Fahahd and Scaurus in the Library

[Imperatrix <pyanfar@mindspring.com>]

The Saudir I Memorial Grand Library of the Imperium -- Imperial Palace
(Kaitain)

        The Grand Library of the Imperium, founded by Wallach I, is widely
considered to be among the great marvels of the Known Universe. It is a
structure unto itself, barely contained by the Imperial Palace. Soft cherry
wood paneling adorns every surface, its rich aroma blending with that of
the many books contained within. Every manner of filmbook, holographic
record, still recording and even rare bound parchment or the occasional
paper works are stored here; some dating back to pre-guild authors. Five
landings, each filled with stacks and stacks of volumes, rise upward to the
mural adorned ceiling. The combined works represent a copy of nearly every
volume ever published in the Known Universe since the year 2903- when it
became a crime to publish a work in the Imperium without providing a copy
to the Emperor's library, including several unique one-of-a-kind works.

        The ground level landing is centered by a series of oak topped
desks and green-shaded glowglobes. Ornate old-fashioned lamps also hang on
long chains from the vaulted ceilings, creating warm pools of light upon
the tables.

        This enormous set of chambers is unnaturally quiet, even though
scholars are frequently seen shifting here and there, retrieving writings
from every corner for reflection and study.

Sitting at one of the oak-topped desks, Scaurus has around him various maps
and charts, as well as a large book entitled "Spice Records from Arrakeen."
A large pot of spice coffee is to his side, his reading spectacles on the
end of his nose as he goes over page after page of CHOAM notes regarding
Arrakis since, it seems, the beginning of time.


Fahahd has an odd case slung over his shoulder with a worn strap, and a
sheaf of notes and paper copies in his hand. He's wearing a vaguely
abstracted expression.
Fahahd

        The face of a hardened warrior, with steely eyes that would strike
fear into the hearts of even the toughest of the Imperial forces....not
quite. In fact, the man's face is disarmingly boyish, making his real age
hard to tell. No scars or lines betray the hand of Time, save one: the lobe
of his left ear is simply gone, as if cut or ripped away.. The green eyes,
slightly slanted and posessed of a peculiarly innocent intensity bordering
on bewilderment, peer out from beneath slender brows, over high
cheekbones...the thin mouth is generally set in a thoughtful expression.
The rest of his features are slightly angular, giving him a gamine,
somewhat feral air. Hair of a deep ash blond is cropped close, giving it
the appearance of a marten's pelt - though glints of silver now spark among
the darker hairs, an odd contrast with the youthfulness of his face.
        Neither very bulky nor particularly large, he's sleek and compact,
with the build of a trained gymnast - all muscles in proportion. His
movement is fluid, with the speed and boneless grace of one of the small
furred fighters: a mongoose or marten, rather than a panther....though his
general stance is posessed of a peculiar solidity, seeming nearly
unshakable when his feet are planted. The squarish hands are strong and
deft, adorned with scars and calluses, rather than the soft skin and
jeweled trinkets of the nobility.
        He's neatly and soberly clad in the dark uniform of a member of
theHarkonnen Familiar Guard, with the silver wolf's-heads that signal a
Captain's rank gleaming from collar and cuffs, and jackboots polished to a
gleaming gloss. On the left shoulder is a brightly embroidered patch: a
white shield emblazoned with an equal armed scarlet cross, surmounted by a
silver sword - the insignia of one who served in the campaign in the
Outremer system on the Bajazet frontier. From a sword belt of glossy black
leather depends a steel-hilted kindjal in a worn sheath. The belt also
holds a maula pistol in a snug holster, as well as a standard-issue shield
generator, most often on and humming contentedly. Despite the uniform and
weaponry, his general air seems more clerkish than martial.
 
Scaurus looks up momentarily at the entry of the Guard Kapitan, and seems
to glower visibly from his position. He immediately takes of his reading
glasses, and leans back in his seat, tapping on the book in front of him.
With a deep, raspy voice, he states from his position, "Kapitan." It's a
clear, definite request for him to join the Treasurer. Or perhaps an order?


Fahahd pauses, focussing in on the Treasurer. Then he patters over to where
Scaurus sits, though he doesn't bow. "My lord?"

Scaurus closes the book in front of him, pausing for what seems like a long
time, "We failed, Kapitan." He says, very simply, before gesturing to a
seat. He clears his throat, and leans back in the seat again, "Some things
can't be stopped, Kapitan. It is a shame, isn't it?"

Fahahd seats himself with almost feline fussiness, stowing the case by his
feet before he replies. "We, my lord?" he wonders, innocently. "And what is
a shame?" He suspects what the older man means...but isn't going to jump to
conclusions.

