shadow was applied to bring out the emerald color of her irises. Dark wine-colored lipstick had been applied for a dramatic flair. But it was her ballgown that made her impossible to be ignored. The top was sheer and formfitting with faux flowers and gemstones covering the bust in arcs towards her shoulders but leaving the space between her breasts uncovered without being scandalous. Silken fabric was snug at the waist and over her thighs, flaring at the knees and leaving a bejeweled sparkling train to trail behind her.

"She's ready," one of the beauticians told the bodyguard outside the room.

The man nodded and turned his head to speak into a microphone that was attached to the side of his mouth discreetly. "This is Lady Victor 1. Ready and awaiting escort," he relayed.

"Acknowledged Lady Victor 1. Awaiting confirmation of escort's location. Please prepare for arrival," a member of the royal guard positioned in the security center responded. Technically it was the prince who was expected to escort his fiancee to the ball but there had been conflicting opinions as to whether or not this would occur. A 'Plan B' had been created in anticipation that the prince shrugged off his duty.

"Dark Horse 3, please report in," another member in the security center called over the broadcast.

"This is Dark Horse 3," a deep masculine voice responded. The bass send reverberations that even the highly sophisticated equipment could not quite compensate for. 'Dark Horse 3' was one of the more handsome members of the guard whose voice alone had made it exceedingly hard to keep female staff members focused on their tasks at hand when in proximity. On most days he was assigned to patrolling the perimeter but today he was the back-up if his highness decided that Rhiane Black was not worth his attentions until absolute necessarily. 'Dark Horse 3' would be the most presentable of all the guards and made the best impression on the female sex.

"Is something wrong?" Rhiane asked her beautician. The man pressed his lips together in clear disapproval she was addressing him and gave no reply. Princess elect or not he knew she was a commoner of lower birth than he was. He was not beholden to answer her questions until such time she assumed a royal mantle. Then, and only then, would she wield the power to command him.

"You can't arrive at the ball yourself," one of the ladies in waiting advised quietly when it was clear no one else would give an answer. She took the platform stiletto heels that had been set aside for Rhiane to wear and slipped them onto the farmer's slightly calloused feet.

"Wouldn't want to make too much of a scene," Rhiane acknowledged as she flashed a charming smile to the lady in waiting. The other flushed a little as she helped the princess elect to her feet. Rhiane took a few steps to make certain she could walk in the shoes that made her nearly six feet tall. They were nothing like the heavy work boots she was accustomed to but she had enough coordination and balance that she did not feel unstable. At the end of the day she would undoubtedly be blistered from the impractical footwear- but becoming royalty was not without its own challenges.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

"The south side of the plantation?" Solae repeated slowly as she came up to his side. Rene did not physically look worse for wear but she was not ignorant of the life he had just taken. "Which way is south?" she inquired further with effortless deception as if she had missed his nod. The marquise had been mentally tracking their position since they departed Amber Horizon by astrological observation and what she had memorized of the maps from Lord Armon's manor. Fortunately the soldier not in a mood to question why she had suddenly lost her bearings for he was already fixated on the next obstacle and what they must do to overcome it. She could have made excuses. The days had been long, the struggles great, the trauma significant, the journey difficult, and perhaps that is why he did not spend the time to evaluate the innocently placed query.

Rene lifted his arm and gestured, turning to face the southern direction instinctively. His noblewoman companion seized her opening and slid underneath the outstretched limb. Head tucked against his chest she embraced him with the only comfort she was able to provide in their circumstances. A hug was hardly enough to bolster one from a murder, however deserved, but she hoped to impart even an ounce of strength and appreciation. When all of this was over they would undoubtedly argue who had suffered more under the yoke of the rebellion and reach a stalemate. Solae would never concede that she endured the brunt of a war's brutality.

"I told you that the courts have superior tactics," she teased impishly before she stood on her toes and bestowed a quick kiss upon his cheek. Rene looked puzzled but did not object to the sudden display of affection. Solae was pleased that she able to distract him from the task at hand even if the reprieve from grim reality was short-lived. "Let's go before we lose the last light." Patting his back and releasing him from her hold, she strode off nonchalantly towards the densely planted grove.

