Imperial Court! (and a little more after...)

["Kathie Care" <kathie@availablelight.net>]

Logfile from DuneIII-Tat'iana
Imperial Selamlik -- Imperial Palace (Kaitain)

        The Imperial Selamlik, the throne room of His Majesty the Emperor of the
Known Universe, is a massive, elongated hall in the baroque style. The gold
leafed walls to the East and West slope gently upwards, forming a gentle set of
delicately detailed arches with triangular recesses. Inside one of these, along
the East wall, is the black desk of the Emperor's personal secretary. The
ceiling, culmination of the arches is a rectangular enclave filled with carvings
of the finest detail. A soft golden light drifts downward, filling the chamber
with a warm golden-red hue. The floor is of bare, sheer black granite, polished
to perfection, absorbing light and throwing only a subtle reflection. Against
the oval shaped, far North wall, atop a 5 foot dais sits the imposing Golden
Lion Throne, housed under an enclosing cowl, 7 meters tall and 6 meters wide.
Two narrow, golden pillars seem to support the cowl from either side of The Lion
Throne. Behind the Throne, to the rear of the dais dozens of elegant, golden
pillars line the north wall. High Imperial Noukker Honor GUARDS stand at
intervals in the chamber, leaving the dais itself a respectful distance.

                   (OOC NOTE: Type '+places/help')

Players:

 Galen                                              Wilhelm

 Germina                                            Ekaterina

Objects:

 README                                             Golden Lion Throne

Exits:

 Golden Doors <NE> leads to The Leonine Chamber -- Imperial Palace (Kaitain)

 Vaulted Arch <W> leads to Hall of Emperors -- Imperial Palace (Kaitain)

Emylie enters from the hall of emperors.

Emylie has arrived.

Galen stands in the east alcove.

Emylie slips into the room, eyes darting about. Uncertainly, she hovers near the
door with her two guards.

Wilhelm stands in the west alcove.

From the east alcove, Galen enters as quietly as one might considering the
setting and circumstances. He moves with well worn deliberatness toward his
Siridar and takes up postion nearby so as to be ready if called.

Pers enters from the hall of emperors.

Pers has arrived.

Dirk enters from the hall of emperors.

Dirk has arrived.

With little pomp and circumstance, but a flurry of young ladies all chattering
incessantly surrounding her, the Empress enters from the Hall of Emperors at a
slow walk. Though she nods to those she knows as she passes during her progress
through the Selamlik, her expression remains wholly disinterested. A time or
two, she even fixes one of the Ladies in Waiting with a baleful glare. But they
chitter on, until she draws near the dais, and there they pause. Their
chattering even ceasing. They halt; but Tat'iana moves on, mounting the stairs
to the dais where she stands next to the throne to await the Emperor's entrance.

You take your place to the right of the throne.

Dirk just looked at you.

Wilhelm slips in without fanfare, and after scanning the room, finds a quiet
place in the west alcove to compose his thoughts for the upcoming events. A
folded document is grasped awkwardly in his right hand, no other good storage
place presenting itself.

The Viscount of House Alvstad strides into the hall, dressed in his standardly
immaculate dress uniform. On this occassion, rather than being accompanied by a
swarm of attaches, however, he walks with only one man...and what an interesting
man he is. The pair makes its way over towards the Rastanyev contingent in the
eastern alcove.

Pers stands in the east alcove.

Rhedek enters from the hall of emperors.

Rhedek has arrived.

Anatole enters from the hall of emperors.

Anatole has arrived.

Fahahd enters from the hall of emperors.

Fahahd has arrived.

Emylie stands in the back of the room.

Dirk stands in the east alcove.

Slade enters from the hall of emperors.

Slade has arrived.

Anatole stands in the west alcove.

Anatole makes his way over towards Wilhelm, nodding his head in a very nervous
looking gesture. "Chancellor."

Rhedek stands in the west alcove.

Saud enters from the hall of emperors.

Saud has arrived.

Rinaldo enters from the hall of emperors.

Rinaldo has arrived.

Sveena enters from the hall of emperors.

Sveena has arrived.

Tolbert enters from the hall of emperors.

Tolbert has arrived.

Fahahd stands in the west alcove.

Wilhelm nods to Anatole, a slight grin on his face, "M'lord."

Saud stands in the back of the room.

Anatole turns, to watch most of the room make their way in, not glancing back at
Wilhelm, for any number of reasons..."I see you were nice and early...anything
of note that I missed?"

Erich enters from the Leonine Chamber.

Erich has arrived.

A trumpet flourish sounds. An Honor Guard announces loudly, "His Most Imperial
Majesty, The Padishah Erich Ladislas Corrino, Emperor of the Known Universe!"

Dirk follows the Viscount softly. A great feat considering the man's massive
size. Yet there is still a roughness in the man's step that infects his attempt
at grace. He holds a huge fisted hand at his waist. A little lost in the
surrounding company, he looks questioningly at the Viscount before him. Then the
approach of the Emperor...

From the east alcove, Galen bows low, eyes fixed firmly on the stone floor.

Malia enters from the hall of emperors.

Malia has arrived.

