The morning air on Castle Planet De Vend was comfortable. Clean and crisp, but most importantly, dry. Magnus hated that he wanted to breathe deep, to be for once in a place that wasn’t as eternally wet as Castle Planet Kaerndal.
The landing deck sat raised outside the Castle, so visitors could see it when they stepped out of their space tenders. Magnus wanted to find harsh words, but even Kaerndal had placed theirs dramatically in front of theirs.
The distant chirp of a wavecaster opening a channel to one of the guards around him broke him free of his thoughts. He could practically hear the leather of the woman’s glove tighten around the grip of her rifle when she pressed the send button to confirm that everything was in order. As it had been for the last couple of hours they were waiting for De Vend.
Now and then one of their space tenders landed, was filled with boxes, bags, or other containers, and then lifted off again. House De Vend had no fleet of their own. He had laughed and called the House pathetic, running straight into the explanation of his officer that for a distributed house such as De Vend, a Fleet wasn’t useful.
He hated that it made so much sense. He hated that he had made himself a fool. He hated that he couldn’t smash something here.
There was suddenly a whistling. Magnus felt it before he heard it. Something about people whistling always made itself felt in his rumble. “Who dares to whistle on duty…” he grumbled through gritted teeth, suspecting one of his guards - unfairly as he knew. Every one of them was Special Forces, every one of them a beacon of competence.
But who else could be on a secure landing deck?
Magnus turned his head, searched his surroundings. There wasn’t exactly space to hide.
And then she just… appeared. Or rather, she seemed to suddenly stand where there wasn’t someone before. Magnus blinked and stared at the small figure. She was standing in the open, barely taller than the box beside her; she was studying.
The dress she was in was fire red with black trim. It had layers of tulle and frills, but was cut no broader than a belt he’d used to still a gunshot wound. “They must wear thick underclothes here…” he murmured to himself as he made his way over.
Magnus wasn’t sure if she was a child or a small woman. Her features were not drawn but chiseled in a way that said anything but young; the short hair was flowing out of her face in a coquettish way. Magnus stopped when he realized he knew the song she was whistling.
He wasn’t one to blush, but “I’d bang her like a door each night” was not a song a lady should whistle. Not even a man not in a drunken stupor. But here she was. Unapologetic and uncaring.
Magnus reached her just as she was about to move closer to the tender, in a motion he had perfected with a wayward Amathea over years, he threaded his large hands left and right along the woman’s chest, and picked her up by the armpits with a loud, “Now what are you thinking of doing here, hm?”
Trying to grab a runaway chainsaw by the blade felt like an apt comparison to the ferocity the woman struggled with. Not desperate, not wailing, just unwilling to be contained. “Unhand me, you prick,” she screamed, making the guards turn. Magnus looked to the nearest one and said loudly, “Eyes outwards. I have this.” There was a nod, and the guards focused on their jobs again.
“Access to this landing deck is prohibited by Kaerndal.” Magnus explained, raising his chin for emphasis. “And you are clearly out of place.” He said, looking her up and down. A thought came: Did De Vend have children? A little accident from a passionate night felt so out of place for the man that it must be true somehow. And it would explain seeing someone so used to moving unhindered; because they would’ve been used to it since birth.
The woman talked as if she tried to bite Magnus with every word, “I am Vesper Fallbrandt. Princess De Vend will hear about this. Oh! He will hear about it. SO. MUCH.”
Magnus sighed and raised her a little more above the ground to make a point, which made her startle and put her hands over her backside. She hissed, “Put me down, you pervert! I am not to be ogled.” His eyes narrowed, “Should wear appropriate dresses. Then this wouldn’t be a problem.”
De Vend could hear the altercation long before he reached the landing deck. As always, the court sessions and staff meetings had run long. Now, even more than usual, since everyone was afraid, angry, or opportunistic about the integration into Kaerndal. “Not. Integration.” Katharina said, and De Vend sighed tired.
There would be time to catch up on sleep on the way to Kaerndal. At least he hoped he could find a chamber to lock himself into to rest. Otherwise he’d need to come up with something clever involving Vesper, and she always established precedence from these kinds of one-offs.
