Coronation of Elrood IX (10,122)

[Elisha Montague]

Even the jaded Elisha Montague who stepped across the threshold could not help but feel a little shiver of amazement as she entered the Imperial Palace's Grand Theatre; it really was fairytale-like in its level of splendour. Rich tapestries, some probably priceless heirlooms of the Imperial House but many more likely commissioned especially for the occasion, turned each wall into a vivid mosaic of colour and activity and even the floor beneath their feet was not immune from being made part of the spectacle, for it was covered with black soostone-inlaid tiles. Together with all kinds of other fine gems from across known space these created the illusion that one entering was walking across a carpet of stars, indeed perhaps walking through the very interstellar dominions of the Corrino Emperors themselves.

Flags of all the Great Houses of the Imperium hung from the ceiling, swaying gently in the breeze from carefully concealed air-conditioners, and in the very centre a much larger Corrino flag symbolised the Imperial House's superior status over all. House Montague's coat of arms would be there somewhere, although she had not glimpsed it on their way in. Her father would no doubt be looking for it though, she was sure of that. Finely liveried ushers were on hand to distribute sweetments to the arriving guests, and among the pennants drifted a small army of poison snoopers so that nobody need be suspicious of accepting the dainty offerings. The air was thick with the scent of perfume and insence. Few guests seemed to have arrived so far, but almost hidden in a deep recess before the stage the Royal Orchestra had already begun to strike up a rousing Imperial march in expectation that the room would soon be filled with the gathered elites of the Imperium.

On their way to the Palace by groundcar Elisha and her father had seen even more waving banners in a city which had apparently been turned into a veritable forest of flags for the occasion. Progress had been slow because the streets had been packed with the lesser visitors who had not been granted a personal invitation, but were already jostling for the best positions lining the route that the Emperor's cortege would be taking or to find spots in view of one of the scores of giant display screens which had been erected all around to bring the event to the masses. Elisha recalled the modest gala which the Duke had put on back home on Alanor to mark her investiture as Ambassador, and while she had felt a certain swell of pride at the time it suddenly felt like a mere village fête compared to what she was now witnessing. She almost wished she had actually dressed for the occasion, almost but not quite.

The pomposity of life on Kaitain had worn her down since her arrival and Elisha nearly always found more fun in pricking it than in immersing herself in it, having once turned up to an Assembly opening wearing leather underwear, and besides nothing could beat the pleasure of annoying her father. Annoyed he was too, for he had taken one look at her attire for the evening and grumbled words to the effect that he had just known his fifth daughter - how he loved to emphasise her position at the bottom of the family hierarchy - would turn out to a Royal Coronation looking like an exotic dancer from Gamont. Elisha certainly looked out of place and her daringly short dress made from a clingy blue material really was something one might more reasonably expect to see in a burlesque house than at the Imperial Palace. The material was manufactured on Allanor though, where it was more typically used for packing optical components, so nobody could accuse her of not flying the flag for Montague industry in a certain sense.

An elegant whalefur cloak helped to keep the outfit from becoming completely indecent, although Elisha was careful to let it fall open whenever they passed anyone who looked as though they might appreciate the view. The look was completed by a pair of very fine knee-length boots in a perfectly matching shade of blue and a number of diamond-inlaid ribbons in her hair, which she had kept in its normal severe military style just to add a little more delicious contrast. She had already noted that any venomous looks she attracted seemed to come mostly from the women they encountered, while men merely smiled and then tried to steal a few more admiring glances. If his reputation was anything to go by, Elisha suspected that the Emperor would probably prefer her over many of the over-stuffed hens in their ridiculous frocks who she had seen milling and fussing around in the Palace corridors.

"Just keep your head down any try not to get noticed. How in God's name the dress I brought you managed to get perfume spilled all over it I do not know, and I suppose just should have expected that all your work attire would be at the laundry. Honestly, sometimes I think you try my patience on purpose" muttered Duke Montague testily.

Elisha suppressed a snigger. In her eyes her father looked just as ridiculous, considering that he had never done a day's military service in his life and yet here was decked out in full ceremonial uniform with medals and all. In fact almost everyone she had seen was over-dressed to the point of absurdity and the deeper they got into the Palace the more it began to feel like a costume ball than a high society occasion. As they were shown to their allotted seats, marked by small black cards with gold-leaf lettering, Elisha also observed that they had been sited only two places away from the currently empty area assigned to House Harkonnen. That was interesting. Relations between the Montagues and the Harkonnens could at the very worst be described as 'cool', never having gone beyond a professional rivalry and into a full-blown feud, but in her opinion someone clearly hadn't been paying attention to the seating plan. Taking her father's hand in a perversely ladylike gesture which she thought clashed wonderfully with her completely unladylike outfit, Elisha settled into her seat and waited for the performance to begin.

