Architecture and Intimacy (cca. 10,124)

[Elrood IX]

There was much about being Emperor which Elrood loved, but only a fool would assume that there were not also things he disliked. Every position in life, even that of Padishah Emperor, came with responsibilities as well as privileges and the Palace maintenance and improvement schedule was one such tiresome duty.

A building as vast as the Imperial Palace required constant care and attention, as well as a need to be perpetually on the cutting edge of fashionable design. It would never do for House Corrino to be seen lagging behind trends or letting its mighty edifices fall into disrepair. Now of course most decisions in this area did not concern Elrood; he employed a large number of bureaucrats and paid them very handsomely to ensure that the little tweaks and touches were taken care of without him ever needing to know. There were some changes though, large changes which could alter the entire character of the Palace, which did require his personal attention as Emperor and head of the family. The redevelopment of the Shaddam II wing was one such. This vast and sprawling section of the Palace had barely seen an upgrade since the days of its namesake Emperor and was frankly showing its age. Baby Kailea was also growing fast and Elrood hoped fervently that she would be joined by a son and heir soon enough, so he had resolved to revive the virtually derelict wing as a an area to accommodate his offspring. Updated with all the latest modern refinements he would create suites and galleries fit for an Emperor's children, fit for a Crown Prince.

Tenders had been received from renowned architects the length and breadth of the Imperium and now Elrood had gathered four of his closest advisors to make the final selection from a shortlist of six. Arranged in comfortable chairs around the large clearplaz table in the centre of the small boardroom, bright glowglobes drifting overhead, the four first spent a few minutes gathering their thoughts and scrutinizing the various papers and filmbooks which accompanied the tenders. Spice coffee and finger food was served. Finally Elrood, clad in an elegant suit of purest gold silk embroidered with the Corrino lion motif on its breast, called the meeting to order.

"All of the architects on the shortlist check out security-wise, your Highness", the head of Palace Security spoke first , "None of them have any criminal convictions and all have been advised of the requirement that labourers and artisans working in the Palace be at least C2 certified".

Elrood nodded, always pleased with the razor sharp efficiency of his Sardaukar. The General Bashar would have combed extensively into the background of all the applicants and he felt confident that no criminals or would-be assassins could have got past his vigilance. However this didn't help him in actually making a decision. Next he turned to House Mentat Bri Tahnee, clad in her trademark dark grey bodysuit, who had been tasked with a financial analysis of the various tenders.

"Majesty, as instructed I have examined all the tenders for financial soundness. I have also used the bidders' last five years worth of accounts to extrapolate their likelihood of running over budget and modelled the possible market fluctuations in all of the materials they listed in their proposals. The best value tender by my estimation is Hogarth of Poritrin, and here are the others in rank order for your perusal".

Elrood smiled as Tahnee delivered the analysis in her characteristic tone which was two thirds boredom and one third respectfulness. He loved the look on the pretty blonde Mentat's face when she was made to do something so manifestly below her abilities, but he of course was the Emperor and he could command such. He might have rebuked or even punished others for speaking in such tone, but there was something erotic about the way Bri Tahnee did intellectual disdain.

"Thank you, Ms Tahnee" he replied before turning to his white suited Chamberlain, "Now, Horance, what have you with your impeccable eye for style and good taste discovered?"

"Well your Majesty, and thank you by the way for the most generous compliment, I have indeed applied my considerable experience to this matter. I feel we can discard Meriwether Associates, O'Malley of Ecaz, and Falconer Brothers right off the bat. All three are offering designs at least a season old which are gracing the castles and keeps of at least two other Great Houses already. Your Highness of course wishes to be a trend-setter, not a follower. Of the remaining three I consider Malachi Partners of Kaitain to offer a design which is at once daringly avant-garde and yet completely in keeping with the Palace as a whole. Lothander of Lampadas and Hogarth also have fine offerings, although I find Hogarth's perhaps a touch on the austere side. Lothander, well his submission is very nice but I am not personally familiar with his work, although perhaps if we wanted to give him his first break into the big time. Naturally of course my opinions, no matter how well considered, are merely my opinions, and will be for your Majesty with your ineffable wisdom to make the final decision".

"Thank you, Horance" replied Elrood, wondering how much they could extract from de Lanier daily were it actually possible to bottle obsequiousness, "We always value your eye for the finer things in life".

He couldn't help noticing too that Malachi Partners came firmly at the bottom of Tahnee's good value list. Of course as Emperor money was no object to him and he had no problem spending it in copious amounts in the pursuit of genuine quality. However, de Lanier's preoccupation with the notion that spending more always got you more rubbed him up the wrong way sometimes. There was no point wasting money just for the purpose of appearing ostentatious.

"And you, Reverend Mother?" he continued, turning to face the black-haired form of Miral Alechem, "I trust you have interviewed all the prospective architects? What does your Truthsense tell you regarding them?"

So far it seemed to be a straight choice between Tahnee's good value but a touch austere and de Lanier's ultra-stylish but also seemingly ultra-expensive. He would be keen to see whether Miral Alechem's witch powers gifted her any insight one way or the other.

[Miral Alechem]

Unlike most of those currently assembled together in order to decide which famed architect would have the honour of renovating the Shaddam II wing, Reverend Mother Miral Alechem was precisely where she wanted to be.