The steel cage was meant for cargo, but that was just how the princess felt today. It rattled to a halt, and the guards that had waited for it to arrive, for a moment, began to raise their rifles. De Vend said, looking from one woman in their unadorned armor, “You had plenty of opportunity to shoot me before I was your princess. Now would feel rather pointless.”
The guard closest lowered her head without letting him out of her gaze, “Apologies, your highness.” Then she turned to the world at large, a gesture that irked him before he found it filed away under “Kaerienne Oddities of Manners” in the library of his mind. The little librarian Katharina there had run herself ragged learning and filing all the new information away in time for the transition.
The benefit of height was the length of the step. And with a few brisk paces, he closed the distance to Magnus and the dangling Vesper. She was hissing at Magnus, pressing her flat, extended hands over her almost exposed buttocks, which left her with no way of fighting her way free of his grasp. Katharina chuckled once, “That’s what she gets for overdoing it with the dresses again.”
De Vend said nothing and moved directly into the space tender beside Magnus, saying calmly, “Place her down,” without waiting for a response.
He could hear Magnus shout after him, “Don’t get used to giving me orders, Princess. This will change rather quickly on kaerienne ground.” De Vend sighed, annoyed, stopping on the last incline of the ramp. He turned and moved down again until he could talk to Magnus without leaning out of the opening. “This is kaerienne ground, Princess. Since the morning after the vigil when I signed the decree,” he looked at Magnus and said, “I wish I could order you to put her down. You’d do most of us a favour.”
Vesper gave an indignant huff. Magnus took a moment longer to trace the meaning of what De Vend had said, “Put her down? Why? Who is she?” Magnus asked openly. Vesper answered, “I am his concubine. And he needs me normally at sunset, always on sunrise, and often during lunch too.”
Magnus set Vesper down and stared at her with a worried gaze before looking at De Vend, who decided he had had enough of this. “She’s my confidante. And that gives her protection. Even from the likes of us.”
Once her feet touched the ground, Vesper hurried beside De Vend. Magnus noted how she wanted to take his arm, but stopped just short. He didn’t look at her at all. Magnus shook his head and ordered the guards, “Pack up, girls. We got our precious cargo.” He heard the officers forward his orders with the telltale sound of the wavecasters cracking; the space tender began spooling its motive force thrusters, and the moment he had left the ramp, it began to raise.
The ascent of the space tender was calm and measured, which irked De Vend. So much time wasted on comfort. Kaerndal wasn’t known for its engineering, but for diligence in all things besides it. The four large thruster nacelles hanging from the square body surely could exceed the rate limits for safe climbing speeds quite drastically.
“Why are we dallying?” He asked sharply. The two pilots in front of him first looked at each other before one addressed De Vend, “We shouldn’t take off at all. Fleet Action is in progress.” De Vend’s eyes narrow, “Meaning?”
Magnus chuckled behind him, “Meaning we care for our newest princess so much we included fireworks and a military parade in your homecoming.” The gyr filled the door frame behind De Vend, blocking him in.
The pilot who hadn’t spoken yet turned further to speak to the giant directly, “Magnus. Both of you should take your seats in the passenger area.” Magnus chuckled, “But De Vend won’t see anything from there. Come now.” The other pilot chimed in, “Let’s not be stupid about this, Magnus.” Magnus laughed, “You too, Lucy? Spoilsports. The lot of you.”
Lucy sighed loudly, then leaned sideways because she had clearly spotted something outside. “Looks like the party’s coming to us.” The first pilot chuckled, pressed a button on her steering column, and was speaking to someone on the end of a wavecaster transmission, “Kaerienne Glass Two Two, multiple enemies on intercept.” She listened, then sighed, “Hold tight.”
De Vend barely got a hold of the handrail spanning the width of the pilot seat in front of him, before the space tender banked sharp to the right. A startled yelp from further back made it clear that Vesper hadn’t paid as much attention.
There were many things De Vend didn’t know. To assume otherwise was foolish, and De Vend was many things but not that. He had always assumed that space combat was fast and dramatic, spotted with heroics and self-sacrifice.
Reality was bland in contrast to his fantasy. The sharp turn of the vessel had been necessary to break the pattern, but there wasn’t as much as a projectile coming their way. Still, De Vend noted how tense and focused the Pilots, and surprisingly, Magnus became.
