Celestial Palace

Zi-jin Chéng (Forbidden City), Sian

Sian Commonality, Capellan Confederation

23 September 3134

Jacob Bannson stewed outside of Daoshen Liao’s ceremonial temple, waiting for the Chancellor’s return, sweating through an imported suit that cost him several thousand Liao-bills. From one of the finest tailors on Highspire, influenced by the Mao jacket but cut for a modern man of business, it did nothing for him in Sian’s summer heat. He and his entourage were quietly miserable. The temple’s white oak siding reflected most of the sun’s strength back into their faces. The air shimmered. There was not one lick of shade on this side of the temple, a fact certainly not lost on the inscrutable leader of the Capellan Confederation.

Daoshen Liao. The Great Soul. Soon to be Jacob Bannson’s liege lord and master.

Well, his liege lord, anyway.

Retainers fetched him iced water, talcum and towels, whatever he commanded at a snap of his fingers. His own people, brought with him from The Republic, were also decked out in the finest clothes as befitting the court of a traveling lord. The corporate leader had taken to heart Daoshen’s suggestion that he arrive in style, and so he had. And for the indifferent reception he’d received so far, was glad of it. His people, at least, were well practiced in calling him sire.

Most of them. The rest would learn. Di Jones, for instance, bent and scraped for no one. Though even she might have to bend to the necessity once Daoshen Liao made it official. The flame-haired raider had chosen to remain on his DropShip rather than spend another moment in Daoshen’s company, but she had her assurances of inviolate status. She’d come around.

So what would it be, a simple Lordship? Daoshen promised a reward “commensurate with services rendered to the Capellan Confederation.” Well, Liao had fallen even as Bannson began to think it wasn’t in the cards. Mandrinn? Was Duke too much to hope for?

If not now, then some day. Once Bannson opened up a new opportunity, he never let it go. Nobility had been the one thing closed off to him. Now he had earned that as well.

The temple’s heavy doors swung open, bringing a temporary breeze of refreshing coolness as the interior chill bled out and died under the summer sun. Temple priests stepped into the golden heat, holding back the doors. Not one drop of sweat appeared on their shaven pates, Bannson noticed. His eyes searched the gloomy interior, and found an Asian woman decked out in a slender dress of Asian style. An imperial cheongsam. Brocaded silk of dark, dark ruby red with a detailed design of phoenix and dragon, Mandarin collar closed over a keyhole slit that plunged into a deep neckline.

She looked Bannson over carefully with dark, veiled eyes that gave away nothing. Her gaze had a tangible presence, penetrating. A flush gathered at the back of his neck, but the CEO gave away nothing as he stared back, matching his will against hers. Finally, she nodded once. “He will suffice.”

Not the most glowing endorsement. Bannson bristled, then forced a calm on himself as Daoshen Liao stepped up beside the beauty. The Chancellor could not have been waiting much farther into the temple. Once again, Bannson marveled at the Chancellor’s ability to remain cloaked.

“Chancellor.” Bannson hesitated, unsure of the protocol here, and submitted himself to bowing from the waist. His people, well-schooled to follow their master’s lead, dropped into deeper bows and formal curtsies. “I am honored to stand in your presence again.”

Daoshen folded his hands into the voluminous sleeves of his ceremonial robes. He wore black silk, trimmed in gold. No patterns decorated the fabric. Very understated for the Chancellor. “It is we who are honored, zhàng-fu-xiàng- Ki-linn. It is a joyous ceremony that awaits us.”

Ceremony? Daoshen was prepared to be more gracious than Bannson had hoped. He untangled his title with great care, not wanting to miss one nuance. He didn’t.

…husband… to…

The CEO glanced quickly to the waiting woman, her formal dress and back to the Daoshen. “Chancellor! You do not mean…” For the first time in years, Bannson found himself at a loss for words.

“Our cousin.” Daoshen nodded to the beauty who remained watchful behind her passive mask. “Twice removed, but a blood descendant of our father’s sister. Ki-linn is a Mandrissa of our court, given new landholds on Wei as well as hereditary estates on Highspire. We expect you will be very happy.”

Ki-linn… Liao! One of Daoshen’s blood, considered divine among the Capellan people. The Chancellor proposed marriage!

“This is how you keep our bargain?” he asked, outrage boiling just below the surface.

The leader’s eye narrowed into dangerous slits. “How else would you become a noble of our realm?”

Bannson dialed back his anger, knowing it could only serve Daoshen’s plans to let the dark emotion rule him. “By appointment. By fiat through service.” Marrying into nobility, he would forever be tied to his wife’s status. His accomplishments would be rewarded to her.

“And we have offered you a greater reward. As promised.” Daoshen stared ahead stoically. No hint of mocking, of condescension, touched his voice or his expression. “We do not recall you setting restrictions on how we granted your wish.”

Trapped. Bannson had left one fatal flaw in his plans. He had assumed. But when would he ever have considered the idea of Daoshen Liao, God Incarnate of Sian, arranging a marriage into his family? Masterful, he had to admit. Bannson’s personal holdings held inviolate status, even after his death, but by Confederation and Republic law, a spouse held many entitlements that could undermine the safeguards put into place.

And to turn down such an offer? That was likely to be more immediately hazardous to his health.

Bannson had trained himself over his entire life to make the tough calls. “The Chancellor is indeed a generous soul,” Bannson said formally, without warmth. He bowed again to Daoshen Liao, and then deeper to his expectant bride. She nodded back curtly and disappeared back into the temple. Bannson blotted sweat from his brow, and joined the Chancellor in the shade of the temple’s interior.

“We still sense a lack of enthusiasm,” Daoshen said. Not as a rebuke, though. A feeler? Something new being offered?

“Understand, Illustrious One, that I am quite surprised by your …solution. I have lived my life earning my own way. Marrying into such a great reward runs contrary to my nature.” He smiled weakly. “I’m certain I will get over it.” If Daoshen did not help him over it first with a Maskirovka assassin in the night.

“You worry too much about such things, Jacob Bannson.” It seemed that Daoshen answered what was left unspoken as well. Now the ghost of a smile did trace the Chancellor’s lips. “But as our wedding gift, there may yet be something we can arrange. If earning your nobility by fiat means so much to you.”

Bannson smiled thinly. “At the Chancellor’s pleasure,” he agreed. His mind raced, picking over every word with great care. He did not make the same mistake twice.