As we all bask in the relative quiet of a year in which there are no significant elections, it behoves me to point out that we are on the cusp of that time that comes round every so often in an organisation such as ours.

President Bartlet is coming towards the end of his second term of office, and as such, we will soon look forward to the prospect of operating under a new President, and indeed also look forward to the necessity of deciding how enlightened the holder of that office should become. At this time, we have no idea what the will of the people will be. But our work must go on, whether it be with the help of, or in spite of, whoever eventually comes to hold that office.

I trust that all our Agents and operatives will remain mindful of these facts in the coming months, and will do their best to ensure that no part of our Operations or our concerns become embroiled in the election process.

General Jack O’Neil, Commanding Officer, Special Operations.

“There is a Trump communication coming in, Goddess.”

“Who is it, my dear?”

“It would appear to be your Downside lodger.”

“You’d better allow it through then, I suppose.” The goddess reclined in her throne-like command chair, and spoke to the Trump image of a somewhat gnome-like old man. “Why are you disturbing my day? I thought our deal was that I would let you put your shit in my basement if you were not seen and not heard? Come to that, how are you making this call?”

“There may have been a TFU.” said the older man.

“Are we talking tiny foul up or total fuck up? What have you broken?”

“Well, let me see. I had some unexpected visitors drop in from the second road, and we had a nice chat. But when they left again, that thing you have to keep killing every time you come home managed to get itself pulled along with their lifelines, and it followed them out.”

“Well, I guess that’s a real shame. If it’s got out, then I guess that means I can drop by and get the place dusted off and tidied up without having to deal with it.”

“Err Yes. Well.” the old man paused. “I think you might want to do something, certainly. Because the sun has started going out.”

“What!”

“You know, that black sun that sits up in the sky here, casting about as much light as an asthmatic candle and raising the temperature up to about minus 30 celsius. Well right now, its about minus 60 celsius, and it was so dark that I wouldn’t have been able to see to make this call from there without some magic.”

“WHAT DID YOU DO?!!!”

“Me? I didn’t do anything.” said the old man, with a face the picture of innocence. “More apropos might be, ‘What did they do?'”

“What did they do then?” said the goddess, as anger started to consume her.

“Well, from the feel of things, one way or another, it would appear that they fixed Tir’na-Nogth. But I suspect that’s not important for you right now.”

“Goddess!” said the demoness standing beside her.

“What now?!”

“Shadow storm rapidly approaching. Category 5 world-wrecker.”

“Crap in a fucking space suit! Dial up Per Hathor and get us out of here!”

“As you command, goddess.”

Looking back to the Trump image that had stayed in the corner of her eye, the goddess said “I think you’ve outstayed you welcome old man. Get your shit out of there and be gone by the time I get back. It would appear there is a mess I have to clear up, and even if you’re right that it was nothing of your doing, it wouldn’t have been my mess if you weren’t hiding out down in my basement. So it would be good if I didn’t see you again for a century or so. Do we understand each other?”

“Don’t you be worrying. I’m out of there. Oh, by the way? It’s not completely impossible that Fiona might have figured out I was down there. #Just-sayin.”

“ARGHHH!” was herd as the Trump call ended.

Hi all,

For all those nervous types who don’t like logging into things that aren’t https any more, there is now https on the Aurellis Wiki for all the admin pages.

Thanks,

Tim.

[INN REPORTER VOICE OVER FOOTAGE of a heavily guarded entrance to the palace with a red carpet rolled out. Guards are standing in double lines in parade dress but with weapons clearly in evidence. Security is tight and elegantly suited members of the Mage Corps are also present to perform discrete identity scans and security checks for attendees.]:

“We are continuing our coverage of the Imperial Navy’s Triumph, coming to you live from the Palace in Casablanca where nobility and honourees will soon begin to arrive for tonight’s gala and awards ceremony. The energy in the city has been electric ever since the news broke and the decision by the Regens to hold a Triumph in honour of Praefectus Classis North and her forces has had all the notables scrambling to put their best foot forward for the event. INN is proud to have obtained exclusive rights, in conjunction with the Temple of the Divine Rupert, to televise the festivities. The Imperial News Network hopes this will be the first of many such ventures bringing an insider look at the most important events of our day.”