Tight-lipped readouts, confirmations, and requests for information filled the silence like the air they breathed. After half an hour, Magnus had asked almost friendly to trade places with De Vend. The ensuing shuffle could’ve been charming if both men didn’t hate each other like they did.
An hour later, Vesper joined, clearly bored out of her mind. “What is taking so long?” she complained. Magnus looked up from a handset he was listening to. He worked out an answer for her, hiding the fact by raising a finger as if he had yet more communication to listen to. Then Magnus said, “Someone wanted someone dead in this system. Presumably us.”
He half turned towards the front glass window and pointed, “They were clever. Slipping in with the cargo traffic. But that didn’t give them visibility on the master.”
Vesper yawned, wide-mouthed and unapologetic, then stretched, pushing out her chest. “BORING,” she stated. Magnus rolled his eyes. “You asked. I answered.” De Vend leaned forward as if finding a glinting gold piece in a shallow stream. He asked, “The Kaerndal’s Master? It’s here?”
Magnus smirked as if he had been offered a sharp drink and a hot night and was inclined to accept. He let the answer dangle before giving it with barely hidden pride, “Yes. You thought we would let our dear princess travel on a ferry? Only the finest for your thin-skinned little butt.”
And on cue, they left the shadow of the planet, and on the horizon something large presented itself. In space, and without context, anything could appear small or large, but something in how many stars the spaceship before them blocked out with its size made it clear: It wasn’t big, it was massive - on a scale beyond comprehension.
Magnus began to narrate, drawing in De Vend who could suddenly not decide whether to be glued to the gyr’s lips or to peer out the window. “We built the largest ship the Hegemony ever saw to find out if we could do it,” he said and chuckled. “Then we did it again.” The pilot chimed in, not less proud than Magnus, “My Matriarch had ownership of the assembly. Sixteen of my sisters designed the aft Warp Loom.” Magnus smiled, “Really? I didn’t know. How did you end up flying cargo then?” the mocking earned a chuckle from the other pilot, while the first pointed her tongue at both.
De Vend didn’t hear any of that; his eyes glittered like the stars outside as he watched the details become clearer.
“How is it this beautiful?” he whispered to himself, but Magnus took note - then decided not to say anything. Giving the man his moment. The two halves of the ship were clearly of kaerienne design. Power was feminine in the matriarchy, and the martial language was flowing and round. Nothing protruded misshapen or broke the lines unclean - as the shadows danced over its simple unadorned metal shell, it looked like it moved sensually.
Vesper was fuming behind him, staring at his face, then staring at the ship outside. De Vend asked, “Could we circle over the top? I want to see its entirety.” Magnus sighed, rubbing his chin with his large hand, “I don’t think that’s possible. We’re already delayed, and a ship such as this can’t stop nor start on a dime.” He leaned towards the closest pilot, “How late are we precisely?” She nodded, ran some numbers on a display, and then said, “We really have to haul our little tushies now. She’s been picking up speed and we’re already within the safety margin for that.”
Magnus got up with a groan, patting his thighs as he rose. “It’s yours now, too, Princess. You can strut along its length of roughly 1000 kilometres with your two hegemonic stilts as much as you want,” he laughed.
A month of travel time was fast for half a continent’s worth of spacefaring structure. And De Vend had used most of it as Magnus told him to do before they reached their new home.
The Space Tender sank through the atmosphere of Castle Planet Kaerndal. Even Magnus had sat down in the passenger cabin to strap into a five-point harness. Vesper needed help as she couldn’t push her dress down and clip the buckle shut at the same time.
Magnus knew that it was half pretense, half selective incapability on her part. A month was plenty of time to learn her specific terms and mannerisms. “You’d do us all a favour.” Magnus recalled De Vend saying, and he both understood now why it was said with exhaustion and would never be set into motion.
Another turbulence hit the hull, and light cursing came from the cockpit. Magnus couldn’t stop himself from shouting over his shoulder, “Keep it civil up front, pretties.” Lucy grumbled, “I’m gonna show you pretty in a moment, Magnus.” Magnus smirked, satisfied that his rib had landed.
De Vend looked out the window as if he were a satellite doing a weather survey. “Why wasn’t this changed?” he asked offhandedly. Magnus looked at him, “The weather? It had been changed into this,” he chuckled.
