Harkonnens at play

Chamber of Blades -- Harkonnen Embassy (Kaitain)

A hexagonal chamber brightly lit by suspensor globes. The walls of the chamber are a soft blue soapstone; the floor is polished black marble that is worn as if it's seen much use. Harkonnen banners are hung on all the walls. A large circle has been marked off in the center of the room for sword and shield fighting. The southern area of the chamber is fitted with a variety of exercise devices. House personnel mill about, some practicing sword and pistol, some merely observing.

Boris Harkonnen is a great bear of a man, his body a slab of muscle now turning to fat with age. His head is shaven bald, his full white beard plaited in braids that spill down his barrel chest.. Crystal blue eyes glint maniacally under bushy white brows. The Baron is clad in a suit of black padded body armor, with well protected shoulders, and a prominent yellow codpiece. A pair of wrap-around goggles protects his eyes. A half-shield generator is at his belt. Ulricke enters, presumably escorted by Fahahd. She pauses respectfully at the edge of the room, taking in whatever might be going on.

Fahahd is the guard on duty, padding softly after ulricke.

Boris is standing near the weapons rack, selecting one for his afternoon practice. "Damn and damn. Who's been at these?" he bellows, to no one in particular.

Sen is working on Anakiel's dampframmen in its bay on the far side of the room, personally greasing and adjusting it since only she is strong enough to do so without several longshoremen and a comealong. She has almost as much fondness for the machines as she does for the Jagers who operate them. More, in Ana's case. "The Na-Baron, my Baron," she calls back in reply. "They're to be resharpened tomorrow afternoon. He tends to be hard on the edges."

Ulricke's lips thin in disapproval. Her brother's never had any respect for good weapons, and she just manages to hide her outright disgust.

Boris pulls a kindjal from his personal selection, sighting down the blade. "Nicked," he sneers. "The lad uses a sword like an axe! Chop and chop. Has he no art?" He sighs. "Ah, Uli...At last, a Harkonnen who knows how to handle a blade."

Fahahd is simply pokerfaced, een more of a nonentity than usual.

Ulricke smiles. "Hello, Papa." she says. "I'd been hoping to catch you in your office, but you're here and well, I'd hardly want to disrupt your practice." She drapes a hand on her hip, giving him her best indulgent-daughter-grin.

Sen nimbly clambers atop the suit to rub thick silvery grease into its canopy hinges. Normally the Ixians send their gear largely disassembled and packed in oil, but the dampframmen are sent dry because no one else, with the possible exception of the Swordmaster, knows how to assemble them. She smiles quietly down at Ulricke, her face and skinsuit striped with black and silver, and ducks down into the machine again.Boris purses his lips. "Disrupt? You?" he asks, doubtfully. "You'd hardly be disrupting." He hefts a blade, fingering the edge speculatively and eyeing his daughter. One brow raised, he sends her an unspoken invitation.Ulricke purses her lips, tapping her finger to her chin as if pretending to think about it, and strides forward to select a blade as well. She hefts it in different grips thoughtfully, and then after selecting one, walks into the duel circle with her father. "You know, Papa," she says conversationally while stepping into a fighting stance, "I've been thinking." And thus, empires have crumbled.

Boris grins wickedly, giving his kindjal an experimental slash or two, then assuming an en garde position. He leaves his shield off, as is his custom, narrowing his eyes at his daughter.Fahahd slips back to watch from teh edge of the arena, hands clasped behind him.Boris asks idly, as if about the weather, "Thinking, my jewel? What on?"Sen peeks up out of the dampframmen's cockpit, and withdraws again when she sees it's Ulricke fighting Boris.

Ulricke takes three diagonal steps, and then performs a slash maneuver. "Andrei's got a battalion. They carry his standard, act as his guard. I'm sure it's a coveted position," Ooh, what a lie! Well, unless the one who covets it is a sociopath, "and well, I confess to being a bit envious that he has a battalion that he can work with and trust at his back."

Boris doesn't block the slash, ripostes easily into a counterstrike. "He needs them, my jewel," the Baron rumbles. "He's na-Baron and will command the whole Feldwehr someday."

Ulricke darts, sending out her hand to back slap his weapon armed wrist and hand away. She ducks and swerves, coming out and around with a slash to his head going straight across. "Well, I have someday to consider, too. I'll need to do something useful, or else he'll probably just ship me back off to Giedi Prime like an old harridan. And let's be honest, the prospects for marriage on Kaitain thus far have not been bountful." Of course, Andrei's probably going to outright kill her, or chain her to the bed permanently. Everyone knows it, and the person least thrilled about the prospect is Uli herself.