[Amyssa Magorian]

Amyssa Magorian left Imperial City Spaceport with a light heart and in a good mood; having parted with Elisha Montague, her counterpart and economical ally (thank the Gods she was not from Richese!), the Ambassador reached the address given for her apartment, in the proximity of the Ixian Embassy - a large, conical building situated near the gilded center of the city itself. Strolling through the streets of the mighty Capital, Amyssa's eyes flew in every direction, with each step encountering magnificent buildings, statues, floral arrangements - all blooming, everything in place; now more than ever with such an important event due that very evening. It was highly disorienting for the warren-born Amyssa, to whom enclosed spaces signified safety and the towering vistas of Kaitain felt both awe-inspiring and overwhelming.

Amyssa's apartment, previously occupied by her father, was certainly not a match for the opulent elegance of the city. Without being poorly decorated, each room reminded her of Zaal Magorian's tastes and requirements: modestly equipped it was orderly, comfortable but lacking in luxury. The same could be said about his quarters back home on Ix; the sight of it brought a sad smile to the young woman's lips, feeling her father's presence all around her...a bittersweet thought, for Zaal had fallen terribly ill and his daughter doubted whether she would see him alive again. She sighed, attempting to dispel the sudden bout of sadness she felt and concentrate on the evening ahead.

The Coronation would be Amyssa's first appearance at the Imperial Court, and a good chance of solidifying her relationship with House Montague. Ixians had plenty of competition from the Harkonnens and the blasted Richesians, not to mention the collective suspicion of the Empire, so allies were valued.

The Grand Theatre

A suspension car, surrounded by the shimmer of a protective shield landed neatly on the platform already teaming with similar crafts, bearing guests arriving to the Emperor's Coronation. Her heart beating slightly faster, Amyssa Magorian descended in full gala attire, a gown that had been fashioned for her especially and at great expense, a parting gift from Ix. The setting sun sent orange rays reflecting off the golden fiber woven into the flared sleeves, which covered Amyssa's slim arms completely; it matched the design on the gown's hem where it merged into blue velvet parasilk , trailing over the dustless pavement below. A high collar encased Amyssa's slender neck, half-hidden beneath her ebony hair, carefully styled for the occasion.

A long procession of richly clad ladies and gentlemen walked slowly towards the grand entrance where their invitations were checked before being allowed in; all around, Holtzman fields had been pre-preemptively installed. When her turn arrived, Amyssa experienced a surge of nervousness but after a brief inspection of her card the nearest doorman admitted her into the Grand Theatre, fabulously decorated for the occasion. From the ceiling hung an array of flags representing all Houses and factions present, taking Amyssa a few moments to spot the purple helix of planet Ix. The auditorium was slowly filling up, and the young Ambassador crossed several flights of stairs and aisles until reaching her box, to the left, midway from the front. Once seated, Amyssa resumed her contemplation of the room in silent admiration.

[Niobe Atreides]

"This way, Milady."

Nodding, Niobe Atreides passed through the entrance to the Grand Theatre, supporting the long hem of her dress as she walked. Advancing into the enormous auditorium, Niobe's view filled up with color and movement, gold dominating all others, glittering under the false light of hundreds of glowglobes. She had arrived early to beat the rush but numbers were deceptive; the enormous enclosure, without looking barely crowded, was already host to about a hundred lords and ladies from all over the Imperium, most clustered up in small groups and chatting fervently.

The Duchess took in a deep breath before continuing, taking measured, confident steps and keeping her chin up; already she could feel pairs of eyes following her as she walked, and heard hushed voices speaking her name; never before had she been in public as Siridar-Duchess Atreides, and rumours were bound to emerge; especially with Jacob Ginaz accompanying her closely.

For her gown Niobe had chosen the colors of her house: shimmering green fabric adorned with silver filigree, from the plunging neckline of the corset which encased her bust down to the edges of the hem, leaving her shoulders bare. Niobe's lush curls formed a tight braid around her head like a crown of laurel worn by Emperors of Ancient times. She wore no jewelry, save for a fine necklace of small soostones, and the Ducal ring sparkling on her right index finger.

Offering brief smiles to those she met on her way, the Atreides Duchess soon reached her designated box near the front of the auditorium; high above from the bolted ceiling, a flash of green and silver could be distinguished amidst all the others; the Atreides emblem. As she sat down, Niobe looked to her left and right, in search of familiar faces; it was difficult due to the size of the place, but her sharp eyes recognized several, including the young new Ixian Ambassador Amyssa Magorian, the Imperial Truthsayer, dignitaries from Grumman and quite the unpleasant sight: Viscount Moritani. No sign of the Harkonnens yet.

Soon, there would be a new Emperor of the Known Universe; history was about to be written.

“Oh father, if only you could have been here to see this...” Niobe mused wistfully.

[Miral Alechem]

The event had commenced; from her vantage point many stories high, Miral Alechem idly watched as the guests poured in, a serpentine queue of colorful bodies forming at the entrance to the Grand Theatre. One could have thought that half the Imperium was there, yet Miral knew how very few would enjoy the festivities first hand and how the bulk of citizens would be glad to even catch glimpses of it, projected on a plasma screen.