He could feel the follow-up question rising between them, so he explained. “The great reclamation must’ve been long before your time. It was on everyone’s mind when I was a child,” he chuckled. “This is how the planet is supposed to be. An angry, hateful goddess that wants you gone.” Vesper pouted. “I know a few things you could do against that.”
Magnus rolled his eyes. “Let me guess? Most of it has to do with sexual pleasure?” Vesper puffed her cheeks, “All of them… at least.” De Vend sighed loud to make a point, “The point being?” Magnus nodded, “The kaerienne creation myth is of them drowning their own goddess in the stream below the castle, reclaiming the planet through hardship.” De Vend nodded, “How quietly dramatic.” He turned his head back to the window just as they punched through the heavy clouds and were bathed in the light of the sun reflecting off the surface below.
There it was, Castle Kaerndal, and De Vend noted how they swept slowly around it in what he assumed was done purely for his benefit. And despite himself, he appreciated it. A white sheen gave the stream below the castle something precious and beautiful. The harsh cliff upwards, giving the inselberg its characteristic frame, was unmistakable. Like a crown atop it sat the octagonal shape of the Castle which was dominated by the monolith of a Donjon.
Unadorned, purposeful. For as much beauty kaerienne spaceships held, their architecture was almost brutalistic in its simplicity. The material and craftsmanship was the point, not adornment.
On the horizon, there were the endless waterfalls - tiny from this vantage - but De Vend had read that they were about as tall as the mountains on Planet De Vend and there was so much water falling over the edge each second that its impact would kill most people at its bottom.
That a civilization rose at all on this planet was a miracle and had to be appreciated.
Balanced against the Castle hung the Landing Deck of the same, stretching out over the incline that led to the top. Magnus told De Vend that its architect had been buried within the structure. Something De Vend found disturbing, “And now every guest walks over her grave?” he asked. Magnus only nodded. “Her own body is part of the structure that is ensuring the safety of whomever is invited. Doesn’t get more kaerienne than that.”
De Vend scoffed, “Absurd…” then wasn’t sure he meant what he had said.
The Space Tender sat down on it all the same. Where on De Vend the landing deck was clean and ornamental, this one felt more at home on a military carrier. Safety nets, railings, position lights, and strap-down points broke the seamless surface, much to De Vend’s dismay. “It is ruined,” he noted, and Magnus chuckled, “As kaerienne as it gets. Four households deliberated a decade over the surface material and texture to make it safe in all weathers, then they bolted a railing, as you find in any official building, around it to be sure no one fell.”
“If these aren’t my favourite princesses!” someone shouted. De Vend didn’t need to look to know that it was Amathea. Magnus laughed, picking her up like she was a cushion, holding her tight, then setting her down. “Are they somewhere behind us? I don’t see them,” he asked, playing the fool. Amathea hit his upper arm playfully, “Idiot. I missed you.”
She turned to De Vend, “And you too.” De Vend scoffed with a smile, “Unlikely.” Amathea rolled her eyes, then noticed Vesper, who positioned herself jealously before De Vend, “Who is this?”
Vesper pulled in air to have enough of it to get through what she thought, then startled when De Vend flicked her ear. She searched around for the attacker before realizing it had been him. De Vend answered in her stead, “Vesper Fallbrandt. My Confidante. And someone who will behave like an angel towards my crown princess.”
Amathea blinked twice, then pushed her lips out and to the side, studying the tableau. “Is that her full title?” she said dry, which made Magnus break into laughter.
The crown princess was eager to show them their new home, commenting and pointing out as they moved. De Vend had decided to keep Vesper on a tight leash by guiding her by the neck, something Vesper enjoyed for the contact and hated that she wasn’t trusted. Vesper conceded that it was probably the right call, as she had already noted various things she would inspect and nosey around in when she was unattended.
De Vend took in the place and the people. None of the servants took measurable note of them; they hurried past. It wasn’t disrespect, but neither deference. That would take getting used to.
It was a straight shot from the landing deck to the throne room, but the hallway entered it oddly from the side. “It feels like the entryway is supposed to be there,” said De Vend, pointing at the wall in line with the throne. There was a simple bench that looked out of place, but maybe just for De Vend’s hegemonic sensibilities.