Boris blocks this one. "Well done!" he says in compliment to her duck and swerve. With his solid and massive bulk, he's like a rock, and their blades ring as they clash. "The men of Kaitain are weak-spined fools, eh?" he snarls. "Oh, very well, if you must have troops, I won't deny you. You must be kept safe." Safe from her brother, of course. He smirks as he aims a lunge at her.

Ulricke smiles. "They'll be the best men in the legions, Papa. General Rhedek has offered to train them himself." She can't out-strength her father, and knows it. She steps to the side, rotating her blade to parry his away. "Speaking of, did you know that he and the Countess Ophelia Moritani are something of an item? It's very hot and heavy, too." she grins wickedly.Fahahd hasn't moved, save for an occasional blink. He's got that rather lost and vague expression on, as if not paying attention.

Boris gives a low sort of noise, as his lunge misses her. He seems more shocked by this revelation, however, and falls back, circling to his left, looking for an opening. "Rhedek and...Ophelia?" he says, blinking. "He's never evinced an ounce of interest in anything save killing my foes!"

Ulricke grins. "He left a bite mark on her breast during the celebration at Reveler's. And you know...if he could cultivate that relationship, it would do for us quite well. We're certainly not going to get anywhere with that puissant Marco." She coils inward, like a cat waiting to pounce and pivoting as he circles her.

Boris frowns. "I don't like this. That woman's been sidling up to everyone in the Landsraad, including the Ginaz. Something's afoot. Now she's got my Warmaster suckling on her?" He aims a ragged chop at Uli, probing.Rhedek walks in from Slave Pits through the Archway.Rhedek has arrived.

Ulricke pulls back, and perhaps oddly, doesn't strike. Her father's seldom that sloppy, so it's probably the beginning of a feint. "She threw off Master Jacob for the General, Father. She chose a common blooded Warmaster over a Siridar. So there's got to be -something- to it." she notes shrewdly. "We could use this. If her passion makes her throw caution to the wind, we could very well get an offer from her for Rhedek. And that gives us a chip with the Moritani."

Boris and Ulricke circle each other on the duelling floor, sparring with blades as is their sometime custom. Sen works on a dampframme nearby, with Fahahd on guard, as ever.

Rhedek is a gloomy fly on the wall.

Boris asks, "And what about the house? And our military secrets? That man's head is full of them! I'd sooner chop it off than let her have it." He feints, as Uli expected, to the left, then switches direction fluidly, striking at his daughter's right, driving in with his point.

Sen bonks around quietly in Ana's dampframme, stripped down to her skinsuit and liberally coated in graphite grease.Ulricke's expectation is met. She snakes her hand out to the left, attempting to curl hers around it to try and disarm her father. It's a risk - if her timing isn't right, he could throw his body weight against her and knock her down. "You could have Nestor instill resistance blocks. If Rhedek wanted it bad enough, he'd allow it to be done. And with the assurance of his loyalty, you'd have an inside resource within the Moritani...and Ophelia's eternal gratitude. I'm not saying we should try and have them get married tomorrow, Papa - I'm just suggesting we keep an eye on their relationship, see how it develops, and see how we could potentially make it work for us."

The Baron's blade slips from his grasp as Uli snatches it away. He's off balance, leaning forward, but goes into a surprisingly deft roll for a man of his bulk, coming up in a fighting crouch. He manages to grin, winded, but facing his daughter full on. A laugh issues from him, "Superb! Superb indeed, my jewel!" he cries.

Ulricke grins. "The duel, or the thought?" she teases her father.

Boris laughs. "Both, of course. I'm simply trying to imagine Rhedek and Ophelia courting, eh? I mean, the great clot--" he finally seems to see Rhedek nearby. "Ah, General. There you are. My daughter was just telling me of your latest conquest, eh?"

"My lord Baron lauds me with high praise indeed," rumbles the mountain, who has been standing there for quite a while - the massive fellow is as gloomy as always, grave siege tower with a gargoyle's vigilant disposition stepping foreward as he is addressed. "And His concerns are indeed prevalent - I have, indeed, encountered the same obstacles in the exploration of this possibility of course."

Boris demands, "Report to me then, Warmaster. Have you scouted the terrain? Planned the assault? What chances do you give our forces, eh?"

Ulricke grins to herself - she's opened the gate, as promised. She hefts the knife easily, and unzips her bodysuit a bit lower - she's warmed up from the duel, of course. Absently fanning herself with her hand, posture slightly hipshot and back arched, she watches her father and the general.

Ulricke senses, "Boris winks sidelong at you, obviously he's teasing Rhedek. He does take a moment to ogle your lithe and heated form."