Scaurus glares over to the soldier, chiding as he says, "Don't assume as if
you had no responsibility in the matter. You were as intricately involved
as any of Her Highness' friends." He turns back, taking a deep breath, and
sipping from his coffee, "I've lost much in the last few months, Fahahd."
He notes, cold eyes staring holes into the wall, "Yes. Much."
 
Fahahd's eyes are immediately as hard as agate, though his expression
remains bland. "Oh? Precisely what could I have done that my lord Treasurer
could not?" There's no sympathy, there.

Scaurus blinks, looking at your eyes. He stares for a moment, a long,
paused moment, and his features suddenly drop, all colour disappearing from
his face. He says, in a whisper, "You...?" He blinks, just once, then
again, "Your eyes...they're green..."

Fahahd peers at Scaurus, asking, "Are you well, my lord? And yes, they are.
They always have been. Is that bad, somehow?"

Scaurus turns, rising suddenly and looking away, "It's you. It was there
all that time, and I didn't even realize..." he turns around, "It was you,
Fahahd. She loved you. You're the one with the green eyes..."

Fahahd's entire body has tensed, like a cat about to spring on a mouse -
the hands that grip the arms of the chair are white-knuckled. "What are you
talking about?" he asks, shock rendering his speech blunt.

Scaurus turns away again, biting his lip, "Her Highness. She told me...she
was in love with a man with green eyes. A man she couldn't have. She
wouldn't tell me who." He turns again, chuckling hollowly, "And it's you,
isn't it, Fahahd? She loved you..." 

Fahahd has settled back into the chair, struggling to regain his composure.
It only takes an instant..but for that moment, his expression is raw. "I
don't know. What other acquaintances did she have with green eyes?"

Scaurus suddenly grits his teeth, snarling as he launches closer to you,
"No one! It's you, Fahahd, isn't it? That's why you were so worried, that's
why she said she couldn't have you!" He settles suddenly, returning to his
chair, running his hands along the ends of it and shaking his head, "I
can't believe that I could be so blind...all this time, and I didn't
realize." He looks at you again, piercing, "Don't lie to me Fahahd. What
use could it possibly do now? Do you think I'd deface her reputation...or
attempt to destroy you in some way?"

Fahahd recoils, nearly knocking his seat over in the process. But his
expression remains cold. "It's of no moment, now. Her Highness is lost, and
there were no improprieties while she lived."

Scaurus shakes his head again, "No. I don't imagine there were. Suddenly it
all makes sense..." he says, musing to himself. If it wasn't for the amount
of pressure the Treasurer was in, and the fact Fahahd would know this, one
would think he'd gone quite mad, "The Princess and the Pauper. What a
story, Fahahd...you should write a book," he chuckles for a moment, looks
at Fahahd, the laughter becoming more and more, filling the room, until
he's finally in throes of laughter, tears welling in his eyes, "You've
fooled the entire Imperial Household, Fahahd! You! A Harkonnen Kapitan!"

The Guard's expression is utterly stony - apparently the hilarity of the
situation is lost on him. He's forced himself to fold his hands peaceably
in his lap. "Fooled, my lord?" he wonders, coolly.

Scaurus takes out his handkerchief, rising and wiping his eyes, the other
occupants of the library looking at him strangely, "Yes, Fahahd, fooled us
all! She cried for you, you know. She shed tears in my arms because she
couldn't be with you, and all the time no one had any idea. We! The
Imperial House, rulers of the Known Universe...duped by a Harkonnen
Kapitan. People write fantasy novels on these kinds of things, Fahahd.
Fiction! Completely unrealistic! And here it is unravelling before my very
eyes..." he begins to chuckle again, and it flows from him like a burst
dam, most probably the first time anyone has ever witnessed the Treasurer
laugh for more than his polite five second chortle.

Fahahd remains frigid. "I was not the one doing the fooling," he
notes,calmly. "I'd no idea she cherished any such feelings for anyone."

Scaurus places his hands behind his back, gaining composure once again,
turning and blinking, as if another revelation has suddenly hit him, "You
didn't know?" he states, almost whispering again.

Fahahd lies, blithely, "Of course not, my lord. I told you...there was
nothing improper between us."

Scaurus chuckles raspily again, shaking his head, "No, Fahahd, that's not
true. You did know something...these stories don't end like that. You're
more cunning - more intelligent...I see through that exterior of yours, I
see what a dangerous person you can be when provoked. You know so much more
than you let on..." he smirks somewhat, "You won't fool me, Fahahd."

Fahahd observes, voice still mild as milk. "What does my lord think
happened, then? This was not, despite its resemblance to such, some trashy
cross-class romance novel. Her highness was kind to me, certainly...but
never in such a way as to compromise her station. Nor did I seek any such
attentions from her."