[Camera cuts to a beaming reporter in a highly revealing classic toga style in a nearly translucent material. Her hair is in an elaborate style with curls cascading to one side. She is rocking the latest in jewellery for the occasion with tiny diamonds glittering in cascades from her pierced nose to her earlobe and a full collar of diamonds that drip down her cleavage, narrowing to a point with a large glinting gem where her navel is exposed before the jewelled harness migrates further south to form the only real concealment for her nether regions under the gown. As the camera pans out and down, the slits in her costume leave her bared legs exposed showing the intricate body art featuring the Royal Navy’s insignias and emblems displayed in honour of the occasion and highlighted by the straps of her jewelled high heeled sandals where they wind up her legs and merge into the design.]

[The reporter is Mistress Candace Lewis-Vernus, younger daughter of Mistress Sylvia Lewis-Vernus, owner of the New Yorvik Times. Candace started her career as a model for Victoria’s Secret, but with the inception of these new live relay broadcasting events, she has become famous as an Imperial News Network news and events reporter.]

“I’d like to take this opportunity to thank Victoria’s Secret for their professional services and dressers for this occasion. Their couturiers have loaned me my outfit for this evening and performed the body art for the occasion in honour of our brave soldiers and sailors who I hope will enjoy the inspiration of this tribute. [Camera pans slowly up her legs from the heels in a rather provocative fashion…as the reporter chuckles and poses the movement causes a charming tinkling noise from the gems that form most of her outfit.] Thank you again, Victoria’s Secret! I am told that the Honoured Princess Victoria herself will be attending tonight.”

[The camera cuts back up to the reporter’s face and captures an image of a private security guard standing looking buff and dangerous behind her shoulder.] “Oh, and let’s not forget Biff! He’s my guardian angel for this evening, in charge of making sure I remember to return this lovely ensemble.” [Smiles beautifully and bats eyes. Security guard unimpressed.]

“While we are waiting for the first of our attendees, let’s cut briefly to some pre-recorded scenes from earlier in the day. For those of you who weren’t able to fight through the crowds to watch the Triumphal Entry into the City, Praefectus Classis North, whose fame and prowess needs no recounting by me, led the procession to receive the laurels…”

[Footage of main thoroughfare of Casablanca, lined with soldiers holding back crowds all along the route. Chariots are progressing down the boulevard pulled by handsome, body sculptured slaves. Many of the racing teams are well known to the crowds by their colours, chief among them a team owned and driven by Olivia North herself. Trailing behind Praefectus Classis North’s chariot, in long gilded chains, are the naked and red collared figures of Corwin and Merlin Barley. Attractive female slaves with baskets of silver pennies are walking along beside tossing pennies to the crowd over the heads of the soldiers lining the route as they dance along beside the chariot.]

“And following in her wake is our newest risen Admiral, Marcus Northgate! A splendid figure he makes, too, and my briefing card tells me that he is single and available. While much speculation has been made about his name, we can confidently confirm that the Temple of Sian has said that there is no relation to Praefectus Classis North as has been reported in some quarters. Admiral Northgate’s father is Consort to Archduchess Hogarth, supporters of House Hendrake of Thelbane. We still have scant details of the engagement for operational reasons, however, Admiral Northgate’s unquestioned bravery and skill are said to have been crucial to the victory we are celebrating here today.”

[Footage showing Admiral Northgate in gleaming parade armour expertly guiding a chariot pulled by a team the crowd would recognize as being backed by Duke Graeme Helgram. Behind him follows two rather beautiful women in chains, Melani (collared in red) and Kamille (collared in black). Behind them follow a parade of other chariots with senior officers from the operation, droves of slaves in their wake. The crowd is tossing flowers and cheering. Bands are playing. Sweets are being thrown to children in the crowd, some of whom have dressed up as soldiers in play armour for the occasion.]