The only exception appeared to be Chamberlain Horance de Lanier, who never missed an opportunity to flutter around the Emperor with a kind of abject servility the Reverend Mother found increasingly tiresome, and his tendency to ramble tested, at times, even her own patience. By contrast, Bri Tahnee was a woman of exceptionally few words who made her points curtly and pragmatically in the manner of most mentats, but with the additional air of someone performing a tedious chore. There were rumours floating around the Palace that a rivalry existed between the Reverend Mother and Tahnee, generally seen as the Emperor's top two strategic advisers, though Miral did not regard it as such. Her assignments as Imperial Truthsayer did not have much to do with Tahnee's Mentat duties, though there were occasions when the same matter demanded both their input. As for the fourth and last member of the gathering, General Bashar Gustafsson, he was only there to confirm that all of the candidates had passed his security checks and nothing else; the actual decision-making was down to Miral, Bri Tahnee, the Chamberlain and, of course, the Emperor.

Robed as always in black from neck to floor and wearing an expression of aloof discernment, Miral Alechem listened to their reports while she mulled over the ruse she had agreed to play at Josephine Vortigern's request. One of the names on that list belonged not to an architect at all, but instead to an agent of the Bene Gesserit charged with the immensely sensitive duty of fathering a child with the Princess Shalandra Corrino as part of a key stage in the Kwisatz Haderach program. Damien Lothander, masquerading as an up-and-coming star architect complete with references and a portfolio acquired at considerable difficulty by Miral and those contacts within the Sisterhood she could trust with the information. Finding a suitable cover story for Lothander had been, in itself, quite the challenge: no mere servant would have the chance of getting close enough to the Princess Royal for the seduction to take place, and even the Sisterhood with its ample resources couldn't afford to safely fake a noble title. The architect persona was as close as they could get: while technically still a commoner, he would be counted among the courtiers for the duration of the project and, just as importantly, it gave him the perfect excuse to stay at the Palace. The rest would fall into Lothander's reputedly capable hands: like the Sisters of the Emissariae Espion, he had trained as extensively as time permitted and studied the details of both his assignment and new identity in memory-trance, a most efficient way of recording information taught by the Bene Gesserit. In fact, he was as close as a man could get to becoming one of them and, if Miral had read correctly between the lines of the reports her Lampadas contact had sent, even closer than what was the norm.

Miral was snapped out of her light musings by the sight of Emperor Elrood turning to look at her. Nothing about her outward appearance changed, but thanks to the simulflow technique she had been keeping perfect track of everything spoken until that point and was preparing to give the negotiations a much needed nudge in the right direction.

"And you, Reverend Mother?" the Emperor prompted "I trust you have interviewed all the prospective architects? What does your Truthsense tell you regarding them?"

Her long, thin fingers grasping a few sheets of ridulian paper resting on the table before her, Miral gave the lightest of nods.

“I have, your Majesty”, she spoke, “And in principle I agree with both the Chamberlain and Ms. Tahnee's estimates, though personally I would cross Hogarth off the list entirely; his style might have been adequate two or three generations ago but no longer. He clings too much to tradition. The work of the Malachi Partners certainly is impressive, but so are their rates, which I've found unnecessarily steep when the same standard of quality can be found elsewhere, at a more reasonable price.”

Miral placed her index finger on Damien's name.

“Damien Lothander. It is true he doesn't have the same reputation as the others but I do believe” Miral paused a moment to activated a holoprojector displaying a collage of Lothander's previous work, skillfully counterfeited by the Bene Gesserit “his portfolio speaks for itself, and his rates are a third lower than the Malachis'. Furthermore, this project would place his name among those of the Imperium's finest architects for the first time and Your Majesty would be the one who put it there by recognizing fresh talent instead of opting for the more traditional, but safer options.”

[Elrood IX]

Elrood listened with interest to the Reverend Mother’s assessment, a smile forming on his lips as she finished. Yes! This was exactly right, neither de Lanier with his obsession for spending money in the pursuit of ostentation nor Tahnee with her hard-headed devotion to numbers were looking at the bigger picture. Not only was this a question of how to best refurbish part of the Palace but it was also about how he would be seen and judged as Emperor. Were not nearly all decisions taken by the nobility, and by him in particular, influenced as much by style and perception as much as by practicalities? Those born into positions of power could consider themselves true rulers only as long as they carried public opinion with them, once you lost that you became either a tyrant or a laughing stock, and Elrood was determined that he would not join the ranks of those Emperors who had gone down in history as uncultured oafs or spendthrift dandies. Here, in a small way, was a chance for him to bolster his culture credentials by giving a new upcoming architect a chance to shine.

“Yes” he replied, “Reverend Mother you do seem to be onto something here. We are most interested in recognizing and rewarding talent, for such is the hallmark of a truly enlightened leader”.

"Sire”, blustered de Lanier, “While wanting to offer a leg up to a newcomer is laudable and of course well in line with your Majesty's magnanimous streak, might it not be a risk to far? The damage to the royal reputation if this Lothander turns out not to be up to scratch..."

"On the contrary" replied Elrood, cutting him off, "Reputation is exactly why he will work harder and provide better value than his more famous competitors. He will be hungry, desperate for the big boost that pleasing the Padishah Emperor will give him. He will know that this contract could make or break him in a way that it never could the others with their cushions of existing kudos".

The chamberlain opened his mouth to speak again but a look from Elrood silenced him. Instead the Emperor turned his attention to the blonde mentat on his left.