Ending his response to Anatole before it begins, Wilhelm turns to view the
entrance of the Emperor. He bows deeply, averting his eyes out of respect for
the ruler of the Known Universe.

From the east alcove, Pers must be feeling particularly theatrical tonight. He
grasps the lower corner of his teal-edged cap in his right arm and flings it
back in a whirlwind of whalefur, bowing crisply at his waist to give the
impression of a bobbing doll. As abruptly as the bow began, it ends, leaving the
Viscount standing as straight as ever.

Though the nobles in the room all go about their various forms of obeisance at
the trill of the trumpets, there is one who doesn't -- the Empress, Tat'iana,
remains standing to the right of the throne, back straight and chin lifted.

Dirk bends himself into a bow, looking down upon the floor.

A group of three people enter just before the trumpet sounds and Erich enters,
Rinaldo with Sveena at his arm and Tolbert walking with them, as they enter a
second before the Emperor enters, they find their way to the west alcove, guided
by Rinaldo that sees familiar faces there.

Rinaldo stands in the west alcove.

Anatole bows himself, low, respectful and formal, in fact quite crisp, almost
military in fashion, not expecting Wilhelm to answer in the least, and averting
his eyes to the floor, out of respect.

As one of the few commoners in the room, the Harkonnen Captain sinks down
awkwardly into a full obeisance, stiff as if injured.

Sveena stands in the west alcove.

Sen enters from the hall of emperors.

Sen has arrived.

The Hegemon kneels low before the Emporer as he enters. This stoic face of a war
veteran directed at the floor. Those that serve the Emperor fanatically humble
themselves the most before him.

Just after the trumpet blow, Rinaldo bows deeply towards the Emperor, his hand
parts for a minute from Sveena's.

        As His Imperial Majesty makes his appearance, the towering bulk the
General Maas-Stroheim nearly folds itself in two - bowing first, and then, on
the way floorward, lowering his mountainous mass into full genuflection.

Sveena gives a deep curtise as she glides into her place near Rinaldo and
Tolbert, her head bowed in just the perfect way for such company, she waits with
her eyes lowered before standing once more.

Erich enters the room with the proper panoply, the Emperor walking down the
arcaded center of the Selamlik, a faint smile imparted to his Empress as he
ascends it and turns, seating himself upon that ancient symbol of power and
might ... the Golden Lion Throne, settling out his robes before looking out at
the crowds noble and noteable attending. "Our cousines, lords, ladies, and
vassals all ... Tonight is apparently an evening for joyous occasion and
thanksgiving," he informs in a clear, resonant tone. "We are pleased to inform
you," he proclaims as a hand goes out to grasp the nearby one of his consort,"
that our Empress is not merely with child, but with two of them ... Within a
span of some few months, we will have a Crown Prince and Crown Princess to
proclaim." Pause for cheers and acclaim.

From the east alcove, Galen applauds loudly, just at the limit of what decorum
will allow and good taste will permit.

After the thrill of the Emperor's appearance, Malia's own is quite probably
overlooked by the majority of those in the room, with or without the Noukker's
that walk along on either side of her. The woman is silent, and without
guidance, moves to stand in one of the shadowed alcoves, definitely out of the
way.

From the east alcove, Pers politely applauds the announcement, though he is, as
usual, somewhat lacking in enthusiasm. It also appears that his attention has
been drawn somewhere else this evening, for his eyes continuously flick back and
forth between the throne and some unidentified target in its vicinity.

Dirk straightens. He applauds politely.

From the west alcove, Rinaldo rises from his bow and applauds, he offers his arm
to Sveena again, waiting for her to retake it.

Wilhelm rises as he offers applause at the announcement. "Hear, hear"

Tat'iana glances down as Erich seizes her hand, a faint smile touching her
lips - though it is fleeting in nature. Perhaps the announcement brings to the
fore of her mind that which needs no reminder - the pain in her back, the
swelling of her mid-section and feet, and we won't mention the morning
sickness... no, indeed. At the expected outburst of applause, she turns her gaze
to the gathered mass of people, offering them as well a faint smile and low dip
of her head.

Anatole smiles, his head bowing in something of a congratulatory gesture, his
applause echoing in the chamber with the countless others who join in
celebration with the Emporer and his consort.

From the west alcove, Sveena raises with a gracefully clap and smile for the
news, she then places her fingers back to Rinaldo's arm, and turns her attention
back the Emporer and Empress.

The eyes of the Hegemon widdens a bit as he glances up from his spot by the left
of the Throne. What thoughts race through his religious mind? Surely a holy
occasion indeed. For now the Sardaukar stands stoic at his position, keeping his
gaze upon the crowd.

Slade stands to the left of the throne.

Erich waves a hand dismissively as the applause dies down. "But we understand
that we are not the only ones who are due congratulations." He looks with
imperious insistence at his nearby majordomo, who dutifully taps his staff
against the tiled floor and bellows, "Count Rinaldo Benedit Moritani, you are
called before the Lion Throne."

Rinaldo leaves from his place in the west alcove.

Sen stands in the west alcove.

Rinaldo again leave the arm of Sveena behind and treads slowly towards the
throne, as he reaches a good distance he again bows, "I am here as ordered, My
Liege." He says, still bowing infront of the throne.