She, too, would be amongst those participating; as Imperial Truthsayer, Miral would stay at the Emperor's side, a token of the Sisterhood's support of the new Monarch and, for those keen enough to notice, of their influence at his court. It was quite telling how a man who displayed such confidence and wealth could not perceive the more subtle happenings around him; but ah! Emperors hardly ever busied themselves with anything that didn't figure directly into their interests. For that, they had an army of advisers. Some said it was lack of time, Miral called it lack of imagination.

Abandoning her viewpoint near the window, the Truthsayer opened her wardrobe, which contained a long array of black aba robes, each with the emblem displaying her rank as Imperial Truthsayer woven just below the right shoulder. But no, she would not wear one of those; instead, Miral retrieved a different robe from the back of the closet, one reserved for the most formal of occasions.

The robe resembled any standard Reverend Mother's garment in terms of shape and size, but it was made of soft velvet which rippled to the floor, covering the entirety of Miral's body like an ebony shroud. Gold stitching adorned the hem, sleeves and neckline in an intricate weave, tracing also the contours of the two emblems stitched over the robe's front above the breast: those of the Bene Gesserit and House Corrino, in that order. The symbolism was obvious. Worn loose that evening, Miral's hair fluttered over her back.

Miral did not enter through the main entrance, like the rest; instead she chose a different route, from inside the palace, that took her directly to a smaller, concealed door, that was guarded. The Sardaukar positioned there stiffened at the sight of Miral, then stepped aside; most of those at the palace felt uncomfortable in the presence of "that Bene Gesserit witch" who was rumoured to be able to read minds. Miral sneered inwardly at these ridiculous tales, but did not counter them either; if they thought she was able to read their thoughts, chances were that they would be less inclined to try and deceive her.

Her chosen route took Miral into a different part of the auditorium, closer to the back, and it seemed that nobody noticed a tall, dark-clad figure slipping in from behind a large statue and advancing towards the front of the room, where the other Bene Gesserit delegates stood in a neat file. They were lead by Reverend Mother Lucas Jeanne Lydia Romus, Mother Superior to all of the Sisterhood, who kept her expression unreadable and her back straight despite her obviously advanced age. Acknowledging her presence with a nod, Miral joined her Sisters in their box, for the first time taking a good look around the half-full auditorium: there was much to see, from nobles and dignitaries to reporters, ushers and security personnel; she noticed the Ginaz Marquis and the Atreides Duchess in the front rows, engaged in hushed conversation; that was going according to plans, Miral thought. It was then that a rather unpleasant sight caught her eye: a young woman, blonde, attractive, whose elegant fur coat did not entirely conceal the sinfully short, metallic dress she wore. Miral recognized Elisha Montague instantly, once half of a pair of potential Acolytes she had tried – and failed – to take under her tutelage: talented but hopelessly rebellious and disobedient, trapped by her own limited perception and misplaced priorities which had ultimately lead to her expulsion from the Sisterhood. Well, every great organization had its failings, acknowledging and dealing with them was the key to survival and growth, Miral thought as she shifted her gaze from Elisha.

[Elisha Montague]

Sitting quietly, arms folded and shapely legs elegantly crossed, Elisha appeared every inch the refined lady at the same time as being dressed more like a high-class tart. The delicious contradiction, combined with the visible annoyance it was causing to her father the Duke, was almost like a sexual thrill. Oh how pleased she was to have had the sudden idea of spilling scent all over the infuriating fluffy gown which House Montague had ordered up for the occasion. Noble society felt all too much like a gilded cage at time, and Elisha Montague loved to rattle the bars when she could. Why shouldn't she get to have a little fun as well as watch the festivities? Really, outside of the lavish parties sometimes held on the ambassadorial social circuit, fun was so difficult to come by on stuffy Kaitain. Thinking of that reminded her that she needed to invite her newfound acquaintance Amyssa Magorian to one of those parties. The newcomer seemed quite reserved, but the alcohol and narcotics available at those decadent occasions had ways of loosening up even the tight-assed bureaucrats and functionaries, so it was worth a try. She would speak to her good friend and fellow Ambassador Liana Mutelli about it as soon as she was able and try to get Amyssa's name onto the invitation list.

The hall was nearly full now and it could not be long before the Emperor-to-be would arrive. It was a little disappointing to find that House Montague were rather further back from the stage than she would have liked, so perhaps it had been wishful thinking to imagine that Elrood IX would notice her. It would have been enjoyable indeed to flaunt her assets at the new ruler of the universe, but sadly her family simply didn't measure up to certain other Houses' standards of impeccable nobility or capacity for bribery.

