The Shape of Surrender

Tor’laen stood a couple of paces behind the Crown Daughters at parade rest, his hands behind his back. Queni’la stood in a similar position next to him, though in a much more casual manner. Lined up on either side of the Royal Hands and their consorts were two squads of Armswomen, one from each Citadel. This was not Orphila, Nalyra had explained — they had no issues bringing down some extra protection with them.

Across from the Zakkili soldiers stood the governor’s security guard, entirely made up of Kelrana. Not too surprising, considering it was the fur-covered aliens’ home planet. The guards were never completely still, their tails seeming to have minds of their own, always swishing back and forth, or curling and uncurling as if restless. At least they seemed competent enough, standing properly at attention. The Kelrana were also suitably equipped, even with their lack of helmets, each wearing body armor and carrying holstered sidearms.

“You have my deepest apologies, Royal Hands.”

The governor’s voice pulled Tor’laen’s attention away from the guards, back to the Zakkili woman sitting behind the large desk in the middle of the room. It was made of polymer and metal, as was every other piece of furniture in the sizable office. Clearly the Planetary Governor didn’t value luxury in her office, and seemed to have no desire to show off. A mark in the woman’s favor, in the Ydani’s opinion.

“I wish I could tell you more about how the situation came about, but we have no more information than you do.” Governor Dizita lowered her head briefly, a show of remorse.

She looked tired, Tor’laen realized, as the woman looked up again. There were large bags under her eyes, and her face was devoid of makeup. Quite a big deal among the Zakkili, from what he had seen. The governor was small, even for a Zakkili, probably halfway between three and four feet, with strawberry blond hair. Her mindthreads were longer than average, Tor’laen had noted, marking her as likely from a Noble House.

“The unknown fleet simply arrived with no warning?” The question came from Zikara.

“They dived in at the edge of Kelran’s gravity well,” the woman standing next to the governor, Admiral Niketa, answered. She was Zakkili as well, her poise and presentation almost a match for Vessa’s. Her face was stern, but Tor’laen could see sweat beading on her forehead under her bangs. “They ignored all hails, and started burning straight towards our main cluster of orbital shipyards. When we received no results from scans for credentials, neither Crown nor combat, we scrambled our fleet to intercept.”

The governor stirred slightly at the words, her lips pressed into a thin line.

“Your actions were commendable, Admiral.” Nalyra gracefully inclined her head at the woman. “What were your losses?”

“Two frigates and a cruiser, Royal Hand.” The woman’s face was grim. “The crews of the cruiser and one frigate were able to evacuate their vessels via escape pods. The other frigate went down with all hands. Their reactor ruptured from a direct railgun hit after their shields failed.”

Queni’la shifted slightly, the movement catching Tor’laen’s eye. The consort looked clearly distressed at the news, his feathery crests drooping.

“You have our condolences, Admiral,” Zikara said solemnly.

“Thank you, Royal Hand,” Niketa returned quietly. “And you have our gratitude for your timely arrival and protection. Many of the fleet’s void shields were reaching critical status when you emerged into the battle.”

“As is our duty.” Nalyra nodded to the woman. “Now, as for the reason we have come…”

“The trade dispute, yes,” the governor replied, straightening up in her seat. “I beg your forgiveness for failing to resolve the situation, Royal Hand. I have done everything in my power to mediate the matter, but I am at my wit’s end. You believe this attack is connected to the dispute?”

“It seems the only logical conclusion.” Nalyra was tapping a single delicate finger on Tor’laen’s dagger at her side.

“And until we can unearth more information on these pirates, it would seem prudent to start to untangle this mess while we wait,” Zikara added. “We have seen the reports, but I would like to hear it from you, governor. How did this dispute start, and what is its current status?”