Emylie leaves from her place in the back of the room.

Emylie stands in the east alcove.

Erich curtly nods to the supplicant lord, ordering dryly, "Rise, m'lord, and
state your case before ourself and your peers and betters."

Anatole smiles, as he watches rinaldo called before the throne, figiting
himself, lightly bouncing from foot to foot, just quiet enough to not make a
disturbance.

"My Liege, My cousins, fellow members and retainers of houses Major and minor, I
am here in my name and in the name of the Duchess Atreides." Rinaldo says as he
rises from his bow, "I wish to ask your blessing, my liege," he continues,
addressing to Erich but talking loud enough for all to hear, "For The Duchess
Margot Elisabeth Atreides and myself, Lord Rinaldo Benedict Moritani are
bethroved and are to be married, with your approval, of course."

(OOC) Rinaldo says, "betrothed, please excuse my spelling."

The Hegemon shoots a deadly glare over at the west aclove at Anatole. Slade's
look is one that doesn't symoblize a fondness for the man's figiting.

The Emperor of course remains stolid through the announcement, though in making
reply there is the subtle upturn of lips, the tell-tale glimmer in emerald eyes
denoting bemusement. "Congratulations, Lord Rinaldo, to you and Her Grace.
Surely, if two individuals ever deserved each other, it is you two. You have our
blessing. Be fruitful and multiply."

Rinaldo bows once again, "Thanks you, Your Imperial Majesty," he says and awaits
to be released from this position.

Erich looks out to the Court before waving away the Count-Consort. "You are
dismissed, m'lord. Again, congratulations, and we look forward to a speedy heir
for Atreides from Her Grace's womb."

Dirk smiles slightly.

As Rinaldo hears the last comment he smiles but says nothing, vanishing from his
position infront of the Dais and reutrning to his place in the west alcove.

Rinaldo stands in the west alcove.

Galen pt :shakes his head in wry bemusment.

Germina mutters to Emylie, "... and... Though... doubt... Rinaldo... seems...
chuckle to..."

Saud has disconnected.

From the west alcove, Rinaldo moves his eyes to look at Germina after he takes
his place again, he says nothing and a wry smile decorates his face. He nods
towards his ex-wife, doing more than he could do months ago.

Saud has connected.

The Majordomo, apparently having memorized the agenda (and likely on pain of
execution or at least a few hours in the pain amplifier), calls in that harsh,
tinny voice of his, "Baron Wilhelm Christian Falkenburg, you are summoned to the
Lion Throne!"

Anatole turns, noting the exchange between rinaldo and Germina, and blanches a
little...turning a pale shade of white, saying nothing, wishing he could...

From the east alcove, Germina meets Rinaldo's eyes only for a moment before
lowering them again. Just another damper on the woman's day.

Dirk raises an eyebrow.

Wilhelm glances at Rinaldo as he returns to his place, a faint smile gracing his
expression. He quickly returns his attentin to the proceedings, though,
especially as he is called to the Throne.

The Moritani Chancellor steps forward and bows deeply. Never a man of many
words, he states simply, "I am your servant, Your Majesty."

Wilhelm leaves from his place in the west alcove.

Wilhelm stands in the area before the Golden Lion Throne.

Erich grimace/half-smiles to the Chancellor. "Then rise, and state your
business, Lord Falkenburg."

Wilhelm nods and rises, "Yes, Your Imperial Majesty. Her Excellency, the
Countess Moritani, would seek your favor in granting the wishes of Lord Anatole
Ciccolini's parents final will. She asks that you, in your infinite generosity,
grant unto him the rights and responsibilities pursuant to the title of Viscount
of Cerignola."

Erich gives a shrug of his broad, robe-swathed shoulders in nonchalance.
"Granted," is the terse acquiescence imparted.

Anatole raises an eyebrow, startled out of his thoughts, obviously on other
things, his name being mentioned was not expected, and he swallows deeply,
waiting to see what befalls him, or the Chancellor, then the answer is given,
and a slight breath of relief is released.

Wilhelm nods in acknowledgement and states the next order of business without
pause. "Secondly, the Countess wishes that an order of succession be established
in the event of her incapacity. By your grace, I humbly present myself as her
choice to serve as Regent should such an unfortunate event come to pass."

Erich does not falter or ponder this for more than the most fleeting of moments.
"We confirm you, then, as na-Count Moritani, m'lord."

Bowing in appreciation only after an awkward pause, the Moritani Chancellor
speaks with a tone indicative of the finality of his business. "Thank you, Your
Imperial Majesty."

Dirk looks swanky as he watches.

Erich lifts a hand to bid the Chancellor-turned-Heir retreat to the arcades with
the other onlookers. A fleeting glance is turned to the majordomo before the
next item of business is announced ... "General Maas-Stroheim, you are summoned
to the Lion Throne!"

Wilhelm leaves from his place before the Golden Lion Throne.

Wilhelm stands in the west alcove.

Wilhelm returns to the alcove, an oddly ashen shade coming over his face as he
does so. He absently holds the letter in his right hand and scarcely
acknowledges any of the others around him as he turns to view the General before
the throne.