“The procession ended at the Regen’s Chair, and the honourees were presented with Laurels by Regens George and Regentsia Arnhilde.”

[Footage the cuts to scenes of the Olivia and Marcus being presented laurels by Regens George and Regensia Arnhilde on a reviewing platform]

At the conclusion of the Entry, the Regens led the Salute to the Fallen. Candace resorts to the Edward R Murrow approach in her narration, “Sometimes, in the midst of our celebrations we are faced with stark reminders of the cost of our victories and of those who never return to the comfort of their families, or who return changed by their service. Let us take a moment to remember them.”

[The scene cuts to a picture of the Imperial banner flying over the rooftops. The Naval Hymn is playing. At its conclusion, those present strike their shields with their swords nine times in slow succession before returning them to their scabbards.]

“The entry was followed by a Games held in honour of the victors, presided over by our own Regensia Arnhilde, who has become quite the patroness of the Arena since her arrival here among us. For those of you who were unable to obtain tickets to the sold out events we’ve got a treat for you! Now with our coverage, you too can discuss the best of the events with your friends who were lucky enough to score tickets. There is even a rumour that our own Divine Rupert may be bringing some version of our gladiatorial games to the Reich! Now wouldn’t that be something!”

 

[Scenes follow from some of the better fights from the Arena, including some especially graphic, creative, and entertaining deaths arranged for the spectators. The crowds are cheering and there are cut-aways to Naval personnel in choice seats, eating, drinking and having a great time. The Regensia is paying special favour to the honourees in the Royal Box, with Arnhilde and Olivia in deep conversation over the merits of the gladiatorial performances. And Admiral Marcus, looking somewhat happy for drink, is caught by the camera briefly as he is about to have a bit of fun with one of his new slaves between heats but the camera cuts away quickly before much is shown.]

 

The presenter laughs, “The Admiral certainly has good taste, but we are bound by the under 12 rule this early in the day I’m afraid, so that all our youngest citizens can enjoy the show.”

[The camera cuts back quickly to the palace gates where there is a flurry of activity. And persons begin to arrive on the other side of a velvet rope from the presenter.]

 

“Ah, the Divines are arriving! Protocol does not allow INN to interview the august personages directly and not all attending have chosen to make their appearance for the public, but we may get a peek at them as they enter the palace. It appears that the first to arrive as is only proper, are the god and goddess of War, Marik and Maryse! ”

 

[From a distance the deities acknowledge the crowd with a martial salute before turning to enter the courtyard.]

[Crowd noise and shouting as a long stretch limo glides soundlessly to a stop at the end of the red carpet and the presenter ends up in a twitter as the Don gets out, on the public side of the rope, accompanied by several of his handmaidens and a retinue. He sweeps up the carpet towards the presenter who seems hopelessly unsure suddenly of what to do.]

 

The Don reaches her, puts an arm gallantly around her waist, and turns her to the audience while waving to the crowds, “My what a lovely choice of greeters.” He pats her hip before going past her through the rope and in to the palace with his folk.

[The cameraman gets a very lovely shot of his presenter in a full body blush with a sort of dreamy smile and nipples that are making their rings stand straight out.] “What an honour! This is certainly a night of surprises!”

[There is then a flurry of arrivals with local nobility and important personages arriving in style. During a lull the presenter will play a short segment shot earlier in the day when she and her crew were escorted into the courtyard and main hall to tape the decorations and preparations.]

[The scene cuts back to show the arrival of Marcus, looking stunning and athletic in evening costume to wild cheers and applause from the crowd. Marcus acknowledges the crowd and allows the presenter a few words for the camera.]