"Ms. Tahnee, what say you?"

"Lothander does not represent as good a value as Hogarth by my analysis” she replied with just the merest hint of disdain hovering in her tone regarding the fact that Elrood was not basing his choice solely on numbers and logic, “but of course your Highness has to take account of a wider variety of considerations than pure mathematical evaluation alone. I make no objection to his selection".

“His security rating was excellent” added Gustafsson, perhaps feeling that he was being a little left out of the discussion, “All of his workers are C2 certified and the man himself even holds a C1 plus certification. The only thing higher is of course the Imperial Conditioning of a Suk doctor”.

Elrood nodded. A C1 plus certificate was indeed a difficult and expensive thing to come by, requiring many hours of interviews and examinations along with detailed background checks and an interview with a two Truthsayers as a matter of course. He wasn’t going to base his judgement on security considerations alone of course, for he trusted his Sardaukar implicitly to keep him safe from any possible threat that a disgruntled architect could pose, but it still strengthened his argument a little in the selection.

“Thank you, General” he replied, “Yes, indeed we have reached our decision. The contract for the refurbishment of the Shaddam II wing shall be awarded to Lothander of Lampadas. Horance, please make whatever arrangements are necessary”.

“Of course, your Highness” replied the chamberlain, ever the consummate subordinate and without even a trace of disappointment in his voice that his preferred bidder had not been selected.

“Oh yes” added Elrood, giving voice to a concern which had been at the back of his mind since the decision to undertake the refurbishment was first taken but which he had not wanted have muddy the tendering process, “Please impress upon Mr Lothander the absolute importance of keeping noise and disturbance to a minimum. As we are all surely aware the Shaddam II wing abuts almost directly upon the chambers of our dear sister. We most certainly do not want to receive any reports that she has been inconvenienced or stressed by these works. In fact make it clear to Lothander that he will forfeit his bonus if any such reports are forthcoming”.

De Lanier nodded, well aware to be sure of the trouble Shalandra could cause if she became angered by the building works and developed one of her infamous grudges against the architect or his staff. Elrood did not want to get dragged into such bickering but if pushed he would defend his sister to the hilt. Lothander had better be good at keeping his workers well organised and under control.

“Thank you then” he said at last, concluding the meeting, “You have all been most helpful and we are relieved that this decision was not too long or too tedious in the making”.

With that he rose to his feet and headed for the door, which two smartly liveried servants instantly snapped to attention and opened for him. It had not been too tiresome a meeting, in fact putting de Lanier in his place and making Tahnee do something tedious and unchallenging had made it rather enjoyable, but he was still keen to get away; Elena had recently returned from her tour of Gansireed.

[Damien Lothander]

It truly was magnificent, and Damien had to admit to being suitably impressed as his gaze encompassed the vastness of the Imperial Palace stretching below, a glittering jewel of a building of such scale it seemed more appropriate to call it a city-within-a city. Having spent most of his youth in the rolling countryside of Lampadas, the closest to such an imposing edifice Damien had encountered then had been the local Bene Gesserit keep, though while as a boy he'd gazed upon it with awe, it was but a paltry sight compared to the one his 'thopter was approaching, and like most Bene Gesserit architecture, grim and forbidding.

The interior proved as sumptuous as one might expect, and Damien strode in with an easy smile on his face at the head of his small group of collaborators on route to their appointed quarters. It was difficult to remain unmoved by such exquisite sights as they encountered at every step, and as an appreciator of beauty in all its forms Damien's sharp gaze roamed his surroundings with keen interest, an interest piqued even higher whenever an elegant, willowy silhouette pertaining to a lady of the court floated past, though he kept his appreciation mostly private: a glance here, a fragment of a smile there...that was all.

Damien and his party were to be housed not far from the Shaddam II wing in comfortable quarters with their every need ready to be catered to, as promised by the pretty young maid who blushed and excused herself after being thanked quite gallantly for her kindness by Damien himself. He could have that one if he wanted to, he thought with the pragmatism of one fully aware of the effect his presence had on women, and particularly that sort of woman: young, naïve, hungry for the attentions of a man like himself. He would, most likely, not make use of the maid's unspoken invitation though: partly because he wasn't truly interested, and partly because his mission currently occupied his mind. The exact details remained to be discussed with the Emperor's Truthsayer herself, Reverend Mother Alechem, but Damien had the wit and experience to realize how the act of seducing a Princess left no room for indiscretions. He had to admit however, the prospect appealed to his ego in spite of the obvious challenges it posed: to succeed would be the crowning achievement of his career, regarding which he had absolutely no illusions: he was a Bene Gesserit stud, and a damn good one at that. More than that however, the man in him relished the idea of seducing a Princess, of showing one so elevated and seemingly unreachable that she was a woman after all, with all a woman's needs and desires. All the obstacles, the danger itself, made the chase that much sweeter, and Damien anticipated it in the same way an adrenaline junkie anticipated his next escapade.

There was a knock on his door, stirring Damien out of his reverie.

“The Reverend Mother will see you now”, said the tiny, dark-skinned woman wearing a plain grey ensemble revealed in the doorway. Her name was Djan Anteac, and was the true architect behind the restoration project, masquerading as Damien's junior assistant, a sort of glorified secretary. He'd been told, and he agreed, it would draw the least attention. She was Bene Gesserit, there to provide the necessary guidance and the only other member of the team in on the ruse.

