Shattered Empire: A Noble Warlord Quest (CKII)

[X] Refuse to wear the Guard uniform, and instead remain with your normal attire. You have no interest in such pomp and circumstance at this time.

You chew your lip for a few seconds. He's right in that legitimacy is an important thing right now - but as you look at the servant, standing silently at attention, with the dark green jacket held out in front of her, doubt asserts itself. These are big shoes to fill - and people will certainly think less of you if you parade around in them, as ill-fitting as they are.

You make a decision. "No." At Vladimir's raised eyebrow, you continue. "I have no intention of simply declaring myself Tsarina just yet - doing so might be seen as overstepping my station."

Vladimir frowns. "With… respect, Anastasia, you will be presenting yourself as the legitimate Tsarina. It may not yet be your station officially, but that's still the front you need present."

Something in your uncle's tone angers you, just a little bit. It reminds you of the steedmasters of the Winter Palace, as they attempted to coax spooked farstriders into their pens. Calming, soothing - patronizing.

You clench your jaw, forcing down the instinctive urge to snap at him. Instead, you take a deep breath and prepare to double down on your decision. "Uncle, if Egonova won't respect me as the ruler I am, then she won't be much of an ally, will she?" You fold your arms, leaning back in your seat. "Yes, she might take me more seriously superficially if I wear… that," you admit, gesturing with no small irritation at the tapestry of medals and decorations that a servant holds. "But she'll be looking at a uniform, and she won't respect me."

Your uncle frowns, taken aback at your firm declaration, and then relents. "Very well, then, Anastasia. If you know what you're doing." He waves the servant off, and the young woman bows and scuttles off. With a grunt, Vladimir takes a seat at the conference table next to you, folding his hands in thought.

By this point, the other allies you've so far gathered have returned either to their own ships or to Norilsk's surface; Tatiana has retired to her quarters to make a few calls to her "friends" in the Okhrana, Lord Kiril has gone to marshal your combined forces, and only the Baron and Evgeny Aristarkhov remain in the room to talk strategy.

"I'd be careful, dear niece," Vladimir says, stroking his massive beard in thought. "Dame Egonova did not become the most powerful member of the Senate by being friendly."

Evgeny nods, having visibly calmed down after the military people left. "I have worked with her on occasion, whenever the Commons and the Lords conduct joint business. She does not respect bland pleasantries or small talk - get straight to the point, don't deviate, speak with authority." He blinks and then coughs nervously. "Er… if that would please Your Ladyship," he adds as a feeble afterthought.

Deep in thought, you wave aside his rushed genuflection, and try your best to organize your arguments mentally. Egonova's biggest hesitation will likely be the inherent threat from the forces Ivan controls; the fleet in orbit of Moskva will be by far the most problematic, although the ground forces controlled by Ivan's lackeys will pose an issue too.

Egonova may not like Ivan or his coup, but you're reasonably certain that she won't stick out her neck for you without some guarantees of safety. Currently, your biggest asset on that front may actually be the chaos; while Ivan controls space and the capital city, Moskva is a world of billions, and much of the planet's local lords and military officers are in a holding pattern, waiting for someone to make a move. A number of them, particularly in the equatorial jungle regions, have openly declared their opposition to the coup, and apparently, rumors of your survival have only emboldened the resistance.

If you can consolidate them into an effective fighting force - no small task even without the light-years of distance - you have a potential bargaining chip.
_

The hologram flickers to life, and you find yourself slightly taken aback; Dame Svetlana Egonova doesn't look quite how you expected. She has the customary dark brown skin and hair that mark her as originating from the vast savannas of Mikhail, but unlike most of the nobles from that world you've interacted with, she seems to look her age. Her features are weather-beaten and wrinkled, and while she appears to be in mostly good shape, her hair is snowy white and she has visibly shrunken with age.

She hasn't had longevity treatments, you realize. Or, perhaps, she had, but not until they were too late in life to do more than slow down the inevitable. Effective restoration therapies are most effective and long-lasting when applied at a young age, so this implies that Egonova started out as poor as a pauper.