Rubber trees had been planted at precise (if not slightly crowded) intervals in rows for maximum efficiency both in growth and navigation for the workers tasked with tending to the flora. Closest to them were saplings still being nurtured; it appeared the native jungle was being cleared as the plantation expanded its borders. Beautiful as a tropical forest might be it was not as profitable a resource as what man could manipulate. The further south they traveled and the larger the trees grew, each of them incised and bearing a single alloy tap from which a bucket hung. Cursory inspection revealed that most had been recently emptied and no container was more then a quarter full of the milky white liquid that was being extracted.

Solae and Rene were both silent as they kept themselves alert for any slavers or other employees of the plantation. There was shouting in the distance but nothing nearby more threatening than a small group of birds fighting over a piece of discarded fruit on the ground to their left. There was a bigger score to be made than raw latex. Nearly very man and woman on New Concordia greedily eyeing the prizes that could be claimed in the chaos of a change of power. Looting and plundering was still rampant days after the initial assaults. For the morally depraved this was a golden opportunity they were more eager to take full advantage of than most.

They breached the end of the unnaturally straight line of rubber trees, crouching behind the trunks of the largest two they could find, and saw a sprawling estate with half a dozen buildings looming several hundred feet away from their current position. Five structures were composed of imported concrete and steel, drab gray in color, rectangular in shape, and obvious warehouses for goods awaiting shipment. The sixth was a three-story garish white house, complete with more balconies than Solae cared to count, and flags for obscure ethnic factions within the Stellar Empire. Frequent rains and a humid climate discolored many of the homes in the area and so that this one was pristine, rather than dappled with moss and moldy green, spoke to an obstinate obsession with at least the appearance of wealth.

Between the couple and the buildings were fields of various crops that were rotated yearly so as to not deplete the soil of its nutrients. One lay fallow far to their right, on the northern most plot, but the others were filled with sugarcane, sweet potatoes, coffea, taro, and sorghum. Of all the choices the sugarcane provided the most potential to conceal themselves on any approach.

"If I can get to one of the buildings, and if they have an AI, I should be able to get in the system and control things from there," Solae whispered. Even with no one in sight she was not taking chances she might be overheard. Had she not known precisely how rusty Rene was in High Imperial she would have continued in its use for the purposes of added security.

"Are you sure?" Rene asked pensively. It was a large gamble to take and he needed to ascertain her level of confidence to help evaluate their chances of success.

"Criminals, or people engaged in criminal behavior, tend to find the back door for law enforcement to override their directives. The one I used on Mia relies on social status and it's so rarely used that I've never heard of it being disengaged. I doubt they even know it exists," she said as she slid down and began to tie her long ponytail into a knot on the top of her head. "Even if they somehow managed to protect against that, however unlikely, I'm familiar enough with the interfaces to brute force my way in."

"We have to get you there first," Rene remarked grimly. Above the harvests, bobbing and weaving around tall stalks and heavy farm equipment, were the heads of those that the slavers had left behind. They were too far away to spot either one of the pair even if had they been standing in the open. Drawing closer, however, would unequivocally gain the attention of the presumed hostiles.

"A trap?" Solae ventured. "I'll stay closer to you this time, but I'm recognizable. If I get a bit closer, make a bit of noise, I can draw them over here where it will be easier for you to ambush them." The marquise frowned to herself. Such a plan would necessitate Rene doing more of what both of them loathed him to do- killing their adversaries. Taking hostages was a luxury of morality, time, and resources they did not have. Fervently she wished there was another way other than through people. They were out of options and she could think of nothing that would spare their shared conscience.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

"Am I okay?" Solae repeated back to Rene incredulously. Both her brows lifted as she took a moment to look him up and down, her eyes lingering on where she knew the fabric to be concealing wounds he acted as if he did not possess. The marquise knew the marines instilled in him a pain tolerance and stamina that exceeded her own but this did not fool her into ignoring them completely. Rene's nerve endings still functioned no matter what he led her to believe.