Amathea smirked, like she seemed to do when she knew a subject all too well, “It was there for centuries. But when the landing deck was built, people had to go around the castle to enter it.” She wiggled her eyebrows and added, “Very inefficient.”
Magnus leaned in on Amathea, “Never substitute pretext for pretense, ey?” Vesper chirped, “Those mean the same thing.” Magnus nodded and said drily, “That was rather my point.”
Amathea sighed and shook her head at the sky, then pointed to a smaller door beside the large entryway to the throne room. “This is where the real decisions are made.” De Vend’s eyebrow rose. “Oh?” And Amathea pushed them through the door into a tiny hall filled with a sturdy but worn long table, an assortment of chairs along its side, with one that looked like a throne at the end.
Like a little girl, Amathea hurried to the end to place herself in the chair at the end. She looked as if she needed to be twice her size to fill it in any way or form that looked regal. She brought forward her arms and out, as if to present herself and the room, “Welcome to the little court. The Hall of the Princesses of Kaerndal.”
Vesper scoffed, “Pretty shabby.” De Vend saw Amathea’s expression falter and scolded Vesper, “Shut up.”
Amathea sighed, her shoulders slackened as her arms came down. “Kaerndal had a dozen princesses for centuries. Leading all manners of things.” she shrugged, “Every generation now seems to have less and less.” De Vend looked around, pretending to take notice of things, even though there was little to really look at. “By choice?” he asked over his shoulder, running a finger over the spines of books on a little shelf. One of them crumbled under his gentle touch, so he stopped.
A chair was dragged out from the table, and someone heavy dropped into it. Magnus sighed and, opening the first few buttons of his dress, said, “They got replaced by households taking care of these things themselves. The Aethland has outgrown the need for much centralised control.”
De Vend scoffed, “Sure. Let us go with that.” Amathea shrugged and yawned, “As an extension of good will, I’ve decreed that we will eat our supper in the way of the Hegemony.” De Vend stopped his exploration and turned slowly to Amathea. He said measured, “That is quite unnecessary.” Amathea pouted, “It is NOT.”
There hung a heavy silence in the room that evening.
Amathea stared at De Vend then at Magnus, who had dragged his collar over his nose and held it close to his face with a hand.
De Vend took his time, spacing out the fifty-two spoons he needed would empty the little tin can in front of it. Amathea tried to chew the bite in her mouth, but it all tasted like vomit since a servant had brought De Vends meal.
Magnus let his cutlery drop noisily to the table before getting up. “That’s it. I’m opening a window.” He stepped towards the back wall and its stained-glass inlays before mumbling to himself, “Wait? Do these not open?”
By the time he turned around, De Vend placed the spoon gently over the mouth of the tin and leaned back. Almost five minutes - that had been slow enough for De Vend.
Amathea sighed, “You did that on purpose. You don’t eat that normally.” De Vend thought about being witty, then about being cruel. Instead, he ran his tongue over his teeth and said the truth, “One every day for the last twenty-four years.” The crown princess blinked, “Why? Do you have some… condition?”
Magnus chimed in, “He’s a Peregrini Noble, wasn’t that obvious?” De Vend’s eyes narrowed and he said deliberately slowly, “Quite so.”
Amathea’s gaze was sharp enough to cut the stained glass behind her if she wanted. “That was out of place, Magnus. Apologize.” De Vend noted the sudden gravitas in her voice and, with a little smirk, how the giant across from him startled. But Magnus didn’t back down that easily. “The hells I will.”
But the crown princess didn’t get him away; her voice rose threatening, “Magnus.” Magnus’s lip split into a snarl, and a strange noise, like rumbling, filled the air. Amathea shot him a hiss, “Magnus!” The rumbling stopped, and De Vend chose politics over violence. “Let him be excused for his ignorance.” De Vend leaned at his chair’s backrest, “But you should know better. You’ve made a quite drastic decision about yourself years ago, and so did I.”
He knew that’s where the line was, but De Vend could feel Katharina’s ire rising as sour as the aftertaste of his meal, “You will find satisfaction in the fact that it will quite kill me within a day to retreat from this decision. And that any attempt at straying from it will make me suffer. I just don’t have anything obvious to show for it.” De Vends’ glance was unmistakably aimed at the almost bared chest of Magnus.