"The universe would grind to a halt without good honest Houses like ours" her father always said, but given the choice she would rather belong to a group with a bit more prestige. Good and honest would only get you so far, as she could see at this moment. She made a point of not turning her head even a fraction as the Bene Gesserit delegation arrived. There might well be some among them who would recognise her from the Mother School, perhaps even Mother Superior Romus herself if the old bat was actually capable of leaving her crypt on Wallach without turning to dust, but Elisha was not about to give them satisfaction of checking. Her unconventional choice of attire was certainly attracting more than a few lascivious glances from various men both arriving and seated, but she was somewhat disappointed at the lack of attractive and eligible males to be had. The Harkonnen Swordmaster was cute, and seducing someone from their industrial rivals could bring practical as well as sexual benefits, but it was obvious that he belonged to the Baroness. Likewise the Ginaz gentleman who escorted Niobe Atreides was very good looking, but the two of them were obviously together even if they didn't wish their respective courtiers to know about it; even while she carefully avoided looking daggers at the nearby Sisters, Elisha was grateful for the training in petit perception which allowed her to notice these things.

There were plenty of Sardaukar about the place, but Elisha had been bedding soldiers since she arrived on Kaitain and frankly was becoming a little bored of them. A bit of rough was all very well, but too much of anything became stale after a while. Someone with the finesse of a Swordmaster or the decorum mixed with decadence of a younger noble would fit the bill perfectly. Well, the evening was still young and there were enough people here that surely she would not have to go back to the hotel with her father - a frightening prospect indeed. For his part Duke Montague was lost in stony silence, obviously still peeved at his daughter's failure to dress properly for the occasion. Elisha was sure that he would spend hours berating her when he got the chance, and telling any other members of the family back home who would listen how she had let him down, but she did not care. The pleasure of watching him squirm now on this most stately of occasions was too good to pass up, and he would put her down anyway so she might as well give him cause. At that moment her train of thought was derailed as the orchestra suddenly stopped playing, and the blast of several trumpets cut through the low hum of conversation: Elrood IX was about to make his entrance.

[Niobe Atreides]

Niobe continued her hushed conversation with Jacob for several minutes, leaning so that he only was the one to hear the words; so close to his skin, she could take in his scent, despite the subtle cologne he wore: a true soldier, tanned on the islands of Ginaz during countless hours of training and yet still managing to come across as a perfect gentleman. A strange mixture for a Siridar Marquis and truth be told, Niobe had always preferred Jacob the Swordmaster to the finery-clad gentleman he portrayed that evening.

The Duchess broke off mid sentence when she noticed the late arrival of precisely the obvious gaps in the audience: House Harkonnen, and the Guild. Her smile fading, Niobe glanced at each person as they glided confidently to their designated booths and her eyes widened slightly as Rose Harkonnen and her Ginazi bodyguard took a seat in the very box situated at her left. A blunder on the part of the Imperial staff, to adjoin sworn enemies, or perhaps Elrood's way of making a point. Nevertheless, the Duchess could not help but admire the bond Jacob had with the Harkonnen bodyguard, an old comrade of his from Ginaz. Oblivious to their audience the two men embraced tightly, as old friends and allies, not as Noble born and a simple retainer. Admirable, she thought, for there were few of those who would overstep the restrictions of politics and etiquette.

Niobe extended a thin, white hand which Kaneda Mitsurugi kissed respectfully and watched Jacob offer the same pleasantries to Rose Harkonnen. Once seated however, the Baroness, who was indeed a woman of angelic beauty obvious in the features of her younger brother as well addressed a compliment to her which, once more, unnerved Niobe; had their parents been there instead, the evening would have been one packed with venomous glares and veiled contempt. But they were not their parents, Niobe once more reminded herself, they were two different people with no reason to hate each other …apart from their lineage.

“Thank you, Baroness, and may I say the same about you; I trust your trip from Giedi Prime has been a pleasant one?” Niobe decided on a polite, formal reply, leaving room for conversation to flow. If Rose Harkonnen could be congenial despite the kanly still brewing between the two Houses, so could she. Deep down, Niobe knew the late Duke Mintor would have been happy to see the hatchet buried at last. She smiled briefly, and focused her attention on the other arrivals: the Guild Ambassador, distinct in her lack of finery and radiating a cold authority which all Guild representatives were known for; and a man and a woman who looked unfamiliar and equally bleak given the circumstances. They must have been there for more than just the Coronation. Only time would tell, and Niobe felt grateful for the solid entourage she had: Jacob, a trained Swordsmaster and dear friend - Niobe was not yet ready to admit he was rapidly becoming more than just a friend- Tio, the capable Mentat on whose judgment she could rely, and Quinten who, for all the mystery surrounding his past, was still her most trusted guard.

However, the time for musings was abruptly brought to a halt by the booming sound of trumpets and drums, amplified all around the auditorium: Elrood IX was about to make his appearance.

