2060, Castle Mectha, Copernicus City

The firm clip of the marchioness' heels echoed up the duststone walls of the spiral staircase. Even through the myriad stained glass windows the shock of autumnal leaves from the royal forest reminded her that there were matters to attend to at home. She had been saddled with the responsibility for her people beyond the sea of tranquility, and her life as courtesan would have to come to a close.

Her husband had died, and the Archduke of Luna had inited her to the Royal Aviary.

The wisp of a boy who had brought the message as she had sent the last of her husbands things to be shipped and unpacked before her arrival had offered no explanation before turning neatly and marching away. She had allowed herself only a sip of red wine for courage lest she keep his excellency waiting. Her face untouched by makeup and dressed for travel rather than an audience, she did not hover before the glass double doors. As soon as they had clicked shut she exited the cage and into the wirecrossed dome at the height of Castle Mectha.

The Archduke stood, book in hand, staring at the upper crescent of Earth. The molten landscape, indistinguishable from its leaden seas, lit up with constellations of tiny white flashes. She had learned long ago not to comment on the beauty of such distant explosions of light and smoke in front of the earthborne. The men grow quiet and distant, and women cry for no reason. The Archduke Turned.

Like all men from Earth he was short, barely over a meter and a half tall. Earth was a savage place, she had learned from a young age, where even the size of the planet itself drags you down. From such an upbringing, it is not surprising that one grow up short, inelegant and impossibly strong.

"Nino," the informality struck her, "Your husband was a good friend to the Crown." The depth of his voice gave weight to his suddenly personal tone. "And I'm sorry he spent we spent our lives as enemies."

At this, even the birds ceased to sing.

"His lands, now yours, are far beyond the Sea of Tranquility. Far from Mectha and its comforts. Plagued by bandits. I have no business there and even if I did, my guard would deny you my presense. It is a hiding place for rebels and saboteurs, like all places. Unlike all places, it is known as such."

As the duke ceased to speak, Marchioness Nino Tamar of the Crater Taruntius swallowed her rage. Baseless accusations which had plagued her late husband until his death. He, a petty noble, held dominion over the lands which ran through her family, in her blood and through her veins. From the shores of the Seas of Tranquility and Fertility to the south and the Sea of Crisis to the north, traders from the dark side came to her ports and hid in her firmicus mountains. It was her navies, not the crowns, which kept pirates at bay. Her soldiers that kept what little peace that could be had. And their reward for this service? The chance to beg for funds and men enough to continue the labor.

Her husband had been a lot of things - soft in the head first and foremost. Her soldiers were caked in grime and vulgar. Her traders were dishonest and farms and businesses corrupt. Crown Taxmen were chased away by ugly mobs, and caravans were beset by bandits. Her estates were hardly fit to recieve the Earl of Lawrence or DaVinchi - even the Baron of Watts had complained.

But they were not traitors, and to hear the accusation coming not from the whispers bored courtiers trying to stir up trouble but from His Excellency Archduke Regolith Peter Constantine Zond broke her heart and blinded her with rage. She concealed both with a glance to a fat and happy raven perched on the spindly branches above.

"Until we are sure about the circumstances of the late Marquis' death, I must assume the worst. Protocol demands I extend a member of my Royal Guard to ensure your safety. He will arrive within the week."

"Good day, Marchioness"

And with that, he turned back toward the crescent Earth.