 

“Admiral Northgate! Let me add my congratulations and thanks to the hundreds you must have received by now. Casablanca is proud of your service. Tell me, has your new command been announced yet? What can you share with us about your plans for the future?”

Admiral Northgate interrupts his visual appraisal of the presenter and frames a leisurely answer, “I have not yet been notified about my new flagship, but I am in the process of selecting my personal staff and making other dispositions. For the present I am anticipating a bit of time planet-side before assuming my new command.”

“And well deserved, we all agree. Will you be taking all of your command staff forward with you? Rumours are they all received commendations for their part in the action, particularly your Secundus, who we’d frankly expected to see on your arm here tonight. Word has it that there is an announcement or two expected from that quarter.” The presenter smiles with knowing indulgence, encouraging a confidence.

The Admiral stiffens somewhat, “My Secundus served brilliantly and the only announcement I expect from that quarter would be of assignment to an independent command, after a suitable interval, of course.” Northgate regains his bonhomie while watching the presenter stammer and simper her way out of her predicament. He then flashes a brilliant smile, throws a salute to the crowd [cheering] and turns smartly on his heel to stride confidently into venue.

After a number of other arrivals the crowd becomes very excited as Praefectus Classis North appears, in elegant but far more understate attire. Somehow the presenter seems uninteresting despite her relative glamour. “Praefectus Classis North!!! A word for our viewers?”

“Certainly Candace, always happy to oblige.” North waves to someone in the crowd.
“Ma’am, it was reported that you captured one of the Federation’s new colony ships single handed. Can you give us any insight on why the Feds are building them and what they are up to? Was it armed? Are they a threat?” Candace seems quite breathless to know.

“It was a complex operation in which many played part in our overall success. The Federation appears to be continuing its expansionist philosophy through the development of its colony program. They seem to be shaken by our successes and have been driven to greater efforts to compete.” Olivia shakes her head with a slight ennui, “Sadly, it has not benefited them.”

“Will we be seeing more of these ships?”

North shrugs, “If the Feds want to spend vast resources building them, I’m perfectly happy to continue adding them to our inventory.” She smiles wickedly and the crowd roars in approval. “Now, if you’ll forgive me, I do not want to keep my hosts waiting.” She winks at Candace who is quick to share her joke.

“Yes of course, that wouldn’t do at all! Thank you Ma’am!”

The crowd thins down and more and more footage of events from earlier in the day play. Candace comes back on live to accost a final pair who begin to make their way down the carpet. Candace is suddenly all intrigue and interest as the Honoured Marquis David Erikson steps down the carpet with Secundus Valeria Nysa in full dress armour leaning heavily on his arm. Candace has no trouble intercepting them as the Marquis pauses to support his somewhat unsteady companion.

Candace seems about ready to make a good natured joke about early celebration before stopping herself with a look that almost approaches actual worry on her face. She delays and turns to the Marquis, “It has been some time since we have seen you at a public event! Should we take this a shift in the previous state of affairs?”

Erikson replies with a pleasant smile, “I am merely sharing in the mood of the celebration for an evening with our honourees. It is my privilege to escort the Secundus for the evening.”

Candace turns to Secundus Valeria, “We had expected you with your Primus this evening. The talk has been all about…” Candace pauses and the camera has panned closer on the Secundus whose armour has been altered slightly to accommodate a growing pregnancy, but it then moves in close on the Secundus’s face just as she wipes a small dribble of blood from her nose.

Candace appears to realize the Secundus is unwell at about the same time the audience does and she tries to recover her question, “…your contribution to the operation. Evidently you did something quite extraordinary. Are the rumours that you were injured true?” The Secundus shakes her head in dismissal and begins to reply, but Candace interrupts, “The strategic value of those ships must have been considerable if your Primus was willing to risk his own…” Candace shuts up abruptly as another penny appears to drop, “Oh!”

