'My lord, my master requests the company of the Arcadius this night'

No point stalling, Lucian thought. With a final glance at his reflection, he strode from the chamber, and Korvane joined him as he returned from his business with the cargo transfer. The servant closed the great doors at his passing.

Brielle planted her hands on her hips and took a deep breath. For the second time, she found herself standing in the small office of the harbour master of the Chasmata Primary Orbital, although on this occasion she, and not her father, would be the one to deal with him. She was really going to give the fool a piece of her mind.

'Please ma'am, you must understand. I cannot authorise a shuttle to the surface without a counter-signed declaration amounting to a level epsilon exception. You do not hold such a declaration.

'Listen to me you space-damned rimfluke. If you can't organise a shuttle, I'm simply going to take my own. Do you understand me?

The pale-faced harbour master bristled still further, gathering up a pile of nearby papers, presumably some ingrained nervous reaction to being balled out by the angry daughter of a powerful (as far as he was concerned at least) rogue trader lord.

'I'm afraid, that is simply out of the question. Three hundred and nine ordinances expressly forbid it. Should you attempt an unauthorised interface the Chasmata System Levy is required to shoot you down before you even break orbit.

'Really, and how will they do that?

'How will they-?

'How will your system defence force stop me, when it has no vessels?

'My lady, that is entirely academic. The point is that they are empowered and required to do so. That in itself should be sufficient reason'

Culpepper Luneberg's banquet hall was like no venue Lucian had ever visited, although he did not allow his impressions to show upon his face. As with the majority of the palace he had thus far seen, the hall was vast in extent. Yet, conversely, it felt claustrophobic, for Lucian and his son moved through small havens of light cast by hovering lumens, beyond which impenetrable darkness swallowed all. He caught glimpses of an impossibly high, vaulted ceiling, bats or cyber-cherubs — it was too gloomy to tell which — capering amongst rope-thick cobwebs. The chamber was incongruously narrow, barely wide enough in fact to accommodate the table that ran from one shadowed end to the other.

The table also grabbed Lucian's attention. Amongst elaborate candelabras from which trails of molten wax overflowed, was laid a veritable riot of gastronomic excess. Every manner of plate, dish, pot, tray, container and multi-tiered service held every manner of foodstuff, from cauldrons of bubbling, weirdly coloured liquids to the elaborately dressed, roasted carcasses of alien beasts the like of which not even Lucian had seen before. The aroma of all this assaulted Lucian's nose, causing his body a moment of doubt as it decided whether to order his stomach to wretch or his mouth to water.

An impossibly elaborate array of cudery, drinking vessels and plates, each manufactured from the most exquisite of materials and decorated by the most skilled of artisans, made up each place setting, leaving barely a square inch of the vast table's surface uncluttered. Tall-backed chairs finished the place settings, a servant hovering behind each one, ready to wait upon the diner's merest whim.

One such attendant, a hunched and wizened old man, stepped forward, bowing deeply to Lucian. Lucian waited whilst the man struggled to heave the heavy chair from its place at the table. Lucian saw that Korvane was now entering the dining hall, being offered a seat several places down from him. The servant finished manoeuvring the seat into position, and Lucian nodded his gratitude to him, before taking his place at the table.

He also noted that a seat several places down from Korvane remained empty. He assumed this was intended for Brielle, and hoped that it was sufficiently far removed from wherever Luneberg would be seated so as not to announce her absence too loudly.

More guests filed into the narrow hall, passing down either side of the table. Lucian could barely make out those at its furthest extent, for the far end was shrouded in shadow, but those seats flanking his own were soon occupied. The other guests were evidently the great and the good of Mundus Chasmata's ruling class, each diner's rank communicated not by insignia, but by the sheer amount of portable wealth on display.

To Lucian's left sat a man of indeterminate age, both his eyes replaced by gaudy, jewelled prosthetics, each pulsing as they cycled through the spectrum. He wore a white periwig and a long coat of the finest gold thread, and, to Lucian's mind, sat at the centre of an intense cloud of cloying perfume. Lucian nodded politely to the man, taking the opportunity to study the lenses that replaced his eyes. They were of the same type so strategically sported by Luneberg's harem, although the courtesans wore them upon fine golden chains that did little to hide their non-existent modesty. These were far larger, but obviously of the same type. Lucian was now sure they were of xenos manufacture, but tucked the suspicion to the back of his mind, until such time as it would prove useful to act upon it.

An elderly woman with the tallest hair Lucian had ever seen took the seat to his right. He nodded to her too, causing her to lift a pair of intricate lenses mounted upon a delicate, bone handle to her eyes. She peered back at him, the lenses whirring and her eyes magnified disturbingly. The woman let out a high pitched, nasal sound before turning away from him. Lucian saw then what was coming: introductions.

Every culture had its own manner of introducing strangers into its midst, and Lucian had found that, the more refined the culture in question the more involved, and often ridiculous the details of those introductions. The spectacle in the throne room had told Lucian an enormous amount about Luneberg and his court, and he had noted that he appeared not to exist until he was introduced to the court members. There, he had been introduced to the court as a whole by Luneberg's functionary, telling Lucian that in this particular culture it was customary for the lower ranked members to do the introducing, to the higher ranked. Lucian had seen, and partaken of several hundred variations on such a custom, and knew that the best way to avoid insulting one's host was to remain attentive, yet silent, until addressed.

Soon, every seat was taken, except of course for Brielle's, and the one immediately opposite Lucian. This was clearly Luneberg's, for it was twice the width of the others, and the delicacies piled before it yet more exquisite. Luneberg's functionary appeared from the shadows, and stood beside his master's empty seat.

Every head at the table turned to the functionary, a reverent silence descending. In a moment, only the hissing of candles was audible.

'My lords, ladies and gentlemen, please stand for the Lord and Master of Mundus Chasmata. Lord Culpepper Luneberg the Twenty-Ninth!

Lucian stood only a fraction of a second after the other diners, following their lead in giving polite applause as Luneberg entered the dining hall. The Imperial Commander was flanked not by his harem but by a gaggle of scraping servants, each intent upon attending to a single aspect of their master's wellbeing. Lucian saw that these were Luneberg's body servants, each with a task no doubt ranging from cutting up their master's food and drink, to tasting it.

Luneberg reached his seat, his servants fussing around him. One lifted a massive goblet, sampling a tiny portion of the deep red liquid within. The man made to take a second taste, just to be sure, Lucian thought, before Luneberg grabbed it from him.