        Summons from the Imperial hand - this is something not entirely expected
by the Harkonnen mountain. His surprise does not register, however, masked over
by the thick shell of dutiful acceptance he has been long enwrapped in, and like
a siege tower being rolled out across the field does Rhedek move toward past the
returning Chancellor, and before the Imperial presence lowers himself in precise
genuflection.

Rhedek leaves from his place in the west alcove.

Erich faintly frowns at the Harkonnen, but says nothing to the effect of any
displeasure. "Speak, General, and state your business with our Throne and
Person."

Anatole sighs a little, reaching out a hand, to the Chancellor's shoulder "That
he did Chancellor...that he did."

        "Begging His Majesty's indulgence," replies the General in his subsonic
rumble of a voice. "It is perhaps more appropriate that the Captain address the
matter at hand." While his eyes train the floor, a gesture of his head toward
lean Fahahd is indication of whom this officer may be.

Erich flicks an eyebrow in interest, this sort of deference to a lesser a great
rarity indeed. "Our curiosity is piqued by this motion, but as you wish,
General. Send your Captain forward, and be quick about it."

        "Kapitan Alaurans," rumbles the General and Warmaster. "Step foreward
and illuminate His Majesty."

Aleikum enters from the hall of emperors.

Aleikum has arrived.

Aleikum bows toward the Lion Throne and quietly finds a place.

Aleikum stands in the west alcove.

With the placid and vaguely distant expression of a sleepwalker, the Harkonnen
Captain drifts across the glossy floor to the proper distance from the Imperial
dais, to sink down into a full prostration.

Erich hurriedly waves for the man to rise. "Stand and speak, and be swift about
it."

Which Fahd does, surging gracefully to his feet to cast his gaze on a spot a few
yards before the throne. "My lord Baron Harkonnen requests of His Majesty that
the General Maas-Stroheim be recognized as my lord's choice to replace the
former Ferrel Cabal as Count."

Erich sighs and nods, this en-nobleage beginning to draw tiresome, but such is
the trend amongst the Houses Major, apparently. "So be it. We pronounce it
done."

Fahahd bows once again, and slips back for his former position in the alcove.

        "His Majesty is profoundly gracious - the newly-risen House of Maas
devotes its sword and loyalty to the blessed Imperium." This said the General
and Count remains on one knee, awaiting dismissal.

Erich leans over upon his throne, granting a distracted ear to his majordomo,
sending the man back down to the floor with a sound thwack on the head, the
frazzled master of ceremonies bellowing, "Na-Count Wilhelm Falkenburg, you are
summoned to the Lion Throne!"

Wilhelm steps forward and bows again before the Emperor, "Your Imperial Majesty,
I would ask that the Count be present for an announcement."

Wilhelm leaves from his place in the west alcove.

Wilhelm smiles sidelong at Rhedek as he awaits the Emperor's permission to speak
further.

From the east alcove, Pers's eyebrows lift fluidly as he observes the hit, his
expression distantly disapproving. But then, the Corrinos always were ones for
gratuitous displays of physical prowess.

Erich gravely frowns at the pair, but nods. "Then make your announcement,
m'lord."

Wilhelm nods quickly, "Your Imperial Majesty, the Countess Ophelia Moritani
wishes to seek your blessing for her proposed marriage to, now, Count Rhedek
Maas-Stroheim."

Erich is swift in giving his assent, his glower lessening in what passes in
Imperial terms for a show of approval. "We bless it, then. Congratulations,
Count-General Maas-Stroheim, and give our felicitations to your betrothed.
Unless there is something else, you are both dismissed."

Wilhelm bows deeply and retreats again to the relative safety of the alcove.

Wilhelm stands in the west alcove.

        Thus dismissed - and without any further business to tempt the Imperial
wrath - the General, and newly-minted nobleman, rises to amble back into the
protective shadow of the western alcove.

Erich leans forward upon the ornate Lion Throne, an almost contemptuous sneer
alighting upon his lips. "With that concluded, we move on to other business. We
bid you all witness the recent account of House Venhei. The fief of their
Majority, that which granted them the rights and privileges of a House Major,
granted in perpetuity by ourself and our predecessors upon this Throne, has
fallen under question and we therefore summon Lady Germina Gathis Venhei to
answer for it."

A rustling of skirts and quiet footsteps from the back of the alcove preceeds
the emergence of Lady Germina Venhei. Her head is not, however held high as it
normally is and instead her eyes seems transfixed to the floor, which serves her
just as well as she steps before the Lion Throne and drops herself into a very
deep curtsey, arms spread behind her and forehead almost touching her knee.
"Your Imperial Majesty." Her voice is emotionless and carries through the hall.

Germina leaves from her place in the east alcove.

Germina stands in the area before the Golden Lion Throne.

From the east alcove, Pers stirs absently, his erstwhile unfocused attention
snapping upon Germina quite suddenly. He watches, expression both calculating
and distant.

Rhedek stands in the west alcove.

