III
Peers
"Tyrants, not Gods!"
-Final words of Mark LaFluer
Hung for terrorism, high treason, 2024
-Gallia-
You choose a handgun from Peter's rack, a black SIG Sauer. The gun is a comforting weight in your hand, power given form, and you release a breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding. You were trained extensively in all forms of combat, everything from hand-to-hand to anti-material rifles, but you have always excelled with smaller guns. You wrap the holster around your hip and draw the weapon free once, testing your reaction time.
Before you head back over to Clementine and Charlotte, another gun catches your eye – almost like a revolver, but with an elongated barrel and a miniature drum magazine where the chambers would be. The trigger is set back behind the magazine, giving the weapon a stretched aesthetic. You gesture towards it. "Is that…"
Peter picks it up almost reverently. "The Colt Knightshot," he says, holding the gun out to you for inspection. "I always wanted to requisition one but never had the excuse. Now that I'm serving adjacent to an actual Knight I thought…" he shrugs. "I just wanted to look at one."
"It's beautiful," you admit. The Colt Knightshot is a pistol capable of firing six 12-gauge shotgun shells as fast as its wielder can pull the trigger. Technically a normal human
could use one, but they were as likely to break their wrist as they were to hit their target. Even Knights, with all their strength and precision, had trouble wielding the weapon effectively. But
damn if it didn't look cool. "I've never wanted anything this much."
"She's yours, buddy," Peter says, placing the gun in your hands. "Needs a special harness, let me dig it out." A minute later you're fully outfitted, the SIG Sauer on one hip, the Knightshot on the other.
"Boys and their toys," Clementine murmurs as you make your way back to her. "Sure you need all that firepower for a photo op?"
"I like to be prepared."
"For a bear?" Clementine asks.
"Class-A dermal strengthening enchantments can resist handgun rounds even within ten feet," you reply, taking a seat in front of her. You have to adjust the Knightshot to get it to fit, but that says
nothing about the weapon's impracticality. "No point in taking chances, right?"
Clementine just laughs. "Don't let me get in the way of your fun," she says, attaching a length guard to her clippers. "It's a good day for both of us. Charlotte's decided to let you go the bad boy route." She runs her fingers through your hair and gets to work, sawing your unruly curls into something more manageable. "This isn't really the style up north," she says as she works. "It started with some of the mercenary companies down in Habesha, right around the Horn."
The Kingdom of Habesha, ruled by House Libra, is a wealthy but unstable House maintained by the support of local warlords. You know it fairly well – the Habeshan appetite for Knights is never sated, and it's said that its Warlords order Knights and Squires in bulk. Your camp was too prestigious to accept such a crude offer, but you know of several Knights who had been shipped down to Habesha to fulfill more specific orders.
"Well, the important thing isn't where it started, but what it represents," Clementine continues. "The press sees the undercut, they think 'exotic' and 'danger.' We help that impression along a little bit, with the unbuttoned jacket, and the motorcycle, and I guess even the gun that makes it look like you're compensating for something. The narrative practically writes itself." She shears off a last little bit of hair just above the back of your neck and puts her hands on her hips, examining you. "Not half bad, for a rush job. Here." She hands you a pair of aviators, deep green lens in gunmetal frames.
"Is he ready?" Charlotte asks, not looking up from her tablet. "The Heirs are already inside the palace. We need to get him on his way."
"He's ready," Clementine says.
Charlotte nods. "Good. Get up." You stand, and she shoves a jumble of small objects into your chest. "This is your cell, an ID with the royal seal, a credit card and the keys to Peter's bike. The phone should have all the contacts you'll need, including myself and the Heiress. It also has Lord Aries' private number. You are
only to call this number if directly ordered by myself or Jacqueline, do you understand?"
You snap a salute, right fist over your heart. "Yes Ma'am."
She motions for you to follow her and leads you out of the house. "Jacqueline is meeting with the Heirs from Houses Taurus and Scorpio," she says as you walk, "as well as with representatives from House Capricorn. You don't need to concern yourself with the specifics, but understand that you represent House Aries now. How you comport yourself reflects not only on Lord Aries and Jacqueline, but Gallia as a whole."
"I understand." Peter's motorcycle is practically an antique, a WLA from 70 years ago, painted the red and gold of House Aries. You take a seat and run your hands along the handlebars, familiarizing yourself with the vehicle.
"Take care of her!" Peter calls from the doorway, and you give him a thumbs up.
Your cell phone guides you through the streets of Lutetia, Gallia's capital. Lutetia is an ancient city, nearly as old as the Zodiac Court itself, and its age is reflected in its architecture, which shifts from antique to ultra-modern seemingly at random. Wide, paved streets intersect with narrow cobblestone walkways, and massive spires of glass and steel neighbor modest brick and mortar apartments. The city is also dotted with fountains, beautifully carved from marble or sculpted out of precious metals. The Lutetian fountains are known throughout the world, each crafted by a different designer, and artists from all corners of the Court flock to the city for a chance to add to the collection.
The closer you get to the palace, the thicker traffic gets. Soon you're weaving in between unmoving cars, picking your way through the traffic jam. A red-jacketed security guard with a FAMAS slung across his chest gestures you to stop at a checkpoint, but you flash your ID and he lets you pass.