She looks up from a perfectly orderly desk, neat piles of datapads framing her wizened face, and hums thoughtfully. "So you'd be Katya's girl, then?"

You nod, noting the casual dismissiveness in her tone and words. In other circumstances you might have been insulted by this, but you quash any indignation - too much is at stake. "Yes. I must say, it's a relief - and a bit of a surprise - to learn that you're still alive, much less able to get a quantum communicator working in all the chaos."

She neatly places the 'pad she's holding onto its pile; you can hear an audible click over the comm as it magnetically sticks to the half-dozen already in the pile. "I have my ways." She smiles a wry grin. "But you're not here to marvel at the fact that I can afford a private military-grade quantum comm, you're here to recruit help against your baby brother."

You nod. "And I understand that you'll want something in return."

She chuckles. "Yes, I think it's only proper of me to ask for terms before I risk my life, or worse, my money on you."

You nod. "A fair request, one I'd be happy to grant within reason."

She chuckles. "Look who's being all diplomatic. Katya used to have horror stories about you years ago, the little ankle-biter who used to whack servants about the knees with a plastic stick and pretend she was a Blade."

For the first time, you see the ghost of something - sadness, or maybe regret - flit across Dame Egonova's lined face. Then it's gone like a fox down a hole. "In any case," she continues as though nothing had happened, "the most obvious thing is protection." She picks up one of the neatly stacked pads, opening a file and skimming it over. "I have protection for myself, and enough… security contractors" - She says the phrase gingerly, clearly meaning mercenaries - "to go on the proverbial offensive should military force be needed. However, this doesn't mean everyone I can call on will be so well armed - in fact, most of them are soft little politicians who haven't seen a coilgun up close in their lives. We can stop Ivan's coup for you, but not without some help."

You nod, pulling up a file on your own pad. "A few hours ago, we received a brief data packet from Moskva, from a military-registered quantum communicator." You read aloud: "V Legion stands with Her Majesty. Down with the traitor." You bring up another file. "From the 45th Legion, relayed by a courier ship that escaped the system soon after the coup - 'Chaos on Moskva. Tsarina is dead, Ivan responsible. Do not believe the Prince. We're bunkering down in Stavropol, evacuating the civilians. System is blockaded. Send help.'"

You put down the pad. "I've got confirmations from elements of twenty-two of the thirty-five regular Army legions stationed on Moskva. While they're far from complete, if they can be consolidated, they'll be a force to be reckoned with. I can place them under your command, if necessary."

Evonova chuckles. "Not me - but I know how to delegate, girl." She props her chin on her fist, thinking. "All right, so say you have the troops. What about me? What can you give me?"

"The Exchequer," you say promptly. "A smart businesswoman like yourself would probably like to have a hand in the affairs of state economics, no?"

"You don't start small." She huffs a brief laugh. "I like that idea, though - your mother considered it a few times, you know, but she always liked me better in the Senate." She leans back, and seems to chew on her next words for a few seconds. "I just need one more guarantee before I agree. You see, Zaporizhia Arms, one of the constituent parts of my own conglomerate, had a number of lucrative arms manufacturing contracts with the late Tsarina."

"You want them extended?"

"No." She frowns. "I would like one exclusive contract - for all small arms and heavy weapons systems sales to the Armies of Rurik."

Your breath catches in your throat. That's a tall order.

[ ] Attempt to dissuade her from this idea - letting one corporation have a monopoly on weapons contracts is going to make a lot of people very unhappy, and there's the added problem of conflict of interest and price-gouging. You don't want to end up like House Ashoka. That said, should you be unable to talk her down from this idea, you'll have to go with it anyway - and she might not take kindly to it. (Roll using DIP, difficulty 40; if you critically fail, you will take relationship damage with Dame Egonova and have to go through with it anyway).
[ ] Agree to her terms. You can't afford to let this possible savior go, no matter how much it might rankle. (No die roll. There is technically nothing in writing that says you have to keep the promise once all this is done, but beware the consequences…)