Fahahd is as impassive as a stone imp, himself, though considerably less intimidating. He doesn't even glance up as the General speaks...mentally contemplating his coming leave. "She is in love with me." Such a bald, blunt admission - but then this is his way, is it not? "There are...conditions...to overcome, but I believe the objective is well within our grasp."Boris sneers, "In -love-? Rhedek, don't be a fool. Ophelia never loved anyone save herself. She's married to House Moritani. What are these conditions?"

Ulricke puts forth, "I'd at least merit it worth a second glance, Father. Turning down a Siridar in public for the General, /and/ purposefully alienating the Alvst Siridar, /and/ telling Marco to bugger off in nicer language just so she can remain with Rhedek is a bit extreme for a woman who's simply ambling about with a play toy."

Boris glances towards Ulricke, thoughtfully. "Perhaps, my jewel, perhaps," he says, considering. "But she didn't rise to Siridar by accident, eh? The woman is as cunning as anyone I've ever met. I will not send my chief soldier into an ambush." He turns towards Rhedek again, awaiting his answer.

He nods a bit at that. "Of course, my lord Baron. In any case, there is the problem of my common birth, for one, and the matter of my lord Baron's clearance in the matter. I have considered all other facets, and have developed solutions - as well as the potential benefits to the Harkonnen house, many of which the lady Harkonnen has already outlined."

Ulricke grins. "I'd daresay that if she actually went as far as a marriage proposal...something could be arranged." she eyes them both. "This isn't a time to jump immediately to the assumption of result. This is a time for reconnaisance, wouldn't you say, gentlemen?"

Boris nods at Ulricke's proposal. "Very well, then, General," he tells Rhedek. "You may pursue the objective with the forces you can muster. But I expect reports on this matter!"

Rhedek rumbles. "My lady, the Countess has already berated me for not submitting my official document - it is a subject of some longing in our discussions. Not only that, her Excellency has expressed a wish to claim a title for me so that I might be a valid candidate...even to the point of suggesting that she gift me with a large amount of solaris with which to purchase such a title from my lord Baron should he not acknowledge my request of his own charity."

Boris 's nostrils flare. "How many solaris?" he snaps. "

That is entirely up to my lord Baron," says Rhedek evenly. "But I am certain that I can extract an appreciable amount from Her Excellency's coffers. I would imagine that it would depend on the magnitude of the title my lord Baron would wish to offer."

Boris strokes a plait in his beard. Paid by Ophelia to insert a spy in her house at the highest level? It almost is too good to be true.

Ulricke muses thoughtfully. "He'd have to stay with us until we could replace him, Father. And long enough to make sure his replacement is good, too."

A beat. "Of course, if this were to come without cost, it may further endear my lord Baron to the Countess - and provide more room to maneuver." "She has been...very emotional about the matter."

Boris nods, chuckling, but then breaks off. "I know that, General! That's bloody obvious." He frowns, shaking his head, thinking. "She's certainly got enough spice revenue that she can afford to buy you a title."

Ulricke muses. "Father, what if you suggested a 'dowry' of reasonable amount for him, and then granted him a title by the grace of your virtue. Then you'd get money /and/ seem gracious."

Ulricke's eyes alight. "And, ohh. Who casts the Moritani vote for CHOAM?"

You say, "But Uli! I -am- gracious!"

Ulricke grins. "True. But not everyone realize that." she points out. The big man nods. "And there is the nature of the Moritani house's votes in the Landsraad Congress. Also, with my presence as Moritani Warmaster - which I will fill, as they have none - we can ensure that not only will the Moritani be a staunch ally of my lord Baron, but I will be able to ensure that the presently pitiful military forces that would be offered at a time of my lord Baron's need would be vastly upgraded into a force closer to our own house military."

Boris nods. "I have the lands, Rhedek. Now you must find Ophelia's price. You must reconnoiter her, eh?"

"Aye, my lord. And should my lord Baron allow it...I have a replacement in mind."

Boris holds up a hand. "I'm not done with you yet, eh? I will decide who my new Warmaster is, eh?"

The mountain bows. "As you command, my lord. I shall extract the prices from Her Excellency on the morrow."

Ulricke says archly, "Doesn't a price need to be -set-, first?"

Boris tells Ulricke, "Ten years of tribute from Count Cabal's territories on Giedi. Which should amount to a pretty solari. Nestor can give you the amount, eh?"

Fahahd listens patiently, as he always does..pointedly ignoring the presence of Ana's dampframme.

Boris turns to go. He offers Ulricke a fond embrace. "You'll come to dinner, this even, eh?"

Ulricke smiles. "Of course." she assures. "I'd rather you looked at me instead of Andrei. It might spoil your digestion."

Boris chuckles. "Of course, of course. Thank you, my jewel, for the spar." He tells Rhedek, "You'll come as well, General. We've much to discuss, clearly." Then he strides from the room.