Erich nods in recognition of the genuflecting noblewoman. "Rise, Lady Venhei,
and answer for your House. The late Regent, unconfirmed by our Throne, saw fit
to challenge our rule, and to distress and disrupt this Imperium with the
conspiring of the deaths of our predecessors, the late Emperors Jeon and
Fredhrick and the Crown Princes Elrood and Corrin. For this reason, the Regent
at his ilk, unlawfully in power, have been removed from it. As the sole
surviving heir to House Venhei, we would know if you desire to escheat the fief
of Liathon, singular fief of said House, to our Throne and Person."

Tat'iana seems to move for the first time since the long progression of the
Court's business began. First, it is a shifting of her stance (and the
oh-so-carefully hidden wince at the ache in her back from standing thusly), and
then she looks down upon the crouching lady, her face a bland mask.

(OOC) Erich says, "Regent AND his ilk, that is."

Sen curiously considers this... Germina.

Pers folds his arms across his chest and begins to move with quick steps towards
His Majesty's master of ceremonies.

Wilhelm watches the goings on, now returning to his normal demeanor. Although
barely acknowledging the Venhei kneeling before the Throne, his attention is
drawn by the Alvstad and his interest in this matter.

Germina stands, though it takes her a moment to rise from her position. Her eyes
continue to inspect her own feet. She pauses for a long while before answering,
perhaps attempting to find the courage to speak at this. "I most humbly
apologize for the behavior and innapropriate actions of the previous unconfirmed
Regent and his predecessors and I renounce all claims to House Venhei and it's
holdings to Your Imperial Majesty." With this said, she swallows and pales a
bit, but stands steady before the throne.

Erich nods in finality to Germina and with a courteous hand dismisses her from
that uncomfortable limelight, the majordomo in turn recognizing,
"Siridar-Viscount Pers Eskilsen, you may approach and make your petition known."

Germina swallows again and quickly departs, looking as if she would like to
become part of the floor as she slinks back to her position in the alcove.

Germina leaves from her place before the Golden Lion Throne.

Germina stands in the east alcove.

Dirk watches as the Viscount approaches the throne. He stands straight as his
interests perk up at the 'show' before him.

Pers walks quickly to the center of the hall and bows carefully. "Lord Emperor;
I request your permission to speak."

Erich nods to his oh-so-cher cousine. "You may, m'lord."

Pers arights himself, his lips twisted into a light smile at Erich's politeness.
"Your Majesty, Lords and Ladies of the Imperial Court," Pers says, his
enunciation painfully exact, "I wish to contest the legitimacy of any decisions
or claims regarding the fate of House Venhei by the Lady Germina." He pauses
only so that his intent may be made clear, then continues before he may be
interrupted by whispers and muttering. "Firstly, let it not be forgotten that
while His Majesty's graces are required to see a Family into the fold of the
Houses Major, it is the recognition of the Landsraad League that grants said
Family continued rights and privelages. Secondly, the late Regent Setzer Vaslaj
was recognized as a legitimate claimant to his position at the same session of
His Majesty's Court that appointed myself as Siridar-Viscount." Memory runs
well, even at that age, it would appear.

"Finally," Pers continues, "as the destruction of Liathon and the assassination
of the rightful Regent of House Venhei took place outside of the Forms and
without any declaration of kanly, there can have been no succession of power,
particularly not to the Lady Germina who was erstwhile a member of the Count
Agon's entourage." He looks up at the Emperor, his gaze respectful but less than
cowed. "As a Councillor of the Landsraad High Council, I must object to these
procedings."

Wensicia enters from the hall of emperors.

Wensicia has arrived.

Wilhelm seems not the least bit surprised at the the Viscount's announcement. He
only closes his eyes lightly and shakes his head, letting out a quiet sigh
before returning his attention to the Emperor.

From the east alcove, Germina looks up eyes wide from her place at the back of
the alcove and steps forward a bit, completely taken back by this.

Sen nods in approval of the presentation of the Forms.

Dirk smiles at the courage of the act.

The Hegemon lowers his gaze on to the the Viscount. If death be an angel of God,
then this Sardaukar is the visible representative of the flaming sword. Though
other wordly in his acts, Slade keeps his stoic expression.

Erich shakes his head gravely. "Your request is denied, Lord Venhei. It is not
your place to interpret the Forms, as we shall make quite clear presently. The
Landsraad High Council, in its present incarnation, is null and void ...
defunct. All of its members and particulars have seen their term limits expire.
Therefore, we do not recognize its legitimacy nor its right to function until
such time as new elections are held and the present Councillors are re-confirmed
in their office or replaced through the lawful means of the Forms. Your
objections are not only ineffectual, but after the fact. By the Forms, the sole
heir to House Venhei has forfeitted their fief and title due to a failure to
fulfill feudal obligations. We do hereby, and by the constraints of the Great
Convention, declare House Venhei dissolved, Lady Germina allowed to keep the
title and invested with the status of a House Minor beneath the aegis of House
Corrino. Liathon is fortwith absorbed into the Imperial demesne."

(OOC) Pers objects to being called a Venhei. ;)

(OOC) Erich says, "Gah. Alvstad."

(OOC) Germina objects as well. ;)

(OOC) Dirk seconds the motion.