The Secundus attempts to salvage the situation, “I was not injured in the battle fortunately; although the exertion has left me a bit…tired. I’m told I overextended my arcane abilities, that’s all, nothing to worry about.” She smiles bravely. “I am pleased that I was able to be part of the operation.”

Candace recovers brightly, “It sounds like you will have a great deal to celebrate tonight. And if what your Primus said was any indication, you may need new epaulets before the night is out!” Candace is effusing desperately.

“I cannot say. I hope many good things will happen tonight.” Valeria looks up lovingly at David Erikson who is supporting her so carefully. A thin red trail snakes subtly down from her ear along her neck before vanishing below the collar of her uniform. She is very pale.

Candace’s face can’t quite plaster over her dismay. She turns to the Marquis, “Perhaps tonight, with such a brave argument on your arm, you may find a restoration of favour?” She tries again.

David doesn’t really spare a glace for Candace, “Restoration, forgiveness,…they enlarge the giver and the receiver.” He says in a priestly tone, no longer talking to her. He takes a firmer grip on the Secundus, “It is a night we have long awaited my love.” Valeria replies softly.

The Secundus’s knees buckle and she locks her greaves reflexively to stay upright, an old parade trick. One of the honour guard lining the carpet breaks ranks briefly, stepping forward to help, before stepping back into position nervous of the cameras.

Candace is gesturing frantically to her production crew. Several of the security detail have obviously been on comms and appear to be closing on the area. Candace asks, “Sir, can we get a healer?”

People are running and the camera is jostled as security and palace teams converge. The Marquis appears to be praying over the Secundus as he holds her upright, whose face is like paste. Blood is now streaming from her nose and ears. She coughs wetly, a pink foam forms on her lips. She reaches up and lays her hand on David’s cheek. She is almost smiling and her eyes seem glassy and flat. She shivers violently and there is a great gout of blood. “I am sorry.” She says.

David shushes her and seems to exert an enormous effort. Valeria gaps as David goes nearly as white as she is; but her breathing improves and the bleeding stops. A team from the palace arrives to assist them inside and Valeria is seen to make the distance to the gate at least somewhat under her own power.

Candace says nothing as the group disappears inside, and wisely decides not to put a face on it.

[Coverage resumes of the night’s events, profiles of the performers from the Houses of Life that will be entertaining after the banquet and ends with a fireworks display.]

On the morning following the Triumph, the papers are full of pictures and stories from the day previous. The formal Triumphal Entry is on Page 1. Long discussions of the fleet actions follow. Page 2 features the new Admiral Northgate and summaries of his career.

The political pages are full of speculation about the meaning of the new colony ships, what the engagement means to the balance of Imperial-Federation military might, and what ought to be done with the captured vessels. There is speculation about Fed backlash and one unnamed source suggests that there is a threat against Olivia North’s daughter, the Casablanca Foreign Minister, in retaliation for the Admiral’s capture of the Barleys.

The economics section is showing a huge burst in stock prices as public confidence is high after the victory. Traders are confident that the captured material will represent a boon to the treasury.

On page 11 there is page is dedicated to the fleet’s losses and supply a listing of honoured dead. In a sidebar, there is a short bio of Secundus Valeria and an end note mentioning the posthumous award of the rank of Primus as she did not survive long enough for the Regens to make the presentation to her.
On page 12, one of the contrarian commentators manages to get an Op-Ed published in the opinion section which features a lot of conjecture that the victory was more expensive than was publicized and that there will be an enormous expense in refitting vessels damaged in the engagement.

The author of the Op-Ed’s house is vandalized. The local militia decline to take a report from the victim. The second edition of the paper hits the streets in the afternoon without page 11 and 12.

The sports section is filled with results from the Victory Games gladiatorial combats and graphic details of the executions.

The society pages are full of the juicy details of the evening orgy and other gossip including the return, however briefly, to Society, of Marquis Erikson. Most of the stories are sympathetic, a few take an opposite perspective and are rather critical of his use of a war hero to settle the rift in his social relations.