The palace is a massive, sprawling building that faces Lutetia's main road, a U-shaped front lodge built of brick and cut stone. Two large, asymmetrical wings branch off from the main building, and you know from your studies that the palace extends back for over a mile, hundreds of years of near-constant construction coming together to create a monument to the wealth and power of House Aries. You pull your motorcycle up to a red-jacketed valet who can't be much older than you and hand him the keys. "Take care of her," you say as you dismount, and he nods eagerly.
The walkway and steps leading up to the palace are a madhouse of bodies – cheering fans, armed security, and camera wielding reporters. It seems that the gathering of three of thirteen Heirs is hardly a quiet event. Several reporters noticed you pull up on the motorcycle, and as you approach the walkway they begin turning their attention to you, muttering amongst themselves.
You show your ID to a security guard and are waved through the gate separating the common rabble from the walkway. Your first step onto the ancient stone is met with a high-pitched shriek of elation, which dies down as the gathered crowd realizes they don't actually recognize you. Still, you're battered with the flash of cameras as you make your way up towards the palace steps, and reporters shove microphones at you as you pass, shouting questions in your general direction.
"Does House Aries have a comment about the recent Church allegations?" One reporter asks.
"Any comment on the Transylvanian border situation?"
You quicken your pace, but there's no outrunning the attention. You've run through machine gun fire, trekked across forests in below freezing weather, and faced down creatures straight out of a nightmare. Somehow this is worse than all of it. You shield your eyes against the flash of cameras and press onwards.
"-Weakening relations with House Taurus-"
"-Jacqueline's visits to Greyshore-"
"-Announcement of an Honor Guard-"
Luckily, the stairs leading up to the front balcony are clear of any reporters. You take them two at a time, salute the security guards posted at the door, and step into the palace proper. The doors swing shut behind you, and you lean up against them in a moment of quiet relief. The first time is always the most difficult. When you have to face the paparazzi next, you'll be better prepared.
"First time with the press?" The words, spoken in Ausonian, come from a man to your left. Thirty or so, he has a shaved head and a scarred face, and wears a single breasted jacket with large pockets on either side of the buttons. His jacket is colored a deep royal purple, and a patch bears the symbol of House Capricorn in stark white. An ARX160 hangs from a strap around his neck.
He extends a hand. "Name's Benny. Capricorn security."
"James," you reply, shaking his hand with your own. "Aries security."
"You're a little late," Benny mentions. "The Heirs have already moved to the meeting room. Very closed door, very hush hush."
You glance up at him. "I'm a little behind, yeah. Apparently there was a last minute rescheduling.
Benny rubs the back of his neck. "I know, I know. Not my call. Boss got a stick up his ass this morning, for whatever reason. Said the talks couldn't wait." He shrugs. "What are you going to do?"
What indeed? You cast a glance around the room, taking stock of the situation.
The palace's reception hall is a long hallway with high, vaulted ceilings. Paintings and statues line the walls. and decadent gold and crystal chandeliers hang high above your head. Men with guns are posted at regular intervals – most wear Aries red, but one or two wear Capricorn purple, and others wear Taurus brown or Scorpio jade.
At one corner, a group of boys around your age has gathered around a leashed dragon, still young enough to only come up to your knee. It flies circles just above their heads, spitting flames and catching bits of beef jerky that they toss it. Its golden scales ripple in the light. Of the gathered boys you recognize two – two Dukes from the Kingdom of Aztlan, Honor Guards to the Heir of House Taurus.
House Taurus is the most powerful of the four Houses in the western world, an old and storied House which had fled across the ocean after an attempted coup. Settling in what would become Atzlan, they dominated the natives of their new home with steel and sorcerery, and it was said that even today they practiced blood sacrifice on the steps of ancient pyramids. The House's Heir, Rodrigo, is nowhere to be seen, but you know him to be a handsome boy of eighteen, charismatic and wildly popular with his subjects.
In the far corner, sitting cross-legged on the ground is a girl you recognize as Lian – the younger sister of Mei, Heiress of House Scorpio. She is surrounded by boys and girls, teenagers slightly younger than yourself, watching intently as she tosses dice of carved bone. House Scorpio is reclusive and secretive, preferring to remain within their own borders rather than venturing into the wider world of the Zodiac Court. They also maintain a powerful navy, which they use to control their Kingdom's many islands.
Now that you're inside, you suppose you should start earning your keep as a Knight in House Aries' employ. There's no chance they'll let you into the room where the Heirs are talking, not if even the Honor Guard has been left outside. But the suddenness of the meeting could mean holes in security. You could sweep the perimeter; make sure nothing's amiss.
Or you could turn your attention to the Honor Guards. You're still not entirely sure why the Heirs are meeting here and now, and nobody in this room will be better informed than the people handpicked to accompany the Heirs at every waking moment.
Still…it wouldn't be improper for a Knight to approach the Honor Guard, especially given your role as Jacqueline's protector, but the Honor Guards seem insular, tight knit. You might have a better chance getting answers out of the security – Benny seems talkative.
[] Sweep the perimeter
[] Talk to the Taurus Honor Guard
[] Talk to the Scorpio Honor Guard
[] Talk to Benny
[] Write In