Scaurus brushes his hand, the coldness returning to his eyes, "You act too
cool to be truthful, Kapitan. You speak in a calculated way, trying to
cover up emotion and feeling...I know because I speak in the same way." He
takes another sip of his coffee, "Do you think I'll do anything with my
realization, Kapitan? What good could it possible do to me to destroy the
memory of my most loved and cherished friend...to enact some petty attack
upon a Harkonnen Kapitan," he turns, eyes suddenly bright, opening as he
speaks to you, "You know I'm not your enemy, Fahahd."

Fahahd replies, words bitten off short, "I know very little, my lord,
though I don't think I've done anything that might earn your ire. And
coolness can come from certainty, rather than deception. But of course, you
shall do as you please with whatever claims you may wishto make."

Scaurus opens his text back up again, running his finger along the page,
"You know more than many, Fahahd. Much, much more. A man like you must be
of incredible value to the Baron. Why should I bother making claims upon
you that aren't correct, Kapitan?" he questions, switching from informal to
formal with the blink of a sentence, "Do you think that the love shared
between yourself and Her Highness will have any effects on any situations
now? No. I think not," he pauses a moment, licking his lips, "I am sorry
for your loss, Fahahd. For both our losses. For Ceile's loss."

Fahahd notes, very gently, "As am I, my lord."

Scaurus takes up his pen very gently, spinning it and frowning,
concentrating deeply on the top, "Do you know, Fahahd...that between us, we
could cause such difficulty the Universe has ever seen? Could you imagine
the repurcussions of our combined information being released? Utter
chaos..." he puts down the pen, still frowning, "All because of two men, a
slave and her baby. The Universe would crumble on its own foundations. It's
disturbing. Very disturbing."
<Corrino> Yvgenie has disconnected.

Fahahd frowns, cocking his head. "How so, my lord?"

Scaurus clasps his hands together in front of himself, his attentions on
the wall, "A murdered Princess, Fahahd..." he whispers, lightly, ensuring
no one else can hear, "The Emperor so intricately involved. A love between
Princess and Harkonnen Kapitan. An Imperial Treasurer who betrays his own
House to bring justice, if we took that path. The Landsraad would be in an
uproar...the Emperor would be in dire danger. You could be assured there'd
be the vultures waiting close by. What would come of the tripod of power?"
He shakes his head again, "Such incredible power, the power to destroy
utterly some of the most basic foundations of society. Even if we weren't
generally believed, there would always be those Houses who would take any
opportunity to leap upon the Lion Throne..." he purses his lips, leaning
back, suddenly looking at Fahahd and stating, "I think we'll be friends
yet, Fahahd."

Fahahd shrugs. "Who would care? Who would be foolish enough to bring an
accusation of murder against His Majesty? And even if such a thing were
true, what of it? Ultimately, the EMperor has the right of life and death
over all, even his sister. And what if the Princess did once love me?
Nothing came of it, and it wasn't House Harkonnen she went to and died in." 

Scaurus shakes his head and chuckles, "Of course not, Fahahd, no one would
care. But other fantasy novels have been written. Ones more bizarre than
the thoughts of destruction." He pauses a moment, suddenly closing the book
again, "How is the Lady Harkonnen these days, Kapitan?"

Fahahd lifts one shoulder in a ashrug, and drops it. "Well enough, my lord.
In good health and spirits, so far as I am aware."

Scaurus nods lightly, "She's no more interest in me, I don't think. Of
course, I know little of these matters. She's one of a kind though, that's
for certain. Perhaps you'd be good enough to see if she'd like to visit? I
offered to hunt with her and the Baron, but I'm afraid I'll have little
time, before I depart." He doesn't mention where he's going, though the
books and charts may well be a tell-tale sign. 


"I shall certainly relay your invitation, my lord," he murmurs. "But I
think she shall be in much the same straits."

Scaurus blinks for a moment, tilting his head to the side, "She's
travelling, is she? Anywhere in particular?"

Fahahd notes, blandly, "I don't know yet, my lord."

Scaurus ah's, nodding, "Of course, how silly of me to inquire, why in the
universe would you ever tell -me- something so trivial." He states, the
sarcasm fairly dripping from his voice as he opens up his book again, "Such
information could be so dangerous in my hands."

Fahahd notes, with sarcasm clear. "OR perhaps I'm not informed on every
last one of the lady's comings and goings, myself."

Scaurus grins that sadistic grin of his and turns a page in his book,
"You're more daring than you used to be around me. I think I've lost my
touch to cause any fear. I can see why the Baron might value you as a
member of staff, though."

"No, my lord, you have not. One has to have something to lose, to be
afraid," Fahd notes, reaching for his own papers.

Scaurus looks up for a moment, "And you've already lost the Princess. As
have I. Men without fear are men who love nothing, Fahahd." He takes his
pen, beginning to write idly, while noting to him, "Loving nothing is a
terrible existance. Trust my word for it. You may go now if you wish,
Kapitan."

Fahahd rises, and bows, not bothering to reply to the statement. HE vanishes
into the stacks, silently.



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