“Thank you, Djan”, Damien replied rather formally, knowing that any attempt at being gallant would be lost on her; the petite woman was of an exceptionally humourless disposition. Furthermore, there was no point in trying to charm a Bene Gesserit; on numerous occasions Damien had found himself humbled by their uncanny perceptive skills.

It seemed preposterous that the otherwise luxurious Palace could contain anything drab and featureless, but the Reverend Mother Alechem's quarters were exactly that: utilitarian and devoid of all decoration. In short: standard Bene Gesserit, which to Damien proved how strong the influence of their education really was; even when surrounded by all the luxury they could ever want, they felt most at home without. As for the Reverend Mother herself, Damien found her quite fascinating. A striking woman, handsome more than beautiful, with an air of frosty authority about her that stirred his imagination. Most Reverend Mothers he'd known were old and wizened, or at least well advanced in years, but Miral Alechem still possessed surprisingly youthful features; only small creases at the corners of her mouth and eyes hinted at her age.

“I trust you've found the accommodations to your liking”, she began after a customary greeting. “You are to begin work at the start of the next week, which should give you some time to familiarize yourself with the details of your assignment up close. However, let us not waste words, and discuss the more pressing issues on hand.”

The Reverend Mother activated a holoprojector on the table, and a 3D depiction of Princess Shalandra Corrino winked into existence. Another striking woman, though in a wholly different way; despite what one might assume, Damien appreciated a wider variety of women than the classically beautiful. A woman might be pretty but boring; what truly captured his interest were those who managed to be attractive in varied and unconventional ways, and Princess Shalandra certainly was unconventional in appearance. He briefly wondered what she might look like underneath those long, black garments she favoured.

“I know you are already familiar with your assignment, so I will get straight to the point. You are here not only to seduce the Princess Royal, but to conceive a child with her.”

This took Damien by surprise and his brows lifted ever so slightly, though he otherwise kept his emotions in check, as taught by his mother.

“A child,” he stated quietly. Miral flicked her steely gaze over his features in response.

“That is correct, and I must caution you now, the utmost care and discretion will be needed. The Princess is a notorious eccentric and a recluse; as such, you will not be able to approach her without, shall we say, inside help.”

The Reverend mother activated another switch, and the image of Shalandra changed to that of a waifish girl with limp red hair. She looked bland and positively uninspiring.

“Giovanna Montelli, her current lady-in-waiting and your way to the Princess”, Miral explained.

“You want me to seduce her lady-in-waiting?”

“Not openly”, snapped the Reverend Mother. “The Princess is famous for holding grudges, so she must never guess your intentions towards her lady-in-waiting who is, at the moment, her most trusted companion. You must seduce Giovanna Montelli while never appearing to do so, then use your newly-found hold on her to reach the Princess. The girl is utterly loyal to her mistress, but I expect you'll otherwise find her quite responsive to your charms.”A slight twitch of the Reverend Mother's cruelly-curved lips accompanied that last word, and once again Damien felt a shiver climb up his spine. Dangerous; all Reverend Mothers were dangerous, of course, but there was something chilling and ruthless about her. This was a woman who might kill without a single hesitation or indeed, feeling.

“Do not forget that both the Princess and the girl hold the Sisterhood in utter contempt, therefore must remain completely oblivious to our association. We shall not meet in person from now on; instead I will communicate through coded messages one such as you should be able to read.”, Miral added with a shadow of impatience in her tone that suggested she was not entirely happy with having to cut corners when it came to secrecy.

“I am well versed in most types of encryption, Reverend Mother” Damien answered with a bit of an arch smile, “up to and including Level 1 Fidelity standard issue message cubes and Chakobsa.”

The Reverend Mother's expression did not change, but he could tell from the intensity of her gaze that she was watching him with renewed appraisal: that was a skill someone like him should not have possessed, but Damien wasn't afraid to reveal it. Weren't his mother's illegal teachings the reason he was there in the first place, something he knew the Sisterhood made diligent use of even while they berated Nerissa Lothander for her decision?

“Very well”, she conceded after a few moments' silence; it was impossible to tell whether she was pleased or annoyed with her discovery. “That concludes our meeting; you shall be contacted within a week. Any questions?”

Since there were none, Damien Lothander was soon on his way. This was undoubtedly the most complex and dangerous mission he'd ever attempted but he refused to allow it to spoil the gentle beauty of that first evening on Kaitain, which he intended to enjoy to the fullest.

[Magda Kovacha]

It was raining on Kaitain and that suited Magda Kovacha’s mood. She really did not want to be there, but she had to be. Travelling to the Capitol was risky, but the high ranking members among the anti-Vortigern faction deemed her personal attention to their next move necessary after the disaster that the abduction of the Kwisatz Mother had turned into. They could afford no more mistakes.

While the majority of Bene Gesserit education and instruction took place at the sprawling Mother School complex on Wallach IX, there existed a number of smaller training establishments scattered across the Imperium as well. Most of these were dedicated to the testing and examination of young girls, prospective initiates into the Sisterhood who would then transfer to Wallach if deemed suitable. Others, such as the group on Gamont, provided advanced specialist training in a particular environment; Magda knew this one well. However it was at the small induction centre on Kaitain that she had arrived three days ago, ostensibly for an inspection although that was just a convenient cover; as Vice Proctor Superior one of her responsibilities was to ensure the efficient collaboration between the Mother School and its various satellite institutions. She made about a dozen or so such trips a year, delegating the rest to subordinates as she had better things to spend her time on than gallivanting around the universe, but this particular visit she had chosen to make in person. It allowed her to personally organise a very important assignment, important to the point where the future of the Kwisatz Haderach was at stake.

