Castel Stirling, Royal Demesne, Novy Moskva Military District
Eden, Edenstar System
Pentagram Cluster, Solar Hegemony in Exile
A single, solitary glow-tube flickered on-off-on with a great industrial ‘ker-chunk’ and then a whining, buzzing hum, deep in the bowels of Castel Stirling, then another, and another. Flickering sickly-yellow lights illuminated a dusty under-mountain, under-castel bunker, where-in strategic war-materials; beans, bullets, band-aids, fuels, lubricants, spare-parts, alcohol, water, and other precious bulk-stores of war materiels were kept vouch-safe against some dimly foreseen far future Ragnarök. The buzzing soulless glow of the miliary-standard tubes cast four dancing shadows on the bare rockcrete walls as two pairs of young men and women emerged from the spiral staircase into the Spartan and grey room.
"We shouldn't be down here," said Peter 'Shep' Shepherd Savoy-Metaxas, Megas-Doux de Novo Hellenika (after the presumed death of his Father the previous Megas-Doux Leon in the palais coup of Tubal Khan, cursed be his memory), Lord-in-Waiting and Retainer to His Grace, Arcturus Pendrakul von Hapsburg-Hohenzollern y Rhomanov-Stirling, second of his name, by grace of God Hegemon-presumptive and First Lord apparent of the Solar Hegemony-in-Exile, Grand Duke of Earth, Defender of the Faith, Chief Warden of the Marches, Lord Commander of the Black Watch, etc, etc, the brat.
"Did you bring the dhole-wyrmling, Mattie?" asked the very brat himself-himself, a boyish youth of seven and ten summers, awkwardly lanky with his latest growth spurt but clearly handsome and noble of features, almost inhuman in symmetry, classically hawkish of face, piercing ice blue eyes and effortlessly wavy blonde hair in page-boy cut.
"Indeed Archie, and you the dust-water?" answered the Lady Mathilda Mary Margaret von Hapsburg-Hohenzollern y Rhomanov-Stirling, Princess of Dixie (the traditional honorary princedom granted the heir-apparent of the Grand Duke of Earth), so alike her brother it was near unnatural, save for a slight softening of shape and features, hints of feminine charms concealed by boyish clothing and stance, and slightly longer page-cut wavy blonde hair, the very distaff twin of her brother. They both carried themselves and spoke with a grace and dignity far beyond their natural years and an aura of fierce and indomitable command that was near impossible to resist. As both Doux Peter and the Lady Joanna 'Jo-Jo' Jolette d'Avion-Genke could well attest, having followed their liege-charges as body-guards cum body-attendants and also childhood friends, confidants, and partners-in-crime into scheme after prank after scheme, never once blaming their younger superiors and never once rating them out, for their honour was their loyalty.
"I have a bad feeling about this Shep" said the Lady Joanna, herself holding a metal basin in her hands, the flickering soulless light flattening her normally striking red hair and sharpening her already striking features that blended Celto-Bretton and Nihongo ideals of beauty, as if to ignore the scheming of the mere seventeen-year-olds beside them. The two retainers shared a look of long-suffering patience combined with that air of superiority often felt by those in their majority for those still in their awkward teenage years.
Paul grinned, his face lighting up in the impish joy of that particularly boyish delight in breaking all the rules as he replied, his classically Latin-European raven colouring and Italo-Slavic features a contrast with the Germano-Slavic blood of the Stirling-Rhomanovs and the wild Celto-Japanese look of the D’Avion-Genke scion, "Yeah, me too Jo-Jo, but it'll be fun!" Then he led the way into the chamber and unslung his pack as he began unpacking in preparation for the ritual.
Joanna sighed and muttered "The Queen-Mother is going to murder us both, Shep." Then she hefted the large basin and moved to help Peter.
Arcturus and Mathilda looked at each-other then and shared knowing smiles.
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