Magnus exploded out of his chair, but so did Amathea. “This is not the tone in my court.” She bellowed. And Magnus might’ve towered over De Vend, but in this battle, both of them had lost in the length of her sentence.
De Vend raised his chin, theatrically pressed air from his nostrils as if forcing a calm, then added a quick glance at Amathea as if to acknowledge. “I have overstepped. I regret it. My apologies.” De Vend said, clean and orderly.
Amathea’s gaze moved to Magnus, who tried but would not meet her gaze. His anger and want for violence thrummed through the air like war drums before it stopped abruptly. Still, he chose to say nothing.
The crown princess sighed, and her voice became pleading. “Please. You are my sister princesses. We belong to each other and the monarchy.” Magnus pulled his chair to the table again and sighed, “You’re right.” a few half-sentences fit after this, which Magnus again didn’t choose to deliver.
“It has been a long day. Let’s finish it on something diplomatic,” he offered. Diplomacy turned out to be the brand of his preferred brandy.
The drinks hadn’t helped to repair the day, but they had smoothed the mood enough to the point where everyone could retreat, pretending they weren’t hurt.
Amathea chose to bring De Vend to his quarters and used the walk to talk earnestly.
“I’m not sure what the problem is with Magnus at the moment.” She sighed, stretching her back. “He’s never been like this before. Well, he was always Magnus, but he wasn’t hostile.” She said.
De Vend aligned his pace so that Amathea could comfortably walk beside him. Vesper had already told him where his new quarters would be found, but Amathea needed this, he knew.
Amathea didn’t need him to answer; that he knew too.
“We don’t have probation periods. We don’t have a demand to prove yourself.” Amathea said and searched De Vends face for a reaction before looking ahead to concentrate on walking.
With a heavy sigh she finished her thought, “You’re now one of us and will be forever. He needs to accept this. But I’m hurt that it is more important to him to be against you than for me.”
De Vend stopped and turned to Amathea, looked at her for a moment, and then said, “You shouldn’t tell me this. It is not for my ears. This is something between you and Magnus.”
But Amathea placed a hand on his back and motioned that they move along.
“You say that, but I don’t think that’s right. And honestly, I don’t care.” She winked at De Vend, “Maybe he’s jealous that you have a girlfriend?”
De Vend stopped again. “A partner? Who runs around telling such nonsense?” He noticed only afterward that his voice had dropped into Katharina’s register, but Amathea didn’t seem to have picked up on it.
Amathea stared at him, “Vesper did? She’s quite open about it. There’s no… issue with this in Kaerndal. At least. Well. Not for our kind.” She looked around, unintentionally making the silence uncomfortable. “Magnus has a lot of girlfriends. And you know about it . Well. You know.”
De Vend nodded, “I know. And if you allow, dear Crown Princess. I have a confidante to murder.” he bowed lightly, then picked up the pace, leaving her behind.
Vesper was brushing her hair, clothed in a modest sleeping gown, when De Vend stepped into his room. He expected her to be in his quarters; somehow he knew. On De Vend she had chambers beside his - with no connection.
Here, he knew without asking; she had used the turmoil around the dinner to arrange things in her favour. “If it isn’t my girlfriend,” he stated, annoyed. Vesper turned to him, making him pretty eyes, “Doesn’t that have a nice ring to it?”
“No,” he said.
Vesper deflated and sighed, “It was worth a try.” De Vend relieved himself of his suit jacket, hung it diligently in the open wardrobe before drawing the chair from the writing desk beside it to sit on it while opening his shoes. “With what are you paying me for this error of yours?” he asked.
Vesper had prepared, as always, but still pretended to have to think about it. “It is boringly exactly as it appears. We are now puppets in Amathea’s playhouse.” She turned in her chair, leaning forward and pressing against the side of her chest with her upper arms to present what she hadn’t got. “We can be a happy little family now. I will be the sensual mother, and you my…” her lips perked up on both ends and she purred, “daddy.”
De Vend stopped and slowly turned to look at Vesper. Many choice words filled his mind, many obscenities. But he knew that’s what she wanted. So he said nothing.
And Vesper knew she had been beaten.