As she finished speaking, a feeling of pressure started to roll off both Crown Daughters, filling the room. It wasn’t a Press, at least as far as Tor’laen could tell with his limited knowledge. It carried no command, no explicit feeling or emotion, but the weight of the sisters’ power settled over the room all the same. The pressure caused his tongue to feel strangely glued to the roof of his mouth. The Kelrana guards shifted uneasily. Queni’la, for his part, seemed far less affected, though his feathery crests had lowered in faint discomfort.

Governor Dizita’s eyes darted between the two Royal Hands, her knuckles whitening at the pressure.

“Of course, Royal Hands.” She gave another seated half bow. “Roughly three measures ago, High House Freika acquired the exclusive supply contract for Kelran’s shipyards from the House that formerly held it. I do not know how it happened, some private dealings done offworld, perhaps, but it is the first time that contract has changed hands in over fifty years.” Dizita spread both of her hands on the top of her desk, seemingly calmer now that she had started talking. “Currently, High House Tekelli holds the majority of rights for civilian shipments to Kelran, and the exclusive rights to supplying the KPDF. However, in the past few spans, there have been…issues with House Tekelli’s contracts. Shipments delayed or missing, inferior or defective products delivered, incorrect shipping manifests, and the like. Now, House Freika has put forward several petitions to both the High Fortress and my office that House Tekelli is unfit to uphold their contracts.”

“And that those contracts should be transferred to House Freika, no doubt,” Nalyra interjected, her tone grimly amused.

“Just so, Royal Hand.” The governor nodded. “However, since obtaining the supply rights to the shipyards, House Freika has been slowly but steadily raising material costs, through a mixture of surcharges, transit fees, and various related costs. This has angered the Shipbuilder’s Guild, of course, and they have been working with House Tekelli to petition against House Freika’s monopoly of supply rights.”

“A fine mess,” huffed Zikara impatiently.

“Agreed, Royal Hand,” came the governor’s hasty reply. “I have all the most up-to-date relevant information prepared for you. Please give me one moment.” She tapped a button on her desk, leaning closer to the small speaker next to it. “Orli, the files, if you would?”

A few breaths later, the door behind the Royal Hands’ group opened. Tor’laen half-turned to see a harried-looking Kelrana woman hurrying into the office, a pair of tablets clutched in her arms.She handed one to each Crown Daughter with a quick curtsy, her prim skirt swishing around her legs, before moving to stand next to the governor, opposite the Admiral.

“This is Orli, my head secretary,” Dizita offered, and the Kelrana woman gave another curtsy.

“And you have appealed to both Houses?” Nalyra asked offhandedly, already swiping through the data on the tablet she was given.

“Yes, Royal Hand,” the governor replied. “House Freika has simply stonewalled any of my inquiries, while House Tekelli maintains a carefully cultivated mask of righteous anger at the accusations. Neither has been the slightest bit cooperative in my investigations.”

A tense silence fell over the room, as the Crown Daughters perused the information stored on the tablets. Dizita’s gaze bounced between the two women, her anxiety obvious to Tor’laen.

“You have done as well as can be expected, governor, faced with these circumstances,” Zikara finally said, looking at the woman once more.

The governor’s face flooded with relief at the words.

“Yes. Royal Hand Zikara speaks the truth,” Nalyra relented, her eyes still on the tablet in her hand.

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“My most sincere gratitude, Royal Hands.” The governor gave yet another seated bow, as tension seemed to seep away from the room. Both the Admiral and head secretary sagged slightly with relief, and even the Kelrana guards seemed to loosen up, their tails becoming noticeably more animated.

The entire administration had been staring down the barrel of a loaded gun, it seemed. Awaiting the judgement of the Monarchy.

“My sister and I require time to discuss our next moves.” Zikara gestured at the door with her tablet. “I trust you can provide us with an unused room?”

“Certainly, Royal Hand.” Dizita hastily got to her feet. “Orli will guide you.”