Now she found herself in a small but functional rented hotel room, accompanied only by her trusted aide Sister Jade Kaplinski and the man they were here to recruit. There was an uneasy silence in the air, the sense of mistrust between the two parties present obvious, but it was essential that this meeting went as planned. The hotel was far from the Bene Gesserit induction centre but Magda was taking no chances with the facility and had not even attempted to sound out the staff there to see if any of them were potential allies; it was too risky. Doubtless Miral Alechem, who it was now blindingly obvious was working hand-in-hand with Josephine Vortigern, would have her own network of associates and informers there and under no circumstances could word of planned events leak out.

"This is Damien Lothander", Magda broke the silence and indicated the holographic projection in the centre of the small room, "This is the man you are to eliminate".

"No problem" replied the thickset man with the dark eyes and severe looking buzz cut, "Just tell me when and where".

Magda's almond eyes narrowed; his cockiness was unwelcome, although perhaps not entirely unjustified. According to careful research conducted by those among the dissidents who knew about such things this man was apparently one of the most feared and talented assassins in the business, considered lethal and ruthless even by the standards of his peers. He would need to be, for the dissenters had unearthed some dangerous and worrying information about Damien Lothander of Lampadas. It would appear that he was not only the handsome young stud he appeared to be.

“This is no ordinary hit” she continued, “This man has been trained by the Bene Gesserit. Exactly how much we are not certain, but he may well have certain secret and I may also say illegal combat moves at his disposal. Do not underestimate him. He is also safely ensconced in the Imperial Palace and to kill him there, even assuming you could, would draw far too much attention. You must wait until he leaves. Follow him, make it look like a street killing, a bar fight or similar. Under no circumstances must anyone be able to connect his death with the Sisterhood. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal” came the response, “And for the amount you’re paying you can trust me it’ll happen just like you say. Damian Lothander will be dead in an alley somewhere as soon as he leaves the Palace grounds”.

“Good, I hate having to repeat myself” replied Magda before indicating her companion who had thus far remained silent, “Should you have any further questions my associate here will be your contact until the contract is completed. You can reach her here, but do not approach her unless absolutely necessary. Discretion is our watchword here”.

Magda handed the burly man a small piece of paper and turned to her aide.

“I shall leave Kaitain now. I trust that you will alert me in the event of any developments” she began, before switching to a secret Sisterhood dialect and adding under her breath, “Keep an eye on him. He is good but his over-confidence may get the better of him. Lothander absolutely must not suspect our involvement or all could be lost. In the unlikely event that he fails, return to Wallach at once. He does not know our names but if captured he still might confess that he was hired by Bene Gesserit. Do not put yourself in suspicion’s way”.

Kaplinski nodded, ice-blue eyes unblinking. The dark-haired young woman was one of Magda’s closest associates, a former acolyte of the Vice Proctor Superior and completely loyal to the Sisterhood, absolutely sharing her mentor’s opinions of Vortigern. It had been she who had personally eliminated Sister Lusia, the lone survivor of the Kwisatz Mother’s shuttle party, and she had wanted to take out Lothander herself as well but Magda had forbidden it. It was essential that the hand of the dissidents not be recognised in his death. Fully trained in espionage techniques Kaplinski would easily be able to handle keeping an eye on both the target and the assassin though, allowing Magda to remain as far away from the proceedings as possible. The assassin was an expendable pawn, and in fact so was Kaplinski up to a point, but Magda was considered far too high up and well-placed to risk exposure. Few in the group carried more weight or had access to more information than the Vice Proctor Superior of the Mother School.

Their business concluded the two women headed for the door and proceeded down to the lobby, leaving the assassin to spend the night in the room as planned. Magda would be on the next available transport back to Wallach, the exciting task of continuing to monitor Lilith Piacevole’s pregnancy awaiting her, while Sister Kaplinski would install herself at the Palace to keep watch on Lothander and alert the assassin when he left its safety. This really had to work or else all could be lost. It had taken considerable effort and not a small amount of luck on the part of the dissidents to discover Lothander’s role, and by the time they had discerned that he was no mere spy send to monitor the Princess but a stud sent to seduce her it had not been possible to sabotage his departure. Now he was in place and ready to work his seduction skills on Shalandra Corrino, and even allowing for the madwoman’s famously prickly nature it would surely only be a matter of time before she succumbed. If she fell pregnant it would be almost impossible to salvage the situation, short of killing the Princess herself, and that would be a near impossibility even for the Sisterhood.

[Giovanna Montelli]

Giovanna Montelli hurried as quickly as she could down the long opulent hallways of the Imperial Palace. She still marvelled sometimes at the high vaulted ceilings, the gilded walls and the exquisite carpets; it was all on such a different scale to the small chalets her family lived in on Tupile and even to their original family manor from their days of nobility. She was not marvelling today though for she was in danger of being late, and that would never do; the Princess hated to be kept waiting. Giovanna had slept in this morning, and then gone down to breakfast late. It was after all supposed to be her day off but in typical fashion the Princess had sent word to her that she was needed and would have to reschedule. Today then she would be accompanying Shalandra to the Royal Library, where she apparently wanted to look something up. She hadn't told her lady in waiting what it was she wanted to research, and it would probably be forgotten by tomorrow anyway knowing the Princess's infamously changeable state of mind , but Giovanna took pride in helping her mistress and long time friend even in such vacuous activities.