Pers turns his head to the side, examining the Emperor off-angle. "Your
Majesty's declaration of a defunct Council does not sit well with this member of
the Landsraad Congress, Lord Padishah. I do suspect that House Alvstad is not
alone in this. Moreover, I call upon House Corrino to step before the Landsraad
and present precisely by what constraints of the Grand Convention it feels it
may declare a House dissolved." He turns about to examine what few Siridari have
even bothered to attend the Emperor's Court. "If my petition shall not be
acknowledged at this session of Court, then I request permission to leave the
Imperial presence."

(OOC) Pers says, "To clarify, by 'leaving the Imperial presence,' I just want to
bow and return to the crowds. Sorry. ;)"

The Empress herself begins to frown in earnest, especially noting the lack of
the Alvstad Viscount's adherence to the forms of protocol in addressing her
husband, the Emperor, as he does.

Erich replies flatly, "If it does not sit well with you, then encourage your
peers in the Landsraad to see a new High Council eleected, m'lord. The matter of
the Venhei is closed at this note, through the willful and requested escheatment
of Lady Germina. By the Forms, Liathon is incorporated into the Imperial
demesne. You are dismissed, cousine."

Pers bows sharply as is his custom, a military gesture of respect. He brings his
feet about and proceeds to clomp back to his position in the east alcove.

From the east alcove, Germina just watches Pers in astonishment as he returns to
his place. Her mouth hangs agape in a very unladylike manner.

Pers passes the Vaulted Arch and departs.

Pers has left.

Erich exhales a heavy sigh and looks out at the assembled. "On to the next item
of business. The Lady Ceile Aguilira, known to House Harkonnen as the slave girl
Malia, has approached our throne asking for sanctuary. Until such time as the
Siridar-Baron Boris Harkonnen presents himself in our presence, we grant that
sanctuary to her and her son."

Erich notes with pointed glance at the Harkonnen delegation, "We are greatly
worried at the absence and reported disappearance of the good Baron, and trust
he will be produced hale and hearty as ever, and in short order."

Erich is not long in dwelling upon the subject, swift in moving through the
agenda as he calls forth, "Let the Siridar-Regent Ekaterina Liliyaeneva
Rastanyev come forward."

The corner of Tat'iana's mouth twitches ever so slightly, but she dips her head,
giving her Imperial husband a sidelong inquisitive glance.

Ekaterina exits the alcove with a dancer's precision, with a faint glance
backward. While she hasn't any clear idea why Rastanyev is being called,
Ekaterina has at least the good grace not to show the bulk her bewilderment, or
to lag about, wasting the court's precious time.

The lady Regent takes a full step backward once she is safely esconced in the
presence, front leg perfectly straight. She sinks low to the floor, with both
arms extended and held back, head down and eyes closed-- the full curtsey. And
there she awaits acknowledgement, saying, "Your Imperial Majesty."

Erich lifts a hand in motion for the dom-Tsara to stand. "M'lady ... House
Rastanyev has grown very near and dear to our heart of late, with our marriage
to one of your own. The increased ties in blood and kin neccessitate the
elevation of your House to a higher level of peerage. We are therefore pleased
to confirm you and Earl Mikhail, should he recover and return to duty, and
proclaim House Rastanyev a Siridar-Duchy."

Ekaterina rises as bidden, eyes content to graze the floor as though the floor
were the most interesting thing to look at. No sooner are further words spoken
by his Imperial Majesty, than the Regent is forced to blink thrice, as though
she had gone deaf, and not heard a word.

Don't faint. Don't babble. Just smile. Don't forget not to look up. Just answer.
Breathe. "A Duchy that swears fealty, may it honor the Imperium," she says in a
measured alto.

Erich offers a rare, approving smile for the Regent. "Your fealthy renewed is
accepted whole-heartedly, m'lady. We give you leave to carry the word to your
ailing Earl now Duke, and to your happy citizens on Garrashu IV."

Duly dismissed in fair course, Ekaterina Rastanyev back away and out of the
presence, moving like a leaf blown by a breeze. She returns to the eastern
alcove, and her seat, looking at no one. None but the floor.

(OOC) Erich says, "If anyone else has business they want to bring up, page me,
else this Court will soon be drawing to a close."

Erich at length rises from the throne, his hands lifting in a parting gesture to
the assembled vassals. "Lords and Ladies, citizens of our Imperium, we bid you
safe travel to your homes, prosperity in your enterprises, and courage in your
adversities. Take our words to heart, and bid the Landsraad elect a new High
Council, to better ensure that lamentable situations such as that of the Venhei
do not in the future rest entirely upon Imperial arbitration. In the coming
weeks, we will all have much to be thankful for. The marriage of several
noteable peers, the birth of Imperial heirs, and the ever-continuing passage of
new and promising talent into prominence amongst us. We leave you with that
promising prospect, and declare this audience at an end." Trumpets blare at the
Emperor's final words, his Noukkers drawing close to the dais and flanking their
master as he descends it, without further adieu departing the Selamlik, leaving
the Houses to discuss and gossip and ponder and plot as they may ... and
doubtless shall.

(OOC) Erich says, "Feel free to hang about and conspire to your heart's desire,
folks. Thank you for a wonderful Court session, and by all means, RP the events
of tonight to the hilt. That's what they're presented for. :)"

Emylie passes the Vaulted Arch and departs.