Within a few marks, the Crown Daughters’ group was ushered into an unused meeting room, the room every bit as utilitarian as the governor’s office. The two Royal Hands immediately started a quiet discussion, poring over the two tablets, while the Armswomen arranged themselves into suitably defensive positions. Just in case. Orli stayed by the door, clearly waiting to see if the group needed anything else.

“Brother, how are you holding up?”

Tor’laen glanced up to find the other consort approaching, a sympathetic smile on his face.

“This is far from my area of expertise, Queni’la,” he chuckled. “Most of the problems I’ve faced over my career have had…tungsten solutions, let us say.”

The other man’s eyes widened a bit at that, his expression torn between concern and admiration.

“Quite a dangerous career, from the sounds of it,” the Aurelai managed to say after a breath.

“Trust me, I would rather storm an enemy position under fire than try to unravel whatever it was that we just heard.” Tor’laen shook his head, a rueful smile on his face.

“Oh, it was nothing too complicated, I should think. House Freika acquired sole material supply rights to the shipyards, likely using duress or blackmail, and is now using their position to squeeze the Shipbuilder’s Guild for more profit,” Queni’la explained. “House Tekelli, on the other hand, has supply rights to the civilian infrastructure and KPDF. However, recently their supply chain has become unreliable, either due to sabotage or neglect, though I think it is probably a combination of both. Now Tekelli is working with the Shipbuilder’s Guild to try and push Freika out, while Freika claims the other House is unworthy of their contracts. That leaves the Kelran government stuck in the middle, without enough legal pull to investigate either side.”

Tor’laen simply stared at the man for a moment. Nearly the entire explanation given by the governor had gone straight over his head — a mash of House names and supply rights, but Queni’la had just explained the entire thing in a few sentences. Impressive. He was clearly more than just the “pretty trophy” Nalyra often wrote the man off as.

“I…I see,” he said finally.

The Aurelai’s feathers quivered as the man chuckled.

“It’s nothing too impressive, brother. Trust me.” He patted the Ydani gently on the shoulder. “You’ll get used to it — such is the fate of the consort to a Crown Daughter and Royal Hand.”

“Perhaps.” Tor’laen returned a small smile to the other consort. “But for now, I think I will focus on the shield part of Shield Consort. Play to my strengths.”

“A fine plan as well.” Queni’la nodded.

“However, at the moment…” Tor’laen moved past Queni’la, nearing the entrance of the room. The Kelrana secretary stiffened at his approach.

“How can I help you, Consort?” she asked, giving another curtsy.

“It was Orli, correct?”

“Yes, Consort. Do you require anything?” The woman’s spoken Zakkili was excellent, despite a moderately thick accent. Not enough to make communication difficult, though.

“Actually, I was wondering…” Tor’laen lowered his voice, and tried to get the Outrunner Captain authority out of his tone. “How are the citizens of Kelran feeling about this dispute? How do the Kelrana feel about this?”

“Consort?” Orli’s gaze darted around frantically, and her tails curled defensively around one of her legs. Tor’laen backed off a bit, trying not to make the woman feel trapped. “I’m-I’m certain that the governor already gave you all the pertinent information…”

Tor’laen could almost feel Nalyra’s gaze upon him, as focused as a laser on what her consort was up to. The Ydani wasn’t quite sure how it worked, so he internally rooted around for some trace of their connection, their Bridge. When he thought he found it, he pushed a feeling of reassurance towards it, as hard as he dared. A heartbeat later, and Nalyra’s tentative acceptance brushed his mind.

“Please, do not worry, Orli.” Tor’laen raised his hands, palms toward the Kelrana woman, trying to show his lack of bad intentions. “This is not an official inquiry or something similar. Just as one non-Zakkili to another, how are the people feeling?”

Orli hesitated for a long moment, her gaze bouncing between him and the surrounding Zakkili women. She seemed very eager to speak on the matter — about her people’s view of the whole situation.