"Look out!"

Giovanna glanced up and managed to dodge to one side just in time to avoid colliding with a serving girl coming the other way bearing a large tray laden with mugs.

"Oh I'm terribly sorry..." she started to say sheepishly before the girl cut her off.

"It's quite alright ma'am, probably my fault anyway. I must dash though; I've got to get these drinks to a bunch of thirsty builders working on the renovations".

With that she was gone, hurrying off in the direction of the Shaddam II wing were rebuilding had indeed begun in earnest. Giovanna though remained slightly taken aback. She wasn't well used to being called ma'am, or indeed getting any other term of respect about the Palace. Mentally she tried to put a name to the face. Brown hair, slim, and piercing blue eyes: no, must be a recent hire. That would explain the unlikely attitude. Among the established staff her status was well known and besides the small group of close friends she had worked hard to cultivate since her arrival nobody saw fit to grant her that sort of respect. They did not outright abuse her either of course, for they feared the Princess Royal's retribution if word got back, but from time to time everyone liked a little sneer at the fallen noblewoman reduced to being a servant.

She had never invoked her guardian's protection of course, because she was well aware of the trouble it would cause. Getting one sarcastic smirker sacked would only make the others despise her more, perhaps even make the few friends she had turn on her, and she doubted even Shalandra's famed influence with her brother the Emperor was sufficient to get the entire Palace workforce replaced. It was just something she had to live with. Besides, by and large she couldn't really complain. Life at the Palace was infinitely more interesting than the tedium that was Tupile. The Imperial sanctuary planet combined the worst features of a prison and a retirement home, and everyone was either raging impotently against the Imperial House or caught up in a kind of melancholy daze. Little ever changed there and, cut off as it was from most of the regular sources of news, the bubble-like atmosphere could be stifling. The Palace by contrast was full of life and full of intrigue. One never knew what was going to be happening from one day to the next, who would be in or out of favour, or what the latest whims of the Emperor and his family were going to be. Giovanna had resented the Corrinos bitterly for much of her life as an exile, but she had to admit that life with them was rarely dull.

Feeling slightly winded from hurrying, the near collision having slowed her down even further, she finally arrived outside the Princess Royal's apartments took a moment to catch her breath before pressing her palm against the shimmering sensor pad beside the door. A small green light came on as indication that her handprint had been verified and she heard an audible click as the lock was opened. She didn't cross the threshold immediately as the door slid open, for experience had taught her that it was always wise to pause and listen before entering the Princess Royal's presence. Shalandra was more than just an employer to her, she was a very dear friend, but that did not make Giovanna blind to the fact that she was unstable and that her rages could be terrible to behold. She had learned quickly that walking in on one of those rages was often an unwise thing to do. There were no sounds of shouting or smashing crockery from inside though, so she stepped through the door and hurried into the Princess's reception room to announce herself. Surprisingly Shalandra was already waiting for her, clad in one of her usual selection of long black dresses, clinched in at the waist with a wide belt and accessorised with a fine parsilk shawl in black and Corrino gold. On her face was a look of distinct annoyance and for a moment Giovanna felt worried that she was about to be rebuked for her lateness. Before she could apologise though, the Princess spoke first.

"There you are Gio!" she began with breathless urgency, "Thank goodness! Listen, have you seen what they are doing to the Shaddam II wing? I know Elrood said it was being renovated but this is more than mere renovation; the place looks like a building site! There are rough sweaty men everywhere, dust, noise and chaos. It simply won't do! You can hear them from here".

Giovanna listened carefully, but no sounds from the building work carried to her ears. It was possible that the Princess had more sensitive hearing than she did but more likely that she was simply imagining the sound because her sense of annoyance told her that it should be there. Shalandra had a tendency to adjust her reality to suit her state of mind like that, although of course it was not the place of her lady in waiting to question it.

"Anyway!" continued the Princess, "Forget about the library visit. There's no way I could concentrate now thanks to that rabble downstairs. What I am going to do is head over there right now and give them a piece of my mind. Come along, I might need you to back me up".

"Of course, your Highness" she replied with a respectful nod, "Do you need anything before we go?"

The Princess shook her head and together the two of them headed out into the corridor again, Shalandra's heavy boots making their characteristic thudding sound against the marbled floor. If there was one constant in the otherwise ever-changing myriad that was the Princess Royal, it was her footwear and Giovanna reckoned she could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times she had seen her mistress wearing anything else on her feet. All of them were specially made for her by the same supplier who made boots for the Imperial Sardaukar uniform, which indeed they somewhat resembled. Shalandra's though were if anything even heavier and more intimidating , with some of her selection even being adorned with spikes and chains. They were the most unladylike things Giovanna had ever seen but she knew better than to ever voice that opinion.