[Elrood IX]

With a roar the six mighty Harmonthep lions set off at a brisk trot and behind them Elrood Corrino settled into the fabulously gilded royal coach. Only used for the most important royal events - weddings, funerals, and coronations - it had been in the Corrino family since the time of the first Emperors at the end of the Great Revolt. Elrood had not used it at his father's funeral, since by convention only Emperors crowned or about to be crowned graced its luxurious velvet seats, so this was his first time in the magnificent vehicle. As soon as they cleared the gate the atmosphere hit him: the crowds, the flags, the fireworks. This was to be an occasion unmatched throughout the history of the Empire, or at least until Elrood's successor took to the throne by which point he would hopefully no longer care. Each new Emperor always sought to out-do the pomp and ceremony of his predecessor and Elrood along with his advisors had spent long hours studying filmbooks and recordings of Emperor Corrin's coronation, noting where adjustments could be made to ramp up the sense of awe and spectacle.

The thronging masses who lined the wide avenue between the Palace and the Theatre had to be twenty rows deep, and he could see more people still behind them leaning from windows and standing on balconies, craning their necks and in a few cases risking injury in their quest to get a better look at their new Emperor. Great cheers went up the moment each new swelling crowd sighted him, and the air was soon full of richly scented petels as wellwishers began to throw flowers in the path of the procession. The cortege was fully shielded of course, and the falling flowers glanced off the crackling Holtzman energy such that at times Elrood appeared to be surrounded by a strange floral dome, but that merely added to the majesty of the occasion he thought. For his coronation the Emperor-to-be had chosen a tight-fitting black suit reminiscent of a Sardaukar dress uniform, decorated with a silken sash in Corrino gold and a billowing black and gold cape tied at his neck. On his feet he wore shiny black boots, which had reputedly been polished for three hours before he put them on, and his hands were covered by fine leather gloves which he had found in his late father's desk drawer and decided to wear as a mark of respect.

The only part of the ensemble to trouble him was the ridiculous broad-brimmed hat adorned by a yellow feather. This had been a gift for the occasion from his younger sister, who thankfully had not otherwise responded to the invitation he had dispatched, and he hated it. The rest of his outfit made him look strong and regal, but this hat he thought made him appear foppish and he shuddered with the thought that were he to die today it would actually be poor mad Shalandra who would succeed him to the Golden Lion Throne. His sister had been living in unofficial exile on Tupile for many years now ever since the Bene Gesserit informed Corrin XXV of something horrible in her genetic makeup, presumably the cause of her renowned eccentric nature. Perhaps that was why the witches in the shape of Truthsayer Miral Alechem were so desperate for him to marry. They were right really; he did need to secure the family line. He resolved that as soon as he was settled into the role of Emperor he would locate a suitable bride and get down to the business of producing a son and heir. Feeling suddenly daring, Elrood removed the accursed headpiece.

"Lower the shield on the left hand side, just for a moment" he hissed to one of the coachmen, who in spite of the oddness of the request was not about to refuse the soon-to-be-crowned Emperor and obliged as Elrood tossed the hat into the crowd where it was eagerly grabbed by an onlooker.

The exuberence of the crowds increased as the coach neared the Grand Theatre. More and more flowers - enough to fill an entire garden Elrood thought - sailed through the air. Before the final procession through the Palace gates they would pause momentarily for what his chamberlain had called the meet and greet stop, giving one or two carefully selected members of the public a chance to present their new ruler with gifts. Elrood had not been keen on this particular modification to the arrangement, but suddenly he caught sight of an unusually attractive red-haired girl with a well-endowed chest at the front of the crowd and his reluctance softened. The shields were momentarily lowered again and he graciously accepted a large bunch of yellow Kaitain roses. Flashing her a regal smile, as he prepared to hand the bouquet to the coachman for safekeeping something white and lacy fell out of the wrapping. With a start Elrood realised it was part of the girl's underwear, and that scrawled inside in bright red lipstick was the name of a city hotel and a room number. Astonished at the girl's impudence and her cunning at finding a way to sneak something into the flowers, but feeling aroused by it already, he tucked the garment into his pocket and made a mental note to follow it up later. His mind suddenly distracted by sexual ideas, he gave little thought as the second but far more valuable gift in the form of a jar purest spice was placed in his hands by another fawning admirer.

As the coach finally slid into the grounds of the Theater, a group of assembled Sardaukar stood to attention and Elrood stepped down to take the salute. Next he turned and smiled stiffly to various members of the media who had gathered for a photo opportunity, and finally it was time to enter the hall. Waiting inside for him were his chamberlain Horance de Lanier and various other important courtiers and without saying a word to any of them, especially about the hat tossing incident, Elrood marched smartly up the stairs following the sign which said stage entrance. Pausing before a huge set of double sliding doors which had been installed at the back of the grand stage he heard the party behind him shuffling nervously, but Elrood waited. The occasion had been choreographed to the last detail and he was not going to make his entrance even a second too early. Finally the sound of the trumpets came and the doors hissed open. With the well disciplined steps of a soldier, the soon-to-be Emperor of the Known Universe stepped out onto a stage lined with Sardaukar of the Household Guard in their finest dress uniforms and stood before his people. As he did so a great spontaneous cheer went up and Elrood looked out into a mass of colour and noise the like of which he had never seen before. This was the most wondrous and spectacular gathering of Great Houses and power-brokers the Imperium had ever seen, and he was absolutely the centrepiece of it.