Emylie has left.

Slade kneels as the Emperor departs. Silent to the last.

Rinaldo has left.

Aleikum goes home.

Aleikum has left.

Erich has left.

Tat'iana waits a few moments for the Emperor to make his way out, and then she
carefully lifts the hem of her skirts and descends herself from the dais. Upon
her arrival on the Selamlik floor, her Ladies in Waiting make their way to her,
though they remain slightly apart -- permitting conversations and greetings that
etiquette demands.

You move away from the right dais.

From the east alcove, Galen bows as the Emperor and Emperess depart.

Anatole leaves from his place in the west alcove.

Anatole leaves the alcove with the other Moritanis, making his way slowly
towards the emporess, bowing deeply should she deign him worthy of a word.

From the east alcove, Germina hangs her head a bit and begins to make her way
out quietly.

Tat'iana does indeed note Anatole's approach, giving the man a slightly fatigued
smile and a nod. "Congratulations, my Lord Viscount, upon the confirmation of
your inheritance. Though our sympathy must also be expressed."

Sveena turns to Tolbert as Rina leaves and smiles, shet hen nods towards the few
she knows and starts to leave the alcove as she pulls her cloak around her
shoulders once more.

Sveena leaves from her place in the west alcove.

Germina leaves from her place in the east alcove.

Wensicia passes the Vaulted Arch and departs.

Wensicia has left.

Anatole nods his head, lifting it slightly, but not his eyes to hers "Many
thanks Your Majesty, I have been done a great honor this day...but why
sympathy?" He seems...very worried.

The Hulking mass of the Hegemon rises back up from the position beside the
Throne and descends back to the the floor, oddly enough taking to a flanking
spot behind the Empress. The air of over protection seems to ooze from the man
as he looms from behind her. That single eye of his darting around the crowd
should he need to break anyone at the slightest command. Like clockwork Noukkers
are present and ready if trouble should arrise, though almost a double amount
from what could be told.

Ekaterina turns her head to Galen, and nods to him. After a moment more of
immobility, she raises herself unaided from her seat, and departs the alcove,
looking to her side as if waiting for him to keep pace. Her eyes turn to the
Empress and her guard.

Fahahd turns to pace quietly for the exit, not glancing at the departing nobles.

"The reason behind your inheritance, of course," Tat'iana murmurs, tilting her
head to the side. "It is usually customary, is it not, m'lord, when one inherits
something, it is because of a death..." A hand rests lightly on the top curve of
her noticeably swelling abdomen, the stance one of unconscious habit already.

Tolbert tugs at the end of his tunic, nodding to Sveena as he takes position
near her side, watching in silence.

Slade moves away from his place at the left of the throne.

Galen follows closely behind the Rastanyev regent as they make their way towards
the Emperess. Lap dog or puppet master, you be the judge.

Anatole smiles a little, some of his nervousness fading, nodding repeatedly. "Ah
yes Your Majesty...well my family had departed some time ago, there were
conditions within their final wishes, that I had only recently seen fulfilled. I
thank you for your condolences however."

Germina raises her head slightly and looks over toward the Atreides contingent,
momentarily and a bit hesitantly. Her eyes meet thos of the warmaster for a few
short seconds before she glances at the door.

Ekaterina leaves from her place in the east alcove.

Tolbert turns his gaze about the room, taking sight of one of the ladies,
inclining his head slightly, glancing at the door before leaning over and
speaking to Sveena.

Galen leaves from his place in the east alcove.

Tat'iana nods once more to the Moritani, the Hegemon's position catching her
attention as it sends a rise of giggles up from the young ladies in waiting
clustered around. A brow quirks slightly, but she says nothing on the looming
nature of the man. There is no point in arguing with these Sardaukar types,
after all - they're all like brick walls. But the angle her head turns in
affords her a glance of the approaching Rastanyev, her lips curling in a rather
good impersonation of a saccharine smile. "Baroness Stalinsky," she calls,
greeting the Regent by name. "And to you, our congratulations as well. It is
certainly a pleasing report our brother will be receiving, no doubt."

Sveena turns her head a little to listen to Tolbert as she contuines to make her
way slowly towards the door, nodding to a few people she seems to know. She
turns her eyes towards Germina a moment after a small bit of nod to Tolbert.

Germina glances back once more before slipping through the door, quietly, a
sullen look on he rface.

Germina passes the Vaulted Arch and departs.

Germina has left.

Tolbert passes the Vaulted Arch and departs.

Tolbert has left.

Anatole looks up at Tat'iana once more, watching her, and starting to bow again,
waiting to be dismissed, its obvious a lowly Viscount does not rate attention
like her family, or Baronesses.

Fahahd passes the Vaulted Arch and departs.

Fahahd has left.

Sveena passes the Vaulted Arch and departs.

Sveena has left.

The Hegemon sends a sharp glance to the giggling women almost as if he as
mentally strangled them in his mind. But his attention is not wasted on them for
long as Slade goes back to scout out the room for possible trouble. The lighting
in here does good to makes his scars stand out for all to see. Who needs medals
when one's body is a testament to duty?

Dirk passes the Vaulted Arch and departs.

Dirk has left.