Finally they arrived outside the entrance to the Shaddam II wing, which was currently sealed off with plastic sheets and adorned with a number of large No Entry signs. Two Sardaukar stood impassively on either side as a final barrier to anyone who should choose to ignore the notices, but Shalandra took no account of either the guards or the signs and haughtily pushed her way through the sheeting. Inside was a whirlwind of sights, sounds and smells as workmen swarmed this way and that with various tools and building materials. There was so much scaffolding and plastic everywhere that the usual Palace interior was virtually unrecognisable. It was all a little overwhelming.

"Wait here" said Shalandra before disappearing into a small side-room marked Site Office, and before long the sound of raised voices could be heard inside.

Through the corner of her eye Giovanna could just make out the Princess arguing animatedly with a short dark-skinned woman, probably some kind of foreman, who looked extremely peeved to have been interrupted. This looked like it could go on for a while. With a sigh she leaned back uncomfortably against the wall, watching the workers busying themselves all around her like a nest of ants. She would do anything for Shalandra of course, but she could be frightfully embarrassing at times.

[Damien Lothander]

It was pandemonium.

The renovation of the Shaddam II wing was not, as the name might suggest, a minor matter of exchanging a few curtains and replacing some outdated items of furniture; no, the project would begin by stripping the place bare and rebuilding from the ground up. This meant a small army of workers had been hired for the purpose, and currently had the place in a veritable flurry of activity: obsolete furniture had to be removed, then sorted into neat categories, decorations taken down, paintwork scraped off woodwork, wallpapers peeled off walls and so much more. All of their efforts had to be conducted according to specific instructions, ensuring the project remained on schedule and blockages or potential accidents were avoided. It was, to say the least, quite the undertaking.

Damien Lothander had chosen a strategic point of observation on the sidelines, his sharp gaze surveying the activities, making sure it was all going according to the plan he and Djan Anteac had spent the better part of the previous day analysing. A dull and tedious meeting that had been, during which he'd discovered that apart from having probably never smiled in her entire life, Anteac was also a perfectionist. And, since he merely played a role, something she never tired reminding him of, she would ensure he played it perfectly. Truth be told, the woman's subtly condescending attitude was beginning to test Damien's patience, not that he'd ever show it; one of his earliest teachings had been the art of controlling one's emotions and hiding them behind a carefully crafted mask, which was what he'd done during the meeting with Anteac. He was certain her inability to get a rise out of a “mere male” like him was getting to her as well. Damien's loyalty to the Bene Gesserit may have been beyond question – partly thanks to his mother, partly due to their ever-present influence on his development, but that didn't make him their unquestioning servant. He was a product of the Sisterhood; that very loyalty they made such diligent use of was part of it. On the flipside, he was no unwitting pawn, controlled without his knowledge: he recognized their hold on him and even accepted it, which was precisely why he could set boundaries for himself. He was not above speaking his mind and making his own decisions, something the Proctors back on Lampadas had always half-blamed his mother for. Damien supposed they weren't wrong; Nerissa Lothander may have placed her son into the Sisterhood's bondage, yet she was also the one who gave him the tools to maintain a certain degree of independence from them.

Those tools were currently coming in very handy; thanks to his sharp perception skills, Damien was able to devote a portion of his consciousness to other matters, and thus the impromptu arrival of Princess Shalandra Corrino and her lady in waiting did not escape him. It was the first time he saw his quarry in person and from the corner of his eye Damien watched the Princess thud her way into Anteac's office. A passing smirk twisted his lips at the sound of shouting which reached his ears during a lull in the general hubbub, imagining an irritated Djan forced to employ every bit of her famous Bene Gesserit self-control lest she endangered the very mission she'd lectured him about the other day.

An additional item of interest was also approaching: temporarily freed from her mistress' company, Giovanna Montelli wandered into the construction site, her wide-eyed expression and cautious movement reminiscent of a little lost girl, which gave Damien his first opportunity to observe her. Alechem had told him this woman was his way to the Princess and that he was to seduce her without seeming to do so, no simple task even for one such as him. He could see the reason in it, and while he would have preferred trying his charms directly on the Princess herself, the shouting match which continued to spill out of Anteac's office prompted him to place a little more weight on the Reverend Mother's suggestion. Perhaps it was indeed pertinent to forge a bond with Giovanna, especially now that the opportunity had practically fallen in his lap.

What happened next however was entirely unplanned. Damien had subtly changed his position so that he could observe Giovanna while she remained oblivious to the fact, and saw her wander directly beneath a tall section of scaffolding pitched against the east wall, where four burly men laboured to lift a heavy statue from its vaulted niche several meters above the floor. Then, all of a sudden, there was a change in the atmosphere, a subliminal trigger that wrenched Damien's gaze away from Giovanna Montelli to the source of perceived tension: one of the ropes binding the statue as it was lowered to the floor vibrated like bowstring and before anyone could react, it snapped. It all happened very fast: there was a collective shout from the men on the scaffolding, who rushed to stabilize the statue tilting dangerously over the edge, not quite finding enough purchase....

It was then that Damien reacted. Within a split second he was on his way, dashing across the chaotic room, dodging and leaping over obstacles with the agility of a mountain goat, alert and bent on a single purpose. A gust of displaced air followed in his wake as he executed a final sprint, lifting Giovanna Montelli into his arms as though she weighed nothing at all and moving her out of the way mere seconds before the statue crashed to the floor in a cloud of smoke and shattered stone.