Remaining in the centre of the stage, the Emperor-in-waiting now paused to allow the various courtiers and religious leaders time to assemble themselves to his left and his right in front of the guardsmen. All were represented here, from the mainstream churches of those who followed the Fourteen Sages to an envoy from the little known and seldom noticed cult of Maftet. All of them however, orthodox and obscure, would play second fiddle to the High Priest of Dur. Resplendent in his bright green robes and carrying a small bowl of iron red holy dust the beared old man proceeded to sprinkle a little onto those fortunate enough to be at the front of the audience as he approached. Elrood was not a religious man, but he would never have dreamed of trying to cut out the High Priest's role from the ceremony. The Priest of Dur had crowned every Padishah Emperor since the end of the Great Revolt and no future ruler would dare try to claim the crown without receiving his blessing. While the priest was done sprinkling his dust and the last of the dignitaries assembled themselves, the great Golden Lion throne was being carefully wheeled into position behind the man who would soon take his place upon it.

Finally all was ready but Elrood lingered a moment more, determined to drink in the adoration and expectation which he could practically taste for just a little longer. Out there in the audience were all the Great Houses of the Landsraad, from the most illustrious such as the Atreides through the wealthiest such as House Harkonnen, to the most obscure whose names he could not even recall. All of the nobles in known space had gathered here to show their fealty to one man: him. Yet Elrood knew enough to be aware that it was not that simple. There at the front of the audience too were two other legs of the political scaffold upon which the Imperium rested. The Bene Gesserit might keep their iron fist inside an exquisitely dainty velvet glove, but that would not make it hurt any less were the enigmatic women to strike him with it. There too were the Spacing Guild, ranging from the bizarre and twisted forms of the senior steersmen who floated in mobile tanks of melange gas to the completely human looking Guild officials and retainers who made up the rest of their party. Not even an Emperor could cross the Guild, who exerted total domination over interstellar travel. None save a tiny minority of smugglers and underworld crime lords dared to defy the Guild monopoly, and even then the techniques at their disposal were woefully slow and uncertain compared to the virtual magic of space-folding heighliners. In spite of these two obvious checks on his power though, Elrood knew that he would wield enormous influence over all in this room. His alone were the mighty Sardaukar legions with which he could dispense justice to any who would dare challenge the right of House Corrino to rule, and his too was the power to levy and collect the Imperial taxes with which he could bring even the richest noblemen to their knees.

Finally done with looking out over his subjects, Elrood took his place on the huge throne which had seated Emperors of his family over centuries since it was discovered during the rule of Hassik III. A small gasp went through the audience as concealed lamps were activated and light seemed to well out of the huge translucent jewel. Now the High Priest was before him, holding the fantastically intricate crown in his hands.

"Do you, Elrood Corrino IX swear fidelity to the Holy Empire?" he asked, his voice booming thanks to so many carefully positioned speakers.

"I do" replied Elrood solemnly, his voice also reverberating around the chamber.

The ceremony really was that simple. With those two lines completed the Priest lowered the crown onto Elrood's head and turned to face the crowd.

"I give you the new Padishah Emperor Elrood IX, may his reign shine as long as the stars!" intoned the green-robed man.

And a great chorus went up from the assembled men and women in the hall: May his reign shine as long as the stars!

Elrood now rose once more from the throne and strode to the front of the stage, so close to the audience that he could practically smell the spice exhaust from the Guildsmens' tanks. It was not a required part of the proceedings that he make a speech, but nearly every Emperor before him had done so and Elrood IX would most certainly not be remembered as an arrogant and distant man who would not speak to his people.

"Ladies, gentlemen, nobles of the Landsraad, representatives of the great schools" he began, "during his life our late father always impressed upon us the importance of the ancient Terran proverb that actions speak louder than words. We intend to live by this proverb, and go down in history not as a long-winded orator who spoke much and did little but as an Emperor who made things happen - an Emperor who made a difference. When this gathering is over and you go back to your own worlds and your own lives, do not forget what has happened here this night. Do not think of Elrood IX as a distant absentee monarch who will never trouble your ways and your routines. Remember that he is your Emperor and shall influence you with his every thought and command, but remember also that we plan to be a benevolent ruler and that together wonderful things can be achieved in this Empire of ours. Remember that from this day forth things will not be the same, but that is only because things are going to get better!"

Elrood paused as another great cheer went up from the assembled guests. He had written the speech himself, and he thought it was a good one - far better than the awfully wordy and monotonous effort de Lanier had tried to push upon him.

"And now" he continued, "to those of you who will be departing immediately to tend your business we wish you bon voyage, and to those most honoured guests who shall be remaining we bid you to join us at the finest Royal banquet you shall ever see!"