Ekaterina walks pensively across the central Selamlik, where she is inevitably
hailed down by the Empress. Observing proper courtesy, she genuflects, and says
with a slight weary edge to her voice, "Your Imperial Majesty, I am the one who
should be offering congratulations to you... Impending motherhood. I will not be
one of those who warrants such a thing as ordinary. It is miraculous, the
bearing of babes."

"But, I cannot answer to that title or name any longer. Our laws have seen my
late husband buried and his title passed on. I am only Ekaterina Rastanyev, now,
as I have not been in long years." She slows, and quiets a moment, bending to
offer a greeting to Lord Ciccolini, in his turn. "My lord," she says.

Galen approaches and offers a formal bow to the Emperess, but remains silent.

Tat'iana's attention hasn't entirely left Anatole, though. She gives him a
warmer smile than before, perhaps even a hint of apology creeping into it. She
glances again to Ekaterina, murmuring, "I see, my lady. Passing the title on, in
hopes of something a bit... hmm... higher? Perhaps one would be wiser to hang on
to what one had. If hopes were solaris... I'm sure the peasantry would be less
populous." She ends the statement with another slim smile, adding, "Boon or
bane, I know not... this tendency of the Rastanyev to have twins. His Majesty
certainly is pleased. The heir, and a spare, both at once." Bitter, bitter... it
is a bitter pill to hold in one's mouth, isn't it?

Anatole bows, taking his leave then....what he wants, he won't find tonight, not
with everyone here...

If it is a pill then it is the Hegemon who is trying to swallow whole turkeys as
he is trying to sort out all manner of things. Surely a hundred bulls will be
sacrificed on Salusa Secondus for celebration of twins and the virility of the
Emperor. All the big man can do is keep one hand on his shield belt and the
other on his saber.

Anatole passes the Vaulted Arch and departs.

Anatole has left.

Ekaterina can more than grasp the underlying sting to Tat'iana's words, and
fights the urge to groan. Even minimall, she gives Galen such a look of-- of
what? But says quietly to the Empress in her most prim tone, "I GAVE away
nothing, my lady. The law demanded a Baron for Stalinsky. I haven't the
necessary attribute of maleness."

"Happy occasion though, that you shall have done your _complete_ duty to your
station and can then enjoy the quiet years of rearing."

"Laws can be changed, my lady... they can indeed. After all, the houses Moritani
and Atreides both now no longer have a patriarchy... their Siridari do, as you
put it, lack the attribute of maleness," Tat'iana murmurs blithely. So easy it
is for one so close to the Throne to think of just arbitrarily changing laws.
"But no matter. Perhaps the upsets caused by such a change are too great." She
pauses again, and offers another smile -- this time, more tinted by sympathy.

Slade turns his head to look over at Regent. The beast studies her small form
quietly. Silently there is a small worried tought about stress to the pregnant
Empress. No rest for the fanatical.

Ekaterina will grind her teeth tonight in sleep, Ekaterina is sure of it, but
for now she must look sweet and mild, acquiescing. Slade, the beast, she barely
looks at, but knows well enough when she is being assessed for threat. "How
clever. I would have never have thought of changing something that has worked so
well so long. Perhaps it is my upbringing, Imperial Majesty, that hinders me. I
must beg your leave to depart. You will require your rest of course-- eating for
three, and all that."

Tat'iana conceals the glare she wishes to bestow upon the dom-Tsara well, her
masked smile not slipping in the slightest. "Three... yes," she murmurs. "Do
give our regards to our brother in your report of tonight to him. It would do
well if he could find time to visit about the time of the birthing. Perhaps he
might see his niece and nephew, and assist in their naming." The Hegemon is then
given a lengthy glance. Yes, the Empress wishes to depart, and a way is
required.

Bellowing forth an order from Mt. Olympus that eerie deep voice chills the bones
as it is slpit forth from his lips. "Make way for the Empress!" As though the
man was Noah and the remaining crowed the Red Sea, a large walk way splits at
his command. The Noukkers lining the path also helps to define that no one will
cross.

Ekaterina gives a smile that is so difficultly contrived that it literally pains
her to seem so blithe. There is such an ache in her heart, that the Empress can
so easily bite so deeply into her person, with so little effort. She had thought
better of herself, and it causes her insides to twist as though poisoned. "Good
evening," she says, and the words taste like crabapples-- unbearably bitter.
Worse than ashes on her tongue. Nonetheless, she backs away, and then departs,
giving the Mentat no thought at all. She will have words enough for him later.

Tat'iana turns away from Ekaterina without much of anything else to say. She
lifts a hand, passing it across her face. But if one looked truly close, the
gesture would be recognized for what it was -- a surreptitious attempt at
clearing welling tears from her eyes. With the hem of her skirts lifted just
enough from the floor, she begins to make her way along the Noukker-made aisle,
her ladies in waiting falling in behind her like a gaggle of colorful geese.

Boots striking the floor, the troop of chase Noukkers and Hegemon march out
following the Empress. The beast glances down at Tat'iana slightly. And some
where deep, deep inside the monster it troubles him to see a goddess be in pain.
Emotions are the one of the greastest challenges for the intellectual brutes.

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