Placing Giovanna very carefully on the floor beyond the danger zone, Damien retreated to a polite distance and bowed lightly. Within the intensity of his gaze lurked concern as it settled on Giovanna's pallid features, and a faint smile tugged at the corners of his expressive mouth:

“Milady, my deepest apologies.” he intoned, then turned brusquely to face the circle of men which had since formed around the fallen statue, exchanging worried glances and uncertain mutterings. Drawing himself to his full height, chin raised and jaws set, Damien confronted his workers with an air of unconditional authority:

“Clean that up immediately!” he barked, sending a couple of youngsters scurrying for tools. “Those responsible, in my office. The rest of you, back to work!”

That being said, Damien's expression softened visibly as he turned back to Giovanna Montelli:

“Are you all right, Milady? I assure you this regrettable accident will not happen again; I will personally make sure of it.”

[Giovanna Montelli]

Minutes ticked by, with the Princess showing no sign of backing down in the increasingly heated discussion taking place in the small side office set aside for the architect and his assistants, and gradually Giovanna started to relax just a little. There was something oddly captivating about watching the workmen go about their business; climbing, pulling, hauling, scraping and hammering it was almost like watching a ballet performance. Her mind wandered back to her youth, before her family had been cast down, and to the times when they had all attended the theatre and the music hall together. How she had loved to watch the dancers move and twirl, while at the same time secretly wishing that she had the figure and poise to emulate them, but even though she did not there had still been great pleasure in taking in such spectacles.

She so rarely got the chance anymore; Princess Shalandra was not exactly a connoisseur of the arts, and in any case servants were seldom invited to plays and performances. The memories and the curious mesmerising effect of watching the workers about their tasks helped block out the sound of Shalandra threatening to go to her brother about the noise, and the foreman insisting that they were doing the Emperor’s work. The auburn-haired young woman in fact became so lost in her reverie that she completely failed to hear the snapping of the rope or the cry of the man holding it. It was only when she felt herself suddenly swept up into another’s arms and then heard the ear-splitting crash of stone against stone that realisation dawned; she had just escaped death by a matter of inches and seconds. The sudden shock was enough to make her faint dead away in the arms of her as yet unknown saviour.

“Are you all right, Milady? I assure you this regrettable accident will not happen again; I will personally make sure of it.”

Words finally filtered back into Giovanna’s perception and she opened her eyes to discover that she had been placed carefully on the floor. Looking up she found herself staring into a pair of intense green eyes, set in the startlingly handsome face of a young man whom she was quite sure she had never seen before. The way he was looking at her caused her to momentarily forget all about her near death experience, and she was struck dumb for a few seconds before she felt colour rushing to her cheeks and suddenly realised how foolish she must look.

“Why, yes, I am alright… I think” she replied hesitantly, getting to her feet and attempting to smooth down her dress.

She turned to look back to the place she had stood lost in thought only moments before, now completely obscured by the remains of what appeared to have once been a large stone statue. It would indeed have killed her had she remained standing there, and she turned back to lock eyes again with the dark-haired man, filled with new realisation that she owed him her life. However at that moment the sound of a high-pitched angry voice and the clattering of heavy boots against marble floor intruded.

“Gio! Where is Giovanna! Stand aside, oaf, and let me through!”

Shalandra, fighting her way through the small crowd of workers and servants who had gathered both to see what was happening and to begun cleaning up the mess, hurried to her lady-in-waiting’s side and offered a protective arm.

“My heavens! Gio! Are you alright?!”

“Yes, Majesty, I am fine… thanks entirely to this gentleman here” she replied, indicating her rescuer.

The Princess turned and gave the man with dark hair and green eyes a quick appraising glance, but then rapidly appeared to lose interest in him, and in Giovanna’s condition too except to the extent that it could be used to bolster her argument with the site foreman. It took a lot to distract Shalandra when she was angry about something and the narrowly avoided death of her maidservant appeared to only have intensified her determination to put a stop to the construction work.

“You see!” she cried, wagging an angry accusing finger in the direction of the short dark woman, “This is what happens when you run a shoddy operation! Not only do you get incessant skull-shattering noise but accidents like this happen. Poor Gio here could have been killed! I will not stand for this! I am going to my brother right…”

The Princess Royal was at that moment cut off in mid flow by the sound of men pushing heavily through the plastic sheet which shielded the work site from the rest of the Palace; Horance de Lanier had arrived with a retinue of Sardaukar in tow.

“Whatever is going on here?” enquired the Chamberlain, “We heard a terrible noise and feared the worst”.

“I’ll tell you what’s going on, Horance” replied Shalandra, “This idiot here is running an unsafe work site, and keeping me awake at all hours with foul crashing and banging into the bargain. I demand that you do something!”

Ever the consummate diplomat, de Lanier quickly attempted to take charge of the situation and ushered both the Princess and the foreman back into the little office, anxious to avoid a public screaming match. Meanwhile the menacing presence of the newly arrived Sardaukar caused those remaining gawkers to quickly resume their duties rather than stand around with the eyes of the Emperor’s guardsmen upon them. This allowed Giovanna a precious moment to return her attention to the man who had just saved her life, and who she still had yet to thank properly for it.

“I thank you, kind sir” she began, suddenly overcome as the knowledge that she had nearly been killed hit her again and stifling an urge to grab his hand, “For you have surely saved me from an untimely end. I suspect you may receive harsh words from the Princess because of it, but please know that whatever she might say you have my unending personal gratitude”.