With that he turned on his heel and returned the way he had come, with applause and cheers from the chamber ringing in his ears. He had done it; he was now Padishah Emperor - the most powerful man in the universe.

[Niobe Atreides]

What a spectacle!

Niobe Atreides sat on the edge of her lofty chair, as if afraid she would miss even a second of the coronation. She cheered, along with the rest of the auditorium at the Emperor's appearance, and somehow felt as if she truly were part of the carefully staged magic unfolding before her, so close. An event unique in a century. A few particles of weightless crimson holy dust sprinkled her face and dress, coloring the atmosphere in a kaleidoscope of iridescent colors for a few brief moments, during which the High Priest of Dur offered his blessing to Elrood IX and those present. And what a sight he was, in his gilded Sardaukar uniform of the highest rank, seated on the famous Hagal quartz throne, a magnificent sculpture said to have been crafted out of one single giant piece, and which looked even more impressive on the relatively small stage. For a few breathtaking moments, the High Priest, surrounded by a cortège of religious leaders and uniformed Sardaukar, held the crown above Elrood's head, intoning the ancient words which hade given rulership to countless Emperors before him since the Great Revolt and the assembly broke off into booming cheers, while chanting "May his reign shine as long as the stars!"

It was done. Elrood IX was the new Padishah Emperor of the Known Universe, the one man who could order planets to be obliterated, had control over the fiefdom of Arrakis and commanded the feared Sardaukar, with virtually no match elsewhere in a single place. He wielded an enormous amount of power and yet was not all-powerful, for the Bene Gesserit, the Landsraad and the Spacing Guild, now looking overshadowed and harmless in their designated booths, had their grip on power and manipulated underhandedly, as they always had.

Silence descended abruptly, as Elrood signaled for it so that he could speak; a short yet moving speech, unlike the interminable drones usually given on such occasions. He presented himself as an Emperor willing to act rather than talk, to be actively involved in the lives of his subjects rather than retreat to the sanctuary of the Imperial Palace and let others run the Imperium for him. Admirable sentiments, Niobe mused silently, and only time would tell if they held real truth.

Following Elrood's departure, the overbearing noise of a hundred people all talking at once, calling out at eachother across the room soon replaced the silence, and slowly everyone gathered towards the exit. Niobe too rose from her chair, ready to leave, but before she turned her head towards Baroness Rose Harkonnen at her left:

“I shall see you later, I hope, Baroness.”

"So, we have a few hours before the banquet, my dear Duchess.” Jacob interjected “Would you like to go for a walk, see what Kaitain has to offer?"

The Duchess smiled and took Jacob's arm, lifting the hem of her gown as she walked.

“I would love to, Jacob, it's not often that I'm on Kaitain. But first, I'd like to change into something a bit..lighter” she said, looking down at the very elegant yet uncomfortable dress she wore.

[Elisha Montague]

Even Elisha, cold and cynical as she was, couldn't help but be just a little awestruck by the coronation ceremony. Although they were seated too far back to truly feel a part of the events on stage or be sprinkled with the red dust of Dur, Emperor Elrood really did look fantastic and very handsome in his part-military/part-fantasy outfit, and the way the light just seemed to ooze out of the Golden Lion Throne was amazing. His speech had been a good one too, though she doubted very much that he had written it. In fact she doubted he'd really had much to do with the occasion at all, but nobody would ever remember the legions of backroom staff who must have worked day and night for weeks to make something like this work. Elisha sympathised with such people for in a way, although noble-born, she counted herself among their number. No matter how skilful her diplomatic negotiating might be or what deals and contracts she might be able to swing, it would be her father as head of the House who took the credit. She sighed to herself.

The auditorium was emptying fast now, as those who planned to attend the banquet later that evening hurried off to make ready and those who were leaving forthwith made haste to beat the rush at the spaceport. However as the Montagues rose to leave, a uniformed servant stopped them and pushed gilded cards into their hands before scurrying off, presumably to find his next targets. Elisha turned the card over cautiously, hoping it was not some kind of official telling off over her unconventional dress. In fact though it read in more of the finest gold leaf:

---

Dear Sir/Madam,

His Supreme Majesty Emperor Elrood IX requests your presence at the Royal Banquet tonight. Please make yourself available at the Palace by 22:00.

---

The card was signed by a Monsignor de Lanier acting on behalf of the Emperor and Duke was clearly very surprised, for it was a good minute before he spoke.

"Would you believe it?!" he exclaimed, "Requests to attend the Royal Banquet! You know they don't give these to just anyone, my girl. All the important people like the Atreides get theirs in advance, so for us to receive late invitations like this means we must have somehow impressed somebody. Well I'll be damned... maybe someone at the top is finally acknowledging House Montague's contribution! It's about damn time, I can tell you!"

"Yes father, I'm sure" replied Elisha diplomatically, though in fact her mind was already coming to the conclusion that it was more likely someone in the Emperor's entourage had appreciated her tight dress than the worthiness of her House.

"We must go back to the hotel at once and prepare!" continued the Duke, and Elisha's heart sank.