“Many people are…unhappy, Consort,” she finally said, voice barely above a whisper. “We Kelrana don’t care much for politics even when it directly affects us. For the average citizen, this trade dispute is vague and distant, but the consequences are being felt all over Kelran. There are already talks of food rationing, and many businesses cannot fill their shelves.” She wrung her hands worriedly. “If you asked someone on the street about it, I imagine their only opinion would be that they want both these Houses to shut up and get out.” She seemed to catch herself, eyes darting worriedly to his face. “Please excuse my lack of decorum, Consort.”

“Do not worry, Orli. In fact, thank you for the honest answer.” He tried to give her a soft smile, not sure how gentle his scarred face would allow it to be. “I believe it is always important to keep the citizens in mind when approaching an issue such as this.”

He gave her a final nod, then moved away, not wanting to add to the woman’s stress. He had barely made it a few paces before he felt the slight tap of Nalyra’s mind on his. He didn’t push her away.

Were you able to learn anything useful, Tor’laen? Her mental voice was smooth, cool.

Just that it seems like neither House is favored by the civilian population. And it’s already affecting much of Kelran.

I am not surprised. There was something like a mental sigh from her. I have not personally dealt with these houses, but the reports here all paint both of them as obstinate and sufficiently unconcerned with the well-being of the planet. A regrettable situation, and one that is becoming too common among certain High Houses.

Oh? You don’t commend them for their clever political maneuvering?

He felt a sensation like a playful psychic whap across his mind, only for Nalyra’s thoughts to pull back a heartbeat later, with the slightest quiver of regret.

Tor’laen simply smiled to himself, letting his amused feelings reach her.

Being clever at politics is to be applauded, but not when it comes at a cost to subjects and civilians, came Nalyra’s mental chiding, laced with a tiny undercurrent of relief at his reaction. The Monarchy’s promise is to provide comfortable, safe lives to its subjects — something I am personally sworn to uphold.

Tor’laen had settled into his usual spot, behind the Crown Daughter, trying not to betray any hints of their psychic conversation. He still wasn’t quite sure what the etiquette was for things like this. Perhaps a sound idea to question Nalyra about it further sometime.

Be patient a moment longer, Tor’laen. My sister and I are finalizing our next moves.

Impressive that she could hold a mental conversation and a physical one at the same time. He leaned slightly closer to the Crown Daughters, trying to hear what they were saying.

“...then shall I leave Freika to you, Nalyra?” Zikara was saying, still swiping through the various reports on her tablet.

“I would think so, sister. You’ve dealt with Tekelli before, haven’t you?”

“Their High Matron and a pair of her daughters. Nothing major, simply a questioning of one of their sponsorships. The old bat certainly strikes me as someone who could let control of her House slip through her fingers unknowingly.”

One of Nalyra’s ears flicked.

“That old bat is a High Noble, Zikara,” Nalyra said sternly, glaring at her sister. “Are you looking to start a House feud?”

“Who’s going to tell her I called her that?” the other woman scoffed. “Your Ydani? He doesn’t seem the type to spill family secrets.” Zikara glanced up at Tor’laen, giving him a grin and a wink, clearly aware that he was discretely listening in.

“Do not wink at my consort, sister. Lest you want me to burn your husband's ears with the details of some of your past sordid deeds after this is all finished.”

“My, my…so strict,” Zikara chuckled. “Very well, I’ll be sure to leave your man all to you. Promise.”

Nalyra ignored the woman’s answer, pointedly looking back to the tablets. Tor’laen felt a whisper of her irritation crawl between them.

“As for Freika, I have never dealt with them before, but I know well this type of High House,” she said, pulling the quiet conversation back to the previous topic.

“You don’t want to confront them together?”

“Not yet.” Nalyra shook her head. “Let us save that for later, if the…diplomatic approach fails.”

“Then it is settled?”

“Yes.” That familiar predatory smile crept back onto Nalyra’s face. “Let us see these Houses try to stonewall a pair of Crown Daughters on the hunt, shall we?”