"You have deep scratches all over your arms, your leg is still pitted from where you pried something sharp out of it, and you were burned, all while trying to save the whole of Amber Horizon, and taking lives in the process so no one else feels the burden. You've consistently put yourself in danger for me, have run yourself veritably ragged selflessly, and just summoned authority you do not relish to make a slaver believe you mean to execute him. And you are asking if I am okay? Renard Lucius Du Quentain," she said, smiling as the name crossed her lips, "if you were not so handsome I might be compelled to strike you upside the head in hopes it knocks some sense into you."

Solae had not answered the question for herself which in itself was telling. The soldier deflected his own needs to focus on her and so she did the same. Such escapism did not do either of them any favors. She had yet to confront the demons of doubt that nightmares had planted into her soul. The marquise was changed by the guilt of survival, the guilt of Rene's protection, the guilt of having happiness when so many were suffering or snuffed out of existence entirely. Articulating this to her consort would place an undue burden on his psyche. He too had crawled out of a mire of death without guidance from the universe as to why or what he ought to do with this opportunity. How could he console her when he was no better?

"I wonder if I asked you the same questions what methods of interrogation I might have to use to get an answer out of you," she wondered aloud idly with an impish grin. Solae stepped forward to be so close that their breath graced one another's skin. "The courts may have the upper hand on tactics here I believe. Maybe if I were to..."

It was as she leaned in as it to plant a kiss upon his neck that two Syshin rounded the corner and found themselves in the midst of human display of affection. One female gasped and dropped a basket she was carrying while the other stared, unblinking, with studious detachment.

Red-faced Solae moved back and cleared her throat. Pink colored her ears no matter how fervently she tried to stifle her embarrassment. Were they happened upon by other people (such as Oanh and Min Ho) then she would have nonplussed, but Syshin did not understand the 'mating rituals' of humans unless they were sold into sexual slavery. Being watched by them felt inherently strange because she was not just herself, performing an action all others did, rather she was a demonstration for curious foreigners.

"We brought... things," one of them struggled in broken common. Leaning down the shorter Syshin picked up her basket and presented it to Rene and Solae jointly. "Things for... move? Journey?"

Rene, who seemed substantially less mortified than Solae, took the gift graciously. There were several items in the basket but they were all thoughtfully sized to fit into the backpack that no longer was being used for transporting wine. Leaves had been wrapped around a foodstuff not unlike rations that was composed of rice, dried fruits, vegetables, and nuts to maximize its nutritional value. Two small earthenware jars were labeled 'Bruise' and 'Cut' and filled with ointments made by their healers. Long strips of fabric had been tightly rolled for use as bandages were they to find themselves injured. Set slightly to the side, however, was a small brick of a sweet-smelling biscuit that was more confection than meal supplement.

"To eat, for hurt, and for..." the Syshin faltered and looked to the other as she gestured to the block that reminded Solae of a bizarrely-shaped cookie.

"Bonded use it to help bring child," the other said as she patted Rene's hand. In their culture fertility was a brief window that all bonded had to make use of if they hoped for the continuation of their species. Due to this facet of their society they assumed that all bonded were actively trying to conceive- including humans. People did not speak with Syshin long enough to clarify this misunderstanding.

Solae was stunned into silence, a rarity that was increasingly common with recent events. "I... we...," she tried to form a coherent sentence but failed. The Syshin smiled knowingly which only made the marquise more perplexed. There was no tactful to broach the fact that although Rene and she called one another 'bonded' for simplicity they were not wed and, in fact, were not preparing to become parents.

[MxF] (Mature; 18+) Looking for Long Term Partner

Bump!

My arranged marriage partner has had to take a hiatus from RP to focus on his real life. As such, I am seeking a royal arranged marriage plot ONLY. It can either be one of the ones presented above or one of your creation. If you had previously reached out to me and disappeared, but these ideas now exited you, if you pinky swear not to vanish again I'm happy to hear from you!