Elisha's heart sank. She could ready herself for this dinner engagement in a quarter of the time her father thought it would take and had really been hoping to have a little fun after all this sitting around, watching, and waiting. There just had to be a way to escape, and there was. Only feet away she could see Amyssa Magorian, looking a little disorientated and clearly still unfamiliar with her surroundings. An idea was born in Elisha's mind, and she quickly turned to her father.

"I'll catch you up, father. I have one or two diplomatic necessities to attend to first" she said with all the feigned honesty she could muster.

The Duke eyed her suspiciously, clearly not quite believing, but fortunately his desire for House Montague's good diplomatic relations got the better of his wish to haul his daughter around.

"Alright, but don't be too long" he mumbled grudgingly.

Elisha didn't wait around for him to change his mind, and hurried over to join Amyssa.

"Miss Magorian! How nice to see you again!" she said greeting the other warmly, "You look a little lost. Do you by chance have any plans between now and the start of the banquet? I was wondering if you'd like to join me for a drink."

Elisha smiled pleasantly, hoping that she had guessed correctly both about the other's lack of plans and invitation to the banquet later. There was a distinct lack of desirable male company in the now quite depleted auditorium, so a girls' outing would be the next best thing. There were sure to be interesting men in Kaitain City just after a royal coronation, and perhaps there would just be time enough for a little intimate fun before the banquet.

[Amyssa Magorian]

Well, it had been as exciting as expected and definitely worth the while; Amyssa felt quite thrilled by the end of it, and just a little homesick; she wished her father and brother C'tair could have been there to share the festivities, and the thought of Zaal Magorian's illness loomed darkly in her mind. The young woman clapped her hands enthusiastically, rising to her feet with half of the audience when the newly-crowned Emperor concluded his speech. From where she stood, he was just a small figure surrounded by a group of robed men, and she envied those from the first rows. And the throne! What a magnificent work of art! The sight of it sent tingles down Amyssa's spine and her fingers twitched involuntarily, as if looking for the strings of her baliset. She had not played it for a long time, and wished to return to the soothing refuge of music. The next day, perhaps, when things settled; after all her first council meeting wasn't scheduled until the following week.

But first, there was the royal banquet; Amyssa had received an invitation shortly before departing for Kaitain and it had surprised her, having assumed that only the most esteemed of guests would attend but it just so proved how appreciated at the Court her father had been.

Amyssa had no retainers, and planned to return swiftly to her apartment, where she could freshen up and prepare for the banquet; with that thought in mind she walked up to the group of people leaving the theatre, when a familiar voice called her name:

"Miss Magorian! How nice to see you again! You look a little lost. Do you by chance have any plans between now and the start of the Royal Banquet? I was wondering if you'd like to join me for a drink."

Surprised, Amyssa turned around and only by a supreme effort was she able to hide her shock at the sight of Elisha Montague, dressed in a clingy, metallic dress which barely covered her body; it was not that she disliked the garment but found it rather inappropriate for a coronation. However, she was not one to judge and instead smiled congenially:

“Indeed, all this is still rather new to me. I would love to join you for a drink, if we can make a brief stop at my apartment first, so that I can change into something more appropriate. And please...call me Amyssa.”

It was quite obvious that Amyssa's high-collared, floor-length gown would look completely out of place in a bar.

[Niobe Atreides]

The Kaitainian sky was a deep purple color as Niobe, arm in arm with Jacob and closely followed by Quinten stepped on the perfectly smooth pavement of the broad walkway which took them from the Grand Theatre to the plateaus where their suspensor car was located. Imperial City stretched over a larger surface than other entire planets, thus walking back to the hotel was not an option.

"Wait a minute." Jacob said and switched sides with Niobe. "Much better. Why do you think that's chivalrous for the man to walk on the inside of the road? I never could figure out why, but it seems nice..."

Niobe smiled jovially at his remark; the reason was unknown to her, all that she knew was that the custom originated somewhere in the depths of human history. Like so many others, its reason had been lost, as well as its practicality.

“It seems silly now though, doesn't it?" she commented. "Why should it matter?”

Niobe tapped the Marquis' arm playfully, feeling more light-hearted than she had been in weeks.

"It was believed that if a carriage were to go astray, it would be the man, and not the woman, who would be trampled, Sir, Milady. Toward the inside, he would be able to push her away from harm. It was..practical."

Niobe listened at the explanation of a seemingly meaningless gesture with some intent; not even she, with all the history classes taken at the Bene Gesserit Mother School had encountered such a thing; Quinten, suddenly, commanded more respect in her eyes.

“It is truly interesting how some customs endure time, even after their practicality has been lost.” she said, stopping for a few moments to face her guard. Of course in the age of suspensor cars blurring the upper levels of the city there was little chance of being trampled, and should it happen the vehicle would reduce both the man and the woman to paste. Niobe mused on these things, as the reverberating car rose gracefully into the atmosphere.